So by the time Lore was staring at the dark ceiling of the cave, listening to the soft snores of the other people around her who also called it home, Jean-Paul was on the sand outside, curled up against the rock.
Help him be safe, she thought.Help him see Henri and Etienne again.
Are you talking to Me?Nyxara asked.
I guess.Lore hadn’t meant to be talking to anyone, just wishing into the dark.
I’m afraid I’m not in the position to be answering prayers, Nyxara said wryly.Not that I ever was, really.
Lore didn’t reply. She knew nothing was listening when she prayed. She just hoped the wish itself was enough, fed into the world, becoming tangible with her will.
All this, and she still hoped the universe had the capacity for kindness.
Dani hadn’t given her an exact time for their escape, just said to meet her on the dunes when she could get away after nightfall. Lore waited until the breath of everyone else in the cave was long and even, then slowly sat up and slipped into her flimsy boots.
“Where are you going?”
The thinnest whisper from across the cave. Lore froze.
A rustle, and someone sat up. Rosie, hair tousled, eyes wide inthe dark. The woman she’d defended from Jilly, given back her stolen cup.
Rosie kept her voice down, barely enough to hear. “Are you going to the Ferryman?”
Briefly, Lore considered lying. But before she could come up with one, Rosie nodded, as if answering her own question. “Of course you are. You don’t belong here.”
Lore didn’t know what to say. She could threaten the other woman, or beg, or offer for her to come, too. Though if Rosie already knew about the Ferryman, surely she’d had an opportunity to meet him before now?
“Be careful,” Rosie said. “He knows how to navigate well enough, but it’s still a dangerous journey. Easy to get off course.”
“I’ll be careful.” Empty words for empty sentiment. Lore had never been careful.
Rosie nodded. “If the guards ask where you went, I’ll tell them you walked into the ocean.”
Jarring, to hear it said so plainly. But Lore nodded. “Thank you, Rosie.”
Lore headed for the cave entrance. Right before she stepped out into the night, Rosie spoke again. “What was it like, being Queen?” Wistful and almost embarrassed, like she’d long wondered, finally asking now because she wouldn’t get another chance.
The stone was cold beneath Lore’s fingertips as her hands tensed. “The Queen part was awful,” she said quietly. “But him… he was kind. None of this is his fault.”
She didn’t look behind her as she left the cave, not wanting to see the skepticism on Rosie’s face.
Outside, Lore stepped gingerly around Jean-Paul. After deciding it wasn’t safe to bring him, she’d considered leaving a note, but that would necessitate finding paper and pen, and she didn’t have time.
Lore gave Jean-Paul one last look and hurried into the fog.
The dunes were between the barracks and the lighthouse, a stretch of empty beach populated by nothing but the sand mites. In the dark and perpetual ash, it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of you.
Which was why she didn’t see the Mort until she was right on them.
A fist in her stomach, first, clipping the bottom of her ribs and doubling her over. The rest of the monk melted out of the fog like a ghost, shoving her sideways. Lore skidded on the sand, tried to get up, but another Mort was behind her now and planted a boot on her shoulder, pressing down until the cartilage bent dangerously.
The first one who’d punched her crouched, level with her eyes. Lore was prepared for some villain monologue—gods knew she’d endured enough of those in the past few months—but he just shook his head. A long scar snaked down the side of his face, disappeared into the collar of his shirt. She recognized him from the other night, one of the ones who’d run when she killed their leader.
“We can’t let you escape,” he said, and to his credit, he sounded almost regretful. “The world demands your death.”
She was so,sotired of hearing about how she had to die.
Lore tried to roll out from under the Mort’s boot, but she only managed to dig herself farther into the sand. Another Mort wound his hand into her hair and pushed her head forward, driving it down in the grit. Some of it got in her mouth; Lore gagged.
