“It’s just . . .” I gaze around at the massive crowd of living and Dead partygoers as I search for words. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it one of your inventions?”
Valoria’s eyes shine. “Not exactly. I found an image in one of the old books I saved, and I had a tailor recreate it.” She smooths the jacket and stands taller with pride. “I believe it’s what the master inventors used to wear. It’s hard to be sure, seeing as I’ve only found evidence that three of them ever existed, but—”
“You mean four,” I cut in, tapping her on the shoulder and grinning.
“Four, then.” Valoria’s face turns pink. “And how are you enjoying the festivities?” She waves to someone across the courtyard, then returns her keen gaze to me. “There weren’t any writings on the Festival of Change that survived, at least not that I’ve found. So all this”—she spreads her arms to indicate the biggest feast I’ve ever witnessed—“was my design. If the Dead like this way of leaving our world, we’ll do it again next year, too, for any that weren’t ready this time.”
I shake my head. “When do you find time to sleep? Don’t you have the Festival of Evergreens to organize before next week? Not to mention your coronation before that.”
“You know us Wyldings.” Valoria laughs. “We love a good party.” The light in her face dims as she adds, “But all good things must end, yes?” She gazes to our left, where Jax is organizing shrouded figures into a group for their departure to the Deadlands. “Looks like they’re preparing for the grand farewell.”
The Dead have eaten their fill, and it’s almost time for me and my friends to guide them through the nearest gate. But before they go, their loved ones are presenting them each with a gift to take on the journey, to remind them of the world they’re leaving. A ruby-studded hair comb. A worn storybook. A toy raccoon.
Valoria thought about suggesting that the Dead give their living relatives each a gift as well, until Simeon pointed out that their presence in our world is a gift. They’ve all been here to shape Karthia, for better or worse, long after they should have earned their rest.
Valoria leads everyone in raising a glass, making a toast in honor of the fallen. As my eyes mist over, someone taps my shoulder.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Meredy murmurs in my ear. “You seem to have a habit of disappearing on me at parties . . .” She slips her hand into mine.
I quickly pull away, grabbing a miniature berry tart from a passing tray as my insides ache with guilt.
Meredy frowns. “Something’s bothering you.”
I don’t meet her searching gaze. Instead, I shove the tart in my mouth and feign interest in the ceremony as more families step forward with gifts for their Dead, and my thoughts wander back a few hours.
Earlier in the evening, before the food came out, Valoria had people write down secrets on slips of paper and burn them in what she called the Fire of Letting Go. It didn’t make me feel any better to watch the words go up in flames.
I’m ready to retire.
Everyone else is making a place for themselves in this new Karthia, changing along with it. Valoria is a queen now, with inventions to dream up and festivals to plan, and new laws to write to protect the living and the Dead. Jax and Simeon are still partners, ready to decide with Valoria what their new role as necromancers will be. Danial is training with the queen’s guard, having found a talent with blades. And Meredy . . . she has her pick of security jobs anywhere in the country with Lysander, but she seems set on staying in Grenwyr. Near me.
Trouble is, I can’t picture myself here anymore. Evander’s not an easy partner to replace in any sense, and I’m not sure I ever want to return to the Deadlands after I guide our Dead safely home tonight. I’m hanging up my necromancer’s belt for good.
So tonight, once the festival is over, I’m booking myself passage on the Paradise. Kasmira told me she’s setting sail for uncharted waters at dawn, and I’ll be on board.
I guess that means I’m changing, too. Evander’s dream has become mine, and I’m ready to learn what lies beyond the walls we put up to shut out the rest of the world for so long.
But first, I owe a goodbye to Meredy, who’s still standing by my side after everything. “You’re right. Something is bothering me.” I nod to the garden archway. “Walk with me for a little while?”
She grabs a glass of amber liquid from a servant and drains half before responding. “There’s . . . something I need to tell you, too, come to think of it.”
She leans in, her face alarmingly close to mine, and I take a step back. There’s a wildness in her eyes that makes my heart beat double, and I realize I’m not ready to hear what’s about to spill from her lips. Especially not when all I want to say is goodbye.
Turning, I flag down the nearest tray of berry tarts, plucking the entire platter from the hands of a startled serving boy. “Thanks!” I call as I present it to Meredy, who looks paler than she did a moment ago.
“You have to try these, they’re excellent.” I grin to cover the hollowness of my words, and shove the tray at Meredy.
But her attention has roamed elsewhere, lost in the heart of the crowd.
All around us, people are finally letting their Dead go. Listening to them, I should understand the language of farewell. I should be able to say a proper goodbye to Valoria, Jax, and Simeon—to Meredy—rather than slipping away in the dead of night. But maybe I don’t understand farewells because that’s not what they’re really saying—their murmurs and embraces seem to mean, “See you later.”
And that’s just what I’ll say to Karthia and everyone I’ve come to love here.
But for now, it’s time for one last job. Time to lead the Dead home.
XXXIII
The palace is too quiet this late at night, even with the many preparations being made for Valoria’s coronation. I put a borrowed bag of Jax’s on my bed, one he’ll never realize I snuck from his disaster of a room, and stare hard at it as I try to figure out what to pack.
There isn’t much time. Kasmira isn’t expecting me, so she won’t wait, and judging by the deep indigo of the starry sky and the utter silence around me, I’ve only got a few hours to slip away unnoticed before the pale gray of predawn wakes the first palace inhabitants.
I toss Master Cymbre’s book into my bag. It’s the only place where she recorded her thoughts, leaving little imprints of herself across the pages, and I like that I can take her with me wherever I go next.
But I can’t take the rest of my friends along, so that leaves my sword, some clothes, and a bunch of jewelry I probably won’t need.
I pull a teardrop-shaped emerald pendant apart from the rest. It’s cold and heavy and sharp against my skin, a perfect farewell gift for Meredy. But how would she react? She’d probably dismiss the gesture as romantic, and I can’t tell her she’s wrong when I don’t even know what it means.