These Barren Lands

Chapter 7

No one says anything for a long minute. We just watch the water settle back into its natural rhythm. Magnus turns his back to us and stares out at the open ocean, his hands limp at his sides.

"I'll take care of him," Papa says, his tone comforting.

"I know you will." It comes out as a mumble because I suddenly don't feel like talking to either of them. The recently familiar heaviness has settled over my chest again, and I'm struggling to breathe regularly. This feeling has to have a name. It has to be something, but even if I can recognize how the ache, I still can't label it.

Papa rubs my back. "You keep trying, and I'll speak to King Eero about our next steps."

Eero looks from me to him and nods.

"We will be right back," Eero whispers as he starts to follow my father to the tree line. "Keep an eye on the horizon, okay? Just yell if you spot anything."

I nod wordlessly and turn away from him. The sound of crunching sand tells me he's leaving, even if I don't see him. His scent follows him, and I'm left entirely alone.

Again.

I'd gotten so used to Finn—beside me in the cot, following me around the palace in Lykke, exploring the city when we had a moment of free time. Even when he was a fish, he was still there. Now the air feels cold and empty.

You did the right thing.

Why does it hurt, then?

A shadow comes over me, breaking my train of thought. I look up at Magnus and wince. His mouth is twisted; his jaw is set. The guard is either mad or worried.

"You alright, fiske?"

I nod. "I did what had to be done."

"I was talking about the shifting thing." He moves so we're standing shoulder to shoulder, still facing the water. "Sounded like it hurt."

A shudder passes through me. He hums in affirmation.

"You're smart. You'll figure it out."

I suck in a breath. "I know, but... I'd hoped to go back to Hygge." He raises an eyebrow but doesn't look at me. "Just for a visit. I miss home."

"Understandable. I was a slave in Snejorn, and sometimes I still ache for the snow." There's a rare vulnerability in his voice. I want to grab it and shove it in my pocket. "But here's the thing about home. It moves."

A short laugh bubbles up out of me. "Pretty sure Hygge can't grow legs and find me in Snejorn."

His cheeks lift in a silent smile. "No, it can't," he says, "But when I really start to consider running away from Anjord for a week in the winter, I just go visit my sister. Hearing her voice, sharing old memories of snowball fights and snow creatures we built, eating traditional Snejorian foods—it feeds the hunger. My home isn't really stuck in Snejorn; it's the things I took with me when I left: memories, people, feelings. Hygge can't meet you here, but you didn't leave it all behind either."

I know he has a point. I know he's right. But there's still a knot in my stomach.

"Thank you," I say, wrapping a hand around his arm and squeezing it. "I didn't know you were the sentimental type, but that was sweet."

He laughs and tries to shrug me off. "Leave it to you to ruin the moment."

Thankful for the reprieve, I reach around and start to snatch his sword from his belt, an action that is sure to get him into a sparring match, but before I even get a grip on the hilt, an ear splitting scream cuts through the air. A flock of birds erupts from the trees. Their caws add to the omen. Magnus and I look to Papa's guard, both of whom have their tridents drawn.