Page 81 of All the Wandering Light

Suddenly, I felt very small. I realized, perhaps for the first time, how ancient this conflict was, how much stranger than I had imagined. “Can we stop it?”

“I don’t know.” River rubbed his head. To my surprise, he looked as if he shared my thoughts. “The apparitions began appearing the day the binding spell shattered. But if Esha is defeated, if this goes no further—perhaps. Esha will strike the Three Cities eventually, even though they’re outnumbered. He’s foolish enough for that. It’s just a matter of when.”

I noticed his use of the word “they,” and wondered if he was aware of how he switched back and forth. “You wish I hadn’t come here, don’t you?”

He looked surprised. “I wish neither of us had.” His voice was quiet and honest. “I wish we were both far away, beside a campfire under the stars. But there’s nothing to be gained from wishing.”

I was taken aback. How many times had I thought the same thing, even after learning what River was? His words painted a picture that made me ache.

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I used to wish for a way to escape Azmiri. I used to lie awake at night, imagining what it could be like.”

He smiled at that. “And is this what you imagined?”

I laughed, surprising myself. “Not exactly.”

River’s hand moved. For one dizzying moment, I thought he was about to brush the hair from my face. But then he seemed to catch himself, the hand drifting to rest on the windowsill. I had gone still, my eyes resting on his. It was impossible not to recall that we had shared the same thoughts.

I took a step back. “I should find Tem.”

River nodded. He searched my face, his brow furrowed, and then he turned away. “He’s probably in the libraries. He spent all of yesterday evening there.”

I groaned. Tem would be beside himself over a library so large it was spoken of in the plural.

“I can take you there,” River said, his expression brightening.

I nodded, though part of me regretted my suggestion. I wondered if being around River would ever be straightforward, or if it would always feel like navigating a labyrinth.

River led me out of his rooms and down a staircase that led to a grand, colonnaded walkway. The city lay to our right, shimmering with a fine mist.

We were not stopped once. River called out greetings to each armoured guard we passed, and they answered easily, often with smiles or jokes. He must have trod these corridors dozens of times, and while it was clear his presence was unanticipated, the guards didn’t seemed surprised by it. The Royal Explorer, I recognized, was accustomed to coming and going as he pleased, and the guards were used to his returning unannounced from some treacherous expedition or other. More than one called out a question about his mission, which River smoothly evaded. He was good at lying, and even better at sidestepping.

“I’m beginning to understand how you fooled the emperor for so long,” I muttered, after leaving behind a guard who had gone so far as to clap River on the shoulder.

He flashed me a smile. He was enjoying himself as usual, as if this was all a game. “Would you prefer it if they attacked us?”

I gave him a look. To my eyes, River, radiating magic as he was, could not look more like a witch. And yet—I squinted. If you didn’t look too closely, if you ignored the way the shadows at his feet moved, as if of their own volition, if you looked at him without expecting to see anything otherworldly . . . perhaps most people wouldn’t notice. The guards certainly didn’t, and none of the courtiers we passed did more than bow respectfully.

“How does that feel?” I said.

He glanced at me. “I’ve been the Royal Explorer for over three years. I’m quite used to people bowing to me.”

“Even people you tried to destroy?” I said evenly.

River gave me a vaguely puzzled look. “I had no particular wish to destroy them. All I wanted was to break the binding spell.”

I was exasperated. “And you didn’t think beyond that?”

“Not really.” A defensive note entered his voice. “Why should I? Do I owe something to the Empire? To the emperor who stole our magic?”

“No.” I thought of what Mingma had said about witches valuing fairness. “But you owe something to me. Is that why you saved my life?”

“I’m not sure I owe you anything. You may have helped me reach the summit of Raksha, but you also tried to kill me there. Have you forgotten that part? I haven’t.”

“Given the circumstances, I don’t think you can blame me,” I muttered. “But it’s good to know you don’t regret anything.”

“I don’t.”

“Fine.”