Chapter 32
Perhaps it’s the energy drink, because I suddenly felt nervous. My skin itched and something like bug-feet crawled on my neck. When I brushed them away, there was nothing there.
I had been wearing one of those flappy formal dresses, but I have a super power. I can change from a formal dress into anything else faster than any other dryad alive. Dropping my foliage, I call it, except instead of winding up naked, I wear pants.
If you don’t mind me getting a little more personal, it’s impossible to keep a sword under your skirts. For some reason boys tend to think we can hide long swords, battleaxes, or crossbows under a dress. I can’t. If I have to move around at all, stand up and sit down, or any of that, a sword just won’t fit. I may have tried for a summer or so and other than bruising my ankles and feet, gained nothing from the process.
But wishing I had a sword, I left the reception, changed, and chased Merryweather. I snuck up on them as they got to their wagon. The kid kept trying to walk, but he couldn’t walk too quickly. Laeth finally carried him most of the way but at the wagon door put him down to play. Merryweather and Laeth didn’t say much along the way, and now they’re looking at each other like, ‘How do we start this conversation?’ I’m hiding behind some rocks.
Back to taking live notes.
“Well,” says Laeth.
“Yeah,” says Merryweather.
They stand still for another long minute.
“Kog was good,” says Laeth.
“He was. He didn’t fuss at all.”
“So what do you want to do?” asks Laeth.
Merryweather doesn’t say anything. She’s watching the peaks, the groves of aspen, and Mom’s little white and pink flowers that grow wild. For a while she looks in one direction, and I try to follow her gaze. I don’t see anything. I don’t think Merryweather is looking at anything.
“Do you want to just leave?” asks Laeth. “We dump your brother and go? He’s home. My duty’s done. Your mother recognized our marriage, and I know how much that means to you.”
“You challenged Hyrthon to a duel.”
“Technically, he challenged me.”
“Laeth,” she says.
“Fine. But I don’t think he’ll pursue it. What does he have to gain? If he wins, he killed a mortal, and if I even injure him, he’ll be humiliated. And stabbed. He’s not very good in close quarters. Your mother wants us to go. Hyrthon won’t argue if we do. Do you want to just leave?”
“And go where?”
“The world. We’ve got the wagon. We’ll travel lighter without the coffin.”
“Can you do that? Leave a duel?”
“Sure. If Hyrthon wants to find me, he can. Blisters on him. He’ll tell everyone I ran away, but I wasn’t going to win friends here anyway.”
Merryweather stares again, and I look again. This time I see a marmot, but the marmot doesn’t look back.
She speaks hesitantly. “You know we’ll be leaving forever? My family’s not rich, but we do have a house, lands, people. It would be a place for Kog to grow up. If we leave, we’re turning our backs on them.”
Laeth takes her hands. “Yes. I know. It would just be us: you, me, the boy, other small, annoying people who might come along to break all my stuff and throw up in new and exciting places. Yes. Let’s just…go.”
“Okay,” she says as if it’s nothing.
“Good.”
They stare at each other. Laeth raises an eyebrow. Merryweather shrugs.
“Okay,” she says again.
“Good,” he says again, but after a pause adds, “We do have to drop your brother.”
“Oh, thank the Makers. Baby, we’ve been traveling with a coffin in the wagon for three years! Let’s drop him right now.”
“Do we have to bury him or something?”
“No, I don’t see why. We should take him to a crest or peak, though.”
“Why?”
She looks at him. “Because he’s named Ridgecrest. If we’re going to put him somewhere, it should be on a ridge or crest.”
Laeth looks around. They’ve drawn up their wagon outside the house grounds, and spires of the Simhalls reach up around us. A narrow valley to the north leads home, but here two river valleys meet and split. The pine forests are dark going north, but south, the valleys are wide and the grass is gold. The peaks around us are tall and stark.
“Can we pick a low one?” asks Laeth.
“No, let’s pick a tall one. He’d like it.” She pats Laeth on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry the casket. You mind Kog.”
“Oh.” Laeth stares at her as if he forgot something. “Yes.”
She smirks, and I see a hint of old Merryweather. She’s a daughter of Aethionema, of Lumina’s bloodline. For an instant I get Laeth. He sees her as his wife. He takes care of her, she him, and they’re probably in the middle of some long, married-couple fight about socks. Merryweather used to be whiny when she got annoyed, and I bet she still is. But she’s a daughter of Celestials and a dryad. She could lift that wagon and carry it into the high places herself if she wanted too. Laeth stares at her, pleased, amused, and above all happy.
And I get Merryweather finally. She’s my sister and born of the blood, but she never mattered to the family like she matters to him. She matters as a member of the family, not too the family. So she’s leaving.
He starts doing something with straps and bolts on the side of the wagon. It’s a big, boxy thing, and their two elk are grazing nearby. She grabs Kog, who seems to be trying to lick rocks. I could stay and watch, but I feel like I should leave. They’re deciding to leave us, me, and that hurts a little.
I understand, but I’m sad. I only understand my sister now that she’s leaving.
Quiet as mist flowing across the ground, I head back into the forest and go home.