Dyraien said, “I want you to know that my mother would be very pleased with both of you. No matter what happens after this, you should both feel proud today. Together, we will accomplish something great. Together, we will change the world.”
THREE DAYS inched by, and Tahki helped prepare the castle for the installment of the conduit system. Dyraien said most of the parts would come preassembled, so all they’d need to do was secure everything in its proper place and it would be ready to test.
As he worked, he expected to feel confident, to feel victorious, but those feelings had only lasted a moment, and then they were gone. This should have been his golden moment. The moment he’d yearned for. The moment someone—not someone, but the Prince of Vatolokít—had acknowledged him as a brilliant architect. After weeks of stress and constant rejection, he’d come up with a solution. But his thoughts were stuck on Dyraien, the way his thirsty eyes moved over Tahki’s work. No one got that excited over a gift.
Still, he knew nothing for sure.
He visited Sornjia once, but his brother only spouted more nonsense about danger and black clouds and dark ravens. He wanted to mend things with Rye but didn’t want to force conversation. Tahki needed to be patient. If he’d learned anything over the last few weeks, it was that rushing things never helped.
When the day finally arrived to leave for Edgewater, Tahki felt better, like he had a goal to focus on again. After stuffing down a quick breakfast of apple cobbler and sweet cream, Tahki found Rye holding the reins of two gingoats outside the front door. Rye had avoided him since he’d approved the design but hadn’t protested traveling with Tahki, which gave him hope.
They mounted their goats and headed for the high road. Mudslides from the storm three days ago had blocked the lower trail, so they’d been forced to take a less traveled path that followed the river. A thin layer of clouds shadowed the sun, but the day still felt warm. He had missed the sun. Maybe not the intense heat of home, but the world looked better in the bright light of day. A few mothsnails even crawled out of holes in the sand.
The muddy path sucked and splattered as they tromped along. Tahki’s mount threw her head and snorted. He hadn’t ridden her in a while and forgot to lunge her this morning.
“Calm down, girl,” Tahki said. He yanked left on the reins. Usually Rye helped him when she acted up, but not this time.
Tahki relaxed his shoulders. “Easy, girl. Easy.” He petted her neck gently and she calmed. He noticed Rye glancing his way, but when Tahki looked up, Rye kicked his mount into a trot and sped ahead.
As they traveled farther, his gingoat grew restless again, agitated by something he couldn’t see. It was almost as though she sensed a predator nearby. Tahki fought with the reins, so immersed in his struggle with the beast he forgot about the Misty River, until spray dampened his skin and he looked up. The gingoat stopped ten paces from a wooden bridge.
The river thundered by. The dark bridge looked slick from the toiling white waters and only wide enough for one goat to cross at a time. If he threw a stick in the water, it would be carried down, all the way back under the castle, until it dropped a hundred feet over the waterfall.
Tahki tried to swallow but couldn’t. His mouth felt dry, and his breath left his body in ragged huffs. He had thought he could manage the river crossing, but he hadn’t expected the bridge to be so long, the river so dangerous. It wasn’t nearly this vicious by the castle.
When he looked up, he saw Rye had made it across already and was stopped on the other side, fiddling with his bag. Rye didn’t look back or try to make eye contact, but he was delaying, the same way he’d delayed the first day they’d met, on the hike to the castle.
Tahki needed to cross. He’d overcome worse these last few weeks. The bridge in his path was nothing. It might take him five seconds to cross if he ran. Five seconds, and they’d be on their way again. He took a breath and dismounted his gingoat. With her acting up, he didn’t want to be on her back while they crossed. He stepped toward the bridge, sliding his feet as though the ground was made of ice. Every inch closer drew out another bead of sweat across his forehead. The instinct to run throbbed through his legs. He tried not to think about the night he’d almost drowned, but the harder he pushed those memories from his mind, the stronger they appeared.
Another foot closer. River water splashed on his lips and he licked it away. Rye had made it across just fine. He could see his outline through the spray but couldn’t hear him over the howls of the river. He focused on bridge, now within reach. All he needed to do was reach out and grab it.
With one shaky hand, he grabbed for the railing, eyes focused on the dripping wood.
And then his gingoat reared. The reins tugged free, and the animal stumbled back. Tahki felt himself start to fall, but his hand flailed and grabbed the railing. He fumbled a moment and then found his balance. His heart pounded, eyes wide as he glanced into the river he’d almost fallen into. He breathed deep and then shoved away from the bank toward his gingoat. She pranced, fearful of him.
“Easy,” he said. She wouldn’t calm down. “Come on, girl.” He jerked forward and grabbed the reins before she could bolt. A breath escaped his lips, and he rubbed his face. After he composed himself and his mount, Tahki turned back toward the bridge.
He froze.
The black cat stood in front of the bridge, as real and clear and
