Dinner was a quiet affair, as no one was in a particularly chatty mood after peeling off their wet clothes to get into only mildly damp sleeping clothes. Priscilla was lucky that she had a few pieces of clothing shoved into the dimensional pocket so she was relatively dry, though the cream colored sleeping dress was a little breezy.

  They didn’t risk starting a fire indoors, so they ate in near darkness, though by this point her eyes had adjusted enough to see somewhat decently. Priscilla’s thoughts kept drifting back to what she had seen and felt when she grasped the stone, and occasionally, she couldn’t help glancing at Sulaiman’s pack where he had tucked it away. There was no chance she’d be able to steal it without him noticing and Priscilla wasn’t in the mood to make Sulaiman angry with her for no good reason. She’d try again tomorrow when they were away from this place that stank of poison and death and distracted herself by combing through her hair and leaving it down to dry.

  Priscilla was glad to have the first watch to leave her alone with her thoughts. The boys settled in to sleep after Sulaiman gave her his watch to keep track of time, and the soft sound of Kavil’s breathing soon filled the air, twining with the steady patter of rain on the roof above them. She wrapped the watch around her wrist and posted up near the edge of the collapsed wall to give herself a good line of sight of where she thought the toads had gone, perched on a stool that had been used to clean horse’s hooves. She wasn’t wearing her boots as those had been hung upside down in the hopes of drying overnight, so her toes rested on the cold floor as her mind went to work.

  Her working theory of what had happened was that that stone may have been a summoning focus of some type and the cult had planted it in the inn to cause chaos. Priscilla wanted to clean off the rock’s dirty surface to see just what had been carved into the sides. She may not be able to recognize runes by sight, but Sulaiman might, and barring that, Priscilla could pick up some books when they reached Meadowyar if she had a general idea of what she was looking for. The Thornewood library might even have something if she could figure out a way to convince the parents to let her in – and if that failed, she’d just sneak in.

  Why the cult had chosen to attack here was what evaded Priscilla’s deduction, because she didn’t think this outpost was particularly important. Sure, it was on one of the trade routes that went through the Emerald Forest, but this wasn’t even the most important one that provided a direct route to the capital as it only connected Meadowyar to Grazda.

  Maybe it was a test run, Priscilla thought, hit somewhere that doesn’t matter before they aim for their true target. And the more she thought it over, the more that made sense and aligned with what she knew of the cult. They liked to build plans upon plans, ironing out the flaws until only perfection remained.

  She started to mentally go through the most devastating of the cult’s attacks, trying to remember which ones had used summoning monsters as a major aspect of their plans.

  “Priscilla.”

  She stiffened at the sudden voice but didn’t turn around. Something in his tone told Priscilla she probably wouldn’t like the conversation that was about to take place.

  “Was I thinking too loud, Sulaiman? Don’t worry, I can do that a little quieter,” Priscilla quipped quietly as to not wake up Kavil.

  He sighed, sounding as if he put his whole chest into it.

  “No,” Sulaiman said. “I wanted to talk about something you said earlier.”

  “Don’t give me that look, I’ll try not to fall down again,” Priscilla said quickly, dancing around the elephant in the room with grace. “I’ll defy gravity a little better and watch where I’m going a bit more carefully, though you have to admit it’s a wonder I didn’t slip more than once with how dark it is.”

  “That’s not what I was referring to.” Annoyance had started to creep into his tone and she could hear fabric shifting against each other.

  “Oh, was it grabbing the rock?” Priscilla babbled, fingers tapping along her thigh nervously as something scraped softly along the ground behind her. “Okay, fine, I won’t go grab a mysterious object without checking with you first, but you’ll have to give Kavil the same talk – he did enable me to do it without me even egging him on. Did you see how well he moved the water? He really is a prodigy, blessed with healing and with water magic, he–”

  “Priscilla, cut the bullshit and look at me.”

  Priscilla stilled, as his voice was much closer than it had been earlier, and turned.

  Sulaiman had pulled up a stool of his own only a few inches away from her. He had run a spare towel through his hair to dry it off, so it stuck out in every direction as he leaned forward to stare at her, his hands laced together and resting lightly on his thighs. Sulaiman’s expression bordered between seriousness and exasperation, brows slightly furrowed together like he was staring at something perplexing that he had no choice but to unravel the mysteries of.

  Priscilla swallowed, her tapping fingers coming to a stop as her knees bumped against his.

  “Are you finally ready to have a real conversation?” Sulaiman asked softly.

  “Depends on what you want to talk about,” Priscilla replied.

  Sulaiman just cocked his head, black eyes glittering in the low light.

  “What do you mean when you said that death is inevitable on the path you set for yourself?” His voice was blunt but free of judgement, with an insistent undertone to it that told Priscilla that Sulaiman would not let his question go unanswered, the type of tone that promised Sulaiman would keep asking again and again, probably getting more irritated and forceful with each time she dodged the question.

  Priscilla licked her lips, trying to figure out how to convince Sulaiman to let the topic lie until tomorrow when Priscilla had had a better day and could think about how to answer it carefully to not alarm him more than she already had, and she hesitated long enough that Sulaiman spoke again.

  “Is it because you plan to go against the… organization?”

  This close, Priscilla couldn’t hide the way her muscles tensed. Sulaiman didn’t call her out on it but he kept staring, eyes darting down to her clenched fist and back to her face as he waited for her to answer. The silence stretched and it became clear that Sulaiman was willing to let it go on for as long as it took Priscilla to find her words.

  Slowly, Priscilla unclenched her fist and took a deep breath in.

  Sulaiman knew too much for her to lie to him easily, had wheedled information out of her when she hadn’t even meant to share that much. Priscilla didn’t want to keep dodging his very reasonable questions, not when she knew that she wanted Sulaiman to open up to her when he was facing trouble. Communication was a two way street after all.

  “That’s a part of it,” Priscilla admitted, her gaze dropping down to Sulaiman’s chin because she couldn’t quite look him in the eye. “I did mean it when I said I wanted to travel with you, Illnyea, and Kavil and see the world, and that’s still what I plan to do but with what I know that organization…

  “They’re…” Priscilla paused, feeling her throat tighten in the tell-tale sign of blood coming soon and pivoted to a vaguer description than she had planned as irritation burned in her gut. She had hoped since Asha spoke the name of the cult aloud that she could too, but the stupid restriction the god of cowards imposed on her didn’t like that.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure they’re the type of people that would level cities and then go out for tea without batting an eye,” Priscilla continued. “Though I know I’m weak as shit, poorly trained, and the only thing I have going for me is money that isn’t even mine, I can’t just stand by and let them go unchecked if I know they’re up to something because the blood will be on my hands too.”

  Her hand shook as she spoke, shaking the watch on her wrist as she recalled the descriptions of suffering she had read, the way that people cried out in pain before their broken bodies went limp as entrails were ripped from them, the way that children cried out for their parents as the city burst into flames around them, the way that Illnyea almost broke when they failed to stop the cult’s from starting an intercontinental wide war that left the land soaked with blood. When it was just words on a page, it turned her stomach over, but now… now it made a cold sweat break on her brow and her mouth went dry.

  She didn’t stop shaking until Sulaiman carefully put his hand over hers, firmly pressing down until Priscilla looked up.

  His gaze was steady and bored into Priscilla, stripping past her carefully crafted mask of cheer and lackadaisical attitude towards life, cutting right to the scared little girl she tried so desperately not to be.

  “Their cruelty is not your responsibility,” Sulaiman said.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Priscilla wanted to laugh because she knew that, but when she was the only one who knew how to foil the cult’s plans, it was up to her to make sure they didn’t come to fruition.

  Sulaiman seemed to sense some of her thoughts (or maybe it showed on her face) and squeezed her hand again, this time insistent.

  “It isn’t your responsibility,” Sulaiman said, frowning, “but if you are set on this course, you don’t have to walk it alone, Priscilla.”

  “I know,” she lied, “but I won’t ask you to risk your life.”

  Sulaiman gave her a flat look.

  “If you thought I’d be content to allow you to wander off into danger alone,” Sulaiman said, pulling his hand away to cross his arms and give her a sneer, “then you’re a bigger idiot than I realized, or perhaps you think so low of me to think I’d be so callous and cowardly to save myself at the cost of your life. ”

  “That's not what I meant,” Priscilla protested, “I just want–”

  “To have me explain to Illnyea that her sister died because she refused help when it was offered?” Sulaiman asked and Priscilla recoiled from the venom in his voice. Anger sparked in his eyes and Priscilla took a moment to imagine that scenario and winced.

  “No,” Priscilla whispered.

  “Then don’t say such stupid things like you’re a martyr,” Sulaiman said sharply, and then froze when Kavil made a sleepy noise.

  Kavil didn’t stir further but when Sulaiman spoke again, his voice was much quieter, his tone softening.

  “Kavil wouldn’t let himself be sidelined if he thought you were in danger,” Sulaiman said, “and you’d have to be blind to not see that, Priscilla. You said you weren’t going to abandon him and yet, today you implied you were willing to do just that…”

  He let his words trail off meaningfully.

  Priscilla winced again. “I know I fucked up, it’s just… Sometimes I speak before I think and with how torn up he was about killing a moose, I wanted to give him an out, though in hindsight it was stupid of me.”

  Sulaiman gave her a long look before accepting her pitiful explanation and continued.

  “And I know Illnyea isn’t easily persuaded to abandon anyone just because it’d make her life difficult. So you best get rid of useless ideas like taking on city-destroyers by yourself just because you think it may cause us harm. You don’t get to decide what we’re willing to risk, just as we don’t get to decide what battles you fight.”

  Priscilla… Well, she had no quick comeback or way to refute those words, and Priscilla was fairly sure if she kept arguing with Sulaiman about this, they’d wake up Kavil and she’d probably end in tears.

  “Alright, I admit defeat,” Priscilla said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

  “You really ought to tell Kavil about this too,” Sulaiman said, glancing at where Kavil was sleeping. “It’s not fair to leave him in the dark so long, considering he’s already been targeted.”

  Priscilla let out a long, slow breath, considering doing that. She knew that it’d take a lot of emotional bandwidth to both tell him and deal with the aftermath.

  “I’ll tell him when we see Illnyea again,” Priscilla said, cowardness taking hold of her once more. At Sulaiman’s judgy raised eyebrow, Priscilla said, “He doesn’t need another thing to weigh on his mind while we’re in this fucking forest, and I really don’t want to talk about this more than I have to, it’s… difficult for me, so I’d rather just tell them both at once.”

  Sulaiman studied her face before he slowly nodded.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

  Silence settled over them as Priscilla didn’t quite know where to move the conversation from there.

  “Wake me if you see anything unusual,” Sulaiman ordered as he abruptly stood, turning away from her. A stunning conversationalist as always.

  “Will do,” Priscilla said, giving him a half-hearted salute he couldn’t even see. She hesitated for a moment but decided to end the conversation with, “Sweet dreams, Sulaiman.”

  Sulaiman’s footstep faltered for a moment and then sped up as he walked to his bedroll and tucked himself in without another word.

  Priscilla shook her head at him and turned her attention back to keeping watch, fingers tapping as she waited for the opportunity to have the conversation she actually wanted to have this evening. She let her thoughts drift back to the cult’s plans to tide her over until the time came.

  Thirty minutes went by before Priscilla finally heard Sulaiman’s breathing gain the smooth cadence of sleep.

  Still, she wanted to test it and softly said, “Sulaiman, can I touch the stone again?”

  Priscilla waited, cocking her head, but neither of the boys responded, so she was probably safe. She moved her gloved hand right next to her mouth.

  “Asha,” Priscilla whispered, “are you okay?”

  It took a moment for the artifact to respond, and the bond felt sluggish between them.

  “I am, master.” Asha’s voice had none of the usual pep it usually had and Priscilla frowned.

  “What happened back there?”

  “That stone…” Asha whispered, voice shaking. “It was dripping with the Apostle’s divine power and I… It took me right back to when I was jailed.”

  Priscilla opened her mouth and closed it, frown deepening as she fought from saying the first thing that came to her mind. When Asha said the word, it felt heavy, like a title that held significance and Priscilla realized where she had heard that term before.

  “When you say Apostle, do you mean…?” Priscilla asked, trailing off as she felt blood start to rise in her throat from just trying to confirm her suspicions.

  “My former master called himself the Apostle,” Asha said. “When that divine power reached out to me… it awoke some of my memories from before he set the restrictions on me.”

  “What type of restrictions?” Priscilla asked, sparks of anger bubbling up. He may call himself fancy names like the Apostle, but it was all pretty lies to obfuscate the truth – he was a damned cult leader and that’s what Priscilla would call him.

  “I was to be silent,” Asha said, an odd disconnected feeling oozing through their bond, “and totally obedient to whoever was assigned to be my master. I was not to have thoughts of my own and I was to only act in a way that furthered the Apostle’s cause.”

  Priscilla had to take a long deep breath to keep herself from telling Asha just what Priscilla would do to the damned man if she got her hands on him because that would definitely wake up the boys and signal the end of the conversation.

  Instead, Priscilla whispered harshly, “Fuck those stupid ass rules. Asha, he’s a piece of shit and nothing he said should be listened to.”

  Finally, a positive emotion flickered into existence within their bond – a small sliver of amusement broke through the numbness like the first flower bud after winter.

  “I know, master,” Asha said, voice and bond tempered with fondness. “You’ve helped me see that.”

  Priscilla hesitated because Asha was just approaching normalcy but asked the question that had been eating at her since earlier in case one of the boys woke up and cut their conversation short.

  “I saw something earlier when I grasped the stone,” Priscilla said, “and I felt your emotions stronger than I had before and… some of them felt distorted and hard to parse.”

  Asha was quiet and shame curled around the bond like a snake. Priscilla tried to project reassurance but it only made the feeling slightly less constricting.

  “You saw what existence was like for me. The Jailer thought it was ‘fitting’–” Asha’s voice hitched as it pitched deeper, obviously quoting someone as the jagged feeling of hatred flared, “–for me to be left alone. I had nothing but my own thoughts and failures for company, and those became twisted the longer I stayed there.”

  So it wasn’t the cult leader who had trapped Asha then. Priscilla paused, wracking her brain for who else it could be but the only potential culprits that came to mind were gods. Asha did seem to view gods negatively and one of its friends had apparently researched the divine a lot, so perhaps it was a god.

  “This Jailer–”

  Priscilla’s question died, her teeth clacking shut hard enough to hurt when hatred and terror surged through the bond, twin storms that momentarily overwhelmed Priscilla’s thoughts.

  But as quick as it came, the feelings retreated until the bond was completely silent once more.

  “I’m sorry.” Asha’s voice was so quiet that Priscilla strained to hear it. “I didn’t mean to let my emotions – I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–”

  “Shh,” Priscilla soothed Asha, running a finger over the glove. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You don’t have to talk about it now – my curiosity doesn’t need to be satisfied at your expense.”

  Asha didn’t say anything and the bond stayed worryingly still.

  “Asha, hey, it’s okay, really,” Priscilla said. “I was only asking because I was worried for you, not because I was angry that it had happened. When I felt how scared you were, do you know what was going through my brain the whole time?”

  It was silent for so long that Priscilla was worried that she had once again royally fucked up again today by pushing someone when they weren’t ready.

  But eventually Asha asked, “What were you thinking, master?”

  “How I can best punish the bastards that dared to make my lovely Asha afraid,” Priscilla said as confidently and as loudly as she dared. “And now I know the bastard whose divine power made you scared, so when I meet him, I’ll him a suckerpunch right in his fucking nose on your behalf.”

  It took a moment but Asha giggled, the sound muted but more beautiful than a choir to Priscilla.

  “I’ll make sure to go ‘spike on’ for that, master,” Asha said.

  “Atta girl, Asha,” Priscilla said, “ideas like that are why you’re simply the best.”

  Asha giggled again but before either of them could say anything else, a deep bass sound hung in the air.

  A very loud crooAAAAAAK.