Page 72 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

Hellena found me, her grip tight on my arm, disbelief breaking across her face. “All of them?”

“All of them,” I said.

She covered her face and sobbed, then wiped her tears. “Thank you. I knew you were here for a reason. Thank the goddess Yeri.”

A small voice cut through the noise. “Hope! Sunny! Did you hear?”

Hope came running, Faith and Sunny close behind her, the tallest and the smallest, dust streaked across their faces, beaming a smile.

“You came back.” Hope threw her arms around my waist.

“I told you not to forget,” I said, my voice thick and raw with emotion. “Now, can you do me a favor and help gather everyone so we can get out of here?”

Tears streamed down her face. I felt my own too.

“Yeri didn’t let us down.” She embraced me again. “I believe in her. She might not be here in our world, but I know she’s listening.”

I wanted to tell her the truth, that all the gods were dead, save the two the carving showed. And I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was wrong about Yeri listening from some distant realm. If the drawings were correct, the god of the afterlife had sent Yeri and Calroy away somewhere painless, together.

Best to believe in a miracle, I supposed, and I would never burst her bubble of joy.

We finally gathered the women and children and guided them up the slope. I let myself feel the weight of what we’d just done—freeing women and children from harsh labor, a place they didn’t belong.

Hope’s small fingers gripped mine, sticky with dirt. Behind us, Hellena murmured the tune to that same song Hope had sung earlier as she dabbed the corner of her eyes.

The stone sat warm against my waist, but I swore it hummed, soft as the space between breaths, a pressure building behind my ears, like it was waiting for me to understand.

I thought of Nam, of Bora and Sohee, still in Jeju. One mountain freed. So many more left to help. But tonight, for these people, it was enough.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The women and children struggled up the slope in twos and threes, leaning on each other, feet stumbling over loose rock. Months, some of them years, of bent backs and shallow meals had left them fragile. The dark hid how thin their arms were, and how their sharp collarbones stood out under torn fabric.

Hellena walked beside me, one hand braced against the rock, the other gripping Hope’s small fingers. None of them spoke much. I wasn’t sure they had the strength left for words on top of walking.

When we finally crested the ridge, the mountain falling away behind us into low scrub and tree line, we came upon the forest up ahead. I halted everyone to take a rest. I wanted to get away from the mountain as far as we could, away from possible soldiers coming to change shifts.

“Which way?” Jina asked, glancing back and forth between the fork in the road.

“The forest,” Minha said finally, nodding toward the dark line of trees in the distance. “It’s the only direction that isn’t a road the queen’s soldiers use.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the only safe route we had.

We made it as far as the forest’s edge before the horses came. They surrounded us before I’d even registered the sound of hooves, dozens of riders forming a ring around our ragged group, longswords drawn, the late sun catching steel.

My stomach dropped.

We weren’t outnumbered, but only the four of us were fit for battle. Women and girls I’d just freed could barely stand, let alone run.

A man on the horse at the front, broader than the rest with a scar on his neck, said, “Well.” His eyes swept the group, lingering on the children. “What do we have here?”

“They were enslaved by the queen,” I said, stepping forward. “We freed them. They need safe passage.”

“I suggest you let us pass.” Minha held out her dagger.

The men laughed.

Jina made a face but kept quiet.