Page 186 of Keldori By Daybreak

“Ciarán told us all that on the steamcart, but he didn’t give a lot of details about the journey. You both seem…I don’t know.”

“Tired?” I offered.

“Scared.” She looked at me through wide green eyes, and the image of Quill’s fungus-ridden living corpse flashed in my mind.

Her people didn’t know what had become of their original Sovereign. They didn’t know the grisly, prolonged fate he’d met in the belly of his own creation.

“Orla—” I started, her name quivering over my lips. I did not want to talk about Ergoth. I would never want to talk about Ergoth. But she deserved to know. Quill had been her family, after all, even if she’d never known him.

Orla shook her head. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“But you said no more secrets.”

“Does it put anyone’s life in danger if you tell me or not?” she asked. When I shook my head, she followed up with, “Is it information relevant to us reaching Keldori and resealing the Rift?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Then tell me when you are ready. Skalterra is scary. I don’t need to know the specifics to know that whatever it was, I’m sure you faced it with bravery and grace, like you always do.”

Bravery and grace.

I’d cried and split the earth to unleash molten hell on a fungal colony.

That did not sound brave nor graceful.

I covered the softer part of me with a snort. “I wouldn’t call myself either of those things.”

“Well, good thing I didn’t ask you. I missed you, Wren.” She smiled at me through tufts of Una’s green fur. “I’m glad we aren’t mad at each other.”

“I’m glad too.”

Una’s stomach growled beneath our heads, and the amused grin that split Orla’s face mirrored mine.

“What did Una eat to make that sound?” she laughed.

I reached for Orla’s hand. “Do you remember that guard that took our Skal at the gate to Willow’s Grave?”

“The one you assaulted in an alleyway?” She nodded darkly. “Yes. Of course.”

“Him.”

Orla sat up. “What?”

“Una ate him.”

She slowly turned to look at Una’s peacefully sleeping face, then pivoted to look back at me. “You mean to tell me this sweet girl killed and ate a man?”

“Yes. Well, Ciarán killed him, but Una did all the eating.”

Orla’s disbelieving smile slipped from her face, and she grimaced at Ciarán where he slept on my other side. “Oh.”

“He had to,” I said too quickly, sitting up. “Kill him, I mean.”

“Right.” Her voice had turned tight. “I’m sure.”

“He was trying to kill me. He would have if Ciarán hadn’t arrived.”

“Right,” she said again. Her eyes flitted to Iseult where she stood watching the horizon on the bow of the ship. Orla was searching for an escape.