Page 77 of The Quiet
They lingered for a moment longer, Crow nodding before they followed him back to his cave for his rations and supplies.
Little was said among them. There was little to be said.
The journey back was long and quiet. Crow largely kept to himself and Ella couldn’t push herself to engage him. The silence had been pervasive at first, until small, cold comments here and there created a bridge of tense communication. Crow had become a stranger to her just as quickly as Jackson had become a trusted ally.
She spent most of her time with Jackson who continued to train her diligently on ways to stay grounded in the present and keep Lambspeak at bay. Soon she began to resent Crow’s presence, knowing that had he not been there, the journey back might have even been a pleasant one with Jackson at her side. Instead, sheanticipated their return to the small, peaceful town, and knew that once she stepped foot in it, a new life was waiting for her.
When at last they arrived at the palace again, Paris became an emissary of that new life, standing at the palace door with guards to either side. She openly appraised the three of them.
Ella and Jackson were in the gear they’d left in, washed with river water but still worse for the wear. Tears and scratches with small traces of oil and ash still marked their clothes and boots. Ella had a long, frazzled braid over her shoulder. Jackson had the beginnings of a rather scruffy beard and Crow, slightly more deliberate about his appearances, still couldn’t hide the heavy bags under his blue eyes, evidence of many sleepless nights.
He’d been restless during the journey, Ella imagining that he thought she or Jackson might attempt to kill him. She’d made no attempts to reassure him. Right now, she still hoped he believed that for the rest of his life, the price to pay, perhaps, for a mind constantly embroiled in the game of power.
It was clear that Paris had caught wind of them arriving in the city, waiting patiently at the palace door when they’d arrived.
“So,” she raised an eyebrow, as if unsure where she should start. “It seems you found more than the valley of Death.” A discerning eye moved to Crow as if sensing the coolness between them. “I suspect I already know your name,” she said.
“Aldis,” Crow replied, “Aldis Crow.”
Paris nodded slowly, “Brave of you to come here. I imagine we will be seeing you back to The Ocean."
“Yes. When convenient,” Crow replied and Ella and Jackson exchanged glances.
She knew that’s what Crow wanted, and based on Paris’s tone, she wasn’t intent on keeping him around long. Ella wondered briefly if Paris’s distaste extended beyond Crow’s use of the embolism.
“Or inconvenient,” Paris replied, making her distaste known. She gestured to the guards and one stepped down and gestured for Crow to follow him into the palace.
Crow looked back at Ella and Jackson before walking back into the palace.
“Thank you,” he said, and despite its apparent honesty, Ella could offer little but silence.
His icy blue eyes held hers for a moment in the silence and she swallowed back a tight feeling in her throat. It was hard to resist thinking about the missions of the past. Despite Crow’s denial of it all, she couldn’t help but feel that the reality of their team’s bond made itself known in the silence.
“You deserve a life here, Ella,” Crow said, a voice rarely anything but calculated showing the smallest indications of warmth. “You look at me like I’ve changed so much,” he said, “but I’ve always been the same. And believe it or not, there is a version of you, from years ago, that would have understood every step that led me here.”
Her brows furrowed at the comment, but he didn’t wait for her to respond, turning as he followed the guard into the palace and back to the pool that would take him to the other side.
Jackson and Paris waited to speak in the ensuing silence, Ella glancing down at her feet. Crow had the audacity to point out that she’d been the one to change. Was there a chance that he was right?
“Ella, Jackson,” Paris said, stepping down from the steps of the palace, “follow me.” She walked between them, both Ella and Jackson turning to follow as she led them back into the town. “Tell me what happened,” she said calmly ahead of them.
Jackson and Ella exchanged glances again and by the time they explained everything, Paris had stopped in front of a small cottage.
“But even now I still don’t remember what happened to Peter at the Burning of the Strike,” Ella said.
Paris nodded but didn’t seem disappointed. “With time,” she replied simply, her ringed fingers folded in front of her. The silence drew out. Paris’s long, light purple gown shimmered with a soft breeze. “Well?” she asked.
Jackson and Ella exchanged glances again, almost out of habit now after several weeks of traveling with Crow in their midsts.
Paris gestured to the house next to them.
Ella inspected the small cottage for clues. It was similar to the surrounding houses with a small cobblestone path, reddened clay shingles, and a cream exterior with an array of potted plants and flowers. The faint smell of burning wood drifted through the air, Ella recognizing a small fire burning in the exterior to prepare hot water.
Ella couldn’t for the life of her figure out what Paris was suggesting.
“It’s great,” Jackson said.
“I thought you’d like it,” Paris remarked with a soft smile. “Now, get washed up and change. Samual, Angelina, and a couple other divers have been waiting for both of you to return. I’ll debrief them on your journey.”
