marsh grasses, which she started to braid together.
“What are you doing?” Valara asked curiously.
“Making snares. With luck, these will bring us lunch tomorrow. For tonight, I’ll have to forage a bit.”
So many things she had not considered before her desperate flight. Valara absently rubbed the wooden ring. She’d not heard anything from the emerald during their long trek. Even now, the ring felt lifeless to her touch.
Daya? Can you hear me?
A wisp of magic’s green scent, then Valara felt a cool wind against her face, heard the shriek from a startled gull, tasted the heavy tang of salt from the bay. Below her, she saw a figure running through the underbrush. He stooped, threw a glance over his shoulder, before he darted across the bare patch. Something in the man’s height, the way his night-black hair swung around, reminded Valara strongly of Karasek.
Impossible. He died. I know it.
She blinked and found herself back in the swamp. The sun had already sunk beneath the hills, the sky had darkened to violet, and the full moon shone bright and sharp against it. Once more, time had sifted away.
Karasek dead. She felt a pang of regret, which puzzled her. She had known about his death weeks before. Or rather, she had guessed it. No one, not guards or prisoners, had mentioned him in Osterling. He would have been a prominent prisoner there.
I knew him, though. Long ago.
She wiped away the images from her past and glanced around. Ilse had built a small fire. When Valara stirred, she asked, “Did you discover anything?”
Of course the woman had recognized the magic.
Valara shrugged. “Nothing dangerous.”
Ilse tilted her head, as if she wanted to ask another question, but returned her attention to the fire without speaking.
Not long after, Galena returned with a woven basket of provender. They dined on stale bread and turtle eggs, served with cattails and fresh water. She insisted they douse the fire right away, and went on to list the many dangers they faced, from dogs to magical spells to the patrols themselves. Her voice had taken on a nervous quality, and Valara remembered she had not wanted to come at first.
Finally Ilse laid a hand on Galena’s arm. “We should sleep. We have a long march tomorrow.”
Galena twitched away from the other woman’s touch. “I’ll take first watch.”
Interesting, Valara thought. So much revealed in a few gestures.
They had assigned her a bed in the middle. She lay down on the mattress of pine branches, which creaked underneath. The rich tang tickled her nose; it reminded her of the hills above Rouizien on Enzeloc. From far off, she heard a bullfrog’s deep-throated song, the rill of water. Her thoughts winged back—as always—to Morennioù and Vaček’s soldiers. To her father’s council, now hers by default. If she could have transported herself back to Morennioù that instant, she would have done so.
* * *
SHE WOKE IN the middle of the night. Ilse was shaking her arm. “Your turn to watch,” she whispered. She said more, about keeping time by the moon’s angle, but Valara paid no attention. Here was the opportunity she needed.
She took her post beside the stream and waited for her companions to settle into sleep. It was the first quiet moment she had to observe her surroundings. The trees and marsh looked far different under the moonlight, their colors bleeding to silver and gray. Shadows blurred the distance, changed perspective. Sounds were different, too. Rain had fallen while she slept. Now she heard a constant silvery trickle from the trees onto leaves, a stronger rill from the stream.
She counted the moments to herself, well into the thousands, until she felt certain Ilse slept. Then, she rose silently onto her feet. The moon had reached its midpoint in the sky, and she could easily see the best path, but she moved cautiously nonetheless. Even one careless step might bring Galena awake.
The hillside dipped into a fold, not far from their camp, then rose steeply into a forest of pine and oak. Valara climbed until she reached a small clearing. Here the moon was hardly visible, and the musty smell of old leaves filled the air.
She sat with her back against one enormous oak. With practiced ease, she turned her focus inward, folding her thoughts upon themselves until she brought her mind to a single point, to a single moment.
Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ane Lir unde Toc.
The magic current breathed to life around her. Its scent was fresh and sweet. Valara continued the invocation,