Kaida
Two nights.
Two nights of trying to sleep in a lurching carriage, listening to the dull thud of the horses hooves, the creak of the wheels, the occasional low murmur of men’s voices outside, while reaching for the grey place with everything Caelum had told me — intention, not hope, not feeling, certainty — and finding nothing. Or not nothing. I found the direction of Jace both times, that warm particular pull of him somewhere behind us on the road, awake and moving, no dream to step into.
He wasn’t sleeping. He was riding.
On the third day I lay in the dim, shuttered room of yet another inn. The midday heat was oppressive, the small room was airless, and the boredom was excruciating. Maggie and I were tied with the silk cords again. Each day he seemed to find a creative new way t
