Horde (Razorland #3)(96)

“When would I have learned?” I asked quietly.

He seemed to consider the question, sorting through what he knew of my past. Then he sighed and rubbed his cool cheek against mine. “I should’ve stayed close to you. When you went under, my life ended. I don’t think I breathed until you did.”

“You can live without me,” I said.

“I don’t want to.”

I feared a love like this—that made us incomplete without each other. It was beautiful but treacherous, like snow that looked white and pure and lovely from the safety of your window, but when you stepped out to touch the softness, the cold first stole your breath, and then your will to move, until you could just lay down in it and let the numbness take you. Yet I didn’t want to be without him either, so I didn’t chide him for the statement. After all, I’d braved the horde to bring him back, even if Fade had believed he was broken beyond fixing.

He kissed me then in front of everyone, and I didn’t mind at all. I lost myself in his arms and his lips, his heat and his presence. This man was everything I needed, my best and brightest dream. He tangled his hands in my hair, and I dug my fingers into his shoulders without thinking.

“Sorry. I forgot—”

Fade pressed two fingers to my mouth. “Stop. There is nothing I want more than your hands on me, anywhere you care to put them.”

“Maybe you want to save that for later,” Spence observed.

Heat suffused my cheeks, and I buried my face in Fade’s chest as the men laughed. In an hour or so, the soldiers recovered enough to move and Morrow completed his census. He took down all the names of the fallen and showed them to me. After the war ended, if I survived, I would take this paper to all the towns across the territories and inform their families myself. It was the least I could do.

“Thank you,” I said to the storyteller. “Can you lead the way to Rosemere?”

The storyteller nodded.

“What will your father say when he sees you?” Tegan asked.

“‘James, what have you done now?’”

I smiled at Morrow’s answer.

The trip took two hours, according to Fade’s watch, which had survived the river and was still keeping time. Morrow was right, I thought. It’s beautiful here. Of the Evergreen Isle, I could honestly say I had never seen a more tranquil place, though part of that came from knowing no Freak had ever set foot here. I wondered if all islands were the same, havens of safety that the monsters couldn’t reach. Pale, raucous birds dove after fish and insects along the rocky coast, which gave way to dense and mysterious forest farther inland. We came around a curve to find Rosemere perched like a perfect secret.

The village stole my breath; my chest ached in a way that I experienced only when I looked at Fade. Just as Morrow had described, the place was pure beauty, neat cottages with flowers growing in boxes beneath the windows. The roofs were painted tiles in colorful contrast to the milky stone of the cottages. Though the buildings weren’t tall, they had a sweetness I couldn’t explain, as if they beckoned me to come explore the tidy cobbled streets and see the shops and markets. Everything the storyteller had said was true.

In the streets, people greeted us with friendly smiles. Many of them had coppery skin, more like Tegan’s, though that could be a result of the sunshine. Their hair came in all shades from fair to dark, and the women favored head scarves and baggy trousers wrapped multiple times around their hips. Here, the men treated the women with respect, but I heard no deference on either side as they greeted one another. There were no fences or gates or bars; the river kept these people safe. At the far end of the village, I saw the dock Morrow had mentioned with boats tied and bobbing in the current. Farther on, there was a grist mill for turning grain into flour and a long rectangular shop that the storyteller had said was for building boats.

“It’s incredible,” Tegan breathed.

She spoke for all of us. The tired faces of the men around me reflected the same wonder. I had never seen a place before that was so bright and full of joy, so utterly without fear. In a small, scared corner of my mind, I wondered if we were all dead and in a better place, as Momma Oaks believed.


“Head for the market,” Morrow said, pointing. “It’s straight down that way. I need to find my father and arrange accommodations. We have an inn for travelers, but it’s not big enough to house everyone.”

“You heard the man.”

I led the way and the villagers seemed interested to see so many armed soldiers marching through their square, but not alarmed by it, possibly because they recognized Morrow. If not, they were the last trusting souls left in the world, and I would die happily to protect them. Along the way, Company D took in the sights, and I felt overwhelmed. It was so hard to imagine that the end of everything was camped across the river.

Down the street, the market was busy and colorful with stalls selling all manner of things. The vendors brightened when they spotted us; they’d be disappointed when they discovered we had no local currency. But we all enjoyed examining what they had to sell: grilled fish folded in flat bread, wood and bone carvings, hooks that I imagined were best used for fishing, bolts of fabric dyed in bold, bright patterns, ready-made clothes and shoes. The thing I noticed first—there were no weapons, just knives I guessed were used for eating.

What’s it like to be born in a place where the people don’t need to be armed?