“Why, Lo?” Wren demanded.
The lion-girl pulled Panda around. “Because we used the square over there to put the bodies,” she answered flatly.
Wren stared. “Then I need to go.”
“Wren!” Lova growled, as Wren kicked Eve toward the square. She rode after her. “It won’t do you any good to see that—”
“Stop telling me what is or isn’t good for me!”
Wren swirled. She felt lit up all of a sudden, as if someone had taken a torch to her blood.
Nitta cringed. “Wren, please…”
Wren drew herself tall. “I’ve had enough of everyone tiptoeing around me. Ever since we got back from the deserts, all I’ve heard is ‘Lady Wren, don’t,’ or ‘Lady Wren, be careful,’ or ‘Lady Wren, you need to rest.’ ‘Look after yourself, Lady Wren.’ But leading a clan is not about looking after yourself. My first and foremost duty is to look after others. My clan. My family. My allies. My friends.” She shot Lova a penetrating look. “You should know that, Lo, after more than four years as the Amala’s General. And you should especially know why it’s so important to me.”
Apart from Lei, the only other person who knew what was within Wren’s Birth-blessing pendant was Lova.
“I’ll go where my people need me,” Wren said. “If I can help others, if I can save others from the King, then that is what I am going to do. I need to help them, I need to, Lo, I can’t fail again—”
She broke off. She turned from Lova and Nitta, hating the pity in their eyes. Without a word, she pressed Eve on toward the square. Hoof-clops rose behind her as her friends followed.
Part of the square came into view as they reached the house on the corner, its roof splintered by debris. Wren braced herself for the smell, but the air was fresh. When they turned the corner, she saw why.
Dozens of shamans lined the square. They knelt in prayer formation, a peaceful chant lapping magic in warm waves across the square—and the dead that inhabited it.
There were rows of them, laid out neatly from one end to the other. Most were covered. A few looked as if they’d simply fallen where they were killed, clothes and armor slashed open, skin dark with blood. Many were hidden behind the bent backs of weeping family members. Even now, more bodies were being carried in from all directions. Wren spotted Khuen and Samira carrying in a body together. It trailed long, silver-feathered arms: a White Wing.
The whole clearing glimmered from the shamans’ dao. Their magic must be what was preserving the bodies, offering mourning families time to prepare appropriate funerals. For most, it would be pyres, given the majority of central and northern Ikharans believed in releasing spirits to the sky, while southerners buried their dead.
“They’ve been working in shifts,” Nitta said. “They’ve been tiring quickly. The Sickness. You know.”
Wren’s throat was thick. “It’s beautiful,” she managed.
“Your father has ordered them to stop at sunset.”
Wren tensed. “What?”
“He isn’t wrong, Wren,” Lova said carefully. “They need rest for what’s to come, and we have plenty of injured soldiers who need their help.”
“He wants us to move out first thing tomorrow,” Nitta explained. She was smoothing down Panda’s mane absentmindedly, her eyes wet. The scene must have been bringing back memories of her brother. They’d buried Bo on an island in the Mersing Archipelago after he’d been killed in a confrontation with royal soldiers. Wren knew it wasn’t the proper burial Nitta would have liked to give him.
She reached for the leopard-girl’s hand.
Nitta flashed her a tentative smile. “It’s all right,” she murmured. “I’m all right.”
“You don’t have to be. I’m sorry, Nitta.”
“Is it terrible that sometimes I’m glad he’s not here to see any of this?”
Wren looked away. “I don’t think that’s terrible at all.”
Close by, a lone Paper man kneeled over a covered body. Who had he lost because of her? Wren wondered. Whose happiness had she crushed this time?
“We should leave some shamans here,” she decided. “We can’t storm a city then abandon its people.” We aren’t the Demon King, she added in her head. “It’s our duty to care for them.”
“Tell your father that,” Lova said coolly.
Wren followed her gaze and saw Merrin soaring across the square, Ketai riding on his back.
Merrin banked, descending in their direction. Wren’s father sat tall, looking every bit the regal Clan Lord, yet there was a rigidness to his posture that struck Wren. As they drew closer, she saw that same tension etching his face.
He was angry—with her.
The instant Merrin landed, Ketai jumped off and stormed toward them. His hair was ruffled from flying, choppy strands falling into his dark eyes, which glinted from behind knitted brows. “Come with me,” he ordered Wren, striding past without waiting for a reply.
“Hello to you, too,” Lova muttered.
Wren tugged Eve’s reins. “Don’t wait,” she told them.
Lova scowled after Ketai, who was headed to the riverfront where the water would ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. “No way,” she said, kicking Panda into movement. “I’m not leaving you alone with that.”
As they left, Wren stopped, remembering Merrin. He was hanging back, looking nervous to approach her. She thought of the times laughing with him during their journey, their group passing around bottles and sharing fire-cooked meals, Lei at her side and her friends nearby: Caen, Bo, Nitta, Hiro. They’d been happy. Whole.
Wren blamed Merrin for breaking them. But that wasn’t fair. She’d played her part, too.
Perhaps an even bigger one.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “For your help with the fires. Lova and Nitta told me what you did.”
“It was the least I could do.” Merrin hesitated. “Wren…”
Something softened in her as she realized for the first time since his return she felt ready to talk to him. But as he began to speak, raised voices came from where her father, Lova, and Nitta were arguing by the riverfront.
Wren flicked Eve’s reins, hurrying to join them.
“It wasn’t her fault!” Nitta was shouting. She was on Panda’s back; Lova had dismounted. “If you dare make her feel as though it is—”
“As the Clan Lord in charge here,” Ketai said, “I will do whatever I please. With or without your permission, Nitta.”
Lova rounded on him, her blond fur bristling. “Careful, Ketai,” she snarled. “You’re not the only Clan Lord around. Given what’s happened, you might want to be a bit more careful when it comes to keeping your allies happy.”
Ketai stood tall, rage flowing off him in waves. As Wren slid from Eve’s back, he turned to face her. “The White Wing abandoned us,” he said.
Wren was about to say they already knew that—hadn’t that been why she’d gone to the Cloud Palace? To free Lady Dunya and the clan members still loyal to her?