36

Alyce spotted him first. They were nearing the rocky shore when he surfaced, looking at first like a tawny drowned rat, coughing and gasping at wintry air. She would've called out to him from the jolly boat, but her voice caught as he crawled from the water, steaming.

"There," Kacha said. "There, Peter. Turn in."

Peter changed course, heaving at oars. "He must've completely lost his mind," he seethed. "I won't be held responsible for putting him half in the bag. It's like keeping a candle lit in a storm."

Alyce kept watch, silent, impatient, and held off until they reached the shallows. She jumped from the jolly and waded in, legs pumping, kicking up water. Ethos was collapsed ahead; he wasn't shutting her out anymore. He wasn't doing anything. She'd bleed from the ears if she didn't stop him.

His eyes were unfocused when she rolled him onto his back. His skin was hot, like a clay pot left in the sun. "Ethos," she whispered, deaf to herself. "Ethos, wake up. You're killing me."

Sluggishly, he looked at her. His steady silence abruptly returned. "Sorry."

"What happened down there?" she asked. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

He lightly touched her face, dazed. "When did you get so small?"

She sighed, "You're always confused."

"You love me, huh."

"Yeah, so?"

"So what's it like?"

She shoved him. "Stupid monster."

He laughed. He covered his eyes. His arm and shoulder were black as pitch. "Sorry," he repeated, face hidden. "Bad joke. I can't sense you like I used to."

Alyce knew better than to console his misery. "Harken's dead, then?"

"Yeah." He didn't ask how she knew. "Is Pathos nearby?"

A shadow fell over them. "We'll take you to him," Peter said. "Can you stand?"

Kacha was already helping him up; she held Ethos still to inspect his arm, expression twisting into a frown. "So this is what you meant," she mused. "Strange."

Ethos had nothing to say about it. His gaze was low while she fidgeted with him. "Alyce," he said, with a glance. "Can you tell if he's sent another blackhound our way?"

He meant Eadric. "It departed shortly after dawn."

"How long do we have until it gets here?"

"Four days under easy sail. Six or seven if the going gets."

His eyes moved to Peter. "Will the tono fit on the Battlefrost ship?"

Peter shrugged. "It'd be tight," he admitted. "We'd have some sleeping topside."

They entered the woods at a gradual pace, last night's snow underfoot. Ethos let Alyce hold his hand, a mirror of the weary trees. His skin looked much too tight, she thought, like a sudden movement might cause it to tear. He'd grown gaunt, she realized. He'd grown gaunt and she hadn't even noticed.

"I need you to talk to Una," Peter said, at the front. "She's taken a turn."

Ethos, behind him, looked up from the ground. "A turn?"

"She's quiet. She wanders. She'll hardly even look at me."

"And what, you want to stick her in a room with her father's killer?"

Peter stopped, forcing the rest of them to stop with him. Half-turned, he stared at Ethos and didn't speak right away. "You've never said it outright before," he remarked. "Does that mean you're ready to explain what happened that night?"

Ethos had clearly slipped up; his expression read like it hadn't hit him.

"Una did it," Alyce cut in, glaring when they glanced at her. "She did. She compelled him."

Eyes wide, Peter looked back at Ethos and asked, "Is that true?"

Ethos made a sharp sound through his teeth. Irritation. He purposely took his hand from Alyce and pushed ahead of the group. "I'm not having this conversation right now," he muttered. "It's fine."

Peter gave a quick chase, walking sideways. "It's not fine." 

"It's in the past. When I say it's fine, it's fine."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" 

"Because I'm not overproud of it. Obviously."

"Obviously. And I thought she couldn't get in your head like."

Alyce watched them go. She knew why Ethos appealed to her so, but his charm was a misleading one, a reminder that despite his composure, despite his intellect, he still had a fair bit of growing to do, and that somewhere deep underneath his poise there existed a final, unfinished product. She'd remember whenever he left her side; for those shoulders of his were overbroad, suggesting an imminent stage of development. Peter, however, reliably proportioned, was honest, unpolished, but good at heart, and this consistency, more than anything, was what made Ethos so chilling in contrast.

Kacha pulled her along. "Fool," she hissed. "Don't butt in where you don't belong."

Alyce scowled, led by an elbow. "He lets everyone walk all over him," she said. "I'm not going to stand around and let him take the blame for everything. It's destructive and stupid."

"Sometimes it's wiser to forfeit one's battles." Kacha hooked an arm through hers. "So young and fiery," she sighed, and thought twice of it. "Well, not so young as you look, I suppose."

The boys were whispering. Peter's voice rose, briefly, and Ethos let him to have it out, same as always. Eventually, he said something back, no more than a word or two. Peter just pointed in some random direction, unchanged in his opinion.

"Say, Kacha," Alyce ventured. "Do you remember when we met?"

"Of course I remember," the witch replied. "I'm not senile."

Alyce glanced at her and asked, "What's a terran?"

She smirked. "You have more in common with Ethos than you know," she said. "He gets the same nervous look in his eyes when we talk about his nature. The fool."

He was probably listening to them. "Is a terran a kind of godling?"

"No, not quite. Terrans were the first people of Karna. They date back before Alma and the great migration." Kacha's face was serene when she said it. "They were thinning out by the time I was born," she explained. "The living death was at large, you see. All the old mountain colonies had emptied. But it was after Hans and his people arrived, after the war was over and done, that a terrible storm came and washed the last of them away."

"How do you know that I'm one of them?"

"We called them terrans because of their gift," she said, and another smirk pulled at her lips. "Like you, little fool, they were intimately tied to the land, to creation. You'd often see them with an ear to the wind when nearby gods were thinking too hard." She languidly reached for Alyce's face, but her hand paused, fingers curled. Her smile grew. "You reminded me of them," she crowed. "You were leagues away and cloudy-eyed, listening for Ethos."

Alyce scowled and batted her hand away. "Ethos isn't a god, Kacha."

"Maybe not, but he's certainly related to one. What do you know about your father?"

But Alyce didn't get to answer; the tono survivors were dead ahead, huddled around a few spitting fires and peering out from tumbledown shelters. A good portion of the surrounding wall had been disassembled. Traces of the battle lingered; here-and-there patches of reddened snow, charred timber, grounds strewn with splinters and ash.

Eight tono had died that night. Only fifty-four remained. Some of them stood when Ethos entered the clearing, but most just stared from where they were, tired and maybe a little resentful. Anouk wasn't far; she was tied to a tree and hanging forward, not quite standing, unable to sit. Her pale hair was black and red, dyed like the snow, a ghost of the violence. She looked unconscious.

Ethos turned. "Alyce," he said. "With me, please."

Alyce didn't ask him why. She immediately reclaimed his hand when he offered it. They split from the others and started in, footsteps loud in the almost-silence. So many eyes. The elders appeared like mist to receive them; it was Pathos, the one-armed man, who greeted, "You pulled through."

"I'd like to talk," Ethos replied, curtly. "Not here. Privately."

Pathos glanced at the other, Surin, who seemed to know he was uninvited. With a weary gesture, he suggested, "You can have the hollow." 

Alyce didn't like the vast emptiness of the hollow, but she followed the men inside regardless. It was darker than she remembered, and she'd lost sight of Pathos when he spoke next. "You made a fine mess of yourself," he noted, ahead. "You let him get to you."

A shaft of daylight was spilling in through the charred hole that Eadric had made. Pathos appeared in the giant pool of it and turned to face them. "Let's finish our talk," Ethos began, as he, too, entered the pool, great antlered shadow expanding around him. "Do you remember where we left off?"

"You want to know how it started."

"I think it's time."

Pathos sighed. His eyes moved low, like he wasn't sure how to start. "She'd been around long before my generation," he said, and he leveled his gaze. "Immortal, understand? Our fountainhead. She was for us to worship. She was always loving, but never in love, always content, but never quite happy, and the last thing anyone ever expected was for her to become both and with child."

"You disapproved. I can tell by your tone."

"At first," Pathos said. "Yes. But I came around. And it was a joyous age, for a time. Hans and his men seemed forthright enough. We began building."

"So the story about Kooma, your wife— it was a lie."

"Yes," he admitted. "She was the last one taken before we sealed Alma. Not the first. Ethos and I had no relation." Pathos paused, to allow retort. But he continued when only the silence bit back. "Alma began showing signs of instability in the months leading up to his birth, and it turned violent during the delivery. The struggle to protect him was what resulted in her original death." Another sigh. "Immortal, understand," he repeated. "We didn't realize that she could be killed."

"Everything alive can be killed."

Pathos deigned no response. "Her rebirth was the start of the Old War," he continued. "Sei's little sister, Shou, was the first one taken. A good girl. Athletic. A child, really. Alma retained bits and pieces of her, like they'd joined together and become a new creature. Her flesh literally burned with hatred. She swore to lead us against Hans until no trace of his people remained."

"But you ultimately turned against her."

"Yes. But that was much later." Pathos felt his wound, fingers moving over the stump. "It took five years for us to get the upper hand," he said. "Hans was holed up in Wyndemere at the time. Karna's first capital, crude as it was, human-occupied, derelict." For the second time, his eyes fell. But they quickly returned. "It was the night Ethos died." 

"Incineration, they tell me."

"He took off running when he saw her," Pathos told him. "Up the hundred. She caught him in the sanctuary and turned him to soot right there in her hands. We realized then that we had to stop her, so we rallied together and used the last of our power to seal her away while the colonists fled. The force of it uprooted Wyndemere." 

"Then how did his ashes turn up in Oldden?"

"We decided they belonged with his father. It was after some time had passed— when the dust had all settled. Baroona volunteered."

"Why Baroona?"

"He was closest to Hans."

"So that's why he looks at me strangely."

Pathos allowed a single nod. "It's a striking resemblance."

Ethos scoffed, otherwise silent. His eyes didn't rise from his feet for a time. He was thinking it over, Alyce knew, rolling the information around. It sounded like a forge. "I had friends in this hollow," he said, unexpectedly. "Dead, of course. Like the rest. In the fire."

Sagely, Pathos agreed, "We've all lost people."

"I'd wanted someone to be held responsible. Kyrian. Eadric. It didn't really matter who it was, to be honest. I was immature."

Pathos was silent, staring, cautious.

"I just needed to put it behind me. That's what I thought at the time. How I justified it." Ethos put his hands in his pockets; a common habit. "Eadric had it right," he decided. "You're all just cowards and scavengers. Vultures. But to such an extent that I can't even bring myself to hold it against you. Hearing about how it all began just makes it worse, somehow."

"You were interacting with humans."

"I was the only one who could communicate with them."

"You were curious. You would have left the forest's protection."

"Leemai put a torch in your hand and you agreed with him enough to take it." Ethos cut himself short. He closed his eyes— just for a moment. From below, in the darkness, Alyce could swear she'd seen flecks of gold, sparks to ignite a terrible fire. "Just say it out loud, please," he said. "It matters now, more than it used to."

"Think of the children, Ethos."

"Your children are irrelevant to this conversation."

"Not if I make an enemy of you. Anger has its way with us all."

"I'm already angry. You'd sooner hide behind infants than beg for forgiveness."

"Is that what you want?" Pathos demanded. "Do you want me to beg?"

Heavy silence. Ethos was staring, unexpressioned, but Alyce could feel how tempted he was. It tasted bitter. "Get out," he said, quietly. "We're done here."

Pathos complied, head bent. The hollow's shadows swallowed him up. At the entrance, he paused long enough to add, "He's not really your father."

"Don't talk to me," Ethos replied. "You're inviting trouble."

The silence that Pathos left behind was a viscous, unwelcome thing. She could hear Ethos trying to think— faintly, subterranean. She feared where those thoughts might take him, but breaking the silence seemed much more fearsome. So she waited again, as she so often did, admiring him from the darkness abound and wishing he'd notice that she was still there with him. The winter sun shone on his blackened arm, dark and light, coexisting.

He said, "Alyce."

She gave a start. "Yeah."

"You should've told me who he was."

So this was why he'd brought her. "I'm sorry."

He turned, toes lost in the dirt. "How long have you known?"

"A year," she replied, voice closing on the words. "I overheard him with Norita."

"Then the council may be in on it." Ethos paused. It felt like he might have been looking down at her, but she was too frightened to risk a glance. He asked, "Are you crying?"

She covered her face, humiliated. "No," she spat. "Shut up."

He was quiet while she struggled to control herself. She couldn't let him see her, expose how much of a child she was despite it being stamped on her forehead. His voice returned only after she'd calmed, subtle, gentle, same as ever. He murmured, "I didn't mean to scare you."

There was something about the way he said it; Alyce found him sitting down, one leg out like he couldn't quite bend it and staring hard at the ground. The sight was sobering, like he'd given up, but she knew that couldn't be possible. "You didn't scare me," she swore. "Really."

He sighed. "I should thank you for being here with me."

"Stupid," she said. "I didn't even do anything."

"You keep me in check. It's a comfort."

"But that's what Peter's for."

"You're wrong. You're nothing like Peter."

Alyce didn't know how to take that exactly, but it sounded like a compliment. She watched his arm soak up the black pigment and said, "I still love you, monster."

Ethos looked up at her, a model of tired, honest confusion. "But why?"

His eyes had a fine gloss of seriousness to them. They suddenly seemed brighter somehow, lenses to a light left on in one of the darker pits of himself. Eadric would never look at her like that, so lost and uncertain and desperate for guidance. Aloud, "You're like a sweeter version of him."

Bad form, she immediately thought, and sure enough, those eyes fell low. It was clear to her that he was hurting; not from her, but the truth. Yet with all and the rest at incurable odds, it was anyone's guess as to which new reality hurt him most. 

Alyce crouched low to see his face, marveled at how his wounds smoothed away. She waited for him to glance. "Listen here, monster," she said. "You're not Eadric. You're not Alma. And you're not a stupid pile of ashes. You're just you and you're a smart cookie." She pointed behind her at the hollow entrance. "We've got fifty-four people depending on us and twenty-six more on the Battlefrost rig. A second blackhound's in transit from Oldden. Are you just gonna sit there feeling sorry for yourself?"

Startled, Ethos took her words to heart. "You're right."

"Course I'm right. What now?"

"Now we need help."

"What kind of help?"

"The kind that can provide strong support." His eyes drifted, as they often did. "Someone big," he continued, softly. "Someone without a commitment to Oldden."

Alyce hugged him, seized by a sudden need to be close. He quietly laughed and almost fell. She kissed him and called him a booger monster. And after they'd calmed enough to be seen, they left the pool of golden dayshine; two monsters, disguised as people. She felt a little blessed. They were sort of like family, stuck together, strength enough to face even the world.

Outside, Surin greeted them. She didn't see Pathos anywhere. "On behalf of the tono, I'd like to express our sincerest gratitude," he said. "We'd be dead if you hadn't come to our aid when you did. We owe you our lives."

A sliver of thought took root in the forefront of Alyce's mind. It was Ethos, she realized; he could feel how nervous the elder was, sense the motive behind his kindness. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, to be clear. "I swear. You don't need to act so unnatural around me."

"Of course," Surin replied, uneasy. "Of course, I just— "

Ethos brushed by him, Alyce in hand. He was walking a little too fast for her. They passed through the murmuring camp unimpeded, albeit stalked by unfriendly eyes. Anouk was just ahead, slumped at the tree like a sack of potatoes, tono corpses lined up beyond her.

Awake, as it happened. Anouk raised her head as they neared. She smiled at the sight of them, and it was just as Alyce remembered, crooked and broad and a little bit wicked, teeth flashing bright in the mud and the soot. "Seabird," she said. "You came to save me. How cute."

Ethos explained, "I'm repaying a debt."

"Aw, you're all shy."

"And I want your ship."

Her smile spread. "That's a tall order, seabird."

"Another battalion's on its way, so I'm giving myself a two-day window to move these people to a safe location," he replied. "Name your price, whatever it is. Be fair."

She considered him, smile gone. "Fair," she said. "You're inviting me to choose your gloomy band of savages over Hans Redbeard. Properly set against him like."

"It's just transport. Sanctuary."

"Fuck you, seabird. You'd use my ship for a catalyst. If transport were your only interest, you'd override the blackhound tracking system. I'm no fool."

Ethos seemed surprised. Maybe he hadn't expected her to realize it. His eyes leapt back and forth between hers. "Let's say you're right," he said. "I have no handlers to run the hold. No crew to tend the canvas. My agenda doesn't change the fact that I require Battlefrost assistance."

She scoffed. "Quite the quandary, says I. As if we haven't helped you enough." 

Ethos stepped closer, voice low. "Eadric wants us to think he has the advantage," he said. "But he doesn't. He has no assets to waste on us. He's down two blackhounds and two battalions. His best commander's incapacitated."

"A bargaining chip, says I." 

"My thoughts exactly." Ethos studied her for a moment. "The capital had thirty-thousand men to defend it before the fall of Wyndemere," he said. "As far as I can tell, that number's been halved. And the Bonesteels are consolidating their resources. Another ten thousand." 

Anouk's smile returned. "Catalysts don't come cheap, seabird. What's your offer?"

Ethos held her eyes. "I can get you the north," he said, with conviction. "The Battlefrosts are just as strong as the Bonesteels. You have territory. Resources. You're due for expansion." He exchanged a meaningful glance with Alyce. "Wulfstead will be under light guard with all of its men on the move," he continued, this time to her. "We could easily seize it with larger numbers, cut their supply lines, strike at their heels. The north is fair game."

Alyce frowned at him. "You're forgetting Eadric."

"I haven't forgotten. I'll deal with him."

Anouk had been quietly listening, but she smirked when Ethos looked back at her. "I've got some pull with the herd, seabird, but unless I'm looking to start a fight, it doesn't extend past the men in my unit," she said. "You're gonna have to talk to Tritan if you want the Battlefrost army." 

"Your father," he already knew. "I've heard of him. He's illegitimate. I'd sooner bypass an attempt at negotiations by taking advantage of Peter's rank. It's by right."

"By right doesn't lead men, seabird." 

"What leads men, then?"

"Passion. And bigger men who've earned the privilege."

Alyce peered over her shoulder; Peter was pacing at the tree line, kicking up snow and glancing their way while muttering sidelong at Kacha. He was clearly itching to join the discussion. 

" 'In my charge,' you said," Anouk mused, voice inflecting, like she was smiling. "That's how you described him, seabird. The future leader of Karna. He and his princess."

"I make these decisions so he won't have to."

"You're mollycoddling."

"He's indecisive."

"Or you're just impatient."

"I'm impatient because he's indecisive."

"Or he's indecisive because he's been mollycoddled." As anticipated, Anouk was impishly smiling again when Alyce turned back from the tree line. "Seems you boys still need to determine who's to be large and in charge," she leered. "You sound a bit like the founder himself. Do you hear it?"

Ethos was glaring outright at Anouk. She'd struck a nerve. But then, she didn't know how short his time was. She didn't know he expected to die. "A ship," he backtracked. "A catalyst. I've told you what I need, and why. I'll leave Peter out of it for now. I'll talk to Tritan."

Anouk's smile gradually faded. "Your people are mouths and bellies to me," she told him. "You'll provide the food and water. And you'll strip them of their weapons. I won't needlessly put my crew in danger, not for anyone."

"That's reasonable. Agreed."

"And I have wounded. You'll lend me your witch."

But the witch wasn't on the table. "I don't share Kacha. Rejected."

His firm expression must've been telling; a sly bark of laughter fell out of her throat. "Oi, oi," she teased, teeth flashing bright. "You sure have strange tastes."

He bristled, but he didn't retort. "Rejected."

"Rejected. So stiff. Come here." Anouk urged him closer with a jerk of her head, cackling softly at his reluctance. "Lookit me, seabird," she said. "I ain't gonna bite. Come here and have a listen."

He conceded, face turned sideways as she spoke. His expression didn't betray him much, but he glanced at Alyce, just once, subtly, like something had made him think of her. She cursed his steady, impassable silence, as much as she feared the piercing alternative.

Anouk wasn't her usual roguish self when Ethos retracted enough to see her. She was watching him carefully, flinty eyes sharp, searching his face for some sort of reaction. "Agreed?" she asked, and she fought a smirk. "I'm impatient, too."

He smirked with her. "I thought catalysts didn't come cheap."

"Oh?" she returned, playing along. "Maybe we ought to see an appraiser."

"No need." His eyes moved over her bindings. "How long have they had you like this?"

"Cut me loose, seabird. Like before."

"Did you hurt anyone?"

"Just the two."

"So you let this happen."

"Aye, in a word. After fending them off a bit. Cursing like." The confusion in his eyes made her stop and frown. "You don't understand why."

"We went at it, remember. You don't seem like the sort."

"I'd have killed some, sure; but they're yours, seabird. And mine would have rallied and done in the others. And then there's no one to watch the battalion. Cause and effect."

Ethos was nodding, processing it. "You were thinking ahead."

"It was safer this way, in the end. To go willingly."

Alyce couldn't see his face. He was quiet, tense, thinking again. "Alyce," he suddenly said, and he turned to her next. "Let me borrow your knife."

She knew its place in her old wicker creel without needing to hunt around for it. But Sei appeared as the blade changed hands, forcing it down to keep it hidden. He glared daggers at Ethos, all angles and hide and unclean hair. "Stop," he hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm cutting her loose," Ethos answered. "Obviously."

"She killed Leemai and Cyris. She admitted it."

"She killed them because I told her to." Sei bristled at the admission, so Ethos gripped him hard by the arm. Firmly, he leaned in and instructed, "Forgive us."

A strange blankness polluted Sei's eyes, and little by little it spread to the rest of his face. His hand fell from the blade between them. "Right," he said. "We've seen enough blood."

Ethos circled the tree; as he cut Anouk loose, he said, "Tell everyone to clean up camp."

Sei blinked, like he'd just stirred from sleep. "Are we going somewhere?"

"North. There's lodging with the Battlefrosts." The rope snapped. Anouk collapsed. Reflexively, Alyce lurched to catch her. "We leave high noon tomorrow," Ethos went on. "Anyone not on board with the plan can stay here to die for all I care. Where's Baroona?"

"The old site," Sei said. "Building pyres."

Ethos eyed him. "Alone?"

"Of course. He's the best of us."

"Go help. You'll finish in half the time." Ethos didn't see him off to his tasks; instead, he returned the old knife to Alyce. With a nod, he said, "Thanks."

Alyce took it, half-risen. "You're on your own with Una."

"I thought you'd say that," he replied. "Could you locate her for me?"

"She's downstream, not far. You'll smell her before you see her." Alyce's words had a sobering effect on Ethos, so she avoided his eyes and watched Anouk limp ahead to join Peter. "Kacha thinks we should kill her," she said, of Una. "Says it's more humane than letting her worsen."

"I can't," Ethos replied. "Not yet. I still need her."

Drily: " 'Highest of highborn.' "

"That was a private conversation, hero."

"Is her identity the only reason you need her alive?"

He didn't answer.

"She's dangerous, Ethos."

"Yes. She was always dangerous."

Alyce snuck a glance at him as they headed in with the others. He was rather on form for someone who'd been in such terrible shape only moments earlier. Harken's influence, she knew, but she wouldn't ask. The light in his eyes, his wounds smoothing over— it was beyond her. Even just walking beside him felt different, like he'd undergone an important change without anyone taking notice. 

Anouk must have briefed Peter, because he came out to stop them at halfpart. His furious gesture, paired with a reticent suggestion from Ethos, persuaded Alyce to wait with the others while they traded information. They let her go a short way before speaking. It was a familiar sight.

Ahead, at the tree line, Anouk heaved a sigh. "This won't end well."

"No," Kacha grunted. "Unlucky am I to be reinvolved."

Alyce joined them. "What won't end well?"

"This." Anouk flung a hand at the boys. "There's no pecking order."

Alyce could see what she meant, how neither seemed overawed by the other. Peter was leading the discussion with all the quiet rumbling of stew, a dish too frequently served to impress, and Ethos was neutrally playing the pushover, mind elsewhere, tolerating the brief obstruction until it passed of its own accord. But then Peter brought him back with a word— an observation, Alyce knew. He'd gotten better at it, their Peter. He'd noticed the changes, just as she had. He wouldn't be pushed aside. The pecking order, shining in through the cracks of a rocky friendship.

"Anouk Battlefrost," Kacha suddenly said, as if to test the name out herself. "I knew Syan, your foremother. You look just like her."

Anouk grunted. "Aye, change the subject."

"You'll steer clear of Ethos if you know what's best for you."

The warning invited Anouk's eyes from the scene. "And if I don't?"

"Fool. Redbeards and Battlefrosts have a dark history."

"So it's true that he's kingsblood."

"Just be careful." Kacha then bade her closer. "Fool or not, you look like you've been through a hedge," she said. "Let's get you mended and fed."

"No can do, witch. I've been told you're not for sharing."

Kacha didn't laugh. She made a hard line of her mouth. "I'll say what I'm for."

"Aye, but you won't. He and I are aligned so I've got to respect it. You're private stash."

Confusion, worry— exhaustion. Kacha rubbed at her forehead. "Aligned," she echoed. "Of course you are. Leave it to him to dust off the past and drag it screaming out from the shadows."

A commotion from the boys cut them short. Ethos had clearly heard enough, and was pressing on, shaking his head. "I'll need you to act accordingly," he said, eyes forward. "It's fine when it's just us, but people are paying attention now."

"Aye, that," Peter retorted. "Speak for yourself."

"I've explained how it works and my people are already terrified of me."

"That's not what I'm talking about! You can't just make big decisions without me!"

"I can, and I have," Ethos said. "Purely by our affiliation, without committing yourself to anything, you'll be gaining the support of a famously neutral northern power. You're welcome."

Peter quickly caught his arm. "I'm already rightful to Flint."

"You can't oversee it while running Oldden."

"So you're stealing it out from under me?"

Ethos dimmed, like he'd been discouraged. "Anouk isn't overseer of Flint, Peter," he said, and he said it explicitly, as if to a child. "Her father is. The ship is a starting point, a show of support intended to influence the Battlefrost involvement in the war." Before Peter could ask how, he went on, "It will be easier to persuade him to join us if it publicly seems like he already has."

Peter stared, frown deepening. "You mean if Eadric thinks he already has."

"You're not understanding me," Ethos replied. "It's the illusion that does the work. I don't want Eadric knowing where the tono are. He'll come after them."

"He's not stupid, Ethos. He'll figure it out."

"Yes, I'm sure he will."

Peter then seemed to notice Anouk. Rather than address her, he lowered his voice and insisted, "I could've ordered her ship as ours."

"Only by accepting ownership of Flint."

"I could've taken Flint and assigned an overseer later."

"It's done, Peter. And it's going to plan. Transport and sanctuary, complete with an opportunity for political intrusion and eventual appropriation of power. Loosen up a bit."

"You aligned without knowing ballsch about who you'd be getting in bed with."

"I'd like to point out that you're fixating on the least important part of the arrangement."

Peter geared up to retort. But then he glanced at the group, reminded, and dropped it. He shed his overshirt and defaulted to scowling. "What did Pathos say about Eadric?" he asked, a bit calmer, and he lightly flung the shirt at Ethos. "Is it true?"

Ethos caught it and threw it on. "Yes and no. I'll explain later." He moved as if to proceed next to Una, but then stopped. He put up a finger between them, in warning. "Not a word of it to him, by the way," he added, darkly. "You act like nothing's changed when you see him."

"But everything's changed."

"Not a word, Peter."

"Have you thought of a plan?"

"Eadric's got a war on his hands. That makes Michael our biggest bargaining chip. We'll cast off for Flint while he's busy trying to meet our demands for a trade."

Peter studied him. "Are you going to be able to talk to him normally?"

"I'll be fine." Ethos backed up and started for the bracken, eyes sinking low. "Go on and help with preparations for now," he said, ducking out. "I'll handle Una. And forget what I said about sending off Michael— I want that Blackhound dismantled. Do whatever you can to keep them grounded."

"Oi, eat something. Your gut's gonna think your throat's been slit." 

Alyce listened until his footsteps faded. "I'm coming with you to Gael," she told Peter. "Don't try to stop me. I have just as much right to be there as you do."

"It's different now, Alyce." Peter turned from the bracken and glanced at Anouk, too quickly, like maybe he'd caught her making a face. "What?" he sneered. "Say something."

Anouk was thinly veiling a smirk; it spread at the furious look in his eyes. "Aye, and what's that?" she asked. "I won't apologize. Go over his head, if it's what you want. Take Flint as yours. What's done is done regardless of birthright and suchlike."

"Why take it so far?"

She shrugged. Her impish smile went soft. "I've never wanted to bet on a horse," she said. "It's as simple as that. Damn all and the rest if I'd let him away just after I'd found him."

"Then he didn't understand what he was doing."

"He understood. I'm never vague."

Kacha touched an angry abrasion on the side of Anouk's face, and then cackled when the almighty northo gave a start of surprise. "Come now," the crone said, taking and patting her battered arm, guiding them back to the sparkling anchorage. "The day gets old. Let me look at you."

Anouk grumbled, "Don't just touch me, witch."

"Oho. How fearsome."

"Seabird said I couldn't use you."

"The boy can answer to me if it offends him."

Alyce didn't watch them go. Her mind was in the trees with Ethos, who ducked and stepped in all the right places, familiar with the lay of the land. He was quiet, internally. Too quiet. She was sure he'd stay that way for a while. Until he needed her to hear him.

Peter glanced at the same time she did. The other two were well out of earshot. "He didn't pledge," she said. "There was a general agreement, but no formal pledge. At least none that I heard."

He nodded, slowly. "Intentional, knowing him."

"I think so, too. You need to relax."

"I thought he was pledged."

"Still. You're too honest, Peter."

"Aye, and what's so bad about being honest?"

She sighed, impatient in her own right. "It makes you look weak."

The last had come out too curtly. Peter blinked at her. "Are you angry at me?"

She wasn't, not really. Maybe a little. She could feel her inner child stirring. "Sorry," she muttered, eyes on the trees. "It's just the thought of it, I— "

"Ah. Now who's being honest?"

"Shut up." Embarrassed and red-faced, she stepped away when Peter reached for her. "Don't," she snapped. "Don't comfort me."

"But you look like you could use a hug."

"Your beard is ugly. I'm afraid it'll jump alive and eat my face off."

His eyebrows went up. "You don't like the beard?"

"And you're lousy with the sword."

"Hey, now."

She craned her neck to see him. The sun flashed, blinding her. She covered her eyes and thrust a finger down at the dirt. "Talk to me at eye level like a normal person," she scowled, embarrassed again, throat tight. "It's like I'm shouting up a ladder at someone."

Peter crouched. "This better?"

"Much."

He was studying her now, dipping his head from side to side. "It's okay," he said. "You don't need to prove how tough you are. We all see it."

She glared at him. "It's not fair. It's the child's fault."

"What is?"

"I only cry because I'm like this."

He smiled a little, like she'd done something cute. "You can cry."

"I hate it. It's stupid. I'm always alone, crying while all the rest of you watch."

"We're nothing to aspire to, Alyce," he said. "Una's a reptile, first off. I don't think she feels much of anything. And me, I come from a long line of miserable croppers and seafolk who express themselves in drunken outbursts." He gestured after Ethos. "And Ethos isn't normal," he concluded. "You'll just end up hurting yourself if you try to be like him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's anybody's guess if he can actually be sad in the conventional sense." Peter folded his arms on his knees. He met her eyes. "Alyce, the point I'm trying to make here is that we all have our strengths and weaknesses. I never want you to feel as though you can't be yourself. If you want to cry, cry. And if anyone ever gives you guff, you tell them to come find me. I'll set them straight."

Alyce's lip was quivering. She couldn't seem to make it stop. "Peter, you… you're so stupid."

"Aye, I know. And my beard is ugly. And I'm lousy with the sword."

"So lousy."

"I reckon it's time for that hug. Yeah?" He laughed when she nodded, and then motioned for her to come at him. "Bring it in, then," he said. "I haven't got all day."

Alyce fell against him, spent. Peter was noble about it, stroking her hair, real quiet. And after some time had passed, she sourly admitted, "I actually kind of like the beard."

He laughed, softly. "Do you?"

"Only a little."

"Want to tell me why you're upset?"

She sank into his shoulder, suddenly sleepy. "I hate being a kid," she said. "I just scurry underfoot everywhere. Nobody notices me." She yawned. She watched her breath mist, vision blurry. "Ethos is gonna be an old man by the time I'm an adult, huh."

"That's up for debate. I'm not even sure he'll last winter."

"I like the way he looks at me. And I like his giant shadow monster."

Peter picked her up with a grunt. It reminded her of the day they left Oldden. "Enough about that," he said, slow-moving between the trees. "The world doesn't revolve around Ethos."

She rested her chin on him. "Does he make you sad, too, Peter?"

"Aye, so sad I'd like to wring his neck."