Page 51 of Starside

“Our first vote then,” Zane says, still sounding wary. “Path of relative safety … or the Beast Tree?”

“Beast Tree,” Kira says immediately. She looks up, staring at a crop of bright blue birds that soar overhead. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to fly.”

I’ve never had that desire. But I also don’t see how it’s possible to survive this deadly landscape on foot. “Beast Tree.”

Zane nods. “Not that it matters, but we’re all in agreement.” He outstretches a hand toward the parchment in my grip. “May I?”

My first instinct is to hold the map tighter, just like I hold everything—in fear that it will be ripped away from me, like everything I’ve ever cared about.

But we’re a team now. I slowly hand it over.

Zane gives me a reassuring smile, as if sensing my hesitance, and then pours over the illustrations. “It’ll take at least a few days to get there,” Zane says, using the miles we’ve already crossed as a reference.

Kira bites the inside of her mouth. “Where are we going to sleep? Was that creep telling the truth about night?”

All of us look at the sun, steadily moving, counting down our hours of safety outdoors.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.” Zane points at the map. “Here. This road. If we can find it, it should lead right to this village.” Westwere. “There could be an inn. Food, maybe.”

Kira snorts. “And what? We’ll rely on the charity of the immortals who tried to just use us for anatomy lessons?”

“No,” I say, reaching into my pack and bringing out my coveted gold coin. The amalgamation of everything I’ve ever sold, all melded into this one small piece of metal. “We’ll use this.”

A slow smile spreads across Kira’s face. “And here I was, thinking you were just a pretty, blood-spattered face.” She looks over at Zane. “How about you, Sterling? Is that pack full of coins?”

Zane’s eyes find the ground as he leads the way toward the path. “No” is all he says.

“Why not?” Kira demands, clearly not getting—or caring—that Zane doesn’t want to talk about it.

His jaw tenses. “All the silver is kept under lock and key. I left in the middle of the night.”

Kira’s eyes widen. “Without telling anyone?”

“Just one person,” he says. Then he strides forward, outwalking this conversation.

Kira looks at me, shaking her head in disbelief. She lets out a low whistle. “Great House heir leaving for the quest, with just his weapon on his back, and a few provisions …” She purses her lips. “That’s the type of thing people write songs about.”

It’s true. Minstrels pass through villages, singing legends, charging scraps of metal to hear them. They’re the keepers of the stories that were drained from our texts.

They only came near Nightfell once, and I scavenged for weeks to save up enough to listen. I did, for hours, in pure fascination.

Until the stories turned to the heroism of the gods, and then I stood and left.

The road is easy enough to find … and empty. It’s made of ancient sparkling cobblestone, grass growing between the mismatched squares, cutting right through the forest like a blade.

“I would think more people would use this road,” Kira says, squinting into the distance. We hear nothing. No sound of an approaching wagon. No footsteps.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be on it,” I murmur, studying the stones for wear. I find almost none. All the cracks are covered by overgrowth. There are flowers sprouting right in the middle of the road, in between stones. I reach down and gently rub the soft petals through my fingers, chest tight.

They would have been run over if this road was used often. They wouldn’t have grown in the first place. I stand. “I think we should—”

A hush falls, like the forest is whispering. Then we hear the familiar sound of clanking metal. I reach back for my sword just as an immortal in gleaming armor steps onto the path.

He’s wearing a mask. It’s made of a sheet of gold, completely covering his face, etched in intricate designs I can’t make out.

With it … he almost looks faceless.

My hand stills on the hilt of my weapon.