The Drowned Woods (74)

And the kingdom would be wholly submerged.

Ifanna rose to the balls of her feet, peering through the trees. “Is anyone following?”

“No one left to follow,” replied Fane. He spoke the words matter-of-factly, with no hint of triumph. Which was a good thing, considering that if he’d sounded at all happy, Mer would have been tempted to bludgeon him over the head with a fallen branch.

“The black powder went off, but did it work?” said Ifanna. “That wellspring was other-touched, right? Could it be destroyed?”

“It worked,” Mer said. “I can—I can feel it.”

Ifanna and Fane stared at her—Ifanna with a rare frown, and Fane with something like consideration. Trefor merely sat on his haunches and panted.

“The Wellspring is gone?” asked Fane. His hand tightened around the belt that held that cooking pot. “The magic dispersed?”

“Yes.”

Ifanna sucked a sharp breath against her teeth. “How long?”

Mer took a breath. She had no time for grief. Not with the sea slipping its leash and a forest gone silent all around her. “Half a day, perhaps. Twelve hours for the sea to gather strength.”

Ifanna wrung her hands. “Half a day. We have to get back. The guild, my mothers—everyone. I have to tell them what’s coming.”

“Through the caves?” asked Fane.

“It would take too long,” said Mer. She threw her gaze eastward. “The shoal. The sea is shallow there. I can use my power to clear enough water away that we could wade across.”

“And the royal guards?” said Ifanna. “Won’t they try to kill us?”

“They’ll be looking for people coming toward the island, not from it,” said Fane reasonably.

“They’ll also probably have seen the smoke—they might even go to tell the prince that something has gone awry.” Mer squared her shoulders and began walking. “We can’t stay here.”

“I have to get the guild out,” said Ifanna. “My people—they won’t be evacuated like the nobles.” She pressed a hand to her bloodless mouth. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to get everyone out.”

“You won’t,” said Mer grimly. “There won’t be enough time, not unless…”

Not unless riders were sent out to nearby villages and all the guards were put to the task of evacuating Caer Wyddno.

And there was only one person who could do that.

Mer’s fingers clenched so hard that her nails dug in. “The prince,” she said. “He could save everyone.”

Ifanna shook her head. “I doubt he’d even talk to me.”

Mer looked at Fane. “And what of you? Where will you go?”

“I came here to retrieve a piece of iron,” said Fane quietly. “To bring it to the otherfolk. This was my last task.”

“Then go,” said Mer. “You got what you came for.”

“And so have you,” Fane said. “Garanhir will no longer have the power to follow you. He likely won’t even be alive in a day’s time—all you have to do is run.”

“I know that.”

Mer wanted to run. She wanted to sprint across that shoal, steal a horse, and ride east. This wasn’t her fault—she hadn’t blown up the Wellspring. She hadn’t even known what she was doing—

Tell it to the dead.

The memory of Gryf’s words rang through her.

She closed her eyes, pressed a hand to her face. She tried not to remember that nightmare, that home with the empty cradle and covered figure on the bed. She didn’t want to recall the flies nor the tiny figure in Gryf’s arms as he sat in a rocking chair.

When Mer had discovered those poisoned wells, she had tried to run.

What if she hadn’t? What if she’d stayed in that village, used her powers to try and find new water sources for them?

Her stomach churned. She had never even thought of helping those villagers, and she was pretty sure that made her a terrible person. She’d only ever thought of her own survival. She had made some exceptions: She’d fed stray dogs and given coin to beggars. But those had been passing kindnesses. She had never considered returning to those ruined villages and trying to make amends.

Could she have saved Gryf’s family? She would never know.

She had to live with that.

And if she ran now, she knew she would never stop running. Because to stop would mean being alone with herself, and she couldn’t live with a person who had let tens of thousands die with nothing more than a shrug and an I didn’t know.

She thought of a young girl, eight years old, who had waded into a raging river to save a babe.

She wanted to be someone that girl could be proud of.

She couldn’t run. She couldn’t leave Caer Wyddno to its fate. Its prince might deserve death, but its people didn’t.

“I’m going to the prince,” she said. “Someone has to warn him. Someone other than a known thief.”

“Thanks for that,” said Ifanna, but she flashed a smile at Mer.

Mer looked up at Fane. “I have one question for you. It’s more of an offer, but you don’t have to take it. You’re already sworn to an employer, I know.”

He inclined his head. “And what would that be?”