“None,” Nothing murmured. “Whatever we were in my previous incarnation, we are no longer. I don’t know what… could be. But right now it’s only the right thing to do.” She tilted her head, staring at the sorceress. Beautiful, strange, with her one green eye and one bone white, and shadow-feathers under her skin. Nothing remembered the volcano of laughter inside herself, and the power she’d felt when she’d helped kill Skybreaker. That was the way to discovering all the colors shaded into the night sky. But it was like a dream. Now that she was leaving.
The sorceress said, “I will die without a heart, and the mountain crack.”
“You have a heart,” Nothing insisted.
“Only half of one.”
Nothing snorted.
Surprise slid across the sorceress’s face before she smoothed her expression, but Nothing didn’t understand why the sorceress should be surprised. Why should she act like there’d been a connection between them? It had only ever been magic, curiosity, and Kirin.
Nothing said, “Promise me, on that heart. No more murder.”
“A half promise on a half heart?”
Nothing frowned, wary. “Promise.”
“You have nothing left with which to bargain.”
Nothing left, Nothing thought sourly. Only herself. “What if I promise to return?”
“Do you?” The sorceress curled her fingers around the base of the pear, black-lacquered nails delicate against the skin.
“I will try,” Nothing said slowly, wishing there were a way to reassure the sorceress, but she couldn’t lie about what she didn’t feel. Yes, there was more magic for her to experience, and she did love the Fifth Mountain. She’d been cheated of her final two days here, after all. But she had to see Kirin through his investiture ritual.
The sorceress stepped closer and pressed the pear into Nothing’s hands. “Then I will try to wait for you, little demon. But do not stay away too long. I do not want to die, and without a heart, I will.”
Cradling the pear, Nothing nodded. The sorceress seemed to want more, but Nothing spun away and hopped onto the barge. It rocked heavily in the river, and Nothing threw herself forward to remain on the deck. Water splashed, rippling and winking.
Kirin approached, took her elbow, and lifted a hand in farewell.
Nothing turned, leaning back against his chest where she belonged. Even given everything he’d kept from her, this was where she needed to be: with her prince, whom she loved more than anyone.
Together they watched the sorceress standing upon the dock as the Selegan shimmered in the sunlight, waves as bright silver-white as scales, and the barge pulled away.
She kept watching as the barge picked up speed, as wind tugged at her hair, flicking it across her eyes. She held the pear, staring at the dark pillar of black and green that was the sorceress, until they slipped around a bend in the river and she was gone.
The old lava field surrounded the river here: emerald-green moss and bright grass over the rolling cold lava. Flowers bobbed and bent, and the wind smelled like summertime. Nothing remembered the first moments she’d spent on that lava field, with Sky, and how she’d loved the land immediately. She’d felt like she belonged to the pretty remnants of destruction.
She would miss the Fifth Mountain until she managed to return.
“Nothing,” Kirin murmured, and drew her toward the front of the barge. She tucked the pear into the pocket of the long wool jacket she wore and tightened the sash at her waist.
Sky stood at the prow, one booted foot up on the low rail. It was a long, rectangular barge that sat shallowly against the river, edged with benches that doubled as storage and with a hold under the deck keeping their food and blankets dry. In the center a small pavilion rose, hung with drapes that could be pulled for privacy or against rain, and they had an iron stove squatting like a four-legged spider on the deck. Smoke trickled out of the little holes in the lid.
Nothing took a flat, canvas pillow from beneath the pavilion awning and set it beside the iron stove. She sat cross-legged and watched the smoke slick upward, wavering against the blue sky. The barge swayed gently as it flowed along the back of the Selegan. Kirin joined Sky at the prow. They both wore similar traveling clothing to Nothing: dark trousers, shirts, wrap jackets, and wide sashes. If it rained or grew cold, they had cloaks, and for the arrival at the palace each had a set of very fine silk and a box of paint pots. Nothing should have asked for a game to pass the time. Or anything to keep her hands busy, and her mind.
Especially her mind.
It seemed like she was forgetting something—but she couldn’t quite pin down what. Her mind turned itself over, persistent and careful, looking for shadows and clues. But Nothing was probably just asking for trouble, now that they were going home.
She let herself doze, thoughts thinning, as she stared at the smoke and beyond at the banks. The lava field gave way to rain forest on both sides. Then there was no bank at all, only tall, mossy trees and thin red alders, and heavy, curling firs that dipped toward the Selegan. The water rushed over boulders, tearing at the damp mud and roots. It sounded like a song.
The sun arced nearer and nearer to the canopy. Sky knelt and reached over the rail to touch the water. “Selegan,” he said. “Selegan, will you rush safely with us all night, or should we find a place to tie down until morning?”
Wings of water lifted to either side of the barge, spraying Nothing with a fine mist; rainbows sparkled in the light. She smiled. The dragon was so beautiful.
Kirin wiped his hands back through his damp hair, scowling slightly.
The Selegan River said, “I can fly easy with you all through the night.”
Sky said, “Thank you, dragon.”
He opened the panel into the hold and drew out a bag of cheese, handing it off to Nothing, along with oatcakes and dried meat. Then he pulled free a flask of wine.
They melted cheese onto the cakes, setting them against the stove, and shared the picnic as the sun turned the sky violet and pink.
That night Nothing slept curled against Kirin, while the prince leaned into Sky. The stars burned and the moon rose late, waking her with its brightness. Nothing tucked her blanket around herself and pressed her nose to Kirin’s back. She listened to the river flow, the cry of frogs and whispering breeze through thick, wet canopy.
She already missed the weird corridors of the mountain, the crystal ceilings and glass-smooth obsidian. She missed the strangeness of the patterns in the Fifth Mountain, though she’d only been there for four days.
Nothing rolled onto her back and dug the pear from the pocket of her wrap jacket. It gleamed with tiny golden freckles in the moonlight. She rubbed it against her cheek, then put her mouth to the smooth skin. It smelled bright and rich. Nothing bit down, tearing a huge chunk free. Juice dripped onto her chin, and she closed her eyes, sinking into the crisp sweetness. It broke over her tongue, perfectly soft between her teeth, and she swallowed.
Darkness consumed her as if she’d fallen suddenly asleep, but when she opened her eyes she stood atop the Fifth Mountain, on a balcony curved out from a brightly lit cavern. The sorceress stood with her, hands on the elegant obsidian rail, gazing out into the night.
Nothing gasped quietly, for it felt real, not a dream.
The sorceress turned, brows up. “Nothing.”
Moonlight spilled over her loose tricolored hair. She wore a thin robe wrapped around her, and a long line of her bare skin showed from neck to breast. Including the thin scar over her heart. She was barefoot.