Folding the Sky

-29-

Zuri was at the base of the hill, the pile of old brick that was once the paper mill behind her and the dilapidated outskirts of Sinje in front of her, when she realized her mistake.

    After they'd leapt from the crumbling building, something had come over her, an unstoppable voice much like the one that had urged her to warn Sorin of Vernon's knife back in the mill. Amongst the ambush she'd had no time to think any of it through, and only now did it dawn on her—none of them had discussed where they were headed. Chike had just started running, Aldric slumped upon his shoulders, and everyone else had followed.

    Zuri trudged back to civilization, a brittle, tired ache setting into her bones, her mind foggy and rattled with the knowledge that she was both lost and alone.

    She dragged her tongue along her teeth, tasting sawdust. One thought cut through the mist: At least Sorin is alive.

    But what if that had been a mistake, too?   

    There'd been so much more she wanted to say to him, so much more she should have said. She wanted to tell him that it would be okay, that he didn't have to be alone if he didn't want to be. Of course he hadn't wanted to hear it. She knew people like Sorin, people made of all things shattered and broken and forgotten, and forgiveness was not in their blood.

    Hot sunlight blazed on the back of Zuri's neck and dotted her forehead with sweat. It had to be afternoon by now, or somewhere near it; the street in front of her was thinly-populated and sleepy, all cracked cobblestones and overgrown cottages, wrinkle-faced men and women sitting silently on their porches.

    Zuri exhaled, leaning back against the wall of the building nearest her. Had she really been gone that long? The other Celestials could be anywhere by now, including back at the warehouse all the way across town. She'd head back, she decided, maybe hitch a ride on the riverboats. She searched through the pockets of her linen shorts, now strung with soot and dirt, before she remembered with a grim sigh that she'd left her coin pouch at the warehouse. There'd been no reason to bring money—none of them had been planning to stay away very long, anyway.

    Zuri slid down to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. Just for a moment, this one, exhausting moment, she let herself think of home: the narrow yellow house in Naino, the smell of oil from her father's warm hands, the way moonlight slid through the curtains of her upstairs bedroom like liquid silver. She thought of before, before she'd been anyone. Before she'd mattered.

    "Shit," she muttered to herself, dropping her head against her knees, curls falling in a thick curtain around her face. "What am I even doing here?"

    "Wasting my time," said a voice. "Worrying the hell out of everyone. Getting dirt and gross floor germs all over the shorts I so kindly lent you. Need I go on?"

    Zuri lifted her head, blinking the glare from her eyes and looking up into the clearly annoyed face of Jem Okiro. "Jem," she gasped. "You—"

    "We've been looking everywhere," said Kalindi, stepping forward. Zuri thought absently that it was the most disheveled she'd ever seen the princess, her high-necked blouse torn and tattered, purplish bruises forming at her knees. "Where the hell have you been?"

    "I'm sorry," Zuri said as Jem helped her to her feet. "I...I can explain. I—"

    "Save it," Jem said, and though her tone wasn't exactly kind, the obvious relief on her face betrayed her. "You can explain it to all of us when we get back to the hospital."

    The hospital. "Oh," Zuri said, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Oh, no. Is Aldric okay?"

    Jem shrugged. "The doctors sewed him up and said it was a close call, but he should be fine. He was still passed out when we left to look for you. Chike's with him."