Page 71 of The Last One
“If Wake completes his invasion of Maford,” I say, “does that mean, then, that Maford’s women will go back to popping out babies? All because Wake is supposedly shepherding all of Vallendor away from impending doom?”
Jadon nods. “At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work. I don’t think diamond-encrusted colures can prevent the inevitable.”
My mood sours, made worse by my aching back. “And what is the inevitable?”
“People will die from Miasma,” Jadon says. “Wake doesn’t care about them dying. More dead means fewer people to rebel against him.”
“And no one can stop him?” I ask, my eyes skipping to the sky.
Up there, a flash of red pulses through the gray…
I think.
“No one can stop him.” Jadon tips his head side to side to loosen his neck muscles. “King Exley’s armies have made successful stands against Wake’s men partly because ages ago, Exley’s father had mages, alchemists, and woodsmen work together to make the forests a maze. Wake’s men risk walking in circles for the rest of their lives, especially since King Exley has started to call back some of these mages for himself.” He falls silent now and stares at me.
My eyes widen. “All the magic makers were pushed to the edges of the realm, yes?”
Jadon nods. “They were.”
“But Exley is calling them back to fight under his flag.”
“Yeah,” Jadon says. “That’s the latest wanderweavers gossip I heard at market days.”
“Is that what you’re thinking?” I straighten in my saddle. “That I was on my way to Vinevridth to help with defense—”
“And while you were on your way,” Jadon says, “you were practicing a trick and you messed up.”
I bristle at the “messed up” part, but I nod anyway. “And I left my family to help King Exley, possibly leaving my own town vulnerable and open to Wake’s invasion.”
She’ll turn on you…
The cardinal makes no sound as it escapes the twilight, soaring higher, higher into the boundless sky. Higher still, until it is just a flicker of red before vanishing altogether.
If my companions witnessed this bird’s arrogant display, none of them speak of it. Their silence grants me the quiet I need to realize this:
I will never again move unseen through Vallendor Realm.
19
The sky lightens from indigo to violet, the light of the new day being coaxed from the shadows. My tunic sticks to my sweaty skin, and I pluck at its neckline to cool down. Olivia and Philia share a sleeping bag—both snoring so heavily they may not wake up until next week. Jadon isn’t resting where I saw him last. He has moved to sit on a moss-covered log about twenty paces away. He strikes a lonely figure, sitting there, and something inside me tugs.
Lonely. Alone. Just like me. We can be alone together.
I groan, my muscles stiff and sore, then grab two honeycakes from his food bag. I push my borrowed blanket off my legs, and cold air brings immediate relief.
High above the poplar grove, clouds shaped like blowfish drift across the face of the nightstar. This meadow with its crickets and mosquitos is nothing like Maford. There’s green, soft grass here. The trees have leaves, and their bark is free of knots and holes. Fresh water must be close—it’s saturating the earth enough to grow these wildflowers and form this mist. Gophers can dig through earth supple enough for tunnels.
Jadon perches, cross-legged, on that log. His head is bowed as his gaze shifts between his hands and those far-off purple mountains.
He makes me forget that my back aches. I whisper, “Hey.”
“Hey.” His voice is soft thunder in this predawn quiet.
I sit at the other end of the log. “Couldn’t sleep?”
He peeps over at me, and his eyes shine like the last blinks of candlelight. “You heard that cardinal, didn’t you?”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “I was hoping that I was imagining it. But then I saw it.”
