I’ve always liked being alone, she reminded herself. I prefer it. Too many people in one place isn’t natural. This is better. But she wasn’t alone. Suri was surrounded by people, yet not a part of them. She was the daisy among the daffodils, the fly in the goat’s milk, the butterfly in the army.
Suri turned and saw the trees off to their left, a slope running upward, leafy boughs nudging into darker piney ridges. She knew that line, that rise of trees, that curve. Just beyond was a river and over the next hill they would see the full face of the wood—the Crescent Forest.
“We’re almost back,” Suri said. She checked the sun. “By midday, we’ll be there. How do you feel?” she asked Arion. “We’ll walk slowly. No need to rush.”
Arion, who was sitting up and wrapped in a light shawl, appeared puzzled. “Are we going somewhere different than everyone else?”
“Yes, to the Hawthorn Glen. Home.”
“But Persephone—I thought we were headed to Alon Rhist.” Arion looked perplexed.
“That’s where she’s going; we’re going home,” Suri said. “You’ll love it, Arion. The garden will be a disaster, but I’ll take care of that. You won’t have to do a thing except rest and get stronger. We’ll go swimming!”
“Suri, there’s a war starting,” Arion said. Suri believed the Fhrey’s voice reflected her health, and Arion’s speech was still far too windy and hollow.
“Yes.” She glanced at the men with hoes and mattocks on their shoulders. “And in the glen we won’t even know it. We’ll be safe and happy. In a way, it’ll be like old times—the way it was with Tura.”
Persephone had wanted Suri and Arion to go to the Fhrey fortress, but Suri didn’t think war sounded very pleasant. Instead, she had come up with a better plan. The two of them would ride on the wagon back to the Crescent Forest, then hop off and walk to the Hawthorn Glen. Arion was still weak, so they would go slowly and stop often. Might take all day, but once there, Suri would show Arion the most beautiful place in the world: the little vale where the sunlight was more golden, the water sweeter, and where birds of different species sang in harmony. Suri knew Arion would love it, and in that wondrous place the Fhrey would grow strong again, and then—
“Suri?” Arion stared at her. “Are you ready to talk?”
Suri looked away, focusing on the forest as home came into view over the rise.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Arion asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Last thing I remember, we were trapped under a mountain. We had a deal, you and I. Since I’m here, I have to assume you didn’t keep your end of the bargain. Don’t you think it’s time we talked about what happened?”
Padera shifted uneasily. “You should rest,” the old woman said.
Arion ignored her and continued to focus on Suri.
The Crescent Forest revealed itself in its formal gown of deep summer green. By contrast, the fields that skirted it were bright gold with speckles of orange, yellow, and purple. Birds were swooping low, bees darting, and above it all, bright, white puffy clouds drifted without a care.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what happened to Minna?”
At the sound of the name, Suri tore her sight from the beautiful vision but didn’t look at the Fhrey or say a word.
“Suri, I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Why, Suri? Why did you do it?”
Suri lowered her head, her lips bunching up in protest. She didn’t want to have this conversation—not now, not with Arion, not with anyone, not ever.
“You loved her,” Arion said.
“Still do.” The words escaped.
A feeble, quivering hand touched Suri’s wrist, long, delicate Fhrey fingers gently rubbing. “I wanted you to kill me, not her.”
“I know.”
“Suri…I can’t go home with you.”
Suri pulled away, folded her hands in front of her, and looked back out at the forest. The vast expanse of green filled the view to the west. As Suri watched it roll past, she thought, It looks so strangely small. Has it always been that way?
“You can’t go, either,” Arion said. “You know that, right? You’re a butterfly now—in more ways than I would have ever expected. Days of eating leaves are over. The flowers need you. Your home isn’t in the Hawthorn Glen, Suri; it’s in the sky. You can’t hide. You need to fly. You need to show everyone the beauty of those wings.”