Page 171 of Fallacies

“Be safe,” he tells me, then leaves to trail Hunter.

I watch the two of them go, their forms getting smaller and smaller as they move towards the barren plains of Griseo.

Tilting my head to the side, I crack out the stiffness in my spine and make my way to the fire pit. I snuffed it when everyone went to bed last night, deciding a fire is too risky. We’re too close now to threaten exposing ourselves for something as trivial as heat.

The nights are colder, the very last of the summer hanging on by a thread, and even the green on the trees around us has begun to fade. I’ve certainly been caught without heat on colder nights—winters in the north are unforgiving.

I shift the few logs that haven’t burned with the toe of my boot, debating using magic to heat a pot of weak coffee.

It will be another long day of waiting, but at least it will be the last. I didn’t anticipate hating this so much—standing around with nothing to do. I consider myself a patient man, but the last three days have certainly tested my tolerance.

It’s the not knowing that’s making me paranoid. When the stars aren’t out, I have no way of communicating with her. No idea what she’s up to. I believe she’s capable of protecting herself, but every time I close my eyes I imagine her being caught and hauled away.

And that’s the best of my nightmares.

The worst of my imagination is Lucina staring blankly at the ceiling, no sign of life in her eyes. Or her body on a white marble floor, a pool of red blood swelling around her. The sound of her screaming, no one being there to help, and me…out here…oblivious to it all.

A twig snaps behind me, and I whirl around to face the sound, a heavy dose of magic bursting through my blood.

“Whoa!” Pax raises both hands. “It’s just me, Cal.”

Exhaling a sharp breath, I lower my defenses, pulling back on the spark of fire zapping up my spine. I turn as he approaches, reaching for the pot of coffee.

I don’t need it. I just need something to do.

“It’s early,” I huff out.

Pax grabs two mugs from the crate. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Tossing a flame to the remaining logs, they instantly catch fire, and Pax adjusts the trammel while I fill the pot, scooping in what’s left of the coffee grounds before hanging the full kettle from its hook.

Flames lick the charred bottom as I move to sit beside Pax. I stare straight into the fire, long enough that those images of her begin to burn through the flames.

“Did you hear from her last night?” Pax asks.

Breaking my narrowed attention, I look over at him.

He looks decently rested, even after his journey to return Kimber. I still can’t believe he’d risk bringing her out here but at least she made it back safe.

“Yeah,” I reply, glancing in the direction of Streatham. “She said she’s ready. Tonight, you and Nix will head to the northern side of the city, Hunter and Easton will wait here to escort the Sol to the Banyan and Devon, and I will be waiting for her signal just outside the city.”

Pax exhales a deep breath. “I hope the Sol can handle the trek back to the Banyan.”

“They’’ll have to,” I reply, tapping the side of the pot to check the temperature.

My only hope is that the rising sun will replenish the Sol enough to give them the strength to make the journey. Hunter and Easton will be there to help in any way they can, and Devon and I will stay back to eliminate any threat that might follow. We’ll buy them as much time as we can.

Deciding it’s ready, I grab his mug and mine. The coffee is a light shade of brown as I pour it into our cups—the best it’s going to get.

Pax looks towards Streatham, mindlessly taking his drink, the steam pluming into the chill air around us. “And what comes after?”

My brows furrow. “After what?”

He gestures to the space around us. “After all of this. The rescue, the ward falling, the Sol safe and sound in Pirn…what comes after that?”

I’ve been far too occupied with the present, and its obstacles, that imagining a future beyond it is almost laughable.

The rescue, the ward falling, the Sol safe and sound in Pirn…We’re relying on at least a dozen miracles to pull it all off.