Chapter Nineteen: Another Beginning

  Ean got up early to train with Phong one last time. He was too sore for anything strenuous and was heartened to see that Phong was moving slowly as well. Instead of sparring, they traveled through the Water dances at half-speed, the fluid movements easing the ache in their bodies. Phong pointed out a few tweaks to improve Ean’s form, keeping his back straighter on a step-sequence and dropping his shoulders on a kick. Ean loosened up to the point where traveling only sounded uncomfortable, not torturous. They finished with a couple of stretches, and Ean couldn’t help but ask again if Phong knew how to catch an arrow.

  Phong flicked his ear. “Don’t be stupid.”

  Ean laughed. “Wise words.”

  Phong’s lips twitched up before settling into a frown. “Your trials. Will they be soon?”

  “I’ll turn twenty-one in a—” Ean was about to say a month, but then he counted the days in his head. “In a week,” he realized out loud. His stomach flipped at the thought.

  “You could abdicate.”

  Ean sighed. Felix had said the same. “And do what?”

  “Come back to the Villa.”

  “To be a Scholar?”

  “Not all who reside here are Scholars. We also take those in need of refuge. Come back and I will train you and help you choose your path.”

  Ean looked away. It was a generous offer, but he didn’t know if he could accept it.

  Phong gave a small smile. “I know you are not accustomed to having a choice, but you do have options. Think on it as you travel.”

  “I’m terrible at making my own choices,” Ean said. “The first decision I made got me into this mess to begin with.” Phong raised his eyebrows in question; Ean gave a rueful grimace. “I tried to assassinate Leo.”

  Phong couldn’t keep the surprise off his face even though he gave it a valiant effort. Ean laughed at his struggle.

  “Well… our first attempts aren’t always our best,” Phong said graciously. “But you’re choosing now, aren’t you? To destroy the sword? It seems you are learning. And that is all anyone can ask of you.”

  He clapped Ean on the shoulder and then turned him towards the baths. Ean didn’t have time for a soak, just a quick dip to wash before the journey ahead.

  The Scholars were generous in their provisions to the party, gifting them new clothes and packs full of traveling rations. They walked with the party to the crest of the mountain pass and sang a song of farewell as they descended into the mountains. Ean expected to feel some irritation at the start of another journey, but his steps were light and his mood was high. Maybe it was because he’d finally apologized and been forgiven. Maybe was because he’d freely chosen this quest, instead of being forced into it. Maybe it was because the others were similarly light-hearted.

  Or maybe it was because they were walking downhill.

  Chadwick caught blue trout for dinner. “Get used to it,” he said, as they helped him descale the flesh. “We’ll be eating a lot of it in Nor’dell.”

  Once the fish were roasting over the fire, he rolled out a map and traced their route southwest. “We’ll be traveling through the burnt lands here. The Scholars said the rivers are running clear, so we’ll follow those for food and water.”

  “How long will we be in the Black?” Asali asked.

  “Maybe ten days. And they said to be ready to climb because we’ll come across some ravines.”

  Ean groaned. He was sick of climbing. From the expressions around him, he wasn’t the only one.

  The hike out of the Frostheld Mountains went quickly, thanks to clear skies and mild temperatures. They stepped back into the moors and found that spring had arrived in full bloom. Wildflowers dotted the swaying green grass; the scent of heather and meadowsweet wafted on the wind. The scenic landscape and pleasant weather eased Ean’s irritation at having to hike up and down the seemingly endless hills.

  He woke early on the third day, his stomach in knots. He was twenty-one today. Thirteen years ago, he’d had his last day with his mother. She’d been busy with preparations for her latest song, but she’d woken him with his favorite breakfast, and he’d followed her to all her appointments—with the dressmaker, the musicians, the stage director. It’s going to be a perfect day, she’d said. But then Felix had slipped in through the window, and two weeks later, Ean was at Haven, training to become a shadow-walker.

  He used to spend his birthdays thinking about his mother. He replayed that day over and over in his head, sometimes to mourn it, sometimes to remember it, sometimes to dream of what might have been. But in the past few years, he’d only dreaded his birthdays. They were a reminder that he was running out of time to pass the trials. Now, time had finally run out.

  Ean slipped away from camp, intent on practicing his dances. But dread numbed his limbs, and anxiety turned his stomach. He wasn’t fit for dancing today. Instead, he sank down to the grass and crossed his legs. He took in a breath of air. Held it. Released it. He shut his eyes.

  After years of practice, it was easy to settle his mind into meditation. It was like wrapping himself in a blanket, warm and comforting. His breathing steadied and shallowed, the space between them stretching longer and longer. His heartbeat slowed to a nearly undetectable rate. His mind blanked to nothing but existence.

  His eyes opened of their own accord and stared out into the distance. The sky lightened from gray to pink as the sun rose, but he wasn’t moved by its beauty. He simply observed. A rabbit sprung out of shrub to his right. It hopped closer and began nibbling the clover. A songbird flew through the air, then landed in front of him. It poked about the grass before it was joined by another. They chirped in conversation, then took off, flying so close he could feel the brush of their wings.

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  The rabbit froze, ears swiveling and nose twitching, then bounded away. A second later, Ean felt vibrations in the earth. Footsteps. He knew it was Leo even before he spoke.

  “Breakfast is ready.” Leo walked closer, then crouched down beside him. “Are you even breathing?”

  Consciousness returned too quickly, causing Ean to gulp in a breath of air. His heart stuttered as it returned to a normal pace. He squeezed his eyes shut, then blinked them open.

  “It’s not your day for meditating,” Leo said.

  It took too long to formulate a simple agreement. “No.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s my birthday today.” Ean turned and caught Leo’s look of confusion. Whatever answer he’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. “My third year of apprenticeship has ended.”

  Leo caught on. “You still can’t catch an arrow.”

  Ean nodded.

  “You don’t have to—” Leo stopped himself and reframed his response into a suitably diplomatic answer. “Well, you still have time to practice.”

  Ean couldn’t help but smile at his tact. “That I do.”

  “And we’ll help in any way we can.”

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  They headed back to camp and packed up for another day of travel. In honor of Ean’s birthday, Chadwick tracked and shot several ruffled pheasants for dinner and Asali offered to take his watch. While the morning had been fraught with anxiety, the evening brought a welcome sense of ease. Ean slept soundly until dawn.

  *   *   *

  The moor stretched on, tranquil in the sunshine, but the weather didn’t hold. Dark clouds gathered in the horizon and rolled towards them. Rain fell, a frozen, violent downpour that lasted an afternoon until fading into a cold drizzle that dragged on for days. Ean’s good mood dampened with his clothes. Around him, conversations became waspish, and spirits sank lower than the temperature. On the third day of rain, Leo, Asali, and Chadwick squabbled—over what, Ean wasn’t sure—but they knew each other well enough to make their jabs hurt. Flora attempted to intervene and got snapped at. She withdrew, startled and hurt, and stayed silent for the rest of the day.

  The weather cleared on the morrow, but the tiff carried over and the morning meal was stilted. Ean avoided the awkwardness by writing in his journal, recording snippets of the songs the Scholars had sang and some of the history they’d recounted. He paged back through his notes, startled at how long they’d been traveling. It was the longest he’d ever been away from Felix and Haven, and he felt a pang of homesickness he couldn’t shake. By that evening, the pang had turned into a headache, and when he woke up in the morning, his throat scratchy and nose clogged. He felt deceived. None of the epic quests he’d read, of Erudus’s divinely inspired journey or Aliana’s grand revenge, had included the heroes coming down with a head cold.

  He staggered out of the tent, bedraggled and sniffling, and found Chadwick hunched by the fire. His face was pale; his nose was red. He clutched his blanket tightly around him. Ean put the kettle on for tea and waited in silence for the water to heat. He drank two cups, and by the time the rest stirred, he felt marginally better. But marginally better was the best of everyone. Flora left the tent flushed and trembling. Both Asali and Leo had a fever.

  Flora brewed a tincture she said would ease their symptoms. It burned Ean’s throat and made him strangely groggy. Asali and Chadwick spent the day dozing by the fire; Leo and Flora spent it dozing in the tent. Ean spent it in meditation, picturing his lifeforce as a flame within him and trying to convince it to burn brighter. It was a shadow-walker trick, used to fight off illnesses and heal injuries faster. He hadn’t quite got the hang of it yet, but when he woke the next morning, he felt recovered enough to borrow Chadwick’s bow and do some hunting. He had good luck and caught a brace of hares within an hour, but it felt so good to be away from the misery of the group that he waited another before returning.

  They boiled the hares into a thick broth, which soothed his sore throat, and by the third day, he felt back to himself. The others hadn’t recovered as quickly. Their fevers had broken, but they weren’t fit to travel.

  “This is a mess,” Leo pronounced over breakfast.

  “What is?” Asali asked.

  “We’ve been gone too long as it is. Now we’ve lost three days because of a damn cold.”

  Ean tipped his head to the side. Leo didn’t usually swear. “And?”

  Leo rubbed his face. “Father was expecting us last week. He’s going to start worrying.”

  Ean thought of Chadwick’s map, and the amount of distance still ahead of them. He understood Leo’s concern. At some point, the King would assume the worst.

  “He knows the weather was bad,” Chadwick said. “He won’t start worrying for another week or two.”

  It was a poor attempt at providing comfort. Asali kicked his foot in reprimand before turning to Leo. “He’ll understand when you get home.”

  “I should have sent him letter. Even a couple of lines to say we were delayed.”

  Ean frowned. He’d thought a notice had been sent. He turned to Flora. “Didn’t you write a letter? I saw you send one at the Villa.”

  From the way Leo, Asali, and Chadwick all whipped around, Flora hadn’t told them what she was doing. Her face froze for a second, then she winced in apology.

  “I sent a letter to Aldine,” she confessed, her words coming out rushed. “I know you said not to, but Aldine made me promise to keep her informed. And we write in code, so even if the letter was intercepted, no one will know what it means.”

  The others exchanged a couple of looks. Ean could tell they weren’t happy at Flora’s deception. They were still paranoid after the Wildmen.

  “What did you tell her?” Asali’s voice was sharp.

  “I said we had reached our destination. Nothing more.”

  “You shouldn’t have—” Asali started, but Leo cut her off.

  “It’s fine, Flora.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Maybe you should have told her everything. Then she could have broken the news to Father while I’m a kingdom away.”

  Asali made a commiserating noise. “He’ll respect your decision. We talked about this already.”

  “He wanted the sword. He’s going to be so disappointed.” Leo dropped his head into his hands.

  Asali and Chadwick shared a glance. An unspoken conversation passed between them, each of them urging the other to say something. In the silence, Leo’s breaths sounded ragged. His fingers tightened in his hair.

  Ean rolled his eyes at their hesitation and spoke for them. “There’s no reason to be afraid of an inevitability. You are going to disappoint your father.”

  “Ean!” Asali turned to him, appalled at his blunt honesty.

  “It’s a universal truth,” Ean argued. “At some point in their lives, every child disappoints their parents.” He turned to Leo, who looked startled. “You can only to choose how to disappoint them. It’s better to disappoint him with something you believe in, rather than a stupid decision you’ll regret later.” It was, admittedly, a lesson he’d only learned recently.

  The group stared at him. Ean sat back, smug when no one could offer a counterpart to his argument.

  Leo frowned, mulling over his words. “You might be right.”

  Ean was close enough to reach out and ruffle his hair, the way he did to tease the younger trainees. “Of course, I’m right.”

  Leo shoved him off with a glare.