"Nova?"
A hand gently shook my shoulder.
My head throbbed, and even with my eyes still closed, everything spun in circles.
The sharp scent of earth and old leaves hung in the air, while a soothing rush of wind sounded in the background. Here and there, birds chirped, lending the soundscape an innocent cheerfulness.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, but I could not manage more than a half-lidded gaze.
Although I did not understand that someone had called me by name, I instinctively looked for the person who had called me. Aside from a few blurred spots of pale color, however, I could see nothing.
Beside me, Marcy whispered in an unsteady voice:
"Nova, are you awake?"
I grimaced.
Every fiber of my muscles, every single bone, the tendons, and even my skin hurt.
There was an unpleasant pressure along the right side of my body, my legs felt as heavy as if they had suddenly taken on the weight of a boulder, and the slightest movement sent a stabbing pain through my joints. My skin burned as though it had been scalded with boiling water.
Why did everything hurt? Where was I? And what had happened?
"Nova!" Marcy said in a firmer tone.
Someone patted my cheek, which was enough to make my headache flare again.
"Marcy, we need to go. Now," Kiyan's voice sounded as well.
Marcy's hand rested on my shoulder. She gave it a light squeeze as she replied:
"I can't get her properly awake. We'll have to carry her again."
"No, we're leaving her here," he said shortly afterward.
"WHAT?!" Marcy shouted.
Her hand vanished from my shoulder. I felt several short gusts of air beside me, as if someone had moved too hastily. Fabric rustled.
Somehow, I could not follow the conversation. Had we already reached Truwenreuth?
"I promised to take her with us, and I have kept that promise. There was never any talk of dragging her along longer than necessary," Kiyan answered.
He quickly added:
"We almost died. I don't want to find out whether we'll be that lucky again next time."
"How can you be so cruel?!" Marcy snapped at him at once.
Please don't shout! My head is about to explode!
"And I don't know what promise you're talking about," she continued in a less heated tone.
"Marcy…" Kiyan replied quietly.
Before he could continue, she cut in, much louder:
"Are you seriously trying to say it was her fault that we got caught?"
For a few heartbeats, no one said a word.
Then Kiyan asked, without matching her volume:
"Haven't you wondered over the past few days how they found us?"
"Of course I have, but Nova isn't to blame," Marcy contradicted him at once.
Was this about me?
"Kiyan," she began more gently, "no one is to blame. We were just unlucky."
"Yes, I thou—" he started, but a short snort from Marcy cut him off.
She exclaimed:
"Do you even hear yourself anymore?!"
A new, sharp pain flared in my temple, and I held my breath, trying somehow to endure it.
"Think about it. They knew our location, they were well prepared… Far too well prepared. That can't all be coincidence," he explained calmly.
He emphasized each argument individually.
"Of course it can…" Marcy said in a brittle tone, then trailed off completely.
Kiyan answered coolly:
"It can't."
"Kiyan!"
"I'm just saying it's a possibility. I'm not so sure anymore myself, ever since I found out she was imprisoned just like us."
"Maybe we were followed because we weren't careful enough. Or… or…" she searched desperately for an alternative.
Kiyan assured her in a subdued voice:
"I'm very sure we weren't followed, because I've gone over it again and again. No one followed us."
"You can't possibly know that. Even you don't notice everything," she objected.
"That's true, but I have a very good memory, and you know that," he replied in a warmer tone, "I can remember the face of everyone I've ever met. I could tell you right now what I was doing today ten years ago, down to the exact hour. In most cases, I could even tell you what you were doing today ten years ago."
For a while, it was silent.
My pulse suddenly pounded up into my throat, and I opened my eyes.
The direction their conversation had taken struck me like a blow. I could not fully grasp it, though. Whenever I tried to make sense of what I had heard, the words bounced off me, as if I had forgotten how our language worked.
Above me was something large and green, rustling softly. Above that, presumably the sky, its blue threaded with gold. I shivered in the cool air.
In my mind, I dug for the memories that were supposed to explain how I had ended up here and why Marcy and Kiyan were arguing.
"No idea. There has to be another explanation. Something we haven't thought of. We should hear her side of the story first," Marcy finally suggested.
Slightly blurred, I could make out her dark curls to my right.
Darkness…
Then the memories crashed over me all at once. The prison. Jarek. And how he had knocked me unconscious on purpose.
What I could not recall, however, was how we had gotten here.
I had to think of Kiyan's words from earlier: 'We almost died.'
Of course. I had endangered both Marcy's and Kiyan's lives. Just because I—
"We've known her for barely two weeks, and as of today we don't owe her a thing. Besides, it's too dangerous here. We don't have time to talk everything through in detail," Kiyan contradicted her this time.
"Two weeks in which she's proven herself more than once, and you still want to leave her behind helpless? After everything she's done for us!" Marcy cried indignantly.
"She isn't helpless," he replied flatly.
Marcy sucked in a sharp breath, as if she wanted to say something.
I pushed myself upright and clutched my aching temple.
As I did, I murmured:
"It was my fault, but—"
Marcy cut me off with a smile that lifted her tone noticeably:
"Finally! I was starting to worry you wouldn't wake up at all!"
My fingers brushed against something sticky. I pulled my hand back and noticed the dark red color on them.
Marcy was sitting beside me on the ground, which was covered in dried leaves. Dark circles lay beneath her eyes, her hair was hopelessly tangled, and both her clothes and the rest of her were coated in grime.
Her warm smile tightened my throat. I could deal with putting myself in danger, but with the two of them… That was not something I could make right.
I tensed when Marcy hugged me briefly and whispered:
"I was really worried."
My stomach twisting, I wriggled out of the embrace and croaked:
"I need to tell you something."
She studied me with downturned lips and a furrowed brow.
Then she turned slightly and said:
"Before you complain: let her finish. Our head start is still big enough. We can afford it."
I followed her gaze. Kiyan was sitting a short distance away on a fallen tree.
Just like Marcy, he looked battered and filthy. Only with him, it was far worse.
There was a dark stain on his left shoulder. The sleeves of his uniform were torn in many places and edged with a deep red color as well.
His blood-smeared hand rested against his torso. Beneath it lay the largest and most troubling red stain. His head was bowed, his eyelids closed, as if he were sleeping while sitting.
Was all of that his blood?
It did not matter. He was clearly injured. He could have died. And Marcy could have died as well. At least she was comparatively—
Then my eyes caught on her injured back.
Before the pain in my chest could tear me apart completely, I stared at my trembling hands.
When Kiyan did not respond, Marcy prompted him again in a gentle tone:
"Kiyan?"
No reaction again.
"Has it gotten worse?" Marcy asked hoarsely.
"I'm fine," he finally sighed.
Something moved at the edge of my vision, prompting me to lift my head.
Kiyan had stood up and turned halfway away, his shoulders slumped as if he meant to walk on:
"There's not just the risk that they'll catch up with us… I don't know if I can keep going if I stay inactive much longer."
"You mean because…?" she began, then broke off abruptly.
He nodded.
"All right, then we'll talk while we walk," Marcy replied, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt from her clothes.
Then she held out her hand to me with a new smile. A soothing smile, like the warmth of the morning sun after a cold night.
A smile I admired her for more than anything. She was so kind and gentle, even though she had endured more in the past two weeks than most people did in an entire lifetime.
How badly I wanted to take her hand.
"No, Marcy," Kiyan said tiredly.
She pulled a face and grabbed my wrist to help me up. I tried to pull my hand free, but she was stronger than she looked and hauled me to my shaky feet with a firm tug.
"No one gets left behind. Not a single one of us," Marcy murmured.
Kiyan glared at her, but she held her ground and crossed her arms.
Then he addressed me, without looking at me:
"I'm asking you directly again, just like last time."
My breath caught involuntarily when, a heartbeat later, he suddenly studied me with sharp attention.
"Did we get caught because of you?" he asked coolly.
A crease had formed between his eyebrows.
The way he asked me immediately reminded me of the morning after I had met Marcy and Kiyan. When I had wanted to part ways, but Marcy would not let me. When the two of them had asked me, with that one particular expression, whether I was the Flame Hunter. An image that had burned itself into my memory and still hurt.
Back then, I had not wanted to take them along under any circumstances, and yet here we were now. Why had I let myself be worn down? Why had I not slipped away when no one was looking? Maybe then everything would have turned out very differently.
"Kiyan!" Marcy cut in with a slightly shrill voice.
For a heartbeat, his eyes fixed on Marcy. Then they returned to me.
I remained silent. Kiyan's expression hardened, and Marcy's large blue eyes shimmered faintly.
She nudged me:
"Nova?"
"In essence, yes," I answered hesitantly, "but I never intended to harm you. It was just that…"
I trailed off.
Why are you trying to justify yourself, Nova? It does not matter whether it was intentional or not!
Kiyan's eyes narrowed, and Marcy straightened.
I expected her to react angrily. To shout at me, shove me away, or demand that I leave.
Instead, she brushed a strand of hair from my face and touched my arm gently, as if to express her sympathy.
Her well-meant gesture was like pouring oil onto the fire of my emotions. It consumed everything and left nothing behind but self-reproach and frustration.
"I agree with Marcy when she says that we owe you a great deal. And I truly thank you for that," Kiyan began, then paused briefly as his chin dipped slightly and he looked down at the ground.
Why did that sound like a but?
"But," he continued, pausing once more.
I knew it. There was a but.
He drew a short breath before finishing his sentence:
"You almost got all of us killed."
My heart was pounding so loudly that I could barely make out his words. I could no longer bring myself to look either of them in the face.
"That's not true! You just heard her. She did not want to harm anyone!" Marcy defended me, her lips trembling.
She pointed at me with one hand to underscore her words.
"It does not matter how it came about. Actions have consequences. We could have died," he stated calmly.
In a cooler tone, he addressed me directly:
"If what you said earlier was the truth, then leave now. Please."
"What, no!" Marcy protested and stepped in front of me.
A new argument flared up between the two of them. Their voices grew quieter and quieter until, at some point, it fizzled out.
Kiyan's words would not let go of me. Or rather, they slowly ate away at me from the inside:
'Actions have consequences.'
After a while, I interrupted them with clenched fists:
"All right, I will go."
My voice was more subdued than I had intended, yet they both turned their heads toward me in an instant. Under their attention, I flinched.
I took two steps back:
"I am very sorry that I put you in danger."
Marcy turned fully toward me and audibly sucked in a breath.
"No, you do not have to go. I know you would never harm us," she said, shaking her head.
Kiyan's eyes met mine for a moment. He stood there calmly, said nothing, and did not change his expression, but the hard look in his eyes was answer enough.
Meanwhile, Marcy started again:
"You wanted to explain earlier what exactly happened, but you did not finish. I can see how heavily everything is weighing on you. Did this Artur do something to you?"
At the sound of that name, I flinched again.
Marcy took my hand and said in a gentle tone:
"What exactly happened?"
I pulled my hand away because everything was too much and interlaced my fingers.
Marcy opened her mouth, but before the first word could pass her lips, I cut in:
"Thank you for getting me out of there despite everything. You did not have to do that."
I would have liked to ask how they had managed it. Especially with an unconscious person in tow.
"It was a condition for me to be let out of the cell," Kiyan admitted.
I tilted my head to the side and frowned. A condition? With whom had he made such a deal?
Marcy stayed quiet and absentmindedly fiddled with her fingernails.
When Kiyan noticed my expression, he explained on his own:
"There was … some kind of bird that appeared. Tavi was his name. He seemed to know you. In exchange for letting me out of the cell, he demanded that I not leave you behind."
"A … bird?" I asked hesitantly.
He gave a brief nod.
It sounded as if that bird had introduced himself to him and then negotiated an agreement. But that was nonsense, was it not? Just how hard had Jarek hit me over the head?
I brushed the thought aside. Surely I had misheard. I blamed that part of the conversation on the head injury, turned around at once, and said as I started to walk away:
"Take care of yourselves."
That, too, stirred memories. The only thing that had changed was that this time I did not want to leave.
"Nova! Stay here!" Marcy called.
Hasty, dull footsteps approached. Then someone grabbed my forearm.
"Nova!" Marcy stopped me. Her fingers tightened around my arm.
I tore myself free and held one hand out in front of me:
"Stop that."
"I do not want you to go. Besides, it is far too dangerous on your own. After what happened today, they will have the Leonis search for you and Kiyan," Marcy warned me, her brows drawn together.
The Leonis? Well, that had been to be expected. I had attacked Jarek, and Kiyan seemed to have been involved in at least one fight.
Damn it.
Everything had become so much worse because I had let Artur fool me.
"I will manage," I assured her and raised my hands in front of me, my palms facing Marcy.
The corners of her mouth sank, and her gaze grew sharper.
"Nova, a head injury is not something to take lightly. In this state, you should not be wandering around out there on your own. We will talk about this again when you are feeling better, all right?" she said and stepped closer to me.
"No, I—" I began, but was interrupted when Marcy caught my sleeve between thumb and forefinger.
"Stay," she whispered.
Her 'stay' was like an added weight pressing down on my chest, making it even harder to breathe.
"But I want to go," I replied and carefully pried each finger from my sleeve.
She shook her head and reached for my arm again.
What was I supposed to do now? Marcy could be very stubborn when she wanted to be. I had learned that much by now.
I looked at Kiyan again. He remained silent, his gaze turned aside.
Then an option occurred to me. A very unpleasant one.
"The only path left to me no longer exists. For a while, we shared the same destination, but now we are stuck in Grania. We have no reason to stay together any longer," I explained hoarsely.
My pulse shot up, and my palms grew slick with sweat. I wiped them on my clothes.
She flinched slightly and stepped back.
I wanted nothing more than to apologize to her at once.
"We are friends. We do not need a reason for that," Marcy objected, her voice breaking.
Nausea hit me all at once.
So that was how she saw me? Even though I had always been distant and closed off?
"We are not," I replied curtly.
She tensed when she heard my words.
I am sorry, Marcy. I am so very sorry…
I went on:
"We have only known each other for a few days. You know nothing about me, and I know just as little about you. Strictly speaking, we are still strangers to one another."
"Strangers?" she asked softly, let go of me, and drew her hands back before letting them hang limply at her sides.
Why did I want to pull her into my arms now?
"Yes," I answered, making an effort to sound cool, "or can you tell me what my favorite color is? Whether I have family? What I like to do?"
She lowered her gaze to the forest floor and fell silent, dejected.
Her hands clenched into fists as she protested in a noticeably raised voice:
"Maybe I do not know all of that about you, but that can change! Besides, I think friendship is based far more on shared experiences and mutual trust…"
Toward the end her voice trailed off, and she held her arm with one hand.
More quietly, she added:
"Right now, we both have things we do not want to talk about. I did not want to pressure you into anything, so I avoided personal questions over time…"
She lifted her head and met my gaze with a serious expression. A fire flickered in her eyes:
"And yet you have become important to me. You are kind and gentle, and you even help two complete strangers like us without ever expecting anything in return. Simply because you are a good soul…! Sometimes you are a little strange, but in a good way, and you know so many things… How could I not take you into my heart?"
I drew a deep breath.
"I am sorry, but I see it differently. I only helped you because…," I tried to explain, but my voice grew hoarser toward the end until it finally broke and no sound came out at all.
Oh right. I cannot talk about it.
I cleared my throat and started again:
"I do not know exactly why. Probably out of pity."
She blinked several times, then shook her head so violently that her curls lashed against her neck.
Please, just give in!
My next words did not come easily at all, and I hesitated longer than necessary.
"My life has been … messed up enough. I have lost everything. Please let me go," I whispered.
Her lips trembled, then tears ran down her face. Shortly afterward she straightened and addressed me in a steadier voice:
"I am sorry for dragging you into this. If I could, I would give you your old life back. The last thing I want is to cling to something you do not want. I do not want to be a burden to you…"
She wiped the tears away with her sleeve.
I am sorry, Marcy. I truly did not like doing this.
What I had expected from Kiyan was anger over the way I had treated Marcy. Instead, he met my gaze, nodded slowly, and then turned his face away. Almost as if he had wanted to thank me with that gesture.
I gently stroked Marcy's hair.
"Be careful," I whispered with a faint smile, "and look after Kiyan. He means well, but even he needs a break now and then. Do not be afraid to stand your ground."
Marcy sniffled softly and nodded.
Then I left the two of them behind, without knowing where exactly I was or where I should go. I only wanted to get away.
A single tear traced its way down my cheek, lingered briefly at my chin, and then fell soundlessly to the ground.
It was better this way. Most certainly.