Page 72 of The Cruel Dawn
I point at the remaining humans who still simmer with hate. “By seven dawns from now, you must leave this town. If you refuse, I’ll return and remove you myself. Go forth and find your own space, your own path to prosperity that does not exploit the work of the Renrians.”
“And where do we go?” a woman in the crowd shouts.
“I don’t know or care,” I say, “but you gotta leave.”
The shouting resumes at my pronouncement, and a man dares to draw his sword.
With a burst of wind, I send him sprawling. Then I hurl a ball of lightning just inches away from his body. The ground cracks open, knocking everyone off their feet. My amulet glows so hot that everyone shields their eyes from its blinding light.
“Do you not hear me?” I ask. “I will killyou. This new god you worship doesn’t care that you will die by my hand, that you are only spared today because I’m not the Maelstrom you fear.”
I gaze at the sky, now orange and red in the early dawn. “You all have a choice to make: Do you choose to live? Or will you die for your unworthy god?”
19
I can’t Spryte Separi and Philia to Castle Wake in Brithellum. If they’re to come with me, we must travel that great distance the old-fashioned way: by horse.
Separi rides beside me, her face hard in thought. At 206 years old, she’s older than Veril on his last day alive in Vallendor. Rather than smoking a pipe like he did, she chews licorice root to relax.
TheLibrum Esotericaglows from my pack like a beacon, revealing itself to those most interested in its power, including Danar Rrivae and Philia Wysor.
“Separi—” My chest tightens, and my hands tremble on the reins. “I’m so sorry about Vinasa. If there’s anything I can do…” I know the words are meaningless, that I cannot replace him.
“He was my heart,” she says, her gaze roaming the horizon.
“I should’ve been there—”
“Youwerethere,” she corrects.
I don’t know what else to say, and Separi doesn’t offer any suggestions.
Two Renrians she’s loved have died for me, and we both know it. She doesn’t ask the obvious question:Who’s next?
I clear my throat. “I’ll—”
“Bring him back?” she asks. “Change their hearts, make the mob throw flowers and honeycakes instead? What could you do, Lady, that would’ve changed the outcome?”
I don’t have the answer.Be betteris not enough.
No wolves or big cats snarl at us as we head east. No creatures with fangs and runny eyes or tri-colored feathers and scaly feet chase us into the desert. We find no animal shit drying on the path. No desperate bandits stumble from the brush to demand our coin or our bodies—but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t being followed. I feel another’s presence—and a pair of eyes can be heavier than a pair of fists.
Dirt and blood cling to my peeling skin and crust the insides of my nostrils. I hate the tackiness of my fingers and the way my armor sticks to my skin.
Last time I traveled this trail, Jadon rode beside me and we weren’t talking. I’d been furious with him after learning the truth of his biggest lies.
Now, though, I miss our conversations, our good-natured ribbing and flirting. I miss sharing meals with him, our long conversations as we lay beside each other, staring at the skies. I think about kissing him in the meadow before we’d been set upon by the gerammoc and aburan. And I think about our lovemaking at the inn. I remember his gifts of sweet treats, bouquets of wildflowers.
But through it all, he kept so much of himself hidden from me.
Beside me, Philia occasionally taps her bow, drawing power or comfort from it as she rides.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
She nods, silent and worried.
“You aren’t alone,” I say, though I’m no good at consolation. “You’ll be fine. Think what you’ll want to do once you and Olivia are home, wherever you decide home will be.”
That makes her smile.
