This isn’t the time or place for my heart to be deciding what it wants, but eventually, the time and place will arrive. I only hope my future self will know what to do, because right now, I am as lost as ever.

21

CALLEN

The sight of Rowan curled up against Ox’s shoulder should bother me. But we’re far from a home that may be falling to the sea with every passing hour as our prince gets sicker. We’re tired. Hungry. Far away from the brethren we are used to being surrounded by.

I look away from them and out the side of the train car.

Wind stings my eyes as I watch the landscape move by in a blur of greens, grays, and browns. Dawn breaks over the east. Pale waves of light, straw-like plants roll in the wind. Rows of churned dirt spotted with dried plants—farmland. We have gardens here and there on the Heliana, but the bulk of our fresh food comes from Vyrinterra. I’ve never seen so much farmland in my life. How many humans would this feed? The humans have controlled Balmora for generations, growing and spreading farther than we know.

Then again, as we pass more and more empty farmland, it strikes me that I haven’t seen anything green and growing, not even one field. Was summer not a fruitful season on Balmora? The land looked dark with water, so rain wasn’t their problem, unless they were getting too much of it.

Sethran wakes up. Keeping a careful hand on the side of the car to steady himself, he comes over next to me.

“So long as we’re moving east, this is our best shot at finding the cure fast,” he says. “How long do you suspect we’ve been on this?”

“Ten hours, maybe more.”

Sethran nods. “We stopped for a long while at what I guess was around twelfth bell. Still, we must be close to the cure.”

I eat the rest of my rations, chewing the stale bread slowly and letting the jam inside it roll on my tongue. I’m still hungry, but being on the train car has given us the rest we needed. Keeping my hand on the wall like Sethran did, I stretch my legs. Ox and Rowan have woken, too, the latter following suit and stretching. I go back over to Sethran. Being at my commander’s side is reassuring. And it beats being closer to the two of them.

Shifting, I press my face against one of the open slats, letting the wind rush over my face. If I close my eyes, I might believe I was flying. The pink sky overhead is dotted with birds. My heart rises, and I focus on one—yes! Not just birds. Gulls.

“Look,” I say. “Gulls don’t fly inland. We’re near water.”