“I know I’d love them more than anything,” Thora said, wrapping her arms around herself, “but how could I bring them into this world? It would be selfish of me to want them, when all they’d experience would be fear and pain. Our lives are not fit for a child.”

“But we were children, and we survived,” Marai said, coming to Thora’s side. “Your children would at least have a mother and father, and all the rest of us to watch out for them. Aunts and uncles at their beck and call.”

Thora smiled sadly and shook her head. “What if I die? And Raife dies? Then they’d be orphans, no better off than we were, and I wouldn’t wish that life on my flesh and blood.” She returned to stirring the pot. “No, Marai, we’re all better off trying to live for as long as we can. That must be enough.”

Marai’s anger rose. It wasn’t right. Thora deserved happiness. They all did. Marai wanted to give them a world where they would be safe, yet there was nowhere like that here on the continent of Astye. Perhaps in Andara things would be different, but Marai knew the risk of trying to leave these lands. What boat, what captain, would carry seven penniless faeries across a treacherous ocean leagues and leagues away to an unexplored, potentially dangerous country?

Her stomach knotted. Slate would have. He would’ve had them steal and kill for him, sure, but Slate was the one captain who would have relished the company of faeries and their magic onboard. She hated discovering those small, decent parts of him. They were the things that had made her fall in love with him. If Slate hadn’t been so greedy, if he hadn’t become a pirate, Marai thought he might have led a very different life.

“Sometimes, I look across the cavern, and I think how much it hurts to love him,” Thora said in a quiet, distant voice, full of a pain Marai recognized. “It’s almost unbearable. It’s not the feeling that hurts, though. It’s the thought of anything happening to him.”

The memory of Ruenen’s dimpled smile and gold-flecked eyes swam into Marai’s brain. But then his smile disappeared and became an expression of shock and betrayal. The image was too clear. Too vivid. Too recent. It tore through her heart.

“Have you ever told Raife how you feel?”

“Dinner’s ready,” Thora said, her voice high-pitched again. “Please go get the others.”

Marai left Thora to ladle the stew into bowls, her lungs unable to contract. Outside, she gulped down fresh air, and forced her mind to go blank again. Forced Ruenen out of the chambers of her heart.

She found Raife by the river, staring at the moon. Kadiatu, Aresti, and Leif were farther away, laughing at something as they gathered firewood.

“Thora says to come in for dinner,” Marai called to them all.

Raife gave Marai a halfhearted, melancholy smile, before beginning to head into the cave with the others.

“I wish you didn’t have to hide your feelings,” she said, making him stop. “I wish you could feel free to live the way you want and deserve.”

Raife blushed and shrugged, a gesture that so reminded Marai of Ruenen. She hated how she kept seeing him in others, hearing his voice in their inflections. Echoes of him dwelled everywhere.

“It’s the only way to survive, as you well know,” Raife said. “If I could take her somewhere safe, where we could have a home, I would.”

“Do you love her?” Marai pressed, and this time, Raife gave her a real smile.

“With every fiber of my being.”

Chapter 5

Marai

Days passed, and Keshel had a new vision of black armored men riding across a red desert. Rayghast’s men would be there soon. Time was running out.

Marai intensified their training, and became used to the routine. Training each morning after breakfast. Afternoons with Keshel, working on her control of magic. Evenings were Marai’s patrol shift.

Stay busy.

The activity kept her from spiraling, plunging into a pit of shame so deep it could burrow into the center of the earth.

Focus. 

Leif needed to guard his left side. Thora and Kadiatu needed upper-body strengthening.

Stay busy. 

Whenever there was a moment of peace, Marai heard Ruenen’s laughter echo through the canyon. The wind whispered Sassafras as it twirled its invisible fingers around her hair. She saw him splashing in the river, beckoning her to join, trying to get her to look.

She wouldn’t look. No, stay busy.

He’s dead. Ruenen is dead. Keshel said he’s dead. 

Those words she repeated over and over until she accepted that they were reality.

Marai’s magic was still recovering. All she’d managed to conjure at her fingertips were her usual fire, a stronger shield, and a spark of lightning.

Focus on your people. Focus on training. This is the path you chose. Repent by protecting them.

Kadiatu swung her sword down, far too slow, far too cautious. As her blade collided with Marai’s, she squealed and nearly dropped her sword.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Kadi,” Marai said with an exasperated huff. “You need to put power behind your swing. Grip the handle tight. Tacorn soldiers aren’t going to go easy on you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” said Kadiatu. She sniffed as her eyes shimmered with tears. “I’m not good at all this, but I’ll keep trying.”

Marai sighed, joining Raife in the shade, as Aresti took over with Kadiatu.

Nearby, Keshel, Leif, and Thora were working together. Leif’s pride was wounded from Marai beating him so many times. He was the most animated for training every day; first to wake and last to sleep.

“You’re not a very understanding instructor,” Raife said.

“If you’re too soft, people die,” said Marai, watching Aresti pivot effortlessly and cut across, forcing Kadiatu to duck and fall onto her tailbone.

Aresti helped her back up. She and Kadiatu laughed at the large red spot of dirt on her rear.

“Like a giant bullseye,” Aresti said as Kadiatu brushed off the dirt, giggling.

Raife also chuckled. “Yes, but you can have the same intensity and compliment the positive things, Marai.”

He’d been teaching everyone how to handle a bow and arrow. Marai had never taken to archery. Raife was skilled; he could shoot a soaring vulture straight through the eye. He’d carried around a bow since he learned to walk. Thora and Kadiatu were more at ease in his presence than they were in Marai’s, and preferred the bow and arrow to a sword.

“In the real world, there are no compliments,” Marai told him. “There’s life or death.”

“Then I’m glad to be here for as long as I can,” Raife replied, smile fading. “I know danger’s coming, but I’ll savor every second of peace and laughter I can collect.” His gaze tracked Thora’s movements with Leif.

Marai didn’t want to admit it, but she’d been doing the same. Every smile, every giggle, every normal interaction . . . she clung to those moments. She never knew when they might be her last.

“We should begin combining our weapons training with magic,” she said as everyone took a brief water break.

“What do you mean?” asked Aresti, sharpening one of her blades with a smooth wet stone by the river.

“You’ll be the most effective if you can utilize both skills at once.”