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They rode on for a while, until Teigra finally broke the silence. “I used the nets today, though.”
The harshness in Zosime’s stature faded. “Yes, you did.”
At last, they arrived back at the ship, rehitching the team of hippocamps and landing on deck.
Zosime appeared in no hurry to join her comrades. “What I said, Teigra? About you joining us on the mission?”
“Don’t worry. I know you were just helping me. I’m sure we can stop near some coastal town and I’ll just swim ashore. I can’t go back to Mestibes anyway.”
The fading light cast shadows across the princess’s strong cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be a lie.”
“You mean... me? A Sister? Tracking down a warlord?”
“Why not? I wasn’t lying to Pikra. None of us have visited the southern lands for more than a few days. We could use someone who knows the territory. The customs. The leaders. And you’ve shown that you can fight.”
“In desperation. But I don’t know the first thing about actual combat.”
“Initiates rarely do.”
“Yes, but—”
Zosime raised her hand. “I’m not going to beg you. I’m just making the offer. If you choose not to, that’s your decision. We’ll pass by a coastal town, just like you said, and you can swim to shore, starting whatever new life you wish.” The princess’s eyes glinted like the wave tops. “But I see something in you, Teigra. You’re so much more than you think. And there’s so much more that you could still be.”
Zosime congratulated her again on getting the steeds back.
And then she was alone.
I... I can’t do that. Me? A fighter? A Sister?
The idea was too absurd to even contemplate.
And yet...
Today she had ridden, overcoming three years of terror. And what did she have waiting in Mestibes, anyway? A mother that would probably pour the hemlock before her sentence had even been given? A city that would never appreciate the sacrifices she’d made?
Almost dizzy with the moment, Teigra dismounted, patting the big girl’s neck.
The sun was low on the waterline, casting the sky as a raging fire.
From around her neck, she drew her pendant, heavy in her hands.
It had been passed through seven generations of Cosmins. And for the last three years, she had felt every single member of that lineage weighing against her. Felt the loyalty she needed to earn back. Felt the duty that she had to perform.
Stick to the path, kiddo. Even if it terrifies you.
She gave a little laugh. For so long, she had thought it a promise she’d broken. She’d taken a risk on that awful day, and she’d found herself outside the path. House Cosmin’s path. His path.
But that wasn’t it, was it?
Stick to the path, kiddo. Even if it terrifies you.
Because it wasn’t a mantra of compliance. It was a scream of defiance!
Father had never followed a conventional path—the one laid out by society and his position in life. He had never failed to dream big and aim for things that everyone else said was impossible. He had never been scared of risk. Of breaking old ways. Of defying tired expectations. He had set his own path. And he had stuck to it. No matter the risks. No matter the costs.
That was what he meant.
That was what he’d always meant.
