Greythorne (Bloodleaf 2)

“When my work is done,” she said, turning back to the spinning wheel once more.

* * *

The following morning, we got up at the crack of dawn to gather what we might need for a trek into the ruins of Achlev. Kellan gathered tools from Rosetta’s shed—a shovel, a scythe, anything that might be useful for navigating the ruins—while Onal and I collected food. In silence, however—she had been quieter since I’d decided to go into the Gray and had grown quieter still after the decision was made to return to the tower in Achlev.

It was noon before we were finally able to take our leave of the homestead.

Kellan’s pack, full of tools, clinked as we rode, and after only a mile’s progress, Rosetta began to complain loudly.

“What is that racket?” she asked. “Every creature within a hundred miles knows we’re here.”

“We’ll need these,” Kellan said stubbornly. “What if we need to dig up food? Or chop down something? Or rake the forest floor . . . you know, in case of a fire?”

“Only an idiot would feel the need to rake the forest,” Rosetta said.

“Oh, let him keep his little toys if it makes him feel better,” Onal said. “He’d rather die than give them up now. Look at him. He’s going to carry that shovel until he has to dig his own grave with it.”

“If I’m digging a grave,” Kellan said puckishly, “it won’t be mine.”

We rode in silence after that, and my mind was free to wander places I did not usually allow it to go. Seeing Zan, even if it was just for a moment in the Gray, had woken me up again. I knew I shouldn’t think of him, that my time was already waning, and being near him would serve only to shorten it . . . but we had Rosetta now, didn’t we? And if she could help separate my life from Kellan’s, could she not do the same for me and Zan?

And, just like that, I was flooded with images of things I wanted and never dared hope for.

Waking up to a kiss from Zan every morning. Holding his hand and putting our heads together to make decisions for our kingdom, sitting on matching thrones in the Achlevan castle, which stood as tall and grandiose as it had for centuries, before the wall came down. I imagined what it would be like to tell him that he would be a father, or laying our child in his arms for the first time. I even allowed myself to imagine sending that child off to play with Ella in the old cottage by the pond, while Kate—still alive and as lovely as ever—watched their games with Nathaniel smiling by her side.

All equally foolish and equally impossible.

Rosetta glanced over her shoulder at me and dropped back behind Kellan to match my pace. “Thinking about your prince?” she asked. “Do you love him?”

I shifted my pack on my shoulders. “What does it matter? We’ll never get a happily-ever-after.”

“But here you are anyway, thinking about what it would be like if you did.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m stupid that way.”

“He loves you too, you know.” Her eyes were on Kellan, ahead of us on the trail. “Even if you don’t love him back.”

“He’s my oldest, dearest friend. Of course I love him back.”

“But you didn’t follow his voice. While you were in the Gray, he sat by your side and called you. But you didn’t listen. If it was Valentin calling you back, would it have been different?”

When I didn’t answer, she said quietly, “I hope you never have to know what a terribly painful thing it is to be left behind.” She paused. “Or to know you are loved . . . just loved less.”

Then she hurried to catch up with Kellan, leaving me to my troubled thoughts.

17

The city of Achlev was no more.

I knew that, of course. My last look at the fallen fortress as we sailed away from it was etched into my memory, remaining as vivid as the day I experienced it. But while my mind had suspended the city in that moment forever, the city’s descent into ruin had continued well after we were no longer around to witness it. The elements were determined to reclaim what had been denied them for five hundred years, and they were successful in their endeavor. To such an extent that when we came upon the city, it was so overtaken by briar and thorn, I didn’t recognize it.

The trees g

ave way to hawthorn and blackberry brambles, along with wild roses that hung in curling ropes from iron spokes that seemed to have been driven in a sheer outcrop of rock that loomed ahead. But it wasn’t a natural edifice, and as we drew closer, it became increasingly familiar: stone set on stone set on stone, too tightly and symmetrically laid to be anything but manmade.

“Why are we stopping?” Kellan asked.

“Because we’re here,” Rosetta replied, lifting her arms. “Welcome to Forest Gate.”