to me to wonder?
I raise my eyebrows in query at North, who nods. The streets are clear, and we keep moving.
We retrace the steps I took the morning I went to see Quenti, and my spine tingles with the strange sense of having done this before. Then, my need was not quite so dire. But then, I wasn’t responsible for the deaths of two members of his family.
Steps lead down to the river’s edge, where we move from stone streets onto the woven mats of the floating market walkways, abandoned in favor of the feast.
“What’s wrong with one of these?” North’s voice is some distance behind, and I halt so I can look back at him. He’s gesturing to one of the fishing boats tied up near the edge of the river.
“We need to use a riverstrider’s barge.” I tilt my head, gesturing for him to keep moving. “They are swifter and safer than any other—you and I would tire of rowing that boat long before we got far enough away.”
North abandons the boat he’d been examining and hurries to catch up with me again. “They’ve got sails or something?”
“Or something,” I echo, feeling a tattered ribbon of amusement flicker once and then fade. “Let us hope a few of them chose not to attend the feast.”
I can feel North’s eyes on me, sidelong. After a few more steps, he speaks, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness. “Nimh … you’re doing the only thing you can do. I may be new to this world, but even I can see how much your people need you.”
His words ought to be comforting, and a part of me aches that he’s even trying, given all that I kept secret from him. But the wounds are still fresh, and his touch—gentle though it is—burns.
“You cannot imagine what it feels like to be in my place,” I snap, my words sharp as knives. “You believe in nothing.”
North takes his time answering, time that lets me catch my breath. “That’s not true. And while I’ve never been through anything like this, I can imagine better than most. How heavy it is, this responsibility.”
A tiny undercurrent of curiosity tugs at me. “Why? Why can you imagine better than most?”
North tilts his head back, gazing toward the underside of the cloudlands, little more than a dark silhouette against the stars. “My grandfather … is the king of Alciel.”
I stop so abruptly that I have to prevent myself from stumbling. “King?” I echo stupidly. “There have been no kings or queens here for many centuries.” Then, my mind catching up, I continue slowly, “Kings pass on their power to their children, do they not?”
“My bloodmother is a princess, and heir to the throne.” North has stopped too, and now he looks back at me, expression faintly rueful. “So I’m, you know, royalty.”
“A … prince, isn’t that the word?” I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “Like in an ancient poem?”
“I don’t know this world’s stories, but … yes, I’m a prince.” North’s face mirrors my own—his smile appears when mine does, and a few moments later, fades.
“You did not tell me this when we met,” I point out.
“In Alciel, there are people who would use my family connections against the crown. I couldn’t be sure you weren’t one of them.”
“Ah,” I say, a hint of triumph warming my voice. “So you are telling me that you did not know me yet, and did not trust me, and so kept important information secret until you could be sure it was safe?”
North gives a quick, appreciative huff of laughter. “A fair point, Divine One. Though my secrets aren’t going to get us—”
Killed.
It is true. It is my fault Daoman is dead.
And those who accompanied me on my pilgrimage.
The chill returns. I turn away, scanning the boats until I find what I’m looking for: the warm glow of lantern light in one of the barges.
My heart sinks when I identify whose it is. “Of course,” I murmur, staring at the barge. It’s the only light in the entire row of boats.
North glances between me and the barges and then back again. “What is it?”
I force my lungs to draw in a deep breath. “The barge belongs to a man named Quenti, one of the leaders of this clan. It was my mother’s clan.”
“The clan you would’ve been part of?”
I nod. “That is why I came to him for help when no one in the temple or the