The Oath of an Oxblood

14

Jack was right—I had gained enough strength after the first night to heal the lashes on my back. He had given me a tonic to diminish the pain, something I hadn't noticed, but was incredibly grateful for.

The broth grew more substantial, and Jack was pleased. I felt like I was in a bubble. The soft hum of the train on the tracks was only interrupted by the frequent visits of Jack and my periodic naps. My body was weak, but after the lashes on my back healed, my mind was fully awake.

I glanced down at my hand, which I had wrapped in a new cloth. The cut on my palm wasn't healing properly. Still. A small part of me knew I should have asked Jack to heal it, but the larger part of me knew that I needed the scar. I needed the reminder of my failure.

My dad had never allowed a healer to take a look at us. This scar would be my small reminder.

Take your scars and wear them proudly. If you never scar, you'll forget your mistakes.If you forget your mistakes, you'll make 'em again.

Jack did the best he could to answer my questions about Roach and Beetle, but he only knew so much and wasn't sure how much he was allowed to give away. How had they been taken? Why were they taken?

The best he could do was let me bathe in one of the train compartments. It was exhausting, but I was grateful to wipe away sweat, grit, and ash from days prior. When I returned, the blankets I had been resting on were also changed. It was strange.

I glanced at the setting sun and realized that tomorrow, we would be at the palace. The sun was setting over some settlement off in the distance.

I felt the sun give her last few rays against my forehead. I rested my skin against the cool glass. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to cool off.

We had driven through towns, over hills and through a mine once, never stopping. I wondered at the settlement, imagining who lived there. Wondered if Anthony lived there. What would he look like now, if he were even still alive? Would he have a beard?

We had been going west most of our journey, but had turned north, giving me the opportunity to see the setting sin. Soon, it plunged below the surface and pink light splashed upward like the splash of a child jumping to a pond.

"Cricket" a small voice asked.

I whirled and saw Roach standing at the door, looking at me hesitantly. Her hair was a bit disheveled, and my heart soared in a protective excitement.

"Romina?" I asked. She gave me a small smile and climbed up toward me. I opened my arms shakily and she climbed into them, curling up against me. "Are you okay?" I whispered, noting with relief that the ring was out of her nose. I prayed it was for good.

She nodded and wiped away a tear. "I can't sleep," she muttered. "I keep having nightmares."

I set my chin on her blonde head and pulled her more tightly against me. "Romina," I said slowly and she the tensed. "Hey," I said gently. "You're safe here. You are Romina from now on, okay? You can call me Naomi, okay" She nodded, and I pulled a blanket around the two of us.

"Naomi, will you tell me a story?"

I smiled. "Of course, Ro." I thought back to the stories I told Romina over the past few weeks. "'The Magtrix and the Mage.'

"Looking back at those times, for every boy there were seven girls. No one grew older than twelve and the girls towered over the boys and no one ever got old." Romina smiled at that. "The girls had magestones that glowed like the moon at the dead of night, but there was one girl whose magestone shone brighter than the sun—the Magtrix. She was proud and looked down on all the boys, saying that they were small and weak, like the bugs of the world. She would treat them poorly and used her Sage magestone to reveal their deepest, darkest secrets—and expose them to the world. She had a thousand girls who would walk around with her so they could laugh and point at the boys. One day, she came across her nephew, a very small, weak boy. She didn't care that they were family. He didn't have a magestone on his chest, so the Magtrix drew on his deepest, darkest secret.