It almost broke him. His anger at her washed away like sand in the tide. Ruenen would do anything for that smile.

“This is north, you know,” she said after a few minutes. “Is this really the way you want to go? To Varana? Where Emperor Suli could grab you?”

Ruenen scowled at the back of Marai’s black cloak. “No, I don’t want to go to Varana. I’m assuming you have an idea, though, of where we should go instead.”

“West might be promising . . .”

To Nevandia.

Ruenen hadn’t decided yet. But if they turned and made for the Red Lands, the Middle Kingdoms . . . that would be a statement to himself. That would mean he accepted, that he was ready to take the throne.

How could he possibly be ready to rule a country? He’d been instructed for a few years as a child, but he’d forgotten all he learned. He would have to lead troops into battle against King Rayghast who had massive forces and magic. Tacorn was a military state. Soldiers trained for war beginning at the age of five, becoming diligent and adept killers, who either served in the army, or served for the army. Women were expected to breed soldiers, as one might breed horses. But the same was not so in Nevandia, a land of mostly farmers and miners. Each Nevandian life taken . . . that blood would be on Ruenen’s hands.

“I can hear you thinking,” Marai said. “I understand your fear, Ruen, but you’ve proven many times that you are brave and noble. You’re already so much better than Rayghast will ever be.”

She said this all matter-of-factly, as if deciding to become king was as simple as picking out a new cloak (black, of course).

“I haven’t come to a decision yet.”

“Whatever you decide, I vow to fight for you,” said Marai, turning back around. “Because we’re going to face Rayghast one way or another. I’ll help you defeat him, but I’d rather have an army behind us.”

She spoke in that same terse, indifferent tone, the one he was used to. The Lady Butcher. She was giving them both a purpose, something to believe in. To fight for.

They walked all day in that silence Ruenen had grown accustomed to in Marai’s presence, and over the hours, his anger at her continued to ease, but he still made sure to scowl at her whenever she glanced his way.

Can’t let her off too easily.

Ruenen had spent many days walking in silence since escaping the bounty hunters, but it had been oppressively lonely. He learned that there were many types of silences. There was the revenant, hallowed silence of a temple or monastery. The fearful silence of a prison cell. And then there was this silence, easy, not strained. Existing together in space and nature. At peace.

Every damn path turned them West. A collapsed bridge forced them further inland. A trades-worker strike in rural Syoto closed all nearby roads to traffic. Ruenen bitterly suspected that the gods were shoving him in their preferred direction. He wondered if Marai had stoked the strike days ago in advance of reuniting with him. Fate was guiding him towards his destiny.

That night, the forest opened up into a field with rangy, fragrant green grass.

As they set camp, he felt sure that whatever choice he made would be the wrong one. That he was doomed to fail no matter what.

Marai stared up at the night sky. He’d watched her do this many times before, but it felt significant then. A peace washed over her. There was something in the stars, the argent moon, that lit her eyes with possibility. Her gaze then snapped to him from across the campfire. Ruenen quickly looked away and cleared his throat, pretending to tie his boot.

“I believe in you, Ruen,” she said.

He met her luminescent eyes, glowing softly in the night, filled with a warmth she hardly ever displayed.

“I believe in your future, and the future of Nevandia,” Marai continued.

“What if Nevandia doesn’t want me?” Ruenen asked, voicing a fear that had been brewing inside of him for years. “What if people are angry that I stayed away for so long?”

Marai’s brows pinched for a moment as she thought. “I abandoned you, but I came back. It wasn’t easy to admit my failings, but you listened, and I think you’ve forgiven me, at least partially.”

“I haven’t,” he said, but couldn’t stop the cockeyed smile from reaching his lips.

Marai snorted, and his heart nearly burst at the sound. “You’re far more likable and honorable than I am. Nevandia will see your goodness shining through. If you can forgive me for leaving, then your people can also forgive you. And I’ll be right by your side, for better or worse.”

Ruenen had forsaken his people. He’d shunned the responsibility and duty that was his birthright for far too long. Too many people had died protecting him to ensure that he would take the throne.

I need to become worthy of their sacrifice. He could finally set things right.

“Alright, Sassafras, you win,” he said. “I’ll go to Nevandia. I’ll declare myself.”

Marai didn’t look surprised. Instead, she smiled again as she had earlier in the woods. Smiled with pride, and his whole heart burned bright.

At dawn, Marai held out her hands. In an instant, a portal appeared. She’d summoned it easily; no strain shown on her face. Ruenen smelled the scent of magic, rich and bubbly. He briefly thought that if temptation had a smell, that would be it.

“Where’s the portal taking us?”

“The glen on the outskirts of Kellesar, near the river.”

Ruenen didn’t know where that was. He’d never been anywhere close to Nevandia’s capital city of Kellesar. He’d avoided it his entire life.

“It should be a safe spot. You need to go through first.”

With a nervous swallow, Ruenen’s grip on his lute strap tightened. He stepped into the portal, feeling the tendrils of magic stroke his cheeks and neck. The magic felt more solid this time. As he kept stepping between space and time, he sensed Marai all around him: strong, unwavering, sparkling. It eased his nerves.

His feet touched brown, brittle grass, and he took in his new surroundings. There was the Nydian River in the distance, snaking through the highlands, but its color was oddly muted and sludgy. The nature around him was gray and dull. Trees that should have been budding with spring life remained barren. Even the sky on a sunny day was overcast and glum. He’d heard that Nevandia’s lands were floundering, but it was strange to see it with his own eyes, to feel the emptiness so potently.

Something was wrong.

Marai appeared at his side, the portal gone. “I felt this darkness when we were in the Red Lands before, but now that I’ve used it, myself . . . Nevandia reeks of dark magic. I think Rayghast has been using it for years, sucking the life from these lands.”

“Do you think it can be reversed?” Ruenen asked. Add that to the long list of things he would soon be in charge of . . .

“I’m not sure. I don’t know enough about dark magic. Once Rayghast is killed, it’s possible the magic will be returned to the land.”

Once he’s killed? Ruenen scoffed. If they managed to kill him . . .

The capital city of Kellesar loomed in the distance, encircled by the Nydian, almost an island in the middle of the highlands. Ruenen didn’t want to look. He knew he’d see the castle spires climbing up towards the heavens and the gods-city of Empyra. Kellesar sat on a large hill; the city scaled upwards in a way unlike any other on the continent.

Marai suddenly stiffened and spun around, hand on the hilt of her sword.

Behind them stood a cloaked figure.

A bounty hunter? Ruenen’s hand reached for the knife at his belt. But strangely, Marai smirked.

“I should have known you’d be sniffing around here.”

The cloaked figure glided towards them and pushed back the velvet hood, revealing crimson eyes and a pointed, gray-hued face.

“I’ve been trying to track you for weeks.” His mouth opened into a dangerous, fanged grin. “I’ve run up and down these highlands. Dul Tanen is the last place you were before your scents disappeared entirely, so you can imagine my surprise when I caught a whiff of you on the wind moments ago.”

Nosficio the vampire.