Page 101 of Mother of Death and Dawn

A rare smile broke over Ishqa’s face. “We have arrived.”

He pushed aside some ferns, revealing a shoreline of gritty grey sand. Several hundred yards out into the still tidewater was an island, marked by a smattering of orange lights glinting in the distance. The island was visible only in silhouette, but its shape was taller than I might have expected, like all of the structures on it built up to a point. If so, it appeared to be mostly uninhabited, as the lights clustered only around the shore.

Tisaanah pushed through the ferns to stand beside me, and my skin prickled. The scent of citrus swept by with a breeze and briefly took with it my capability for intelligent thought.

I glanced at her and had to remind myself to look away.

At every moment, my entire body was acutely aware of her proximity. If I didn’t pay attention to where I was walking, I often found myself wandering closer without noticing until I’d stop and realize that I was close enough to trace the shape of the brown-and-white skin on the back of her neck, and count the strands of hair that fell over it. Every one of these minute features felt like a reminder of something important.

One evening, she tilted her head back to tie up her hair, revealing a crescent-shaped patch of tan skin on the underside of her chin. The sight of that little patch of skin brought with it another image, her leaning over me, body bare, hair wild and unkempt, her head thrown back. It was so vivid that I had to step away and take a few deep breaths.

And yet, despite this overwhelming—disconcerting, even—sense of intimacy, Tisaanah was the one who avoided me the most.

Now, she took in Zagos with a skeptical stare. “So this is the place that will solve all of our problems.”

“It looks barely inhabited,” Brayan said. “If this qualifies as a city, it’s a tiny one. This is supposed to be some hub of magical knowledge?”

Ishqa gave Brayan a disapproving look. “The size of it is irrelevant—”

Tisaanah’s mouth went thin, an odd expression passing over her face.

“—and has no bearing on what it can do for us.”

Tisaanah’s cheeks got red. Her eyes flicked to me, and my expression must have pushed her to the breaking point, because an ungraceful laugh burst from her clamped lips.

Meanwhile, I stared at her in slight bewilderment.

Ishqa gave her an odd look. “Why are you laughing?”

“Right, whyareyou laughing?” I narrowed my eyes at her.

It wasn’t even funny. Unless you were a twelve-year-old boy. Even then, some had moved on to more sophisticated humor.

Still, a stubborn smile tugged at the left side of my mouth.

“It’s… nothing.” Tisaanah collected herself with only partial success.

Brayan looked like he was ready to throw himself into the lake. Sammerin looked affectionately unamused. Ishqa just looked unamused.

“We do not have time for… whatever this is.” Ishqa waved a dismissive hand at her, as if to wordlessly berate us for being unsophisticated humans. “We have places to be.”

He pointed to the left, down the beach. A long wooden bridge extended from the shore all the way out to the island.

“Does everyone here know how to swim?” I remarked.

“It is perfectly safe.”

“Says the one who can fly. It looks like it’s being held together purely by the vengeful drowned spirits beneath it.”

Tisaanah now once again was very serious as she set off down the beach. “I think we all know how to handle vengeful spirits. Or at least we should by now, yes?”

* * *

Once we arrived in Zagos,I realized why the island had looked so odd from the shore. The entire city was built into ruins. Streets weren’t so much planned roads as they were paths between crumbling, ancient buildings. Collapsed marble columns cradled businesses, shops, and pubs, creating a strange blend of architectural styles. Strings of lanterns, some filled with fire and some with floating orbs of magic light, dangled between the violent peaks of shattered rock. Above us, in the distance, a decaying palace loomed over the city. It must have once been something to behold, but now it was a shrouded, misty shadow.

There was flora everywhere—crimson flowers perched on ivy that consumed expanses of stone, peeking up from between cracked cobblestones, flourishing over entire hundred-foot spans of sheer cliffs above. I had to stop at one point and admire a particularly stunning bright red blossom, with seven pointed tips. I couldn’t bring myself to pick it—it seemed a bit sacrilegious—but I picked up one that had fallen to the cobblestones, smoothed out a crinkle on its petal, and handed it to Tisaanah.

“It would be a waste to let it sit on the ground,” I said, by way of explanation.

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