time we arrived at a small clearing, clouds had smothered the moon. Tents, plows, and animal pens loomed around us. A single house with a raised foundation creaked beneath a curved, broad-lipped roof. When we staggered inside, the winter air dispersed. Numbness melted away from my feet, though the room had no fire.
“Magic,” I whispered.
“Songland,” Woo In corrected. “We build fireboxes outside. Smoke canals lead under our homes and heat the floor.” The inviting warmth increased when Hyung parked itself in front of the door, effectively sealing the entry shut. “Watch your step,” said Woo In.
“Why should I watch my—”
Then I stumbled over a lumpy bundle. It moaned. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and across the long, low-ceilinged chamber, tiny bodies sprawled on the floor, faces peering up at me sleepily. Children—every single one covered in blue birthmarks.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
Woo In paused before answering: “A refuge.” Then he pulled me down a corridor to a windowless chamber that smelled of pine needles. “There’s a pallet in the corner,” he murmured. “Rest. We travel tomorrow morning.”
“Where?” I demanded, dizzy with fatigue and council sickness. “Why am I here? What do you want from—” But he closed the sliding wooden door and clicked a lock into place. Only when Woo In’s steps retreated down the corridor did the cries from An-Ileyoba sink in.
The emperor has gone to the village. He will not be back soon. Long live His Imperial Majesty: Ekundayo, King of Oluwan, and Oba of Aritsar.
“Dayo,” I rasped as sobs came with sudden force. “No. I can’t be here; he’ll be alone.” I pounded on the doorframe. “You have to take me back. I didn’t get to explain. He’ll think I abandoned him again. He’ll think—” He’ll think I chose my mother after all.
But I didn’t have a mother. Not anymore.
I staggered back from the door, collapsing onto something soft: a thin leather pallet, piled with musty-smelling blankets. Then I cried my face stiff, sputtering in a pool of sweat and mucus as the empress and princess masks dug into my breasts. I moved only to twist my council ring, around and around until a red ring blossomed around my finger, and my demons dropped fitfully to sleep.
I winced at the morning light trickling in from the corridor. Children’s voices and lowing animals sounded faintly through the walls, and my temples were on fire. I lurched upright from the pallet and regretted it. Nausea rolled over me.
I hadn’t felt council sickness since my last year at the Children’s Palace, during an outbreak of pox. The testmakers had quarantined Dayo’s council, forcing us to sleep in separate rooms. Even Dayo had been required to stay away, because even though the Ray protected him from illness, he could still spread it.
As it happened, none of us had the pox … but we might as well have, since council sickness felt several times worse. Through the fog of my headache, I noticed that my hand throbbed, swollen where I had twisted my seal ring.
My heart skipped—another person was in the room. Above me stood a girl in a leather vest and patched trousers, with tan cheeks and stony brown eyes. Patterns shimmered faintly on her skin. No longer blue, as they had been nearly a year ago, but deep violet.
“Ye Eun,” I breathed. “You’re alive. You made it out. Of course you did; you’re brave and strong, but Am’s Story, I worried about you so much …”
I reached to embrace her. She caught my arrow-wounded arm with a small, firm hand.
“I have to clean this,” Ye Eun said. Her face was a cold mask. “You could lose the arm if it gets infected. It happened to one of the younger boys.”
She clutched a rag that reeked of astringent herbs, and shifted a bundle strapped to her back: a tuft-haired infant Redemptor, who babbled against her shoulder.
“Ye Eun … don’t you remember me?” I asked. “We met at the temple in Ebujo. I—”
“Of course I remember you.” Her voice was toneless, and her gaze was full of ghosts. “You’re the one who was supposed to keep me safe.”
My belly turned to stone. “I’m sorry. I tried—”
“We don’t need you, you know,” she said. “I’ll save the others, just like I saved myself.” The baby cooed and nestled into her back. More blue-marked faces, ranging from toddlers to older children, peeked into the room from behind Ye Eun’s legs. Except for Ye Eun, none of them looked older than ten.