Page 57 of A Crown of Deceit & Ruin

But she needed to see him.

So Kestrel bit her lip and nodded, hoping that would be enough. Hoping she could stay quiet for the both of them.

When they arrived, Leighton nodded to the guard who opened the door for them.

A burst of light flooded the dark entryway, blinding the handful of prisoners who were sitting closest to the doors. There were others farther back who were left undisturbed, both by the light and the metallic clang of the door opening.

Kestrel spotted Thom among them. Eyes closed. Breathing heavy. He was sound asleep.

Perhaps that was for the best. This way he wouldn’t be tempted to break any of the rules, and neither would she.

His shoes were gone, she noted. And even with what minimal light reached him, she could still see the dirt caked on his toes, noted the bruises around his ankles where the chainswere rubbing his skin raw. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she turned her back and left him there.

Every instinct in her told her to run back to him, to rip off those chains and help him to his feet. But she knew better. The better plan was to wait.

For now, she tried finding solace in knowing where he was and knowing that the prince had at least been telling the truth about that.

Leaving Leighton where he stood, Kestrel found her own way back to Micah’s sand-glider while she waited for the Thundersworn Brigade to return with their fallen king so that the fleet could embark on their return to Irongate.

Micah readied his sails and called out to her. “I know it’s not exactly the circumstances you were hoping for, little bird, but I think you’ll like it in Irongate. It’s quite different from Vallonde. Much more temperate. Easier to breathe than always inhaling dust.”

Kestrel tried to smile, but it wasn’t in her. So instead she hunkered into her seat as they set sail across the sands.

As they navigated the upper outskirts of Vallonde, Kestrel did her best to appreciate what was left of her time here. These deserts were all she had ever known, and she wanted to store their memories somewhere safe inside her forever. The way the sweltering sun sometimes relented, feeling more like a warm embrace than a scalding pan pressed upon her flesh. The way the breeze smelled of toasted nuts and dry leaves. The way the horizon rippled as if it were waving goodbye or beckoning for her to stay.

In only a short few days, they were greeted by the slow changes of the northern terrain. The sand hardening beneath their sand-gliders. A smattering of trees reaching up from the earth like fingers. Animals with fur instead of scales—her heart pinched to think of the fox, but she took solace inknowing that it would be safer in Vallonde than it would be in Irongate.

When he wasn’t navigating, Micah excitedly told her everything he knew about these lands. The difference between the bucks and the does. The names of the lakes they passed by, and how many of them he’d been skinny dipping in or which one his twin brother could swim all the way to the bottom of.

“One of you will have to teach me someday,” she replied, staring longingly at the calm waters of the lake.

“Teach you what?” Micah clarified. “To swim?”

Kestrel nodded and Micah’s jaw nearly fell off.

“But didn’t you say you grew up near the ocean? You can’t tell me you don’t know how to—” At the caustic glare she shot him, he quieted, before donning a more gentlemanly manner. “It would be my pleasure to teach you. Clothing optional, of course.”

She elbowed him in the ribs, and Micah theatrically tumbled over, nursing his exaggerated wound.

As he prepared to launch some likely flirty, mischievous retort back at her, a low horn rumbled from the front of their ranks. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes vanished as Micah twisted around, both him and Kestrel craning for a better look.

The terrain ahead was changing again.

Darkness slithered across the lands like an infestation. The trees on the horizon didn’t have bright green canopies like the ones they had passed through just hours before. This forest was every shade of grey and black, the branches mottled and mangled like charred bones. Kestrel didn’t see a single sign of life. There were no deer frolicking. No birds singing their songs. Just an eerie, unequivocally foul quiet.

Kestrel leaned over to whisper, “What is this place?”

Even the dull copper hue of Micah’s hair seemed dullerhere, as he dragged a hand through it to clear his view. “The Hollows.”

Around them, everyone else had fallen silent. But Kestrel had so many questions. She’d never seen such a place and wanted to better understand.

Huddling closer, she kept her voice down. “Is this another of my mother’s curses? Did she corrupt the lands here?”

Micah shook his head, and whispered, “No, the curse that took root here dates way back before the Corrupt Queen’s magic. Maybe even before recorded history. This place used to be a burial ground, somewhere our people came to remember their loved ones. Now it’s home to creatures that make my father look like a dream.”

Kestrel’s eyes snapped to meet his, searching for signs of jest.

Micah’s merely widened as if to exaggerate his seriousness.

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