“Will we go straight into Ravenna?” he yelled over the sound of the horses’ hooves.
“No.” I shook my head. “They’ll notice anyone who enters the city this late. We’ll enter Lovero through Lilyan, then make our way to Ravenna.”
We urged the horses faster, trying to outrace the ghosts. Any that managed to reach us were deflected by an invisible barrier that surrounded us like the monastery, hurling them far away into the plains with a flash of light. It was as if we were holy ground. They tried to throw rocks at us, branches, anything they could find, but everything was deflected away. Our protection seemed to make them even angrier, if that was possible. Maybe they could sense how Safraella had touched us, had given us a new life while they were trapped with their rage and grief. Maybe they hated us even more because of it.
Perhaps I’d possess this protection for the rest of my life. Though I supposed it could be stripped from me once I did Safraella’s bidding. If it remained, I could travel anywhere by land, see the world and not have to worry about the ghosts. It was a heady realization, that I could be so free if I chose. If I survived.
We crested a hill, the horses’ breaths blowing heavily. Before us spread the river and the many-colored lights of Lovero.
I slowed Butters, allowing him to catch his breath. The ghosts circled, but none tried to touch us. Their screams, though, were the loudest I’d ever heard. “Is that Lovero?” Les asked.
“Yes.” I pointed to the west. “Where the lights are the brightest, that’s Ravenna, my city.” I shifted my hand more to the east. “That’s Lilyan.”
“Will the Da Vias be watching the gate?”
“No. It’s outside their territory. Unless things have changed since I’ve been gone. Lilyan belongs to the Caffarellis.”
“Won’t they see us?”
I shrugged. It was a possibility. But we had to cross into the country somehow, and the only three cities that bordered the dead plains were Ravenna, Lilyan, and Genoni. “I’d rather take my chances with the Caffarellis than the Addamos or Da Vias. We’ll wait for daylight to slip into Ravenna. The Da Vias will be sleeping and won’t notice.”
I nudged Butters forward, and the ghosts chased us. The river wasn’t far, and once we crossed the crooked bridge, they wouldn’t be able to follow. Then it wouldn’t matter how loud they wanted to be.
“It’s beautiful.” Les stared at the lights of my home. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Yes. It does have a kind of frantic, dark splendor. I’ve missed it. But it’s funny—I thought I’d never get used to Yvain. The quiet way of the people and the nights, the stink of the canals, the flowers everywhere. But in Yvain, the stars are brighter.”
“Also, Yvain has dangerously handsome clippers, which I think Ravenna was missing.”
“Dangerously handsome?”
He held his head high and gestured to his face, his back straight.
“You’re wearing your mask,” I pointed out.
“Ah. Yes. But a clipper girl once told me the mask was the most beautiful face of all.”
I laughed. The ghosts screeched and cried.
We reached the crooked bridge, and the horses’ hooves clopped loudly against the stone. The ghosts tried to follow, but they couldn’t turn when the bridge kinked to the left. They were stuck as we crossed the rest of the river.
They shrieked, more enraged now that we were escaping them. There were so many of them. I’d never seen such a congregation before. They raced along the riverbank, bellowing wordlessly as we rode farther away.
“I can’t say I’ll miss them,” Les said.
An explosion of noise erupted behind us: cracks and booms. Both horses spooked and jumped. Only my quick reflexes prevented Butters from bolting out from under me.
We turned in our saddles to face where we’d come from. Across the river, the ghosts had found a large oak tree on the bank. They had combined their powers to topple it across the river, its trunk and branches creating another, straighter bridge.
The ghosts rushed toward us.
“The hells with this!” I gave Butters his head. He sprinted for the city, Les and his mare close behind. The ghosts roared as they rushed to catch us before we lost them.
“They’ll get inside the city!” Les shouted.
Before us, the old gates to Lilyan rested crookedly against the crumbling city walls, rusted off their hinges. The gates hadn’t been closed since Costanzo Sapienza took the throne and declared Safraella patron to all of Lovero.
We dashed into the city, the horses’ hooves clattering loudly on the flagstones. I pulled Butters to a halt. His legs collected beneath him as he slid across the flagstones. The streets were filled with people. They shouted and pressed themselves against the buildings, trying to avoid the stallion before he crashed into them.