Page 172 of Starside

“No.” Raker’s voice is absolute. I turn slowly to face him. He doesn’t even look at me. More whispers from the group. Now mostly directed at Raker, who must look like a demon to them in his armor and hood, magnificent sword at his back.

“You are welcome to join us in our search,” the man says, motioning toward the group. “We’re just about to take off again. The more time we’re traveling, the better,” he says, smiling.

I can almost sense Raker about to refuse. My hand clutches his arm. I feel him tense completely.

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much.”

The man nods. “Take a serving, if you would like,” he says, motioning toward the roasting meat. “There’s plenty to go around.”

A few others get to their feet and start cutting some slices off, eager to offer them to us. I think of Stormside, where no one eagerly gives anyone anything. Starving people rarely share. But immortals … they don’t really need food the way we do. It’s an indulgence.

It’s a welcome departure, I think, for them to be so focused on the light around my neck and not the fact that we are human. Though some in the group look more eager to have us join them than others.

A plate is presented to me, and I smile, taking it with thanks, before retreating back to where Raker still stands at the edge of the clearing. Immortal hearing is superior to ours. I wait until the conversation picks up again to whisper, “I really think we should travel with them. Until we get out of the forest, at least.”

“Of course you do,” he says, his voice as grating as ever.

My eyes narrow at him. “The gods are after us. There is a bounty on our heads. With them … we’ll blend in,” I say, meaning more me than him, since I don’t think Raker blends in anywhere. “Plus, it seems like they know their way around these woods. We’ve been lucky so far, but we don’t know what other dangers we might come across.”

Raker doesn’t say a word. He just shakes his head as he walks past me, likely off to go sharpen his blade or some other very him thing to do.

“You didn’t take your plate!” I yell at his back, but clearly he doesn’t care. Fine. More for me.

I sit down on a large rock, eating the spice-coated meat, groaning as the salt hits my tongue. Flavor hasn’t been a priority for many years now. But I remember a time when food tasted good, even on Stormside. When my mother had a collection of spices, passed down through generations, said to have been from here. I always thought it was a myth, or a lie, but tasting this food …

It tastes like that.

“You’re human,” someone says. I look up to see a woman with light skin and pink cheeks peering down at me. All immortals look young, but she looks especially so, maybe even younger than me.

I blink, feigning shock. “I am?”

That earns me a wide smile. Her teeth are glimmering white, just like the rest of them. “I didn’t know humans could be funny.”

I snort. “Funnier than immortals, I would think, given our constant edge toward mortality.”

She seems to consider that. “What is it like? Knowing you’ll die so soon after birth?”

I smile between bites of meat. “For us, it doesn’t feel short.” I shrug. “What’s it like knowing you’ll likely live centuries? Millennia?”

Her lips purse. “It’s terrifying.” In a flash, she pinches my arm, and I gasp. She nods. “Your skin is softer than ours. Less smooth, less durable. But we too can die, especially at the other end of a blade like that …” She looks at the hilt of my sword.

“Is dying common?” I ask.

“During war, it is,” she says, sitting down next to me. “But during relative peace … communities typically stick to themselves. Everyone is so cautious. So afraid of another war. So afraid of the gods and their wrath …” She turns to me. Her heart-shaped face is covered in freckles. Her hair is the color of hay. “That’s why I left. I ran away and joined this group. Because I hear in the Traveling City, there is nothing to fear. Death rarely happens there.”

I think about Este and that she lost her mother. Now I wonder how. I want to tell this immortal that death happens everywhere, but I keep quiet.

“I’m Daphne,” she says. “Do you have a name?”

I scoff at the fact that she thinks humans might not. “Of course. Aris.”

Her eyes narrow. “That sounds like a name from here,” she says.

I grit my teeth, wanting to remind her that our lands didn’t used to be divided. The gates didn’t always exist. Humans and immortals lived together once, all beneath the gods.

Instead, I just offer a tight smile.

There’s clamoring as everyone stands. Pots and blankets are packed up. Daphne turns to me. “Watch,” she says, excitedly. “He’s about to choose the next leader.”