Page 291 of The Cradle of Ice
Still, she didn’t question it, fearing it might restart the arguments.
As she turned to the table, she noted the wounded look on Daal’s face as he stared toward Fenn. The navigator had long forgiven him, but Daal hadn’t been able to forgive himself. She knew Daal remained unnerved by his loss of control, how it had nearly killed Fenn. She understood that fear, remembering the feeling of exultant power as she destroyed the Hálendiian barge—and the madness that followed. For her, it had been too easy to free that rage.
But not for Daal.
She knew better, even if he didn’t. She crossed to him and brushed a stray strand from his cheek, leaving a trail of fire across his skin, as if trying to burn that fear out of him.
It didn’t belong there.
She wondered if the Dreamers had chosen Daal for more than just the gift of bridle-song in his Noorish blood. Had they also been drawn to his kindheartedness, his calm spirit, his steady compassion? She could still picture Daal burning in the flame of a lighthouse, guiding her out of madness, willing to sacrifice himself.
Down deep, she sensed the truth in this moment.
It shone in his eyes.
The Oshkapeers had forged more than a font of power for her. They had granted her a far greater gift.
The anchor I will need in the days ahead.
* * *
GRAYLIN STAMPED OUT his pipe and stood. “We should all be headed to the plaza. Darant and the others will be disappointed if we aren’t there.”
Meryk rose with him. “He’s right. Floraan should already be waiting for us at the stands.”
Graylin got everyone moving, even Kalder. The vargr deserved this as much as anyone. Graylin guided them out to the street.
Once there, Meryk cursed and ducked back inside. He returned a moment later, struggling to fit a circlet of white stone, adorned with gems, atop his head.
During the battle of Iskar, Rhaif had stumbled upon the Reef Farer’s circlet. He had clearly planned on keeping the valuable crown—until the village had chosen Meryk as Berent’s successor. Only then did Rhaif relinquish his treasure, happy to hand it off to a far worthier Panthean.
Daal smiled and helped his father get the circlet seated securely. “Looks good on you. Like it was always meant to be there.”
Meryk pulled his son into a hug that looked capable of breaking ribs, as if trying to squeeze all the embraces a father would miss into this one hold.
Daal finally broke free, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “Gotta go, right?”
Meryk cleared his throat and waved them ahead, not ready to speak quite yet.
They continued across the village, joining the flow of others heading toward the plaza. As they walked, Meryk hooked his arm around his son, still wanting to keep him close, at least for as long as possible.
Daal cast his father an apologetic look.
“It’s all right, son,” Meryk said. “They’re going to need you. We’ll be here when you get back.”
Graylin stared at the tension in the man’s shoulders. His words were light, but the strain to say them was clear.
A month ago, Graylin had explained all to Meryk and Floraan. Graylin could not do otherwise, not when they were stripping Daal from their sides. They had been terrified at learning the truth about moonfall. Still, they had understood the threat and the necessity of their group’s task. They had also recognized what would happen if the world started turning. It would mean the end of the Crèche.
Graylin had promised to try to send ships if they were successful, to evacuate the Crèche. But no one truly believed him, least of all himself.
It was Floraan who spoke the simplest truth as she touched Graylin’s arm. No one knows their end. The future remains a mystery until it’s written. We’ll live as if we have endless days ahead of us—and none. What else can any of us do?
Graylin and the others finally reached the plaza and crossed through the throngs—made all the easier with a vargr in tow. They climbed the new dais to join Floraan. Daal’s mother hugged her son with as much verve and a touch more composure. Women were always tougher than men when it came to matters of expediency and necessity.
They all crossed to rows of seats facing the sea. There was no longer any throne atop the dais, not even for the new Reef Farer. The docks were still being repaired, but headway was significant.
Graylin hoped Darant and his crew proved as resourceful at repairing their ship. The pirate had a long list of overhauls, restorations, modifications, and patch-ups. All to make them ready for a journey across the scorched lands—which included outfitting Shiya’s cooling units. She was aboard right now with Rhaif, finishing final adjustments. Thankfully, Darant had a few extra hands, both Noorish and Panthean, several of whom had agreed to travel with them, refilling their depleted crew.
