Page 73 of Mother of Death and Dawn

“No. I will go. I have been too far away from these matters.” His eyes, still tired, flicked to me. “Aefe will come with me.”

Luia’s face twisted up. “What?”

What?

My first impulse was to refuse. The Aefe of before would have refused. But I stopped myself before the rejection left my lips.

I am different than I thought I was,I reminded myself. When I agreed, Caduan’s smile flitted across his face like that early-morning sun.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

MAX

“We shouldn’t stay here.”

I drew the back of my hand across my forehead, squinting towards the horizon. I was not made for this. I’d even take the swampy humidity of Ara’s summer over this heat so intense it threatened to cook you on the street.

Our boat had landed in central Threll, in a city I couldn’t pronounce the name of. Threllian architecture was beautiful, all crafted from white stone, so when you stood at the coast and looked up, the view that greeted you looked like a painting of various gleaming ivory strokes laid beneath striking blue. It was late in the day. The blue was starting to tinge pink.

Sunsets are beautiful in Threll,I thought, which surprised myself. I didn’t realize I had been to Threll.

“We won’t,” Brayan said. “Threll is a mess right now. The less time we spend here, the better. We’re lucky our boat didn’t get shot to the bottom of the sea.”

“Would the Fey or Threllians bother with a civilian ship?”

“Everyone wants to kill everyone here right now,” Brayan said. “Rebels, too, fighting against the Threllians. It reminds me of the Threllian wars fifteen years ago. Everyone fighting everyone. But… at least that means everyone out here is so confused they shouldn’t be looking too hard for us.”

I pieced together the fragments of memories I did have. Nura had a presence in Threll—I had heard her discussing that with Vardir many times. The Fey did as well, via their Threllian allies, which was why Threll was never on my list of“places to go if I manage to escape.”

I nodded to a stable up ahead. “We should see if we can get some horses. I’m not made for that much foot travel.”

Brayan agreed, and we ducked into the horse trader, who was largely selling nags that he probably bought half-dead, fed for three days, and sold for a disgusting profit. Brayan pointed to two horses. “How much?” he asked, in Thereni.

In Thereni.

And I understood him.

Thatwas interesting. I turned to the marketplace streets, listening. Mostly, I heard a garble of sharp sounds I didn’t understand. But here and there, when people were speaking slowly enough, I could make out a few phrases.

I grasped a sliver of memory—the rise and fall of a voice, a melody of Thereni saying something I couldn’t make out before it slipped through my fingers.

“Max!” Brayan barked, impatient. He gestured to the horse to his left—a grey, lumbering thing who already looked equally irritated with me. “Let’s go. We can make it out of the city before nightfall.”

My horse gave me a disapproving grunt and snapped at me as I swung over its back, barely missing my backside.

“That was uncalled for,” I grumbled.

The horse gave me aharrumphthat said it disagreed.

“Wait.” Brayan stopped short, just as we were able to leave. “How much is that?” he asked the shopkeeper, pointing.

I followed his finger to a small, rusty sickle hanging on the wall. The shopkeeper, caught off guard, named some absurd price, and Brayan paid it without complaint.

“Here.” He handed it to me as we left the stables. “I’m not about to risk the attention or the time of seeking out a weapons shop, but you should have something to defend yourself if needed.”

I eyed the rusted sickle as it hung off my saddle. It was intended for cutting wheat, not flesh, and I suspected it was probably not very good at that, either.

But Brayan was right. Something pointy was something pointy. I’d take what I could get.

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