in the dim light. Her nostrils flare in frustration. “I beg your pardon?” she says, almost too loud.
Winking, I push off the rail. “Something Reds share no matter what—we live to piss you people off. And I’m not giving some drunk prince the satisfaction. He’s got enough in this world.” Before I can stop myself, my hand grazes her arm. It sends an electric shock trailing from my fingers all the way down my spine. “He doesn’t get you.”
I leave her sputtering behind me, all my focus on keeping my back straight and my steps quiet. My cheeks flare with heat. I’m glad for the darkness as I pass Gill.
Ashe, why are you like this?
“Smitten,” I think he hisses under his breath.
If not for the Lakelander prince pursuing us, I would push him into the river.
Instead I gesture for him to lean close.
And I whisper the plan formulating in my head.
SIX
Ashe
Sometimes I wonder if the differences are more than I realize between Silver and Red. I’ve never known a Silver, or cared to know one before. There is the blood, of course: the color and what it gives. Abilities I cannot understand or comprehend. Great speed, control over water or fire or metal, animals, weather, or superior strength like Lyrisa’s. But beyond that, is there more? Are they born different from us, more rigid and cruel and violent, or do they become that way? I used to think the former. Now I’m not so sure.
I’ve spent many a sleepless night on the river. I’m used to the exhaustion. Either Lyrisa is too, or she’s talented at hiding weakness. I guess both.
The sun rises on familiar banks and growing signs of civilization along the widening river. The confluence is a major point of crossing, and docks start to peek out among the roots and rushes of the Freeland banks. To the north, the Lakelands are still mostly fields, though the road is coming. It winds down from Sanctum farther north, to dead-end at the point where the Ohius and the Great River meet. Here Lakelanders can enter the Freelands if they so dare.
I wonder where the prince and his cackling hunters might be. Are they watching us now? Are they close? I hope you’re enjoying this, jackass.
Other boats, big and small, joined us as the night lifted, giving way to dawn. Some are barely more than rafts poled by children, a pastime I knew well once. They swarm near the keels, hoping for castoffs. I toss a few apples, the familiar ritual bringing comfort.
In his scurry, Big Ean waves to a few, calling them over. He’s doing as we planned, passing on news of a Lakelander prince nearby, a fine prize for any who might think to rob or ransom him. The wet and tanned kids spread the word eagerly, paddling back to their docks or farther into the boat traffic.
Lyrisa isn’t a pale, porcelain-skinned Silver, the kind who might be spotted from yards away. Her skin is darker, like cold copper, but she still takes precautions. I don’t know where she found a hat, but she tucks her hair up and away. Despite the ill-fitting uniform, she could pass for keel crew and not a princess. As she finishes the transformation, I nod at her, and even Riette offers a bob of approval.
The sun is hot already and I can feel the humid press of the day. I can only imagine what a long summer we’re in for.
I shade my eyes and look for the telltale sign of the confluence—a strip of brown water against the horizon, the muddy churn of the Great River meeting the gray blue of the Ohius. While my normal route would take me farther out into the middle of the river, where the current is strong and fast, I keep the keel as close as I can to the Freeland banks. It slows us down but keeps us at least half a mile from the Lakelands, and out of the kind of deep water a nymph could turn against me. Should the worst happen, at least we have a chance of making it to shore.
There’s a bustling market town just south of where the rivers join, part of it built out over the water. If I can get us there before Orrian strikes again, put in at the docks . . . Will I leave her? It seemed like an easy decision last night.
I clench my teeth. I’ll cross that bridge if it comes. For