“It was Fennigal Bayne,” Lorcan said. “Before the pirates took it over. Killed most of the inhabitants, the ones who didn’t flee.”
“Where did the ones who fled, go?”
His horse shook its mane, as though the animal was unnerved by the quiet, too. “Some of them joined the fighting. Others took shelter in nearby villages, or went north in search of family. A lot of refugees ended up in Cannavale.”
Before the war, many Auralians rarely traveled far from their home villages. Now, Auralian cultural life is scrambled. Broken. Like everything else.
I am tasked with reassembling the pieces into a whole. I can’t even manage that for myself. How will I do it for anyone else?
“Stay back.”
Lorcan’s arm like an iron bar across my abdomen. I stopped in my tracks.
“What’s wrong?”
“I saw something move.” He exchanged a look with Tovian. “Stay with Tahra.”
“Why do I always have to watch the princess?” she complained.
Thanks, kid.I should probably stop thinking of her as a child, but I can’t help it. She reminds me of myself a few years ago, in some ways. Anxious for adult experiences, without adult wisdom.
Lorcan whipped around. “You want to go see whatever’s out there? Be my guest.” His gaze cut sharply to me. “I’ll be more than happy to guard the princess.”
Tahra’s gaze dropped. I couldn’t believe it. Maybe Tovian and I were finally getting through to him.
“Probably a stray dog,” Tovian said, inching forward. His eyes scanned the ruined houses restlessly. Lorcan moved along the side of a building, blade in hand, a pistol strapped to his side. He said something I couldn’t hear.
This is how they worked. As a team. A unit. I wish I’d been there to see it.
A motion from the corner of my eye made me whip my head around.
Not a stray dog. A child.
I rushed forward, only to be brought up short when a stone-faced, dirt-smudged girl pointed a sharp knife at my throat.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Lorcan was at my side in an instant. I motioned for him to stand down.
“It’s all right.”
“Who are you?” someone behind her demanded.
“The princess.”
“The fuck you are,” a young male voice said, angrily, from the shadows behind the girl. I could barely discern his outline in the deep gloom of the hovel they were hiding in. He reminded me of a half-grown wolf-bear I had once seen staring down a larger animal. “The princess is dead.”
“I’m not dead. I’m right here. Come out. Please.”
A scrawny, dirty youth edged out into the sun. His clothes were torn and stained. I’ve never witnessed such suspicion in someone so young. Except, possibly, the silent little girl with eyes as hard as agates, whose knife hadn’t wavered.
“You’re really her?” the boy asked.
“I am.” I looked over at Lorcan and saw his pity and anger. For everything he and I have been through, we were adults. Not children left to fend for themselves.
“You look...” He trailed off. “The princess had long hair.”
“I cut it. Impractical to maintain.” I bent on one knee, slowly. The girl’s knife never wavered. Nor did her eyes. She tracked my movement with her sharp, sharp stone blade. I saw myself in her, coming out of the castle. Brittle. One more blow away from shattering completely. “You may recognize my companions?”
