For the first time, I’d misjudged Kawan’s interest in me. I’d felt certain he would be so consumed with thoughts on attack, with his plot for stealing more boats, with his flimsy plans for whatever might come next, to bother paying me any attention.
But instead, he’d put me in charge of getting everyone through the forest—and now I could not run. As I led the way, trying to find the best path for the horses, the carts, and the steady stream of people, I wondered if there would be another chance.
I could almost swear that Kawan knew about my plans. As the day carried on, he kept giving me tasks, having me carry messages back through the crowd, keeping me occupied. I exchanged disappointed looks with Blythe, Inigo, and the rest of my Commission team; we all understood that we had to abandon our mission. Kawan’s eyes were oddly trained on me today.
The sun moved about as slowly as we did, and we stopped for the night in a wide field that was supposedly on the edge of Stratfel.
Griffin worked on a fire, Rami smiling and handing him kindling. It was odd. When he’d been told to fall on his sword, they’d both wept so much that I let him stay behind. Tomorrow morning, it was possible we’d be facing something far more dangerous, but they both looked calm, satisfied.
I supposed it was because they were together this time.
I sat in the grass. Inigo settled near me, and Blythe and Andre were quick to follow. Shortly after, Griffin and Rami came over, too.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out,” I said. “At this point, I don’t know if there’s a way to follow through.”
Inigo shook his head. “We have the most recent experience navigating this terrain, and we’ve faced off against their soldiers. I think Kawan thinks we’ll give him an edge but doesn’t want to go out of his way to praise us. He’d have to share the victory if he did.”
It was such a straightforward and obvious assessment that it irritated me that I didn’t come up with it first.
“You’re right,” I said with a sigh.
“You keep saying that with an air of surprise,” he shot back.
I smiled, shaking my head as I looked up at the gorgeous sky, shimmering like diamonds scattered on black velvet.
“You know, you were the one who taught me to navigate by the stars,” Andre said. I looked over in surprise. He wasn’t normally one to initiate conversation.
“Me too,” Blythe added.
“Yep,” Griffin added. “I bet everyone here knows how to find their way because of you.”
I ducked my head. “Eh. It’s not that hard to figure out. You all were probably exceptionally good students.”
“Exceptionally terrified,” Andre muttered.
Everyone had a good laugh at that.
“You told us once that there were pictures in the stars,” Blythe said. “What does that mean?”
I wondered how to explain. “There are collections of stars—constellations—that have stories attached to them.”
“Tell us one,” Sherwin insisted.
I swallowed, looking at several sets of expectant eyes waiting for me to speak. “Umm.” I moved my gaze upward, trying to think of somewhere to start. I supposed the best plan was to go back to the basics. “You all know Polaris, the star you navigate by.”
“Yes,” Inigo said.
I drew in the sky with my finger. “And you know the four stars that make a box trailing behind it form Ursa Major.”
“Yes!” Blythe replied enthusiastically.
“Well, I’m sure I never told you that Ursa Major means Big Bear. So, she’s a bear.”
“A crooked line and a square? That’s supposed to be a bear?” Andre asked skeptically.
I shrugged. “I didn’t make them; I’m just relaying the story.”
“Which is?” Blythe asked.
“Once upon a time, a god fell in love with a nymph. But this god was already married. So, when his wife found out about the nymph, she had her turned into a bear. And now she’s stuck up there, spinning in place.”
Sherwin looked at the stars in disbelief. “That’s harsh.”
“I don’t know,” Blythe said. “I think the wife was justified.”
“Yes,” Rami agreed. “I’d go after the nymph.”
I shook my head. “I think she’d have been somewhat more justified in punishing her husband. The nymph didn’t know he was married, but he certainly did.”
“Then they both should be bears,” Blythe said. “Lennox, pick some stars and make another bear.”
I chuckled. “I don’t think I have the authority to do that. Besides, most of them are already claimed.”
“But we don’t know that,” Inigo said. “Blythe’s right. Go on. Make another bear.”
I huffed out something that was almost a laugh searching for something that I could call a bear.
“Fine. Over there,” I said, pointing to the distance. “Not only is he a bear, but they don’t even get to be close to each other while they’re trapped in the sky.”
Andre chuckled. “I approve.”
The chatter of my companions lifted my spirits, but the pessimist in me told me not to enjoy this moment. Because the truth was the same as it ever was: caring about someone made losing them that much worse.
