No.
“Yes,” she repeated instead.
Finn studied her. “We can rest once we’ve reached the edge.”
She stayed planted, shifting the weight of her pack while peering through trees and pockets of undergrowth. She wasn’t even sure what to be looking for. If the Bright-Eyeds could shift and mimic their surroundings, it only stood to reason that the Benevolence—by all accounts, more powerful and clever—could do the same. She could be looking at a whole horde of them right now and she wouldn’t know.
Before, such an idea would have comforted her. She would have felt protected and safe. But now…did her faithfulness matter anything to them? Her gratitudes and gifts? Her prayers and pleas? All her life, she’d tried so hard to honor and revere them. Did they care at all about the veneration of an enemy?
As the hairs on the back of her neck rose, she turned and hurried after Finn.
The last stretch upthe ridge was the worst.
The embankment was so steep, Greer all but crawled up it, grabbing at rocks and exposed tree roots to help pull herself along.
“A few more yards,” Finn called out, already at the top.
Greer knew he’d meant it as encouragement, but in the moment, it seemed like an executioner’s sentencing. Her dress clung to her in a sticky, sweaty embrace, and her pack seemed determined to flatten her into the earth. She’d lightened it before they set out it, casting aside anything ruined by the river, but it now seemed to have doubled in weight. Tripled, even. With a great heaving breath, Greer pressed on, gaining a scant number of inches.
For the first time that day, Finn approached her, shuffling back down the hill with infuriating ease.
“Here,” he said, holding out his hand.
“I can do it,” she insisted and wished her words had been infused with strength instead of coming out in such a deflated gasp.
“Greer,” he insisted. “Give me the pack, at least.”
With the giant rucksack gone, she did find it easier to scale the restof the ascent. Finn stayed with her the whole way, remaining blessedly silent as she fought her way up. When they reached the top, Greer sank down, drawing in great heaping gulps of air. So far into the foothills, it was thinner, and she felt she had to take in twice as many breaths.
Beyond the ridge’s crest rose the first of the Severings, looming over the valley like a watchful god. It was bigger than anything Greer could have ever imagined, sprawling out for miles and rising high into the clouds. It was rocky and forbidding, full of sheer walls and jagged crevasses. Some trees edged along its base like a skirt, but they petered away as the mountain grew, revealing a deadly world of rock and ice.
“There’s a road up to Sandry,” Finn said, as if reading her mind. He pointed to a spot roughly halfway up a series of crests. “It’s pocked and overgrown, but it will be easier than this.”
Greer couldn’t believe such reassurances but didn’t have the energy to voice her doubt.
“Water,” he instructed.
She unlooped the canteen from the rucksack’s straps and pulled out the cork stopper. “You first,” she said, offering it to Finn.
Surprised, he took a few swallows before sinking down to the ground beside her and handing the canteen back. “Ithasbeen a hard climb,” he said, as she drank deeply.
Greer wiped the back of her hand over her lips and let out a small sigh. “Has it? You look like we’ve been out on a leisurely stroll.”
He smiled. “Trust me, it has. Flying would have…” He shrugged; their differences could not be helped. “Do you need more?”
Wearily, Greer took another long swig from the canteen.
“No, I meant…” Finn nodded toward his wrist.
“Oh,” she said, her gaze falling to the strip of cloth covering the spot where just last night he’d ripped open his flesh for her. She spotted another bit of fabric beneath the makeshift bandage and squinted, struck by a strange sense of uneasiness.
“I think it would help.” He unwound the bandage, ready to offer more of his blood, more of himself, and revealed a dark strip of silk.
Greer snatched his wrist, bringing the bracelet in for closer inspection.
It had been seven years since Greer had seen the ribbon, and though it was tattered and frayed, its once-bright colors now faded into hazy hues, she would have recognized it anywhere.
“Where did you get this?” she whispered.
