I took in the nervous tap of his fingers against his ribs, the way he leaned harder against the wall as if it could be a shield. Discovering Malkin’s involvement had shaken him.
I thought of the conversation we hadn’t finished that morning.
“You can stay on the ship,” I said softly.
“No.” The iron of his answer shocked me. He pushed off the wall, forcing his arms down to his sides. For a moment, I saw the boy who’d stepped between Ericen and me on the bridge, the fighter he must have been under Malkin’s control. “I have to face this. If I can’t—” He shook his head. “What am I even doing here?”
I pushed off the wall, crossing the small room to take one of his large hands in both of my own.
“You’re here because you’re a good person,” I told him. “Because when I was in trouble, you helped me, and I will forever be grateful for that. Now it’s my turn to help you.” I squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to face Malkin alone.”
His agitation settled, his fingers closing around mine. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. This comfortable silence was a space we inhabited together. Safe, content. We’d built it sitting in his workshop night after night, but it’d gotten lost in the vastness of the sea. I clung to it now, hoping it would be enough.
* * *
We reached Isair just before sunset. The town was blessedly free of smoke and flames, but a massive, richly ornamented ship took up most the harbor, its railings etched with gold like delicate embroidery. A while flag snapped in the wind, bearing a bright blue kingfisher.
Malkin was here.
The fading sunlight illuminated a broad boulevard running along the coastline in either direction. Several piers branched out into the sea, each as empty as Cardail’s had been. No one bothered us as we docked. No one called out.
We’d decided to leave Res on the ship until we needed him, since his presence would make scouting the situation unseen near impossible. With my black gold bow strapped to my chest and a full quiver of arrows, I led Kiva, Caylus, and Samra off the ship and into the darkening town, Samra donning her black-and-white mask to hide her identity.
As one of Rhodaire’s main port towns, I’d visited Isair once as a child on our way back from the Ambriels. Then, music had flowed along the docks in an endless stream, threaded with bouts of laughter, and Estrel and I had eaten what felt like a hundred orange cakes.
Now it resembled a tapestry stripped of its dye, bleak and lifeless.
Malkin might not have set it on fire yet, but his people had already begun their work. Piles of belongings littered the streets before homes with broken doors and shattered windows. People had clearly been forced from their homes. From what I remembered, the city was a maze of stone and alleys, the streets oriented as if drawn by a child’s scribbling hand. Where would Malkin have corralled everyone?
We moved down a broad central street that opened to an empty crossroads. A towering statue dominated the center. Draped in white-flowered delladon vines, a fresh crown of woven ivy sat atop its head.
A Sella.
I slowed, surveying the ancient being. Tall and thin with long hair and too-sharp cheekbones, it was easy to imagine how many had once seen these creatures as gods.
Kiva stepped up beside me. “I’d have expected this in Seahalla but not here.”
“It’s strange,” I replied. “I didn’t think anyone in Rhodaire thought of the Sellas as anything more than long-dead legends. Is it only in Aris we’ve stopped believing?”
“It’s only in Aris your mother was able to crush what remained of that belief,” Samra said. Her voice felt even more condemning from behind that mask. “She closed the last Sella temple in Aris.”
“But why?” I asked.
The captain’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she simply turned back the way we’d been heading. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time. Malkin could light this place up at any moment.”
As I turned my back, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the statue’s gaze went with me.
As we exited the square, voices sounded, and we ducked into an alley. Caylus peered cautiously around the edge before pulling back.
“Malkin’s guards,” he said softly. “I recognize them.”
“Great. Let’s say hi.” Kiva patted the sword she’d borrowed from one of the crew, Sinvarra still lost to Shearen, the Vykryn soldier who’d taken the black gold blade from her.
“Or—” Caylus’s voice caught. He gritted his teeth. “I could turn myself in.”
I gaped. “What? No.”
The voices grew louder, one saying something jeering to the other. They carried a torch with them, the light dancing along the far wall.
“They’ll take me to Malkin,” Caylus said. “It’s the fastest way to find out where he is.”
“And to get yourself killed,” Kiva said at the same time as Samra said, “It makes logical sense.”
They glowered at each other. I ignored them, reaching for Caylus to object, but he was already moving. He stepped into the road.
The voices cut off. The light stilled.
“Caylus?” asked a female voice. “What in Duren’s name are you doing here?”
“It doesn’t matter what he’s doing here,” said the other guard. “Malkin is going to be thrilled. Come here, boy.”
Caylus stepped reflexively back, and the firelight illuminated his face. Fear blazed behind his green eyes. Then hands closed around his wrists and arms, dragging him forward. I lurched after him, but Samra seized me, holding me back. I bit back a curse as the sounds of scuffle faded along with the light. Only then did she release me.
Res’s curiosity plucked along the bond, checking that all was okay. I sent back a reassuring pulse I didn’t truly feel.
We crept out after them, catching sight of the two guards towing Caylus around the corner ahead. Grateful for the descending cloak of night, we followed as far behind as we dared, taking turn after turn deeper into the heart of the town. Gradually, our surroundings grew more familiar. I recognized the sloping road they’d just turned onto ahead, the tightly knit buildings lining it a little taller than the rest. It led to a massive square outside the home of the town’s leader.
The shuffling of feet and murmur of voices rose ahead of us. As we neared the turn, Kiva threw back an arm to stop us.
“Illucian soldiers,” she whispered. “Two of them, guarding the back of the crowd.”
“Dammit.” We were going to lose Caylus to the crowd. I surveyed the area around us, then looked up toward the shop at our back. There’d been a festival in town the day we’d come, and people had thrown petals down from the rooftops, symbolizing falling feathers. Which meant—