his direction every few minutes—as if needing to reassure themselves where he was.
They did the same with her, looking up onto the wooden bridge where she stood. Quinn donned the leathers of the Cisean people once more, but not the cloaks. She preferred being able to move, and in truth, any clothing constricted that now. She understood their desire for her to be at least somewhat covered.
“He cares for you,” a voice said, approaching her.
Quinn didn’t turn as she replied, “I know, but for the life of me I can’t understand why.”
“You saved him,” Siva said, coming to stand beside her. The Cisean woman leaned forward, resting against the railing as well.
“Only because I doomed them to begin with. Had I not condemned a city to be burnt to the ground, I wouldn’t have brought anyone, certainly not children. They only slowed me down.”
“True,” she mused. “But to a child, you saved him. The reasons why matter not. He feels a”—she paused to search for a word—“kinship with you.”
Quinn sighed. “I feel the same with him, but not because he ‘saved’ me.”
“You relate to the darkness in him,” Siva said.
“I do.”
“I think he is the same,” Siva continued. “The other children are grateful, but they will not miss you. Except Trissa. She’s a strong one. Quiet strength, but strong.”
Quinn heard an admiration in Siva’s tone at the mention of the girl. “You’re going to take her, aren’t you? For you and Thorne to raise.”
Siva nodded. “We are. Our son is gone now. And Trissa . . . she speaks to me. She needs the right hands to guide her. A null has a gift many don’t understand. She’ll do well here.”
Quinn nodded in agreement. Something inside her felt content knowing that the girl would be with them. The sun peeked over the mountain tops and birds began to sing. The cold ebbed, if only a little. “And the others?” Quinn asked quietly.
“They’ll recover,” Siva said. “Their bodies are strong, built for a colder winter than we have here. Their minds worry me more.”
“We live in a hard world. It’s better that they learn that young. They’ll be more prepared for what’s to come.”
“They’ll be safe here. Even if war comes, it’s unlikely the southern men will make it up the mountain. Not with winter upon us.”
“Yes, but winter isn’t permanent,” Quinn said. “Not yours, anyway.”
“With any luck, this won’t last longer than winter,” Siva countered.
Quinn let out a dark chuckle. “I don’t believe in luck. Good or bad, I make my own future. The gods are too fickle to be trusted with it anyhow.”
When Siva didn’t say anything, Quinn finally glanced sideways.
Her long blonde hair had been woven into thick braids and pulled away from her face with a leather tie. The crinkles around her eyes had grown more pronounced in the year that had passed since Quinn last saw her. She still dressed in leathers and carried her head like a queen—but there was a tiredness alongside the wisdom now.
Her eyes were focused on the men below her, and fear bubbled up.
“I’d like to think that they are benevolent beings, but with all I’ve seen, I don’t think it’s possible.” It was only then that Quinn noticed the pale green flecks in her hazel eyes. Red marks lined her lids, the skin irritated as if it had been rubbed at too much. “We look to them the same way a horse looks to us, and while some of us are kind to our horses, not all are. The horse is a means of carrying things. They are little more than a slave, but happy in their ignorance because they don’t realize it. I think we are the same—and it’s easier to be ignorant and hope than to face the truth.”
“There’s more truth to that than you probably want to know,” Quinn said.
“Probably,” Siva agreed.
Silence spread between them, but it wasn’t strained or tenuous. Unlike the somber tensions pervading the tribes this early morning—this silence was soft. Welcoming, like sleep that pulls you under after the worst of days. There was a small comfort in it.
Quinn turned back to the party; they were near ready now. The horses were loaded, and the wagon filled with provisions. The morning light was nearly over the mountains. It was almost time.
“I have to ask . . .” Siva said, as if sensing it as well. “After all I’ve lost, I can’t put my faith in gods, but you are close enough. Will you—”
“I’ll