“The war has already started!” Saxony said, failing to contain her frustration. “If I could contact the other Crafters myself, then I would. But only a Liege has that power, Amja, and since you’re standing in Zekia’s place, it’s your responsibility to help protect us.”
“I’m protecting us by staying far from this war and waiting for Zekia to return home.”
Saxony rubbed her temples to keep the growing headache at bay.
Amja was scared, she knew that. She was one of the few Crafters who had survived the War of Ages and now, fifty years onward, she bore those scars inside and out. But hiding wasn’t going to help them, and neither was the delusion that Zekia would run back into their arms the same as she was the day she’d left.
Saxony had seen her sister standing beside Ashwood. She had felt her power when Zekia tried to kill her and then stole Wesley away. She knew that if she wanted her little sister back, then they were going to have to drag her kicking and screaming.
“Father,” Saxony said, turning to Bastian. “Please, make her see reason.”
He sighed and pushed aside a strand of hair that had strayed from his braid into his face. He swallowed, and those piercing brown eyes that Saxony had looked up into for so many years dimmed. He was a large man, but at this moment she couldn’t help but think he looked so very small.
“We’ve lost too much already,” Bastian said. “I won’t lose the only child I have left.”
“Zekia is not lost,” Saxony said, with enough force that her father almost moved back in surprise.
She could get her sister back.
Even if Zekia had done terrible things and even if she had created that awful elixir. Zekia might not be able to lead their Kin anymore, but she was still Saxony’s sister.
She could still be saved.
“You don’t want to lose another child,” Saxony said. “But I don’t want to lose another sibling. I was too young to protect Malik when he died, but I can rescue Zekia if we do this.”
Her father stayed silent, but Saxony didn’t miss the way his frown twitched when she mentioned her brother’s name. They rarely ever spoke of Malik, like not saying his name out loud made the pain go away, but looking at her father now, Saxony could see the agony in his eyes. The grief at losing a wife and a son all at once.
“We know what is best for our people and it’s not another war,” Amja said. “You must trust this wisdom.”
Saxony wished that she could, but she had already seen what monsters lurked in the shadows and now those monsters were stepping into the light, and if someone didn’t do something—if she didn’t do something—then they would swallow the world.
“You’re making a mistake,” Saxony said. “And we’ll all suffer for it.”
She turned from them, the family she had been born into, who she’d once trusted more than anything, and left the room wondering how in the name of the Many Gods she was supposed to win a war with hardly any damned soldiers.
Saxony all but ripped open the door of the tree house to the outside world, bottling the scream in her throat. Outside, Karam stood with her arms crossed at her chest and a knife hitched to her belt, just in case.
Around them, the forest cooed. A poor attempt to calm Saxony.
Karam’s smile tilted. “Does that look mean your family went along with everything you said with a happy smile?” she asked. “Because you do seem happy.”
“It’s like you’re a mind reader,” Saxony said. “Really, you’ve got a lot of talent. Sure you’re not an Intuitcrafter?”
Karam smirked and held out her hand for Saxony’s. The moment their fingers locked, all of the anger that she had felt dissipated.
Well, not all of it, because Karam wasn’t a miracle worker and Saxony was truly pissed off, but enough that she felt like she could breathe a little easier.
“I feel like there’s no point in even trying anymore,” Saxony said as they made their way down the branched staircase. “I’m only ever hitting dead ends.”
And, really, there were so many other things she’d much rather be doing than trying to break through to her amja. War aside, Saxony wanted little more than to spend an uninterrupted evening with Karam. In her arms. In her bed. She wanted more than just the few stolen moments and kisses they had been afforded over the past few days.
But there was no rest in the fight against the wicked, especially with Dante Ashwood attacking districts in Creije.
“You will get through to them,” Karam said. “It is in your blood to lead.”
She squeezed Saxony’s hand a little harder.
“I appreciate the faith,” Saxony said. “But it’s like talking to a busker about the law. Totally pointless. Won’t change their minds no matter what.”
“Tell that to Tavia,” Karam said, as their feet touched the soil.
She gestured across the way, to where Saxony’s old friend was sitting by the campfire, sorting magic into piles, alongside a group of buskers.
“She changed from wanting to run from Creije and its criminals, to fighting to save it and organize her comrades into an army.”
“Yeah,” Saxony said. “Because Wesley convinced her to, not me. Right now I don’t think she’d listen to me telling her to run from a fire.”
Tavia was great at holding grudges, and ever since the battle on the Kingpin’s island, she’d been clutching on to this one tighter than ever. Yes, Saxony had sent messenger bats that nearly got them killed. And, yes, she had even planned on killing Wesley way back when, but that was before he saved her life and before she knew her sister was Ashwood’s puppet.
It wasn’t Saxony’s fault that Zekia had taken him.
Despite what Tavia believed, Saxony didn’t want Wesley in Ashwood’s clutches any more than she did. He was dangerous at the best of times, let alone when he was in the Kingpin’s pocket.
Besides, she owed him a life debt.
“You will have to talk to Tavia eventually,” Karam said. “Preferably before you are on the battlefield together.”
Saxony slumped down onto a nearby log, kicking at the dirt. “It’s not like I haven’t tried,” she said. “But I’ve developed a magical new ability to walk into a room and somehow make Tavia walk straight out of it.”
Karam sat beside her and sighed in that way she always did when she thought Saxony was feeling sorry for herself. “Yes,” Karam said. “She is so stubborn. It is strange how you were ever friends with someone who could hold such a grudge.”
She looked at Saxony with her eyebrows raised.
“Subtle,” Saxony said. “I get it. We both need to sort out our issues, but can’t I just indulge in my misery for a while? You could comfort me. I’ll take anything you can give.”
She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Karam gave her a stern look, which only made Saxony smile more.
It felt like these days the only comfort Saxony had was Karam. Their relationship was unyielding, a part of herself that she knew would never waver or change, even in the face of war. Everything else seemed to have shifted irreparably, from Saxony’s leadership to Tavia’s friendship to the Uncharted Forest itself.
Saxony had grown up among these trees, and yet they seemed the strangest of all to her now. It was still beautiful and Saxony still felt a certain peace when she looked into the skies and saw the leaves curling into the clouds, shielding them just enough to let the warm orange sun through but to act as a barrier to most of the rain.