Page 140 of Between Fear and Favor

“Then it’s my sign too,” she hissed, grabbing me by the wrist. I shook her off, pursing my lips.

When Marella had whispered in my ear, informing me of the dark turn our path had taken, I’d been guiding the babe out of his mother as she screamed. I’d wanted to scream too, letting that guttural instinct to rage and cry over the unfairness of it all take over. But I’d controlled myself. There was nothing to be done. Even if Marella ran until her legs gave out, if it was truly Ciarden’s Flame, there was nowhere far enough to protect her. I was schooled in the history of Vesta; I knew exactly what would happen if she spoke true. There was no sense in fighting it. I took solace in the fact that sometimes it had been referred to as Damia’s Grace—a swift death as she delivered our souls to the eternal lands.

But I didn’t want to take Marella’s hope. Perhaps she’d float away and escape it, her waif-like body caught like pollen on a spring breeze.

I wondered if Dewalt was still locked in that room, accepting of our predicament. He would know just as well as anyone that we were doomed. I fought every instinct to run to him, to find him and seek peace in his arms, to run and die together hand-in-hand—whether he wanted to or not. But Katherine couldn’t run, and I wouldn’t abandon her. Perhaps it was selfish, but I’d followed Rhia so faithfully for years, delivered countless babies forced on others in an attempt to garner her favor, and not once had I been appreciated for my service. Not until Katherine. No, I’d stay right here and tend to her until my last breath.

Swallowing, I dried my hands on my pants. By the way they ballooned around my legs, I was grateful I hadn’t worn a dress. I fought the tear threatening to fall, not allowing myself the time to mourn. I didn’t know what I was mourning anyway. That I would die? That I’d never see Dewalt again? Or perhaps that this war had come to something like this. The devastation of Astana hadn’t been enough; the enemy had decided to turn to that which forsakes everything good in this world.

“You can’t stay,” Marella said, biting down on the words to prove her point. Her gaze flicked over to Katherine, the woman’s head tilted back and eyes closed. The babe on her breast had finally calmed, and she needed to rest. Wife to the blacksmith, I’d only spoken to her the first time a few days prior, when I’d gone there to procure myself a dagger. I hadn’t expected how close she was to giving birth.

“Why is the bell still ringing?” Katherine asked, head rolling to the side. “I thought I was imagining it.”

“Marella,go,” I said, ordering the girl beside me to run. There was no sense in both of us dying. “It’s all right.”

Marella swallowed, glancing between me and the woman on the bed. Finally, her sense kicked in, and she spun on her heel—gone in an instant.

“It’s a warning for us to leave,” I explained, untying the apron I’d thought to snag from the kitchens on my way here. It had been driving me mad ever since the fabric began drifting into the air.

“Why?” Katherine’s eyes flew open, and she tried to push herself up in the bed.

“Rest, Katherine. Please,” I pleaded. For whatever reason, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. What could I say? She’d just brought life into this world, and we were all three about to depart it in a blast which would likely leave little more than a crater.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded. Grunting as she sat up, she frowned at the blood she’d only just noticed hovering over her. “What in the gods’ name…” she murmured.

I’d planned to tell her a softened version of the truth when she threw her legs over the side of the bed.

“You just gave birth. Lay down!”

“Exactly. Tell me what’s going on or I’ll march out there myself,” she said. I’d never seen a more fierce expression. The boy she held at her breast was her sixth, and approaching her fortieth year, Katherine hadn’t been shy about giving birth. She’d known more about what to do than I had, and I’d been the one to assist all the novices in Folterra. Chin lifted in defiance, her grey eyes narrowed. Covered in the muck of birth and all that came after, she stood steady on her feet despite the strange way in which the air had grown denser.

“Fine. They’ve used Ciarden’s Flame on the fortress. We can’t have more than a few minutes left.”

“Before it explodes?” she demanded, thick brows furrowed.

“I think it’s supposed to be quick and quite thorough,” I supplied.

“Well, then, let it take us faster,” she said, tugging her shift down over her bottom, the width of her hips keeping it from floating back up. She toddled toward the door, adjusting the baby in her arms as her expression told me to hurry. Blinking at her in disbelief, all I could do was shut my mouth and follow.

“I don’t remember feeling sofunny after all the other times. I was cooking dinner ten minutes after Iliana was born,” Katherine said. “I swear, I keep seeing things.”

I wondered if she spoke of the small sticks and pebbles gently bobbing above the ground or of the birds above us. Without the sense of what was up and down, I watched as they flew upside down or on their side, and I’d never been so deeply unsettled in my life. Perhaps she referred to seeing things within the shifting mass in the middle of the courtyard, iridescent black shadows twining and spinning in a great, evil sphere. I swore I could see faces within.

“This gods forsaken shift,” Katherine murmured, and I was surprised by the divinity she used to shove the fabric back down over her hips. Weightless, it kept lifting and revealing her legs until she summoned a small blast of wind to shove it back down.

“You’re bleeding,” I said, noticing the drops of blood which floated out as she pushed her gown down. The inside of her thighs were already stained from birthing the boy who slept snugly in her arms. Her braid kept floating above her, the dull brown catching the sunlight and turning the strands of silver brilliant and shiny. She turned toward me, her face not entirely kind, and squinted.

“We’re dying,” she replied, before grunting, adjusting the drowsy baby in her arms.

Turning back toward the keep, I looked for Dewalt’s window, wondering if he was inside. Studying it for only a moment, waiting for some hint of his presence, I gave up quickly. Despite hiding from me in that room, he wasn’t a coward—not in a situation like this one. He’d be trying to save his soldiers at all costs. And yet, I’d seen him nowhere.

“Where is the general?” I asked, turning to Katherine, and she shrugged, laughing.

“Gods, that boy, a general.” Her amusement soured my stomach.

“What do you mean?”

“His sister comes down here often. I’ve heard many a story of Dewalt Holata.” Raised brows and widened eyes seemed to indicate stories of an unsavory nature.

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