Page 99 of Keldori By Daybreak

My hair, meanwhile, was worse off than I’d realized. It took a while, but after I’d worked out all of the tangles and bits of lichen, I finally dried off and wiggled into the clothes Orla had brought.

While the tunic had a long-sleeved under layer that hid my arm scars, the top layer was that awkward length where I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a dress or a shirt. That was alright, though, because the thick leggings toed the line between pants and tights. I missed my hoodie, and felt naked without the armor I’d grown accustomed to the last week.

“Be honest,” I asked as I stumbled out into the front room. “This is an okay outfit for Skalterra, right?”

“She may have lived most of her life hiding inside a mountain, but Orla does have decent taste,” Ciarán said, then added in my head, “though you need to be careful with what you say out loud. It’s best we not announce you are from a different reality.”

“Oh.” I noticed the woman shifting through a shelf in a storage closet and wondered if she’d been the Ceremender in my head. The thought of facing the healer that had been poking around the ridges of my brain was too embarrassing to handle, and I hooked my arm around Ciarán’s elbow to drag him through the door.

I faltered on the front step of the building, gawking at the lamp-lit street. Bright tapestries decorated stone walls and draped across walkways. Street vendors called for customers, reeling passerbyers in with food, drinks, and trinkets. The buildings here only rose a few stories, but taller structures were visible closer to the center of the citadel.

There, rising above the buildings, a tree stood at the highest point of the citadel, impossibly large with massive boughs that occluded the night sky and stretched as far as the wall that surrounded the city. But its trunk—

“Is that Skal?” I asked, incredulous, and pointed at the tree. Patterns like lightning snaked up its trunk, glowing blue against the bark. “I’ve never seen a tree glow like that.”

“It’s not a tree,” Ciarán said. “Not anymore, anyway. It turned to stone when the Four Magicians were creating Skalterra. The leaves are vines that have crept up the rock, and the glowing veins are exposed opal that formed in Skal.”

I gave him a sloppy grin as we walked. “Opal does that. Forms in water. Or Skal, apparently.”

“You really do love your rocks.”

“Yeah, okay. Care to tell me about the buildings, Mr. Architecture?” I froze and smacked his arm. “That would be the perfect secret last name for you. Architecture.”

“Maybe it is my last name,” he teased.

“Is it?”

“If I told you, I’d have to marry you, which I don’t think either of us want.” He led me forward, looking up at the buildings as we passed. “These buildings are of Byzantine influence, which comes from your world, though I imagine your style has diverged a bit from how it’s developed here.”

“Liam liked architecture too,” I said.

“You’ve mentioned.” He pulled his elbow out from mine, and I stopped walking, suddenly remembering.

“The forest we passed through,” I said, looking back at the giant, stone willow at the city’s center. “Those trees were petrified too, weren’t they?”

Ciarán dug a hand into the pocket of his trousers to procure a bit of rock. “I know you like rocks, so—” He cleared his throat and passed me the stone.

I ran my finger over the textured surface, marveling at the preservation of the wood-grain pattern.

“Petrified wood.” I grinned.

“Flip it over.”

I gasped when doing so revealed opalescent blues and oranges flashing in the light of the street lamps and giving off their own subtle glow.

“You weren’t really conscious, so I grabbed a bit. For you.”

I wrapped my fingers around the stone and grinned at him.

“I love it.”

“I’m glad. And I’m glad you’re okay.” Blush rose in his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “The others will be glad as well. Especially Orla. She’s been worried.”

“Where are they, anyway?” I glanced around the street as if they might be shopping nearby.

“At an inn, but the Ceremender said you shouldn’t sleep for a few hours. I thought we could walk around. Is there anything you’d like to do?”

“Yes. Food.” I could smell several options already, wafting from the carts of street vendors. Ciarán had my backpack, and he rifled through the contents and procured a strip of rabbit jerky. I wrinkled my nose at it. “I was hoping for something fresher.”