Page 115 of A Storm in Every Heart
“Nothing,” I say shortly. “Never mind. I think I can conjure that boat for you though, now I’m feeling better. Hang on.”
She stops walking, still looking perturbed, and leans against a nearby tree to watch me as I walk around the edge of theswamp collecting tree branches and making them into a pile on the edge of the river.
I’m not surprised that she doesn’t offer to help, but I’m not bothered either—in fact, I prefer it this way. If she had offered I would have felt obligated to accept her help, when I’d really rather just do the job myself. Odessa is clearly content to let me handle the boat, but I know that she’ll be genuinely grateful when I’m done—even if it is the only nice thing she says to me today.
After gathering a substantial pile of twigs and branches, I lower myself to the swampy ground, crossing my legs. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, centering my thoughts. The air around me tingles with energy, a subtle hum that quickens my pulse. A surge of warmth spreads from the pit of my stomach, radiating outward
Slowly, the pieces of wood lift from the ground, rising like marionettes. They twist and turn in midair, aligning and snapping together with an audible click, gradually transforming into the sleek outline of a rowboat.
Dessa gasps. “Oh my gods, that’s incredible.”
A smug satisfaction washes over me. “Glad you’re pleased.”
Dessa offers me a small smile. “When we get back, you should definitely help Alix with her wife.”
I stand again, dusting dirt from my hands before frowning. “Her wife?”
Odessa frowns back, looking as confused as I feel. “I think that was what it was called. Wifey? She wants to use machines to play music and talk to her mother.”
“What kind of machines?”
“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask her.” She shrugs, and clambers into the front of the boat. “Throw me an oar, I’d like to get going.”
I climb into the boat behind her. “It’s fine, I’ll row.”
She’s not facing me, but her shoulders stiffen and I can tell she’s scowling. “I can help, you know. I’m not useless just because I’m not as strong as you.”
“I definitely didn’t say that. I would never call you useless.”
“Then give me an oar.”
I push our little boat off the edge of the bank and into the center of the river. “No really, I’ve got it.”
She makes an indignant sound in the back of her throat. “Excuse me, Your Majesty. I worked in the palace for years. What makes you think I’m too fragile to help row the boat?”
She’s completely misunderstanding what I’m trying to get at, but for whatever reason I can’t resist needling her. “You worked as a ladies maid, that was hardly physically taxing.”
She sniffs. “It’s not as if you did any real labor either,Your Majesty.”
I decide not to remind her that I spent decades mining for ice in Dyaspora, because I know that’s not what she meant and I’m sure the thought will sour her mood even more. “Look, I want to row. I like having something to do, but you obviously don’t. You’re only offering because you feel guilty for not helping build the boat, but you really don’t have to.” She looks over her shoulder and glares at me, but I don’t let her get a word in. “It’s not a bad thing to just relax, Princess.”
“Because I’m not capable of manual labor, you mean?” she asks dangerously.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, you’re…soft. I like that about you, and I don’t want help anyway.”
She scowls and her cheeks heat as she turns around again, facing the front of the boat. “You’re too blunt.”
I grin. “Yeah, but you like that, too.”
She doesn’t say anything, but the red flush doesn’t leave the back of her neck for nearly an hour as I row us down the swampy river.
For several hours we don’t talk.
I focus on the repetitive hypnotic motion of rowing, and Odessa looks all around us, her attention darting from passing birds, to plants, to the occasional animal. If I’m honest, I kind of like the silence. It’s comfortable. Like, I could easily pretend we’re getting along and out on a boat ride for fun rather than because my former kingdom wants to murder both of us.
“How much longer do you think until we reach the border?” Odessa asks, when the afternoon sun has moved beyond the middle of the sky and is creeping toward the western tree line.
I clear my throat. “I don’t know, geography was never really my thing. I thought we’d get there by tonight.”
