She nodded, and I moved back, making space for us to comfortably rest. I held on to Scarlet’s hand, thinking of everything she’d just told me, of what she’d seen. If she kept remembering things, I wondered what the story would sound like if she told me again in a year. It was hard to imagine a memory like that growing, and it was even harder to imagine that she was the only one carrying it.

I wasn’t sure if she was right, if I tended to make things happen, but if Scarlet thought I could, then I was certainly willing to try.

Eleven

UNCLE REID HAD BEEN VERY serious when he’d said Etan would be my escort for the entirety of the trip. As I went to board the coach, he led me to the one behind it.

“They both only seat four, and you and Etan need to make your peace before we get there,” he instructed.

“But we have!”

He smiled. “Well, you need to make it better.”

I held his arm to climb in and sighed, thinking I could go a lifetime without a trip like the one I was about to face. Not a minute later, Etan lumbered in, shaking the entire carriage and forcing me to grip the windowsill as he settled beside me.

I gawked at him. “You are aware the seat across from me is vacant, and you can have it all to yourself, yes?”

He ticked his head up slightly, not looking at me as he spoke. “Riding backward makes me feel sick. Of course, you are free to move anytime you like.”

I sighed. “Actually, it makes me sick, too.”

He looked over at me, and it was strange to find we had something in common.

“My mother thought I was lying, making myself ill to get out of going back and forth to Keresken. Took her years to figure out I was telling the truth,” I admitted.

He smirked, almost unwillingly. “I liked to sit on my mother’s lap during rides as a child, and she loves facing backward. Likes knowing where she’s been. Seeing as Isoltens are constantly dabbling in new medicines, she tried so many different capsules made for traveling sicknesses, and even some sleeping solutions, but nothing worked. Eventually, I got big enough that I had to sit on my own, and everything was fine after that.”

With those stories shared, we lapsed into silence. It wasn’t necessarily a comfortable silence. I was aware of Etan’s breaths and his movements, aware of when he was watching me, as if he was still trying to piece me together. I thought maybe I’d earned his trust . . . perhaps I was wrong.

The first hour of our trip consisted of exactly four words. The carriage hit a rock and threw me sideways into him. Instinctively, he reached out to grab my arm and keep me from falling. I said, “Thank you” and he said, “You’re welcome.”