In the Shadow of the Goddess (Book 1 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

They left Mescruax that evening. It was a small group: her, Brexten, Rafe, Aden, Jendayi, Geniece, Clarine and a young servant girl, and lastly, Geniece's man Rel. Jill had been surprised to see Geniece up so soon. Either the healing spells used on her were excellent, or she moved with sheer grit and determination.

The rest of the resistance had left the day before. For those remaining, the plan was to meet up with everyone at their camp outside the city, along the banks of the Chazar River. There, Captain Derk, a resistance member with his own merchant fleet, would sail them to Valinac. After the riot in Shaar and the frenzy to find Brexten, Captain Derk moved his ship—the Lucid Surprise—to a small inlet upriver. A wise move since Shaar had subsequently been blockaded and martial law declared. Mongrel Shey roamed the streets looking for the fugitive Prince. Anyone suspicious was arrested on sight. Trials were immediate. So were the executions.

Rafe estimated they would reach the camp before morning. According to what Derk had said, the Chazar River moved its swiftest this time of year. The Lucid Surprise could reach Valinac in five days instead of doubling the time on horseback. Once they reached the capital city, they would meet with the main body of the resistance. After that, Jill didn't know. But, she was sure none of it would return her to her own world any faster.

During the preparations to leave, little was expected of her. Her hands were useless for any sort of manual work. It was just as well. The way her thoughts whirled, she'd only get in everyone's way. She had too much to consider. Unfortunately whenever she tried to focus her thoughts, they invariably slipped to Brexten. Thinking beyond him was difficult.

After, he'd dressed her, fed her chicken broth and chunks of bread, and even seemed to enjoy brushing her hair. He also helped her to the privy, which turned out to be quite an adventure. And he had sat at her back, holding her while a maid changed the dressings on her hands. When she started to cry at the sight of burned palms and black-edged scars shiny with ointment—wounds she still couldn't really feel—he brushed away the tears and told her the most ludicrous story about a sailor, a merchant, and their comic dealings. With him there, she could almost forget about everything else. Almost, but not quite.

She had questions about the magic and Aden was the only person she could ask. Unless she wanted to ask Jendayi. No way. But how could she approach him now? She'd chosen Brexten, not him. Whatever antagonism lay between them, she had aggravated it beyond repair.

Even if she refused to let the magic push them together, she still needed Aden. They shared magic—a thing she would never have with Brexten outside of the Awakening. She had so few people in her life where she shared a connection. The ones she did have could not cast away so lightly. When the opportunity presented itself, she would to talk to Aden. She needed to make things right with him. How, she wasn't sure. But I still have to try.

A pale half-moon sat low in the sky and the stars dazzled as they left Mescruax. The procession trailed in an odd arrangement. Brexten and Rafe were in the lead on horseback. Behind came Geniece, Clarine, the young servant girl and herself, riding in an open carriage driven by Rel. Jill and the girl faced behind, the others forward. All three dozed lightly. On the far side of the carriage rode Perren. She'd have to cross to the other side of the carriage and past the sleeping girl if she wanted to speak with him. Was he that far away on purpose? Finally Aden with Jendayi, who acted as if she couldn't bear to be more than three feet away from him. The positioning wasn't so much defensive as it kept people apart—Brexten and Aden the most obvious example. But also Rafe and herself. Twice, Brexten reprimanded him for snide comments. Neither episode had been pretty.

Perhaps her time with Brexten had been a calm before the storm, never to repeat itself. And yet...

"Jill, you are the keeper of my heart."