“I wish to clarify one thing. My friend told me that I would receive another two gold coins once you were delivered safely to Comman Dur. Does that mean you won’t require an escort back to Dunmire?”

“That’s correct.”

“Meaning you plan to remain at the prison for an extended period of time?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Ahh, I get it. You do not wish to reveal your purpose for visiting the kingdom’s most notorious prison nor the path you will take afterward. Fair enough.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Then let’s get moving, shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

Twenty-Eight

Ludo

Lostwood, North of Dunmire, Finfalla

He’d spotted her angling northeast toward Dunmire. Not following her had required effort, a purposeful turning of his head toward the wall of endless forest standing before him like an impenetrable fortress. What fate Lostwood held for him couldn’t be foreseen, not even by the Daughters of Ereniel.

Would it be the end of something or the beginning?

Perhaps both, he thought wryly, reshouldering his pack and striding under the thick nest of shadows cast by the towering trees. As it had the last time he’d entered Lostwood, a sudden and all-encompassing sense of calm surrounded him, as though the foliage exuded some invisible substance that he’d breathed into his lungs. He felt strong and capable, more than usual anyway. It felt like, well…

Like he was coming home.

Or it was all in his head, some subconscious way of filling a gap he didn’t know needed to be filled. Because nowhere had ever really felt like home. Not Last Dawn. None of the scattered villages and towns he’d passed through as he’d struck out on his own. Certainly not Nal Eston, though, strangely, he had more fond memories of The Wilds than any other place he’d visited. And not Marchessault, which had felt more foreign a place than he suspected anywhere outside of Finfalla could ever feel.

I guess that makes me homeless, he thought, weaving his way around trees and thickets that seemed intent on blocking his path forward. No matter how at home he felt in the forest, it wasn’t like he could ever live here. That would be absurd. He could just picture himself, his beard down to his knees, necklaces made of pinecones and seeds strung about his throat.

He opened his mouth to share this vision of his possible future with Bryony, but then remembered he was alone. Stop it, he commanded himself. She wasn’t here and he needed to focus on his mission. This wasn’t about King Vedran’s command or the possible threat to Finfalla. This was all about Gado.

“Gado,” he said now. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you alone that night. I’m sorry for failing you. I know this won’t fix any of it, but it’s all I can do. Give you your justice.”