Page 150 of The Last One
That string in my stomach pulls harder.
Even if these dead moths are omens, I will continue to move toward my prize, or else I’ll find myself being crushed in the dirt of this dying realm, pounded to death and forgotten.
We walk in strained silence until we see a break ahead and a glimpse of the sky. “What about there?” I point. “We could stay for the night.”
Following my finger, Jadon nods. “That might work.” He sets off again.
“Just a little while longer,” I say to Veril, who limps beside me, leaning heavily on his staff. I swallow, but my mouth remains dry as I dread what I’m about to say. “I’m thinking—”
“That maybe I should stay in Caburh a little longer,” Veril says. “You’re thinking I should stay there to recover, to enjoy sleeping in a real bed. Then, once you complete your business in Weeton and then Mount Devour…”
“I’ll come pick you up and we return to your cottage,” I say.
He nods, pleased. “I would’ve remained by your side until we reached the very ends of the realm. And I would’ve been the envy of all the others at the next convocation.”
“You’llstillhave a story to tell,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “What Renrian can say that a goddess nearly died in their cottage? And not just any goddess.TheLady of the Verdant Realm. You’re already legendary, Veril Bairnell the Sapient. You’ve done so much for me. I can’t wait to return and give you the knees of a fifty-year-old man.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot.”
Just get us there. Let us reach Caburh.
That is my prayer.
And I hope someone is listening.
45
At last, we reach the clearing, a stretch of wilderness with naked trees, brambles, and tufts of burr-filled wild grass not tall enough to hide a wildflower. There’s a velvet black sky with early-evening stars. There’s a wedge of a creek that, according to Veril’s map, will eventually become the Duskmoor River. At the edge of the meadow is a sheer rise with an overhang.
I point toward it. “Think that’s enough protection for now?”
“Should be,” Jadon says.
Philia says, “I agree.”
Veril just nods, flagging from his sore knees.
The outcrop is tall enough for us to stand beneath and long enough for us to sleep while still remaining hidden from sight, protected from overnight mist and early-morning dew, and more than that, prowling creatures, otherworldly or not. There is a cavern behind the overhang, yawning deep into the earth, but nothing stirs as we approach.
It doesn’t take long for Philia to start a fire. Jadon slices ham from his pack and uses twigs as skewers. Once she’s finished with the fire, Philia stands before me, wide-eyed, wringing her hands, her cheeks pink, her green eyes bright.
“Yes, Philia?” I ask.
She curtsies and dips her head. “You should pick a spot before I do, Lady.”
I shrug off my cloak. “Philia—”
“My mother,” she says, clasping her hands to her chest, “when she was a girl, she prayed to you. You kept her family fed and wealthy.”
Philia’s attention fills me with heat, and it stimulates my core with a strange power I’ve not felt before. I dip my head as thanks. “I appreciate your kind words, Philia. I’m glad that I helped your kin thrive.”
“Mother said that all was well…” Her excitement sinks into sorrow. “Until she married my father. He told her that you were a false god.”
I place my hand atop Philia’s wild curls. “You’re a brave young woman. Once all of this is over? You’ll enjoy a long life with wealth that comes from ingenuity and strength, and an ever-burning hearth, and the prettiest girl in Vallendor holding your hand.”
She jams her lips together, trying not to cry.
I point to her bedroll and satchels. “You got this?”
