Ayla stared as she reached into the pocket of her uniform and pulled out a single green feather.
“You know, you really shouldn’t have this,” Malwin scolded her. “I don’t know why you carry it around with you, but I’m sure it counts as a belonging. You’re lucky the adviser saw you drop it and not Lord Hesod. You could’ve got in real trouble, girl.”
Ayla nearly barked out a laugh. Clearly, Malwin didn’t know what kind of trouble she’d already gotten in.
“Right,” Ayla said after a pause. “You’re right, I’ll—I’ll be more careful.”
“Well, don’t tell me. ’S not my neck on the chopping block.” She pushed the feather into Ayla’s hands. “Hide that. I should’ve tossed it in the fire, but I’m feeling kind today.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Ayla put the feather in her pocket . . . and set aside her curiosity. She’d have time later to wonder about it.
For now, she had to talk to Benjy.
Ayla waited for him under their tree, staring into the gnarled eye. She’d left her comb on his pillow, a signal that she wanted to meet, but what if he hadn’t noticed it? It was so strange, using the comb as a signal instead of just whispering to him, or tapping the back of his hand as she walked past. They used to spend every possible moment together, but ever since Ayla became a handmaiden she hadn’t seen Benjy nearly as much. Most days, all they exchanged was a single glance as they climbed into bed, their bodies separated by a dozen other sleeping servants.
As she waited, her thoughts were a hive of worries. Why had Kinok asked about her family? Would she ever see Storme again?
What about Rowan and the other rebels who’d joined her going south? She’d been desperate not to think of that—to think of the fact that she hadn’t heard anything about them since. What had happened to them?
She couldn’t worry about that now, though. Not yet. Because she had to tell Benjy about what Crier had told her.
Kinok’s compass pointed to the Iron Heart. She was sure of it. Why else would such a thing be so special? Why else would even the Red Hands want it?
Total destruction was a possibility now in a way it hadn’t been before.
Ayla was buzzing with the knowledge of it.
So excited that if Crier were here, she could kiss her for it.
She wanted to slap the thought straight out of her head, but just then, Benjy ducked under a tree branch, dust and sunlight in his curly hair. Ayla realized with a pang that he didn’t even know she’d found Storme. But maybe it was better if he didn’t know her secrets.
Anything to fray the thread between them.
But Ayla missed him. She missed him in the way of missing people who are not dead, who are warm and close and breathing. It wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before. Missing her parents (and Storme, until yesterday) was different; it felt like trying to draw water from a well that had long since run dry. Missing Benjy felt like staring at a bucket of cool, clear water and refusing to drink. He was right there. But she had to keep him at arm’s length, because anything closer was too dangerous.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at her, and she did not smile back. “How’s life in the royal palace?”
“Charming. Malwin loves biting my head off.”
“Poor baby,” he said, leaning against the trunk of the tree. “Wanna trade?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. You wouldn’t last a second as a handmaiden.”
Something flickered across his face. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I probably wouldn’t be as good at it as you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He sighed and shook his head, reaching up to pluck a leaf and play with it between his fingers. “Nothing, sorry, been a long day. A long week.”
“A long life.”
“Listen, I have news.”
“I do, too. But you go first.”
“Rowan. She’s back.”
This wasn’t at all what Ayla had been expecting to hear. Her heart practically thumped out of her chest. “Is she okay? Where is she?”
“Shh,” he said, coming away from the tree trunk, his face part in shadow. “Not here.”
“But—”
He took her hand. It felt warm and rough. “She’s going to meet us. By the cliffs. Come on.”
Together, they cut through the grounds, heading for the sea cliffs—the spot where Ayla and Crier had first met, where Ayla had saved Crier’s life. They stuck to the shadows, the aisles of soft black dirt between