The voyage was supposed to take three days. But with the strange waves and the whipping wind, they made it in barely two.
Neils didn’t know what to make of the rogue waves, which came up with enough force to push the ship but never threatened to capsize it. “I’ve never seen something like that,” he said, shaking his head as he hauled on ropes. “And never once has it knocked us off course.”
“Thankfully,” Eammon muttered. He and the grizzled captain had fallen into a quick, unlikely friendship, since Eammon’s seasickness—still present, though not as forcefully—kept him up on the deck more often than not. Red couldn’t tell if Neils bought the story Kayu hurriedly told him as the galley left the harbor about a strange strain of gangrene, but he didn’t question Eammon’s bark-covered forearms or the green along his veins, both of which were more vibrant than they’d been before.
The changes were evident in Red, too—the ivy in her hair grew lush, the ring of emerald around her irises almost eclipsing the whites the closer they drew to Valleyda. The Wilderwood flourishing as it neared home, she’d think, if it weren’t for the sting of it, the pull deep in her gut that told her something was happening, something that golden thread of consciousness beside her own didn’t know how to tell her.
The waves, the quakes they’d felt—all of it tied back to the Wilderwood and the Shadowlands. To Red and Neve.
It was night when they reached the Florish shore, a full moon floating in an indigo sky. The harbor was somewhat busier in the very late hours than the very early, but there still weren’t many people on the docks other than a few sleepy fishermen. The cold of autumn chilled even worse at the coastline, and no one was eager to sail when the wind blew over the water like a cracking whip.
Neils steered them to an empty dock, slapping a calloused hand on the wheel before dropping anchor. He turned to Red with the look of someone who had a lot of questions but wasn’t sure if he would ask them or not.
In the end, he decided not to. “Whatever trouble you ran into back in the Rylt,” he said, “I hope you’re far enough away from it now.”
“Unfortunately,” Red murmured, “it’s the kind of trouble you can’t really run from.”
He snorted. “Been there.” A moment’s hesitation, then he clapped her quickly on the shoulder. “In that case, I hope it’s a trouble that resolves.”
It would. One way or another. Red gave Neils a wan smile and pushed away from the railing at the prow, going to get her bag from below. She passed Eammon on the way, who dropped a kiss to her forehead before heading toward the captain. He said something too low for her to make out, and Neils responded with a hearty laugh.
Kayu emerged from the hold, looking somewhat better than she had when they left the Rylt. She’d combed out her hair to its black, straight waterfall again, and the dark circles beneath her eyes had softened after a full night of sleep.
Yesterday, after Raffe left and Kayu was alone with her head tilted against the wall and her eyes closed, Red had gone to thank her. She’d stood there, unsure of how to start the conversation, the gentle roll of the ship making her legs unsteady.
“You can slap me with a vine or something.” Kayu only opened her eyes enough to confirm it was Red before closing them again. “Whatever angry forest gods do to those who cross them.”
“I’m not going to slap you with a vine.” The idea was so ludicrous that it broke the tension. Red slumped next to Kayu, arms braced on her knees. She could rehash everything—the plot, Kayu foiling it, thanks given and denied—but the thought was exhausting.
“You did what you thought you had to do.” Red shrugged. “I think we’re all familiar with that.”
A pause. Then Kayu turned to look at her, a quizzical twist to her mouth. “You’re letting me off entirely too easily.”
“Would you prefer to talk to Eammon about it?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Kayu sat up and rubbed a hand over her face. “Whatever you need to find your sister, I’m here to help. It’s the least I can do.”
“I wish there was something I knew to ask you to do,” Red murmured. “All I can think of is to go back to the Keep and… and wait, I guess.”
Wait to see if Neve would decide to come back. Wait to see what happened when the Shadowlands broke apart. Wait to see what was left of her sister when it did.
“Then I’ll wait with you,” Kayu said.
So now, that’s what they were all headed to do. Wait.
As Red descended into the dark of the hold and grabbed her bag, she couldn’t help but think of Neve, those long days after Red had disappeared into the Wilderwood, stretching into weeks and then months. Waiting to see if her sacrifices would bring Red back. Waiting to see what her blood on sentinel branches bought her.
She paused before going back up the ladder. Her scarlet cloak was stuffed into her bag; Red pulled it out, took off the gray one she wore, swirled the bridal cloak over her shoulders instead. Golden embroidery glinted in the gloom.
Better.
At the stern, Raffe was looping rope, doing some vital ship activity Red had no context for—two voyages in a week, and she still had no idea how boats worked. He’d been quiet. The most she’d heard him say was when she overheard him speaking with Kayu, his voice too muffled to make out specifics.
“Need help?” she asked.
“I’ve got it.”
Kayu and Lyra helped Neils shove down the gangplank, ready to disembark. Kayu went first, walking up the shore to where the horses were stabled and the carriage parked, beyond where the sand turned to grass. Raffe watched her.
Red chewed her lip. “I know it’s none of my business—”
“Here we go,” Raffe muttered.
“—but you should know you don’t have to feel guilty, Raffe.”
He stopped in his endless looping of rope, tilting back his head so his breath plumed toward the sky. At first, she thought he would ignore her or brush it off. But then he shook his head and turned back to his rope. “I know I don’t. And yet.”
Red didn’t push. She leaned against the railing.
Raffe spoke without her prompting, like this was something he’d been waiting for. Knowing him, it was. “The way we left things, Neve and I… well. That’s the point, I guess. There wasn’t a thing to leave. I told her I loved her, and she never said it back, even though she showed it, or at least that she cared, and I…” He ran a hand over his head. “Now I feel like I don’t know who she is. I only know who she was.”
“We change,” Red murmured. Not an indictment or an absolution, just a statement of fact. “We grow in different directions sometimes.”
“I still care about her,” Raffe said.
Care about. Not love. “I know.”