“I think that’s a good idea.” Raffe gestured down the hall. “Kitchen is that way, to the right. End of the short staircase.”
“I’ll find it.” The Wolf turned to him, a considering look in eyes that seemed to be all the colors of the forest at once. “Neve’s choice is about her, Raffe. Not anyone else.”
Not you, hung the unspoken addendum.
“I know,” Raffe replied. But it tasted thin and bitter.
Eammon nodded, giving one more look to the door before starting down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Raffe sighed, rubbing a hand over his short hair, and tapped the back of his head on the wall. Once, twice, three times, trying to gently knock away all the things he didn’t want to dwell on. He’d managed to stop thinking of them—at least, he had since that night when he told Red about how he didn’t dream of the Tree anymore—but they were hard to hold at arm’s length here, like the Temple called thoughts of Neve forward, tied themselves together with his memories.
He cared for her. Deeply. And while lately he cursed himself for getting involved in all of this, it was more with exasperation than regret. He didn’t regret being there for her, staying in Valleyda when he could’ve gone back to Meducia and avoided this entire situation. He didn’t regret trying to get her back.
But shit, it would be nice if one thing could be simple.
The Ryltish Temple was a spare structure, with only the three hallways branching off the central room—one on the right for a Shrine that he had no desire to explore, one in the middle for cloister rooms, a bathing facility, and the kitchen, and one on the left leading to a domed amphitheater coated in dust, apparently little used. A sign that the world was moving on from the Order, that Kings who did nothing for them were falling further and further out of collective consciousness.
Good fucking riddance.
Raffe headed toward the front doors. Kayu was going to meet him there, and then they’d go to the harbor together to charter another ship with her seemingly endless supply of coin.
She was waiting just outside the door, arms crossed, body tense. Kayu had held herself scabbard-tight since they arrived here, like the oppressive atmosphere of the Temple weighed even heavier on her shoulders than it did on the rest of them. She turned as soon as Raffe pushed open the door, but her eyes didn’t quite meet his. “Ready?”
“I suppose.” They fell into step, both very determined not to look at the other. After they passed the flower-tangled gate, Raffe jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. “So when were you here last? You seem fairly familiar with the Temple.”
Her steps stuttered, dark hair flicking behind her as she turned startled eyes on him. “What do you mean?”
“You said you studied here. Before you came to Valleyda.”
“Oh.” Kayu shook her head, grimaced. “Sorry. I’ve been distracted since we arrived. This place makes my skin crawl.”
He snorted. “Mine too.”
“I studied here for a month or so.” Her lips twisted to the side, like she was thinking. “Languages. The Ryltish priestesses are some of the last to remember the old dialects the country spoke centuries ago.”
“Seems an odd thing to want to learn.”
“Not when you like learning.” But she said it quietly, as if the distraction she’d spoken of was still in full effect.
Kayu loosened up the farther they got from the Temple. The dock they’d sailed to was down the shore from the main harbor, which grew busier as they approached. This harbor in particular was more for travel than trade, so most of the vessels were galleys like the one that brought them here, though a few larger ships idled in the water, too.
Raffe, lost in thought, let Kayu lead the way. He wasn’t sure what to do now—now that everything rested on Neve, now that they knew it would have to be her own decision that brought her back. Just waiting didn’t seem like an option, but what else could he do? What else could any of them do?
Even Kiri and the other priestesses seemed content to stagnate, to see what happened in the Shadowlands and how it reverberated here. They must expect Neve and Solmir to fail, the Kings to break through and rule the earth like they had once before; otherwise, wouldn’t they be doing something about it? Kiri could speak to the Kings—at least, that was what Raffe gleaned from her ravings in the sickroom, talking to Red about choices and Shadow Queens—but she was just… lying there. Waiting. All of them, just waiting.
It made his palms itch. Such massive stakes, undercut by utter helplessness.