better than you do, remember.”
“You keep saying,” Rhema says, then stomps away, muttering under her breath. Rhema is spoiling for a fight, he knows, a real fight, not with some snuffling creature of the night, but with a shady Aphrasian or two.
If and when it comes time to fight, Cal knows that Rhema will be an asset. When the Guild suggested her as an apprentice, Cal had his doubts. At first he thought she was just a too-smart girl from the mountains with the typical Montrician arrogance. At her age, she couldn’t possibly be expert as a tracker and fighter. But, like Shadow before her, Rhema has skills that belie her age. She’s expert in sensing danger and smelling fear. She might not be very tall, and she’s slim as a reed, but she’s certainly nimble and tenacious. Rhema can climb a tree like a wildcat. Cal is certain she’ll be able to fight like a wildcat as well.
It’s hard to look at Rhema without being reminded of Lilac, back when they were roaming together. This would be the kind of mission the old Lilac—Shadow—would relish. But the new Lilac doesn’t go on missions. She’s queen of two kingdoms.
Cal is king of none.
By the time Cal and Rhema have a basic shelter in place, Jander is back with a bladder-skin bag of water and a handful of herbs to cook with what’s left of the venison they were given in Serrone, along with one of the aunts’ onions and the mushrooms he foraged earlier in the day. Rhema has plenty to complain about, but she never makes a peep about Jander’s cooking.
They eat in darkness. Cal would prefer to eat in silence as well: He and Jander like a companionable quiet. But tonight Rhema is back to her old questioning self. With each day, as she grows more comfortable with Cal, she has more confidence.
“So,” she says, after she’s licked her fingers clean, “you told me about the black key you’re carrying—”
“Nope,” says Cal. “You assumed that. I haven’t told you anything.”
It’s a piece of obsidian shaped like a key, but Rhema doesn’t need all the details.
“Yes, you did. You’ve got a key that can open the Deian Scrolls, just in case we find them. Which is unlikely, but it would be brilliant if we did.”
Jander winces at the mention of the scrolls. He has a vested interest in finding the scrolls and destroying the demon king, but at this moment they are there to investigate and quash any Aphrasian rebellion, yet again. The search for the scrolls remains there in the background, the thing that Cal has to do if he’s to be released from his father’s blood oath so that he can live his own life. He needs to be ready at any time, alert to the slightest hint, the most distant clue.
“I heard,” Rhema continues, and then pauses. She’s busy picking at her teeth with a hunting knife. “I heard that the key was discovered by Queen Lilac in Duke Girt’s library. Is that true? She’s a good fighter: I experienced it firsthand the other day. They say you’ve known her for a long time—is that true?”
“Bed for me,” says Jander, standing up and stretching. He gathers food scraps and ties them in sacking, to be hung from a high branch overnight. There’s nothing like food on the ground for attracting wild animals.
“Bed for us all,” Cal says. There’s no point in barking at Rhema to be quiet. That’ll just make her more curious. The less she knows about him, the better.
Rhema gives a long sigh, to show Cal how frustrated she is with the blank wall he presents.
Frustration. Cal knows all about that. His whole life has turned into a frustrated quest, and he’s been faced with one thing after another that he can never have or never find or never vanquish.
Another night without Lilac. She’ll be in Hansen’s bed by now. By the time he returns, she may be with child. She may even be a mother. Her fealty will lie with her family, no matter what her heart might want. There will be no way to deny her duty and her love. For of course Lilac will love her child, and in time, perhaps she will come to love the father of her child. Which means nothing, absolutely nothing, can ever be the same between them again.
Chapter Sixteen
Lilac
Lord Burley may look like an old man who finds it difficult to breathe and walk, but