Page 139 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

She motions to the pile of triangular chips of wood she’s honed to a sharp point with a few swift strokes of her knife.

“Like this.” Rheave demonstrates how they’ve been wiggling the bits into the notches at either end of the arrow, tight enough that they don’t need further tying.

I’ve never engaged in weapon construction before, but I’ve put my fingers to enough other nimble uses to be sure I can handle this. With a nod, I get to work.

As we add to the pile, a tense silence falls over the three of us. The sun has just dipped below the hole in the ceiling, evening creeping ever closer.

Alek is out foraging so we’ll have some kind of dinner to ward off the weakness of hunger. Stavros hasn’t returned yet from his survey of the nearby royal forces.

The question of what we’re going to do about the scourge sorcerers’ next planned attack has been hanging in the air since Ivy and Rheave returned with their news. I haven’t come up with any answers.

The best we can do is make sure we’re prepared for war.

When there are only a few of the base rods left, Rheave hums and gets to his feet. “I’ll go collect more sticks we can use. I want to make sure no one from the march has come over this way too.”

He gazes down at Ivy with a stalwart protective air, obviously hesitant to leave her even for that purpose, and then flashes a smile at me before striding out.

Ivy exhales in a huff of air and sets down her most recent creation. “I guess I should be glad I’m better at making arrows than launching them.”

I nudge at the head of my arrow until I’m sure it’s firmly lodged. “No person can be a master at every skill. I’m glad there’s some way I can be of a little use myself.”

She elbows me gently. “You’ve contributed much more than ‘a little.’”

A short chuckle escapes me. “Perhaps, but this isn’t how I was supposed to be making my mark on the world.”

As the words leave my lips, Ivy’s face falls.

She tries to recover with a brisk laugh of her own, but I wince inwardly. I’ve inadvertently stung her with my clumsy remark.

“You must be missing the college a lot right now,” she says with forced lightness.

I swallow thickly and slip my hand around her arm. “I didn’t mean it like that, Kindness. I haven’t for one second regretted standing by you on this journey. I’ve only worried that… the debts I’m failing to honor may have brought bad luck our way.”

Ivy’s forehead furrows. “What debts? Why would they matter out here?”

I open my mouth and close it again, the shame of my history congealing in my chest. But I probably should explain it to her so she understands the responsibilities I carry—and how deviating from my course could have lost us my godlen’s favor.

“I told you that my mother was a courtesan as well,” I say.

Ivy nods, picking up another rod but glancing over at me again.

I run my fingers over the leaves I’ve fletched my arrow with. “She was a very admired and prominent courtesan. Some say no one of her generation served Ardone’s will quite so well. But her pregnancy with me and the birth were difficult—both took their toll on her. It strained her nerves in some way that she lost much of her former grace of movement; she developed tics that made it difficult for her to even hold a smile.”

“And the royal medics couldn’t heal the damage?”

I shake my head. “From what I understand, it was too extensive and deeply set. Apparently her situation would have been even worse without their intervention. As it was, the effects were mainly superficial… but appearances matter a lot in our line of work.”

“Of course.” Ivy frowns. “But what does that have to do with you having debts?”

Surely it’s obvious?

The weight of the knowledge makes my shrug sluggish. “It was my fault. If she hadn’t birthed me, she’d have been able to carry out her calling for who knows how many decades to come. So I’ve done my best to spread as much joy and pleasure in the world as she would have.”

Ivy blinks at me. She puts down the arrow she only just started fletching and turns toward me. “Casimir, you don’t really think you’re obligated to do the same work just because she couldn’t, do you? It wasn’t your idea to be born. She made that choice—she must have known there were risks.”

My mouth tastes ashy. “She couldn’t have known she’d sacrifice anywhere near so much. I wouldn’t be alive without her sacrifice. She always said I was the gift she was giving to the world in exchange. Ardone deserves a champion just as worthy as the one that was lost, after all.”

“That’s ridiculous! That’s… that’s as bad as the scourge sorcerers conning twelve-year-olds into carving themselves up for their purposes.”

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