Page 86 of Witchlight
Join us, Little Fox. We belong to you.
“Yes,” Vivia agreed, her voice eaten by the night’s thrum—and her skin eaten by mosquitoes that thrived this close to the shore. “You do, but I can’t join you yet.”
Something about those words made her face scrunch up, as if there was some important lever she’d just pulled. Sticky heat pressed against her. She stared again at the stones that marked the western edges of the Contested Lands.
But no insights came to her. No more levers she could try. Just mosquitoes, buzzing their high-pitched keen into her ears. She swatted at them.Mud shifted underfoot. It knocked a branch into the waters, and the waves grabbed for it like sharks fighting for chum.
Until the waves soon realized it was wood and not their little fox. Then they let it drift away.
The branch hit a weak current. It spun once, then glided out toward the heart of the Amonra, where it would eventually drift east, then south, before slowly, slowly reaching the Jadansi.
Oh,Vivia thought, and suddenly she had an answer. An insight. An idea. One that made her smile with sharp teeth into the night. She spun on her heel and left the river.
To call what Zander made aboatwould have been an insult to boats everywhere. But itdidfloat and itdidhave space for four people—even if one of them was stretched out and unconscious.
Which Vaness still was, although Vivia kept murmuring in her ear, “Please, Empress, wake up. No one else can order me around as you do.” Vivia insisted on being the one to carry Vaness to the Amonra, her pace shambling and ungainly. Not once did Vaness stir; she simply slept on.
“Does it have a name?” Lev asked once they were all together at the shadowy shore, eying Zander’s creation. “’Cos I’d like to propose theCommander.”
Zander grunted, a sound caught between humor and grief. “Yeah. That’s a good one. He’d love knowing a boat that small and ugly was named after him.”
Vivia was too tired to ask whohemight be. Or to care that gnats were now zapping at her face. The boatwassmall, and itwasugly. No mast, no sail, no wave-cutting shape. It was more raft, actually, with green leaves still attached and sap oozing out of wounds left by Zander’s sword.
It had oars, though, which Vivia was impressed the Hell-Bard had thought to include.
It would also float, and as far as Vivia was concerned, that was all theCommanderreally needed to do for them.
Lev clambered aboard first, reaching back to help Vivia with the Empress. They were at a slight angle thanks to the shore. Vivia almost tripped over a knobby branch… until the branch groaned downward, vanishing into the other gnarls and lines of the boat.
“Let’s try not to kill any royalty,” Lev said lightly. “Really don’t feel likegoing back into a Marstoki prison. Or”—she shot Vivia a grim side-eye—“I’ve heard Nubrevnan prisons are even worse.”
“Sorry,” Zander muttered. The flush on his face looked almost gray in the first hints of dawn. “I’ll fix any other rough spots once I’m on board.”
“It’s fine,” Vivia assured him. Because it was. The man was clearly struggling against his magic, and Vivia had no desire to push him harder. They had what they needed; he’d done what she’d asked of him; a few forgotten branches wouldn’t kill anyone.
With Lev’s help, Vivia draped the Empress along the raft’s center. They’d all peeled off layers, and now they used their armor and coats to create a covering like the forts Vivia and Merik used to make in her old “fox’s den.” It would keep the sun and insects off Vaness.
At least until she wakes up.And shewasgoing to wake up.
“Ready?” Zander asked, still slouched on the shore.
Vivia nodded and tried not to think about the waters she was about to coast upon. About how much louder they would be once they were directly beneath her.
Zander grunted and shoved. His boots plowed into the soft bank. Mud scraped under theCommander. Then the Amonra licked a welcome at the raft’s bow and dug rivery fingers into its woven hull. Moments later, Zander hopped aboard. The boat tipped. Water splashed against Vivia.
Swim with us, Little Fox!
Zander settled, as did theCommander, and he reached for an oar. “No,” Vivia told him, pushing away from Vaness, now hidden under leather and cotton. “Let me do it, Hell-Bard. You need to rest.”
The man didn’t argue. Instead, he crawled close to the Empress, lay down with a hand over his eyes, and promptly fell asleep.
The shoreline shrank as Lev and Vivia rowed them toward the river’s deeper, faster heart. Fishes slithered, cutting through the waters that Vivia could never disconnect from. Shelled creatures scuttled in the substrate. She heard owls and saw bats, dark shapes that blotted out a few lingering stars.
Use us,the waters begged. But always, Vivia exhaled against them. The potential consequences were too dire; she couldn’t risk losing herself to waters that might never let go. She kept her focus instead on keeping their course true, right down the center of this mighty river that began far to the west in the mountains of Vivia’s home.
FORTY-THREE
Nothing could have prepared Iseult for the Cleaved. She’d seen them through Esme’s eyes in the Dreaming. Hundreds of bodies around the Air Well, standing and trapped in the worst kind of stasis. Still, it wasn’t the same as being physically in their midst, breathing the same damp air. Touching the same frozen soil.
