“What’s wrong?” Kanthe asked—which, considering all that had transpired over the past few days, felt like a stupid question.
Rami frowned. “In truth, I must admit that a part of me still bore doubts about your group’s endeavors. But what I saw back there—” He glanced across the cavern. “It challenges all I know of our world.”
“I don’t blame you. I didn’t handle it much better when I was first dragged into it all.” He offered Rami a small smile. “Even now, it’s sometimes too much for my ale-shrunken brain to fathom.”
Rami matched his grin. “Maybe together we can make sense of it.”
“I … I’d like to try.”
Kanthe choked with relief. He hadn’t realized how much he had valued their friendship until it was gone. While growing up, he had always had a boon companion at his side: a twin brother with whom he had shared a womb. After his falling-out with Mikaen, Kanthe remained wary of others. He kept everyone at a distance. If the deep bond of twins could be so readily broken, what hope was there for any other close relationships? While Kanthe had found a deep friendship with Jace, such rapport remained rare for him.
Kanthe glanced sidelong at Rami, hoping all could be mended between them. He missed a brother he could call a friend.
Rami caught him looking and must have read his thoughts. “This doesn’t mean I’m still not mad at you.”
“I get it.”
“Though, I may have to declare my anger more obdurately when I’m around Aalia. She’ll expect no less.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Rami nodded. With the matter settled, the prince raised another, cocking a brow toward Kanthe. “So, what is going on between you and Cassta?”
“Nothing,” he blurted out, caught off guard. He then lowered his voice. “She barely knows I exist.”
Rami made a noncommittal grunt. “Too bad. I was imagining both of you sharing my bed. I wonder if I proposed such a—”
Kanthe grabbed his arm. “Please don’t. I’ve seen her practicing with her knives. Neither of us would survive.”
“If one had to die, I can think of worse ways.”
Kanthe looked aghast at him.
Rami elbowed him. “Or it could just be us in bed. That’s perfectly fine, too.”
Kanthe sighed and shook his head, beginning to wonder if friendships were truly worth all the trouble.
The group continued the long trek back through the maze. If anything, the return was more strenuous, as the route climbed ever upward. Still, they made better progress. The path back home had been marked. There was no longer any second-guessing at crossroads. But more importantly, there were no more quakes.
After an interminable time, the distant glow of sunlight flowed around a jagged corner. Kanthe gasped in relief. Finally. As he made that turn with the others, the character of the light grew clearer. It flickered and danced along the tunnel walls.
“Is that smoke?” Frell asked, crinkling his nose.
Kanthe smelled it, too. It cut through the ubiquitous stench of sulfur. It smelled like a fiery hearth, only with an acidic tang to it.
Fearing the worst, they all rushed forward.
The smoke thickened as they crossed the last of the tunnel. A dull roaring echoed to them. Desperate for an answer, fearing for the Quisl and its crew, they hurried even faster.
But Rami blocked them from leaving. “Grab your torches first and be ready.”
Kanthe had nearly forgotten about the clouds of lycheens outside. He grabbed two brands and followed the others. The smoke now choked and stung his eyes. The roaring ahead snapped and spat angrily. Still, no one slowed.
They reached the mouth of the tunnel and clambered atop a flat-topped boulder to get a better view. Kanthe gasped as the sight opened. The neighboring forest of Naphtha pines had been set on fire. Flames swirled high, churning smoke far into the sky. Trees exploded with loud blasts as their combustible sap ignited.
“Where’s the wingketch?” Pratik yelled over the fire’s roar.
Kanthe had already noted the ship was gone. “They must have fled from the fire.”