Merik lived.
He had said he would leave the city though. That he and his two friends—the girl Cam and another who’d just arrived named Ryber—would head north into the Sirmayans.
“Ryber says we can find answers to my … condition.” He’d waved at his face, steeped in the shadow of his hood. “And there is little good I can do here. You have everything well handled.”
Vivia hadn’t agreed with that sentiment, but she also hadn’t argued. Merik had found her in the main hall of Pin’s Keep, where a hundred other voices competed for space in her brain. Where she hadn’t the time or space to offer him a suitable response.
Besides, if Merik truly wanted to leave, she felt she had no claims to stop that. So she’d nodded and said, “Please update me when you can, Merry. The royal Voicewitches work all hours.”
“I’ll try,” had been his only answer. Then he’d ducked deeper into his hood—a new hood, for Vivia had insisted he be well clothed before departing—and sauntered out of Pin’s Keep forever.
He wouldn’t try to contact her. Vivia had known that at Pin’s Keep, and she knew it now as she tugged at the itchy wool collar on her robe.
Vivia rose and cleared her throat. The vizerial families all thought her father would speak, now that he was well enough to return. They certainly all stared at him expectantly. Yet Serafin had urged Vivia to “be the queen they need and soon a true crown will follow.”
She cleared her throat again. All eyes snapped to her. Finally, no resistance.
“Though we’ve gathered to remember my brother,” she said, using the same forceful boom she’d heard her father use a thousand times, “there are many more we must also honor. Hundreds of Nubrevnans died in the attack three days ago. Soldiers, families, and … one of our own. A member of this very council.”
A shifting of postures across the room. A sinking of everyone’s gazes to the floor. No one knew the truth of Serrit Linday; Vivia had no plans to tell them.
At least not before she knew who exactly had controlled him—and how.
“So,” she went on, pitching her voice louder, “for each leaf you toss from the water-bridge today, I ask that you remember the people who fought for us. Who died for us. And I ask that you also think ahead to the people who continue this fight, and who may still die.
“This war has only just begun. All too soon, our recent victory will be a memory, but let us never forget those who passed Noden’s final shelf to win it for us. And let us never forget…” She wet her lips. Stood taller. “Let us never forget my brother, the prince of Nubrevna, and the admiral of the navy, Merik Nihar. For though we cannot always see the blessing in the loss…”
“… strength is the gift of our Lady Baile.” The room shook from all voices rising as one. “And she will never abandon us.”
*
There were disadvantages to being a dead man.
Merik Nihar, prince of Nubrevna and former admiral to the Nubrevnan navy, wished he’d considered living a long time ago.
Then maybe, right now, he wouldn’t be filled with so much regret. Maybe, right now, he would have more memories of Kullen and Safi—and even Vivia—that were worth hanging on to. As many memories, perhaps, as the leaves that drifted off the water-bridges.
Merik, Cam, and Ryber had ascended the hillside near the dam. The plan was to travel north, following the river into the Sirmayans, but on their way, the funeral had begun.
The girls wanted to watch, and as morbid as it was, Merik had wanted to watch too.
The leaves tumbled at different speeds, orange and vibrant, green and alive. Some rode air currents, popping higher, while others hit slipstreams and coasted down. Some were aflame with smoke tails that chased behind. Others simply shone, unlit yet still brilliant in the sunset.
“It’s beautiful,” Cam said beside Merik, her left hand held across her heart. The healers had told her to stand that way, and for once she was doing what she’d been told.
No, no, not “she,” he reminded himself. Cam lived as a boy, and though Merik wasn’t used to that yet—to thinking of Cam as a “he”—they had weeks of travel ahead. Plenty of time in which Merik could retrain his mind.
“It is beautiful,” Ryber agreed from Cam’s other side. She swatted a braid that dangled before her eyes. Unlike Cam, she had kept her ship-boy braids, and though tied back, one kept popping free.
“I’ve seen enough,” was Merik’s eventual reply, and he turned away. He’d had enough of the macabre for one day.