I felt the hot blood drain from my temples, my neck suddenly damp.

“I know some nobility still have arranged marriages,” she went on, “but it isn’t so common anymore. My brother married for love. Greta’s not even a First Daughter. I thought one day I’d find someone too, until—”

Her voice broke again.

“Go on,” Berdi said. “You’ve held it in far too long. You might as well get it all out.”

Lia cleared her throat, and her words rushed out hot and earnest. “Until the king of Dalbreck proposed the marriage to the cabinet. It was his idea. Do I look like a horse, Berdi? I’m not a horse for sale.”

“Of course you’re not,” Berdi agreed.

“And what kind of man allows his papa to secure a bride for him?”

“No man at all.”

“He couldn’t even be bothered to come see me before the wedding,” she sniffed. “He didn’t care who he married. I might as well have been an old broodmare. He’s nothing more than a princely papa’s boy following orders. I could never have a morsel of respect for a man like that.”

“That’s understandable.”

Yes, I supposed it was.

I shoved the notes back into my pocket and left. I would pay Berdi later.

Only a small remnant

of the whole earth remained.

They endured three generations

of testing and trial,

winnowing the purest from those

who still turned toward darkness.

—Morrighan Book of Holy Text, Vol. IV

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I strolled through Terravin swinging a stringed bundle in each hand. One for me and one for Pauline. I didn’t need Otto to carry these light loads, and I wanted the freedom of venturing down pathways and avenues at a leisurely pace, so today I walked to town on my own.

With all in order at the inn, Berdi told me to take the day and spend it as I chose. Pauline still passed her days at the Sacrista, so I went alone with only one acquisition in mind. I might have to wait for the kavah to fade, but that didn’t mean I had to wear my ragged trousers, heavy skirts, or long-sleeved shirts until it was gone. It was a mere piece of decoration on my shoulder now, with no hint of royalty or betrothal, and whether it stayed or went, I wouldn’t let it rule my dress one more day.

I walked down near the docks, and the smell of salt, fish, wet timber, and the fresh red paint on the tackle shop swirled on the breeze. It was a healthy, robust smell that suddenly made me smile. It made me think, I love Terravin. Even the air.

I remembered Gwyneth’s words. Terravin is not paradise, Lia.

Of course Terravin had its own problems. I didn’t need Gwyneth to tell me it wasn’t perfect. But in Civica, the air itself was tight, waiting to catch you, beat you down, always laced with the scent of watching and warning. Here in Terravin, the air was just air, and whatever it held, it held. It didn’t take anyone hostage, and this showed on the townsfolk’s faces. They were quicker to smile, wave, call you into a shop for a taste, to share a laugh or a bit of news. The town was filled with ease.

Pauline would get over Mikael. She’d look to the future. Berdi, Gwyneth, and I would help her, and of course Terravin itself, the home she loved. There wasn’t a better place for us to be.

With tomorrow the first day of the festival, remembrances sprang from all corners of the town, sailors hoisting nets, scrubbing decks, furling sails, favorite verses of this one or that blending effortlessly with their day’s work into a song that stirred me in ways the holy songs never had, a natural music—the flap of sails over our heads, the fishmonger calling out a catch, the swash of water lapping sterns, the bells of distant boats hailing one another, a pause, a note, a jangle, a shout, a laugh, a prayer, the swish of a mop, the rasp of a rope, it all became one song, connected in a magical way that strummed through me.

Faithful, faithful,

Hoist there! Pull!

Pure of heart, pure of mind,

Holy Remnant, blessed above all,

Rockfish! Perch! Sablefish! Sole!

Stars and wind,

Rain and sun,

Chosen Remnant, holy one,

Day of deliverance, freedom, hope,

Turn the winch! Knot the rope!

Faithful, faithful,

Blessed above all,

Salt and sky, fish and gull,

Lift up your voice,

Sing the way there!

Morrighan leads

By mercy of gods,

Fresh fish! Thresher! Bluefin! Cod!

Journey’s end, through the vale,

Pull the anchor! Set the sail!

Morrighan blessed,

Forevermore.

I turned down a quiet lane back toward the main road, the layers of songs floating behind me. “Evermore,” I whispered, feeling the remembrances in a new way, my voice feeling like it was part of something new, maybe something I could understand.

I have you, I have you now.

I looked over my shoulder, the strange gravelly words out of place among the others, but the bay was far behind me now, the sea carrying away the tunes.

“Ho there, lass! A pretty crown for the festival?”

I spun. A wrinkled gap-toothed man sat on a stool outside the chandlery, squinting in the midday sun. He held up an arm draped with cheerful garlands of dried flowers to adorn the head. I stopped to admire them, but was cautious about spending any more money. The bundles I carried had already used up most of the coin I’d earned at the tavern in a month. There were still the gems, of course, and one day I would travel to Luiseveque to exchange them, but that money would be set aside for Pauline. She would need it more than I would, so I had to be careful with what little I had. Still, as I held a garland in my hand, I imagined it on my head at the festival and Rafe leaning closer to admire a flower or catch its faint scent. I sighed. I knew that wasn’t likely to happen.