A River of Golden Bones, page 16
My tongue couldn’t even move.
He turned toward the tent flap. “I’m going to check on the others and make sure they haven’t revealed our secrets already.”
“Fine.”
Grae took one more step and paused, looking back over his shoulder at me. “You’re my best friend, Calla. You always have been.” His eyes scanned me up and down. “Would it really be so bad? To be mine?”
My eyes dropped to my split knuckles. The pain of his crestfallen face stung worse than any wound. Is that what he thought? That I didn’t want to be his mate? But maybe that was the case after all. Maybe I didn’t . . .
Gods, I’d messed this all up. I didn’t know how much of me was running from him and how much was running toward Olmdere, but this was Grae, my Grae, and he was mine if only I’d let him be.
“No,” I whispered, though he was already gone. “It wouldn’t.”
Nineteen
We gathered around the open fire, skewering the savory breads Ora made onto sticks and cooking them over the flames. It was a lean meal but better than the dried meat and hard cheese that the Wolves had brought with them. I sat between Hector and Sadie, staring into the flickering orange flames and holding my aching fingers out to the fire. The cold crept deeper into me as the sun fell below the horizon, my joints stiffening and needle pricks covering my nose and fingertips.
Grae tapped Sadie’s shoulder and she shifted down the log. He squeezed in beside me, our arms and thighs brushing together. Sadie passed him a mug of ginger tea.
“Thank you,” he murmured, placing his elbows onto his knees and leaning toward the fire, his shoulders too broad to fit sitting up.
I pondered that thank you—how easily it was uttered by him—and I wondered if those words weren’t actually for show. Maybe he really did speak to his soldiers this way. Perhaps even his kindness toward the humans wasn’t a ruse.
“To our saviors,” Ora said, lifting their mug in the air. “We are forever grateful you were there in Nesra’s Pass. May the Gods grant you all the blessings in this life that you so rightly deserve.”
“Hear, hear,” Malou said, lifting her mug.
I had always found that human prayer odd—that their Gods only granted the blessings that someone deserved. We had just killed seven people. We didn’t deserve any of the Gods’ blessings.
“We’ve been thinking,” Grae said, drawing the attention of those sitting across the fire. Their images warped from the twisting flames. Grae’s eyes shifted to me and then back to Ora. “The Rooks are rampant in Taigos and I’d imagine even worse in Olmdere. Maybe our crew could join you, seeing as we’re traveling the same way? We could offer you some manner of protection on your travels?”
My mouth dropped open as I blinked at him.
He’d listened to me.
“I was just about to suggest the same thing,” Ora replied, giving Mina a grin. “We’re a little on edge after what happened today. Having some people who are good with swords on our side would be most welcome.”
“Guards to the musicians,” Hector said, raising his mug again. A log cracked and embers danced into the darkening sky.
“I’m assuming it’s not just generosity that made you offer such things.” Ora pursed their lips, rotating their glofta around the licking flames. “You need to keep a low profile, too?”
The four of us froze. What did they know?
“Yes,” Grae finally answered for us. “In our line of work, it’s best to go unnoticed.”
“Until the sword’s in your belly,” Hector said with a laugh that he cut off as soon as Sadie elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“That must be very difficult,” Navin said, his eyes meeting Sadie’s.
Flirting aside, he had no idea. The people we were trying to avoid were our own pack. Now that Grae was gone, too, we were certainly being hunted even as we sat here. We needed to stick to the fringes of town, the human quarters, if we wanted to keep hidden. For all the pomp and circumstance, a musical group would actually draw the least suspicion. Wolves didn’t learn the faces and names of humans, they were window dressing, servants, entertainers, and nothing more. The Silver Wolves hunting us wouldn’t think we’d affiliate with lowly humans. That arrogance would be our greatest cover.
“What are we going to tell people when they ask about them?” Malou asked Ora.
“Hmm.” They considered each of us. “They could help with the setup, or maybe we could say they know how to repair instruments? They could broker performances for us or . . . Calla, you said you can sing?”
“Oh.” My eyes dropped. “Not really.”
“Will you sing for us?” Mina signed. She grabbed a piece of spiced bread her sister passed to her and popped it into her cheek.
“No, no, no, no.” The words came spilling out of my mouth. It would’ve been embarrassing before, but now that Grae and the others were here . . . my face heated, the icy sting of the evening air gone. Hector shook beside me with restrained laughter and I elbowed him.
“Will you both stop elbowing me!”
“Not anytime soon,” Sadie muttered.
“That is four nos.” Ora laughed, looking at me.
“When we have the instruments out,” Malou insisted, “you can sing along then, and if it’s bad we’ll just drown you out so no one will know.”
I snorted, adding a mocking, “Thanks.”
We all stared into the fire, watching the flames dance between us.
“Any good stories from wherever you’ve come from?” Ora asked. “I think we’ve heard twenty different versions of every tale in the land.”
“It sounds like you’ve traveled to every corner of Aotreas,” Hector said. “Your accents are hard to pick.”
“You’d never guess it.” Malou chuckled, nodding to her companions. “None of us look like the kingdoms we were born in. Take Navin.” She hooked her thumb at him. “He looks like he’d be home in Valta, hey?” Navin leaned forward and steepled his fingers against his lips, hiding a grin. “But say something in Valtan.”
“Inge asha astanne carrasrostrom.” He barely got the words out before he burst into laughter.
It took me a second to realize he was even speaking the native tongue of Valta, the words were so jumbled. I thought he’d meant to say: hello, how are you? But it was nearly impossible to decipher. Everyone cackled with laughter.
“Eight years traveling with us and it hasn’t gotten any better,” Ora wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes.
“You must be from Damrienn, with the way you roll your Rs,” Sadie said.
“Wrong.”
“Taigos?” Hector guessed.
Navin shook his head again.
“We’re running out of kingdoms.” Sadie chuckled, picking at the seed heads on the flowers beside her. “If you’re not from Damrienn, Taigos, or Valta . . .”
“Olmdere,” I said, as Navin’s golden-brown eyes found mine.
His cheeks dimpled and he nodded.
“I’ve never met someone from Olmdere before,” I whispered. Besides Briar and myself, I’d never met a single Olmderian. Other than the Rooks, of course.
“Not many people have,” Navin said, his eyes hardening.
“Will you tell us about Olmdere?” Sadie asked. “What’s it like there?”
“You’ll see for yourself soon enough,” Navin said, though his expression morphed to one of sorrow. “I was young when the Gold Wolf throne fell to Sawyn. I don’t really remember a time before her Rooks patrolled the streets, before our grain was her grain, before our lives were her lives.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. This was the side of the story I’d never heard before. I’d heard about the night I was born, but never about the aftermath. And definitely not about the humans. Vellia always told us that Sawyn closed the borders to the kingdom and sent her Rooks out to scour the continent for Briar, but . . . I’d never heard the tale of what had happened to all the people who survived within Olmdere.
“It wasn’t easy,” Navin murmured. “We were cut off from all trade within the continent and could only survive off what each village could grow itself. When the blight came twelve years ago, I escaped. There are a few secret ways out of Olmdere, through the abandoned mines.”
He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. I didn’t even know about the blight, nor any of the troubles my kingdom faced while I grew up safe in that cabin in Allesdale. Beyond the Stormcrest Mountains, our people had been starving to death and I had no idea. I picked at my fingernails, trying to distract myself from my hitching breath. Those were my people, my parents’ people. And they’d been left to starve.
Grae’s knee pressed into mine, and I wondered if he could see the pain seeping out of me like the bending air above the fire’s flames. Did he know it hit me the same way I felt the blow of a fist or kick of a boot? But this was a pain deeper than all others, too—loss, hopelessness, shame.
“I still can’t believe you made it out the other side,” Malou huffed, shoving more food into her mouth.
“Most didn’t,” Navin whispered. “It was an act of desperation. People who crossed the border like that had no other choice. A slow death awaited us if we stayed . . . unless we pledged ourselves to Sawyn. It’s why my brother became a Rook.”
We all froze, exchanging nervous looks between each other.
“That’s why you pulled down their masks,” Sadie murmured. “You were searching for him?”
“I don’t know what happened to the rest of my family who remained,” Navin murmured, neither confirming nor denying Sadie’s suspicion. “My father attempted to cross with me . . .”
Bile rose up my throat. This was my family’s failure, and I felt every ounce of that shame. Grae’s warm hand reached over and took my trembling fingers. He didn’t look at me as his calloused palm squeezed my clammy hand.
“I’m sorry,” Sadie said softly.
“I think you’ll find most of us have sad stories to tell,” Ora said, looking up to the milky constellation of stars. “When we get to Taigoska, we’ll play them for you.”
“Play?” Hector asked.
“Our stories.” Ora added another log to the fire, embers spraying up from the ashes below. “We could tell you what happened, but a song will make you feel it. It’s been the only thing I’ve found healing.”
“That sounds beautiful,” I whispered.
“One day.” Ora looked at me. “We’ll write your song.”
Grae’s hand clenched around mine and I dropped it.
“That would be nice,” I said, standing up and feigning a yawn. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll retire now.”
“Good night,” the group called. “Sleep well.”
I was halfway to the tent when I heard Sadie say, “What about Valta? Any stories from there?”
Ora replied something I couldn’t quite hear and they all erupted into laughter. It hurt hearing that laughter, and I wasn’t sure why. They were all able to enjoy the bittersweetness of life while I only felt overwhelmed by it.
I couldn’t let it be. The world wouldn’t change if I accepted those stories of Navin’s family as just another part of the rhythms of existence. That anxious thought filled me, not knowing what action I needed to take, but knowing I must act. I couldn’t let Navin’s life be just another story. What they said about Wolves not caring about humans anymore . . . if I did nothing, it would prove them all right.
I entered the tent and kicked off my boots, sighing as I peeled off my woolen socks. I wiggled my bare feet against the chilly canvas. The moon was bright in the sky, but the space was dark, the heavy shadows leaching the color from the room. I stared at Grae’s single bed roll and blanket. We could both fit better than the bunk for sure, but it would still be snug . . . I’d sleep on the floor.
I opened the front flap of my pack and felt for the glass jar that held my tea light candles and flint. I lit only one and placed it beside my pack, just enough light to see as I searched for any clothes I could use as a blanket.
The canvas swayed as the tent flap opened behind me, and I didn’t need to look to know it was Grae.
“Are you okay?”
I hated that question. I pushed down the feelings threatening to rise up to the surface.
“Thank you for asking to travel with them,” I said instead.
“You were right. It’s a better plan to hide amongst them.” Grae’s discarded boots thudded to the floor, and his socks appeared beside me as I rifled through my pack. His gentle hand on my shoulder stilled my movements. “Talk to me.”
“I’m just tired,” I said, yanking out my cloak and laying it across the floor.
“Take the bedroll,” Grae insisted.
“No—”
“I’ll sleep by the door. Take it, you’ve had a worse few nights than me.” I could feel his eyes lingering on my bruises. “I promise to take a turn tomorrow night if that’ll convince you.”
I sighed, still not looking up into those dark eyes. “Fine.”
The air was too cold for me to undress. I’d sleep in my clothes. I crawled onto the bedroll, pulling the fur up to my shoulder and tucking my wounded chin over the top. It wasn’t a bed in a palace, but it was far more comfortable than being directly on the ground.
My eyelids drooped, the warmth of the furs tugging me down toward sleep. I listened to Grae’s ruffling, wondering what sort of makeshift bed he had constructed for himself but too exhausted to lift my head and look.
His deep voice carried easily across the silent room. “What Navin said . . .”
“Don’t,” I cut in, blowing out the candle flame flickering in front of me.
I screwed my eyes shut, as if the act alone could force me to sleep. I didn’t want to talk to him about Navin’s story or how many other Olmderians had similar tales to tell. What would my parents think? I felt the mounting weight of it all crushing down on me. Compared to the plight of humans, I had no sad song to sing. If I didn’t help fix their world, I didn’t deserve to mourn it. As I yielded to the warm tug of sleep, I tried to imagine what my song would sound like, but all I heard was silence.
Twenty
The icy winds whipped through the tent and my eyes cracked open. Seeing it was still nighttime, I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep. My whole body trembled, the furs unable to fend off the chill as the storms picked up in the night. My fingers ached, curled so tightly in my blanket. Ostekke gut me, I was a fool. We were Wolves, we’d survive, but the bunks would be nice and warm right now . . . especially with Grae beside me.
“Grae?” I whispered, teeth clacking together.
“Yeah?”
“Are you awake?”
“I am now.” His voice was husky with sleep. “Why?”
I shuddered, curling tighter into a ball. “Are you cold?”
“Freezing.”
“Me too,” I whispered, craning my neck up to see his shadowed figure lying across the threshold of the tent. The blustering wind rustled through the canvas. I couldn’t make out the details of his face, but I knew he was watching me. “Well, get over here.”
“Thank the Goddess,” he rasped. “I thought we might both die from stubbornness.”
I held my breath as he prowled over to the bedroll. He lifted the side of the blanket and I gasped at the rush of cold air.
“Sorry.” He shuffled in.
I rolled to my side, facing him, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him so that we both fit. I tucked my face against his warm chest and sighed.
“Better?” he asked, and I nodded, folding further into his warmth. His arms tightened around me and my trembling eased.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I’d tried to push him away but couldn’t, even as my anger at him for trying to stop me prevailed. There must be reasons for what he said in that tower. I could taste it even now—fear. He’d feared me leaving for reasons I didn’t understand, had tried to make me stay because of that fear, but it made it harder to hate him for it. He was here now, his warmth reviving me, and the only thing that still felt right in this awful world was him and me.
“Thank you for taking pity on me.” Grae chuckled, his warm breath in my hair.
“I did it for myself,” I muttered, thinking of Navin’s story again. “It seems Marriels only ever consider themselves.”
Part of me wished I had never known about the horrors of Olmdere, but it also fed the fire deep in my belly. I knew with even more certainty I couldn’t turn back. My people had suffered in ways I hadn’t ever known. But now that I knew, I wouldn’t turn a blind eye to it. I had wanted to defeat Sawyn to avenge my parents, to fulfill our own legacy. Those goals felt hollow and selfish now. I hadn’t considered how much my people might need me—people my ancestors had vowed to protect. Sticky black shame filled me. It tarred my bones.
“I’m sorry for what has happened to Olmdere,” Grae murmured, placing his hand on my cheek, careful to avoid my cuts. He tipped my head back, making me look into his eyes. A knot tightened in my throat as my eyes welled, letting him see my shame. “I know you care, Calla. You wouldn’t be this upset if you didn’t, but what Navin said is not your fault.” I shook my head, trying to look away, but he held my face as a tear fell down my cheek and he swept it away with his thumb. “What happened to your kingdom is not your fault. None of this is your fault, little fox.”
The dam broke as tears came spilling down my cheeks. Grae dropped his hand to pull me into him again. Tears stained his shirt as I sobbed. He ran a soothing hand down my back as it all rushed out of me. I felt rudderless in a fierce and unrelenting storm, thinking of all the things I should have done. All the ways I could have prepared.
I should’ve protected my sister. I should’ve helped my kingdom sooner. I should’ve demanded more of this world, and listened harder when it was demanding more of me.
My parents were gone, my sister cursed, my kingdom in ruin, and I was the last Marriel who could save it. But it wasn’t just Briar’s life that hung in the balance. An entire population had suffered devastating losses. It was too much. Before, my destiny had just been daydreams, and now, it was real and raw and vicious.
