unending pines is broken by the pink-wreathed branches of the occasional Tala tree. An hour from the encampment, I reach a small stream. I sit. And then I sing.
It is a quiet song, for I do not want to draw the attention of creatures that will harm me. The song is one of healing. Of mothers and daughters. Of my own mother and her quiet love, which bathed me like the rays of the sun for as long as she lived.
A shiver of air against my neck. I am no longer alone.
Ever so slowly, I turn, and catch my breath. There she is, a wisp of a thing, just like the Soul Catcher said. She watches me and I do not speak.
“My lovey is close,” she whispers. “But I cannot reach her. Do you know how I can reach her?”
Elias’s warning echoes in my mind. “I do know your lovey,” I say. “But—she’s a bit—a bit different.”
“There is only one lovey.” Karinna sounds angry. “My lovey. My little one.”
“Tell me of her,” I say. “Tell me about your lovey.”
Karinna turns away from me, as if to leave, and I think of what the Soul Catcher said. To be patient. To offer her something to talk about.
“I just want to help you get to her,” I say. “My—my mother is gone.” My heart clenches in sorrow, an emotion that has chased me for far too long. An emotion I hate letting myself feel. “My sisters too,” I say. “My father. I know loss. I know pain.”
“Yes.” Karinna turns back, tilting her spectral head. “I feel it in you like I feel it in the other.”
“The other?” I reach for my scim, and the movement startles Karinna. She rears back, and I lift my hands, keeping my voice low. “What—what other? Who else have you been talking to?”
“A spirit.” Karinna flutters past me, and I think I feel her hands along my hair. “Haunted like you.”
She shifts behind me now, and I’m afraid to move, worried that when I look, she will be gone. But she returns, drifting in front of my face.
“Come, little broken bird,” she whispers. “Walk with me. I will take you to the other ghost. I will tell you of my lovey.”
LV: Laia
“Have you eaten yet?”
Darin finds me among the Tribespeople, where I am tending those still struggling with injuries from the wraith attack. Aubarit just joined me, her intrinsic understanding of the body making her an excellent partner. I look at my brother, dazed. I have not had time to eat. I have not had time for anything besides trying to help the wounded.
“She hasn’t. Nor have I.” Musa, his long hair pulled into a knot on top of his head, carries my supplies—mostly to irritate the pretty Martial, he’d chuckled to himself.
“Go on, both of you.” Aubarit takes my bag from Musa. “You’ve been at this for hours. Gibran can help me.” She glances from under her eyelashes at the handsome young Tribesman trailing Darin.
“Ah, young love,” Musa says, and I glance at him, wondering if I will see bitterness in his regard. But his smile takes years off his face, which has been drawn and desolate of late.
Darin leads Musa and me to the Blood Shrike’s tent. It is the largest in the camp, and doubles as a command center. Within, the Shrike, Avitas, and Elias gather around a central table with Spiro, Quin, and a few Martial Paters. Afya stands across from them, moving stones around on a large map.
Darin heads immediately to the far corner of the tent, where someone has laid out dried fruit, flatbread, and lentil stew. My stomach twinges hopefully. I do not remember when I last ate.
The Soul Catcher glances up at me when I enter, and briefly over to Musa, before he turns back to the Shrike.
“—catapults won’t be done until the morning,” she is saying. “And since that’s when the enemy army will arrive, it doesn’t give us much time to break down the city.”
“We’re not trying to break them down,” Elias responds. “We just want the jinn in the Sher Jinnaat to keep their distance until Laia can get to the Nightbringer. If we put archers here”—he points to a map—“along the river—”
“He’s jealous,” Musa murmurs in my ear. “Mark me.”
“He’s not jealous.” I thought before that he might have been. But while Elias has been more himself these past few days, he has still kept his distance. “He’s the Soul Catcher, and he is here