Sadness tugs at my chest as I nod and force words of gratitude, even though Mildred hadn’t given me any hope.
Sunlight glints off the red marbles as she holds them out to me. “Take these.”
I eye them, suspecting they are bloodstone.
She grabs my hand and pushes the marbles into my palm. “Take the marbles, Sol.”
I stare down at them. They don’t look any different from most marbles.
“What are they?”
She wraps her hand around mine, covering my fingers with hers. “When you need to return to us, they will help you.”
I suck in a deep breath and stumble back a step. “I beg your pardon?”
She offers a tired smile and sinks into her chair. “Good day, Sol of the Kyanite.”
She calls me what the Seer refused to call me. Maybe Mildred mocks me with those words. She probably mocks me with the marbles too.
I shove them into the bag tied to the belt on my waist and leave the Muchrah’s cottage behind. The sun glares at me as soon as I step outside. I frown at the ball of fire in the sky.
“What do you want from me?” I shout.
The sun doesn’t answer. The gods don’t answer.
The only way I’m going to get through any of this is by figuring it out on my own.
* * *
After I leave Mildred’s cottage, I decide to visit Praxis. I can use the distraction after my disappointing visit with Mildred.
On my way back to the palace, I pick up candies for him. They will not heal his grief, but maybe they will bring a smile to his face.
Sunlight filters through a tall window in the corridor as I stop outside his bedchamber in the palace and knock. When he doesn’t answer after a moment, I try again.
On my fourth knock, he opens the door, holding Edvard, and my heart melts. The baby’s tiny hand grasps his father’s finger as he babbles nonsensical words.
I reach out, brushing my fingers against Edvard’s chubby cheeks. “How is he?”
“He’s well.”
A smile spreads across my mouth. “I’m happy to see him with you.”
Sadness mingles with the resolve in Praxis’ eyes as he readjusts the baby in his arms. The baby smacks his father’s chest and babbles some more. “He softens the sting of Briley’s death.”
“I am sorry, Praxis.”
He glances at the package in my hand. “Is that for me?”
“Yes. Shall I bring it inside for you?”
He nods and trails me into his bedchamber.
“It’s not much, but I can bring more in a few days,” I say.
“You’re too kind to me, Sol.” Praxis sits Edvard in a large wicker basket. The baby squeals and smacks the sides with his fists.
Praxis’ boots echo against the marble as he moves to where I stand and takes the candies. “Something smells delicious.”
