Page 111 of Grave Situation

This better be worth it,I tell the stone. There’s now cold, probably dirty water seeping down my sternum.

It pulses comfortingly, but I’m not comforted. I won’t be until this whole mess is over and I’m back at the academy. Maybe I’ll be able to use my newfound status as quester for the champion to get out of having to teach ever again.

Extending my arm toward Arimen means letting my cloak fall open to yet more miserable rain, but the peace that fills Arimen’s face makes it almost worth it.

Or at least, that’s what I’d say if I was a better person.

I count to thirty before he sighs and says, “Thank you.” Then begins the delightful struggle to get the stone back into its pouch.

“I think,” Arimen begins while I’m still wrestling with the opening of my shirt, “that maybe the Sanctuary is a bad place.”

I’m so surprised by his insight that I drop the damn stone—inside my shirt. It scrapes along my chest and winds up resting against my belly, right above my belt. I consider what it would take to retrieve it, then decide it’s fine there until we stop for the night.

“A bad place?” Jaimin asks cautiously.

“Yes. When I think about all the things my priest taught me about Wasianth, and all the things I read before I went there, and then I think about the way the priests at the Sanctuary wanted me to interpret them… I don’t think they’re trulyholy.” He slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes stricken. “Is that blasphemy? I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s not blasphemy,” I say firmly. “It’s actually the most intelligent thing you’ve said so far.”

“Talon!” Jaimin scolds. Arimen looks even more stricken, and I relent.

“I think you’re a special young man, and not just because the stone wanted you to join us. You clearly have a true calling to serve your god. I respect that. But many of us have been aware for a while now that the temples aren’t always acting in the true ways of the gods. The Sanctuary is proof of that, and I’m glad you’ve recognized it.” While he’s processing that, I glance over my shoulder toward Coryn, riding about five yards behind us. “Why don’t you ride with Coryn for a while? He’s an excellent listener, and he has a perspective on this that Jaimin and I don’t, since we live at the academies.” It’s true, but Coryn’s also really good at cheering people up, and I think Arimen needs that right now.

I’ve got enough to deal with—I don’t need to add a mopey adolescent to the list.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

A week later,we’re still plodding through the muddy countryside, though at least the rain’s stopped. The sun remains stubbornly absent, however, which means all our things are still damp. I’m fairly certain my bones are damp. All this rain has made me bitterly aware of the limitations of my magic—yes, I could have put a protective bubble over us to keep us dry, but expending that amount of magic for that much time, while moving, would have meant that if we were attacked, I would be already seriously depleted. What’s worse, being waterlogged or being killed by zombies and failing in my mission?

I’m only a little ashamed to say that I gave that question serious consideration.

One concession Ididmake to comfort was a small, shielded fire the night we had to camp in the rain, to allow us at least an hour of warmth and a hot meal. I also asked everyone to give me a small item they carried on their person, and I charmed them all—with magic, not my personality—to emit steady warmth, just like the teacup I charmed for Chelica, the head cook at the riders’ mess. With the unrelenting rain and this chill that seems to have set in under our skin, it’s something small to make continuing the journey easier.

For me, anyway. Arimen’s spent the last few days switching between his enchantment with all the good the rain is doing and his disappointment in the Temple of Wasianth. Every once in a while he throws in shining determination to “make things better” and “properly serve my god.” When his idealism shows its face, I ride ahead and let the others listen to his youthful zeal.

Coryn doesn’t even seem to notice the discomfort we’re going through. I would have thought the son of a duke would be a little more precious about such things, having grown up in wealth and splendor—gods know I am, and our estate wasn’t all that wealthyorsplendid. But I guess he really is a soldier at heart, because as long as he has his horse and his mission, he’s content. Though, the warming charm fascinates him, and every once in a while I’ll see him cupping it in his hand and staring at it in delight. It’s very sweet, and I can’t deny that his solid, uncomplaining presence has been steadying.

The most comforting—and confusing—presence is Jaimin’s. He’s always ready to step in when frustration overcomes me and I get snappish. He knows when I need quiet time and when I want him to talk to me. He’s steady and quiet, but sometimes I’ll catch him in a moment of whimsy—like when we found a chest of old children’s toys in a barn, and he lined up all the little wooden people and gave them names and stories. Sometimes I can’t believe that not so long ago, I barely knew him and was worried about traveling with him.

Now, I couldn’t do this without him. Do anything without him. And that terrifies me.

“It would terrify you less if you acted on your feelings,”Leicht scoffs.“You’re just being stubborn. Tia hated how stubborn you are.”

“She used to say the same thing about you to me,”I retort. I’ve given up on ignoring him. He’s so damn pushy, it was impossible.

He’s also wrong, though. I absolutely wouldnotbe less terrified if I acted on the feelings I’m still refusing to acknowledge.

His harrumph is impressive, but since it’s wordless, I can get away with ignoring it. I know I need to explore our bond properly, but I… can’t. Not yet. No matter what Master and Jaimin say.

I’m thankfully distracted from that thought when Jaimin reins in beside me and Sweetie and says in a low voice, “I think I know where we’re headed. I just don’t know why.”

“To find the champion?” I suggest hopefully. Although, out here in the muddy fields, that seems like an impossible task. Unless the champion is some kind of mud monster, which I don’t think I’m ready for.

“It’s possible, but unlikely, since the place has been abandoned for a hundred years.”

I shoot him a sharp glance. “Please don’t say the stone is taking us to the site of a tragic massacre that’s haunted by the ghosts of those murdered.”

Leicht’s snort in my head is echoed by Jaimin’s chuckle. “No. Not a massacre. Have you ever heard of Caimae?”

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