The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Thirty-Five

We spent the rest of the day resting, and packing for the trip. Lark would bring her violin, but leave her pen, since anything magical could get us killed by the villagers. We would all bring a backpack full of things travelers would normally carry with them.

I woke with a scream on my lips in the middle of the night, but on realizing that I'd simply had another nightmare, I pushed the scream back down, held back an enormous sigh, rolled over, and went back to sleep. The rest of the night was uneventful.

In the morning, Lark and I were awoken by a knock on our door. I stood and crossed the room to open it, wincing at the sliver of bright light that cut into the darkness.

Cass stood there, a wild smile on her face. "We're here. Get ready to go, and meet us up on the deck after breakfast."

Anticipation in my belly, I stepped onto the upper deck of the ship. My hair was instantly soaked. A steady downpour flowed from the sky, drenching everything and anyone, the sounds of rain occasionally punctuated by bursts of lightning and rumbles of thunder.

Cass and the rest of the crew, minus Dren, stood on the edge of the ship, waiting. My gaze met Bran's. He offered me a half-grin.

"Great!" Cass shouted over all the noise. "We're almost all here."

Leith stood beside her, and I noticed, with a slight jolt of resentment, that the rain bent around him, leaving him perfectly dry. There wouldn't be much point in him extending the spell to us, though. We'd be out of range soon enough.

Torchlight flared briefly across the ship as Dren opened the door and hurried out to stand with the rest of us. He winced and shivered as his clothes and hair were quickly soaked with water, but didn't complain.

Cass gave him a short nod, then turned her attention to the rest of us. "Are we all here?"

A chorus of yeses.

"Great." She turned to Leith. "Want to do the honors?"

Leith smiled, raising his hands. Apparently Cass's enthusiasm was infectious. "It would be my pleasure."

His mistlings rose from the deck around us, wasting no time, grabbing arms and legs and lifting the members of the crew of the deck.

Cass let out a whoop as she dropped over the side of the ship. Her mistlings progressed downward much more quickly than anyone else's did, and she seemed to be enjoying it. Dren was close to me, and he looked miserable. As for the rest of the crew, their emotions ranged from grumpy to excited—though none of them managed to equal the absolute ecstasy of Cass.

When the mistlings dropped us to the ground and dissipated, Cass ran a quick headcount, decided she would be at the head of the journey and Jaret would be at the tail—to prevent anyone from falling behind—and began walking at a brisk pace.

The forest canopy lessened the amount of rain that got through to us. However, from time to time, a leaf or a branch would shake off its heavy load of raindrops, drenching one of the team. They'd mutter a curse at the sky, shiver, and continue forward.

After an hour or two, Cass proclaimed, "This is boring!" and decided that we ought to play a game. A few suggestions were thrown around before someone said we should play at stories, and Cass thought that sounded wonderful.

"I'll start," she said. "Once there was a very tall tree. Ista."

"That tree," said Ista, "grew beyond the borders of the sky, reaching up to the stars and cupping their light in its leaves. Dren."

"I'm not playing," said Dren.

Ista shrugged. "All right. Brinley."

Brinley smiled and looked upward, but winced as a drip of water hit her right in the middle of her forehead. "Things that reach too far have always been destined to fall. Jaret."