Giddon didn’t know what the ambles were, nor did he particularly care. Last night, they’d traveled to this house in Quona’s airship. How surreal it had been to float across the sky in a wooden ship attached to a balloon, with sails tacking and jibing like they did on water. So windy and cold, with sudden drops and climbs, as if the air was composed of invisible hills. When it had been time to land, one of Quona’s fliers had shot some sort of tiny anchor, attached to a line, into a net on Quona’s roof. A guard on the roof had disattached the anchor from the net, then attached a dock line to the anchor. The fliers had hauled the dock line up into the airship, then kept hauling on it to bring the airship down to the dock. It had been unlike anything Giddon had ever experienced. You would’ve hated it, Giddon thought to Bitterblue, suddenly furious that she’d missed the wonder of flying. She would’ve been amazed by it too. She would’ve asked a million questions, while clinging to Giddon and Hava and shrieking. She should have been allowed to have all those feelings.

Giddon could sense that his face had turned to marble. “Is it a long walk to the Keep?” he asked, trying to banish the anger from his tone.

“Perhaps an hour,” she said.

“We’ll walk,” said Hava, in a short, unfriendly voice.

“Shall I draw you a map?” she said.

“We have a map,” said Hava.

“If a fox were bonded to me,” said Quona, “I could ask that fox to direct you there.”

“We have a map,” Hava repeated sharply.

“I understand,” said Quona, an innocuous comment that nonetheless caused Hava to stand up and stalk from the room. The cat that had been lying on Giddon’s foot stirred, then moved away, leaving him feeling untethered.

“I’m sorry,” Giddon said weakly. “She’s very upset.”

“Of course she is,” said Quona. “Aggression is a natural tactic in her situation, if ineffective. And how are you feeling this morning? I understand that you were in the water yesterday for a very long time.”

“I’m fine,” said Giddon, who didn’t want to remember.

“Are you one of those people who pretends to be stronger than he is?” said Quona. “That’s a reasonable tactic too, of course. One must choose a path, then stick to it.”

Punctured, Giddon spent a moment carefully folding his napkin. He blinked, baffled by his new inability to control his tears.

You are not pretending, Bitterblue told him. You are strong.

You don’t see inside me. You don’t see my small, mean thoughts.

I am inside you, silly, she told him.

—

“I hate this place,” said Hava as they walked to the Keep. “And I hate her.”