Page 99 of Realm of Thieves

I can’t help but smirk at that. He definitely did all the work this morning and last night.

He clucks his tongue and Onyx starts to walk forward. We’re only a few strides away from the front of the castle when suddenly Lemi shifts beside us.

The horse rears and I cry out, Andor leaning forward to keep me bracketed in between the horse’s neck and himself until we’re level.

“At least you stayed on that time,” Andor remarks.

Lemi wags his tail, somehow knowing I was about to embark somewhere without him, and seems to treat the horse like a large dog, sniffing at the horse’s fetlocks as Onyx moves sideways.

“Lemi,” I scold him. “You’re being too forward.”

Lemi’s ears twitch as he eyes me and then the horse before he sits down next to us, waiting patiently.

“All right, let’s go,” Andor says, and the horse starts at a brisk walk, Lemi trotting beside us, as we head away from Stormglen.

Chapter 28

Brynla

I’m not sure how longwe’ve been riding for, hours maybe, but I’ve enjoyed every single second of it. With each breath I’m relishing the fresh scent of the pine trees that line our path, mingling with the cold creek that runs by our side, the air that tastes damp and sweet and wonderful. I’m savoring the journey like I would a fine wine, aware that everything is so fleeting and that I might not get to experience this again. Even Lemi is running around with his muzzle raised high in the air, seeking out his own adventures, tail wagging happily. I have no idea where we’re going but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s just somewhere. Somewhere beautiful, somewhere new, and I’m with Andor.

We climb higher and higher into the mountains, the path snaking around towering trees that seem to stretch into the sky, along meadows filled with moss and tiny pink flowers, leading us through the occasional stream that Onyx plods through, fish darting away from our shadow.

After a while I start to feel the chill on my cheeks and neck. With Andor holding me so tightly from behind, I’m still warm, his body and the coat doing a good job of protecting me, while clouds start togather above the treetops, obscuring the sun and the sharp mountain peaks.

I can’t help but think about my aunt, and it hurts. The grief cuts too deeply to feel any other way.

I think about what it would have been like if I had pulled her out of the Dark City and put her in Norland like I was trying to do. I’m finding the change in climate to be a marvel, a novelty to relish, but would my aunt have truly enjoyed this? I projected my unhappiness onto her: how stifled I felt, how stagnant I was, how utterly unsatisfied with my life. I wanted to leave to become someone, but Ellestra was probably happy being the someone that she was, staying in her home, drinking her tea. She had a community there, a home, a couple of close friends. I tried to take that from her.

I did take that from her. Along with her life.

“Hey,” Andor says in my ear, his breath hot. “I’ve got you.”

He holds me tighter and my body relaxes into him, and the tightness in my chest, the way my heart is perpetually squeezed, loosens. Just enough to let me feel a moment of relief from the heavy spiral of my thoughts. Somehow he knows what I’m thinking and feeling, making sure I know he’s there. As if he wants to shoulder the burden so I don’t have to.

Because grief does feel like a burden, but one that you’re scared to no longer carry. You’re afraid that if you hand it off to someone for a second, if you forget even if for a brief instant that you’ve lost someone and that your heart has splintered into pieces, it will hit you harder when you do remember. It’s like that blissful moment when you first wake up and your brain is a clean slate and all is well with the world, before the cold, deadly knife of reality cuts you to the bone.

So I lean back into the strength of Andor’s body and his heart and take the leap. I will myself to stop focusing on the pain and the guilt and start being more present in what’s happening now. I know it willhurt when the grief comes back, because it will always come back, for the rest of my life, but I know I still need to just…live.

I breathe in the fresh, bracing air, colder now, and Onyx walks through a stand of sparse trees until we reach a cavernous hole in the mountain face.

“Are we going through that?” I ask, my heart picking up the pace. Everything had been so nice and uneventful so far.

“We are,” Andor says, kissing the back of my head. “But it’s worth it.”

One would think that I would be used to going through caves and tunnels, but here where the mountainside rises up so sharply, the darkness seems extra suffocating when I don’t know where we are and where we are going.

I suck in my breath as Onyx enters the tunnel, the air damp, the hoofbeats sounding dull. I sniff at a peculiar smell that seems familiar but I can’t quite place.

“That’s the glowferns,” Andor says. “Our version of your slugs, except they don’t fall on you and they taste like aniseed if you cook them up. Just wait for your eyes to adjust.”

For a moment I have no idea what he’s talking about as we plod along in the darkness, the aniseed smell getting stronger, but then I start to see tiny pinpricks of blue-green light that begin to glow brighter, like stars in an ink-black sky.

“What?” I whisper, looking all around. The glowing dots shine, making Onyx’s and Lemi’s coats shine blue in their glimmering light. “What is this?”

“Those are the glowferns,” Andor chuckles. “Small plants that grow in dark places here, especially up in this area.”

“It’s…magical,” I say in awe. It’s like moving through the night sky. “I can see why you wanted to bring me here,” I add quietly, feeling as if I should keep my voice down or I’ll disturb the plants.

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