Page 10 of Spoils of war
“You’re… You’re back?”
Kera looked up at him with tears streaking her cheeks. Einar dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, and the three of them clung to each other, crying and thanking the gods.
I just stood there, unsure what to do. My throat was tight, my eyes stung. I wanted to cry too, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.
It wasn’t mine.
Kera’s mother turned, blinking at me like she’d only just realized I’d been standing there. Her eyes swept over me, my tangled hair, the torn sleeves of my coat, and my red, sticky hands.
“Sweet girl,” she said. “Did you come here all by yourself?”
I nodded.
“Where are your parents?” Kera’s father asked, his voice now thick with concern. “Licia, was it?”
“I followed the voice,” I said. “Iheardher. I heard Kera.”
The words seemed to knock the air out of them. And honestly? I didn’t blame them. I wouldn’t have believed me either. I don’t even know ifIbelieved me. That voice had sounded like Kera, but why had I heard it? How had I heard it? Maybe I was still dreaming. Maybe none of this was real.
“Youheardher?” Kera’s mother repeated. “What did she say? What did you hear?”
“Screaming,” I said. “Begging for help.”
She flinched and her face crumpled.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured, gently brushing the hair from my face. “We really need to get you home. Your parents must be so worried.”
Then Kera’s father’s eyes fell on my hands again.
“We can’t send her home like this, Sara. With bloody hands. Gods—they’d thinkwedid something to her.”
Kera’s mother nodded quickly.
“Come, girls,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let’s get you clean.”
We followed her out the back door, onto a wooden deck. A bucket sat in the corner, and cloths of different patterns and sizes hung drying along the railing. She took two, handing one to me.
“For your hands,” she said.
She knelt beside Kera, easing the torn, blood-soaked dress over her head with careful hands. Without a word, she dipped her cloth into the bucket, wrung it out, and began wiping Kera’s back and arms, her movements quick but gentle.
“There we go,” her mother murmured, more to herself than to us. “There we go. You’re safe now.”
I crouched by the bucket, dipped my cloth into the water, and scrubbed my hands, watching the water cloud pink.
Pale dawn was creeping across the horizon in streaks of blue and silver, the first light of morning brushing the rooftops. I wondered if my parents had even noticed I was gone.
Kera’s father offered to walk me home, and I started toward the gate with him.
“Wait!”
I turned. Kera was hurrying toward me, now in a nightdress, her hair still damp. She threw her arms around me.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
In that moment, I felt something I can’t explain. It was like her warmth passed into me. Her joy, her relief and her love, melting the cold inside.
I never wanted that feeling to end.
