“I’d like to book transportation,” Ginger said. “To Hjeva.”
Why did the words hurt so much? Ginger was free to go wherever he wanted, probably for the first time in his life. Doran just hadn’t thought he’d put an ocean between them.
“Okay. We can arrange that. I’ll show you both where to go and then you’re free to be on your ways.”
Ginger gave him a questioning look. “What will you do?”
Doran shrugged. “I’ll stay a few days. I’ve got a couple of things I want to sell, and then I’ll head South. I’m not selling anything elven,” he added when Naavah Ora shot him a dark look. “I’ll meet up with an old friend before I move on.”
He took them both through the market, and toward the other side where horse-drawn carriages waited for business. “They should be able to take you anywhere, or at least close enough for you to be able to walk the rest. Ginger, you’ll need to get to Kuuldam. They’ve got a harbour there, and ships. One of them should be bound for Hjeva.”
Ginger nodded. Doran ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. I want you to stay. Both of you. He had no right to ask it of either of them.
Maybe he’d head south himself, toward Kwenjande. Toward the prettiest girls and richest fools, where he could forget all about Ginger’s smile and Naavah Ora’s scowl.
Perhaps Ash would come with him; he’d appreciate the distraction.
One more thing, because it’s important: I don't want your forgiveness. I need you to understand why I've done what I've done, that I didn’t act out of malice. That I didn’t work toward some dark scheme only I could see. I didn’t support him or even aid him; please see that.
Chapter 24
840
840 felt lost on his own in Alt Võina. He wanted to stay with Doran, but they’d agreed to go their separate ways once they reached Alt Võina. They’d split five minutes ago, and already 840 couldn’t see either of them. Everyone was shouting, everyone was rushing, and the only two people he knew had disappeared in the thick crowd all too quickly.
A strong warrior, not a weak child.
He tried to convince himself this was for the best. Over the last two weeks he’d thought a lot about why his Lord had let him escape. Their first night under the stars had felt like his childhood—carefree and safe. He hadn’t felt that way in ages. His name hovered on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to think it, but his mind became a dense fog every time he tried. L—something. He was certain it started with an L.
He had remembered small snippets from his old life over the last two weeks, too, but the thought his Lord was testing him wouldn’t leave him. He’d even wondered if this was the reason he could almost feel his name on his tongue—almost, but not quite. His Lord was all he had now Doran and Naavah Ora had gone their own ways, and he wouldn’t let 840 have anything else.
He leaned against the bricks of a building, hot under the late summer sun, and watched the bustling market before him. He smelled something spicy, and something sweet. He heard accents he’d never heard before. All the different people wandering around made his head spin. Some of them even had the fiery red hair of Hjeva, but he didn’t dare approach them. Were his parents somewhere in this chaos, or had they returned back home? Did they ever wonder about him? Would they be proud of what he’d become?
He wanted to go to Hjeva and find them and his old home.
He wanted to go back to the village, and tell them he shouldn’t have run, that being sacrificed and enduring the pain was what he wanted.
He wanted, desperately, to follow Doran and tell him he wasn’t going anywhere.
But he couldn’t do any of those things. 840 had followed Doran after they’d split and knew which inn Doran was staying at. If he wanted to he could find him there, but Doran had said they’d go their own way from here. Then again, Doran had been reluctant too. He couldn’t go back to Hjeva. There was nothing for him there now, even if his parents still lived on the same cliff, even if their house still stood watch over the beach below. He’d likely feel as much as a stranger there as he did here.
But he couldn’t go back to the village either. He should go back. His Lord had set him on this journey to become a stronger warrior. His Lord was disappointed that he hadn’t fought to return right away.
There were so many possibilities he couldn’t think straight. He slid down toward the ground, grateful he’d leaned against someone’s house first. Doran wasn’t here this time to help him back up.
840 had enjoyed the last two weeks, he just hadn’t shown it. He hadn’t known what to do, what the right decision would be, and he was still no closer to an answer. Both Doran and Naavah Ora wanted to know more about him, but neither of them had pressed him. Doran had tried to get his name a couple of times, but hadn’t asked again after their third day on the road. Doran had understood. Doran had helped him calm down when his thoughts had been too much, like they were now. Doran had helped him make sense of the mess in his mind.
He took a deep breath in. Let a deep breath out. The world was still spinning, but it was getting easier to see straight again.
This decision should be easy, so why wasn’t it? Or perhaps it was, and he simply wasn’t brave enough to face it. He was free, could go anywhere he wanted. The choices were suffocating.
A strong warrior, not a weak child. He was beginning to hate this sentiment the Elders had drilled into him as an excuse to beat him and bleed him. The child he’d been all those years ago was dead. The pain was still there, at the back of his mind, and the scars were still on his body, but perhaps he could get them treated and healed.
His mother had once told him she believed in second chances—her voice was sounding more and more like her too—but what about third chances? Could he start over again? The boy he’d been was long buried, but he wanted to dig another grave for the warrior the Elders had tried to turn him into. What they’d done to him was wrong. He felt nauseated thinking it, but his heart was racing and he knew he was right.
There was more to the world than pain and scars. There were starry nights spent outside, and sorcerer’s lights dancing in the sky. There was the scent of his mother’s apple pie, and the salty air on his skin by the beach. There was Naavah Ora’s magic, which could light fires and warm their shivering bodies. There was Doran’s arm around his waist to help him walk.
And finally, at the front of his mind, not hidden away at the back like a dirty secret, was his name.
My family couldn't see it, but it was never up to them. It was only ever my decision. Had I told them, they would’ve tried to stop me and the world wouldn't exist today. Not like this.
Chapter 25
Naavah Ora
The Vaskan capital was the scariest place Naavah Ora had ever been. In Dunhă, she’d found a few places that frightened her, but she’d always known nothing could hurt her. Here, in this foreign city filled to exhaustion with people, Doran’s advice rang in her mind. Keep one hand on your purse and look like you’re meant to be here.
She had left the busy market hoping to find a quieter area elsewhere, but she’d felt even more vulnerable out in the empty side roads. The immediate silence and faraway market sounds were so much worse, and she hadn’t dared to stay.