our demise. Instead, he offers his flask to me. I hate the smell of it but take a swig of the aguadulce anyway. It’s so cold it tastes like ice water at first. Then it burns going down, leaving behind the slightest taste of flowers. I pass it around, and even Sayida takes the barest sips.
The chatter turns to things everyone misses from their childhood, and the drink burns even worse when it comes back around. Dez fishes in his pack for a set of his favorite ivory dice. He and Margo take turns rolling them, using their pocketknives, bootstraps, and pesitos as wagers. Esteban doesn’t play, because he doesn’t like to lose. But we watch and take sides and share this brief moment of joy.
I think about how we are joined by the magics we were born with. It is the one thing that unifies us and makes us Moria in a world where our ancestral lands have been swallowed whole. When Memoria was first annexed, Moria families settled all over Puerto Leones. We were meant to become Leonesse, but our magics would always set us apart. Illan says that there was peace for a time. Esteban’s family settled in the tropical south of Crescenti. Sayida’s family never left their roots in Zahara. Margo’s people were fishermen in Riomar. Dez and I were both born near the capital. I can’t miss a place that I betrayed, can I?
“Are you ever afraid of who you’ll be when this war is over?” Esteban asks, lying on his back. His long fingers drum on his abdomen. “What if we win, but this weapon gets into the wrong hands? Worse than King Fernando. What if we cut the head off the lion but it doesn’t change anything?”
Margo rolls her eyes while Sayida replies, “Can you let us dream a little, Esteban?”
A sad smile tugs at his mouth, but he quiets. I wish I could admit that I share his worries, but I decide it best to keep them to myself.
“Tell me more about your dreams, Sayida,” Dez says, punctuating his words with a wink. “Am I in them?”
Esteban frowns and Margo nearly chokes on her aguadulce while Sayida throws her head back to laugh. “Of course you are. I’ve composed many songs about you.”
Dez perks up at that, though none of us believe it. “Sing us a song, Sayida.”
We beg her enough that she relents. There is one thing Sayida would never part with, and that’s her small guitar. It’s red wood with golden paint that’s chipped away over time. She strums and twists ivory knobs to tune the strings. When Sayida sings about a love lost, we all fall silent. It could be anyone. Friends, parents, siblings, partners. Her soft alto voice wraps around my heart and squeezes. Tears gleam on Esteban’s face, and eventually, he closes his eyes and falls asleep. Margo follows.
“That was beautiful—thank you, Sayida,” I say.
She wraps her guitar in its red cloth, then slips it into a leather pouch. She curls onto her side and whispers, “Buonanocte.”
I echo it, but I’m keenly aware of Dez watching me from across the fire as I settle into my bedroll, too. Like most nights, sleep doesn’t come. When the campfire is nothing but red burning coal and snores join the serenade of night animals, I tug on my boots. With the oil lamp in my hand, I walk away from the campsite and down to the river.
“Are you deserting, Ren?” Dez’s voice, teasing, comes from behind.
I turn, seeing nothing but trees. The silhouettes of moss hanging from crooked tree branches move like the ghosts in my mind. No Dez. And yet—I can feel him. I don’t know how, but I can. Even if we were in a crowded city, I could pick him out from thousands.
“You know me better than that,” I say. Straining my senses, I think I detect a small shift of dark against dark. My oil lamp is a tiny flicker, no better than a firefly here. The metal handle squeaks. The next step I take crunches on dead leaves and rocks.
“I thought I taught you to be stealthier.” His voice floats to me from somewhere behind a thicket of alder trees. “You’ll wake the dead with that heavy tread of yours.”
“A heavy tread for a heavy heart.” I wait a beat, then I lunge, ready to grab him. Instead, I grab a fistful of air.
“Share your burden with me, Ren.”
“I can’t.”
I feel him move in the