She pointed to the stones growing out of the dry earth like flowers. “When the Balladairans started taking the Lost Ones, their parents took stones from the quarry and dropped them out here.”
Touraine stopped. There were hundreds of stones, some small as her fist, others so big it would have taken two Tibeau-sized men to carry them.
“Is there a stone for me?” she asked Jaghotai quietly.
The whip of cloth was the only response for at least a minute. They passed through the field of jagged stones—marble, sandstone, even smoothed river rocks. And then Jaghotai stopped abruptly.
Touraine followed the intense focus of the other woman—Say it, you coward; your mother, she is your mother—the intense focus of her mother Jaghotai’s eyes.
“That?” Touraine pointed. A long brown stone, four hands wide and a whole palm thick. Heavy to carry so far.
Jaghotai sniffed, though as far as Touraine could tell, her mother’s eyes were dry. “Harder than carrying you for nine months to get that fucker out here. And that was before the arm.” Her voice was rougher than usual. She waved the stump of her forearm.
Touraine smiled, just barely, and they kept walking. She never thought she would mark the occasion, the first time her mother ever said, “I love you.”
Another gust of wind made her blink rapidly to keep the moisture in her eyes.
After word got out that Touraine was awake and walking, she had a stream of visitors.
The day after Jaghotai showed Touraine her stone, her mother ducked into the tent with an irritated expression.
“Someone’s here to see you,” she said with a snort.
Touraine sighed as she pushed herself upright. “Let her in.”
Jaghotai stepped out and Luca stepped in, Gil at her side. The daylight streamed in, showing Luca’s tanned skin and the sun-bleached blond of her hair.
Luca gasped when she saw Touraine. “Your… eyes.”
Touraine had almost forgotten. “Side effect of the other magic.” She started to look down, but then she realized she didn’t have the energy to be ashamed or self-conscious. She didn’t give a sky-falling shit if Luca or any other Balladairan thought she was uncivilized. “I thought you’d gone back.”
“I couldn’t. They refused to let the first ships come close enough to dock. They fired on them as a warning, and… of course, symptoms turned up.” She shook her head with bitterness. “Cantic managed to get a military ship back home before any of the passenger ships. She told them of the outbreak. Loyal, despite everything. I owe her my kingdom.”
Mention of loyalty lit a spark of anger in Touraine’s own chest, but weariness squashed it immediately.
“I go back to Balladaire soon.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know if they told you? We’re pulling out. I don’t have full authority, but I’ll be fighting for it as soon as I get back. I’ll make it official—” She stopped herself and looked down at her boots.
Touraine didn’t let her try to say it, to ask, because she knew if she let Luca ask, if she heard it from Luca’s lips, it would be that much harder to say no.
“I can’t come with you.”
Luca bowed her head slightly. “I thought so. May I ask why?” There was no frostiness in her voice, but politeness covered the hurt. Touraine knew what she was really asking. Is it me you don’t want?
Touraine raised her eyebrows at Gil, who looked to Luca for instructions. The princess nodded, he left, and Touraine stood.
Gil let the tent flap close behind him to give them a moment’s privacy, and they were cast in darkness. Only a sliver of light remained to slice between them.
“I never thanked you for taking care of me when I got sick.” Luca had given Touraine everything—sacrificed her own bed, her own clothes, risked her entire household for Touraine. The night Touraine snuck away like a thief, she’d wanted nothing more than to stay there and get better and then let Luca crawl into bed beside her.
She couldn’t have that then, and she couldn’t have that now. She wanted to touch Luca in reassurance. To hold her hand for just a second. That felt like too much of an empty promise.
“It was nothing.” Luca’s voice hid a blush.
“I started a mess in this country.” This country that should have been her home. She wanted to see who she could be here, instead.
“You didn’t—”
“I helped. And so did you. I want to see it fixed. The other Sands and I—we’re going to do what we can.”