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i
After nearly a year, Heart is a city frozen in time. The streets are still and silent, wilderness already creeping in around the edges through cracked walls and shattered windows. Only statues populate the mist-shrouded structures, the tribe’s few survivors long since fled to Tail and Talon and Spine.
Not Fang. Never Fang.
As Namaari pads through the petrified city, she almost enjoys the privacy. Back home, personal space is a rare luxury. Fang is filled to bursting, their people packed in behind the shield of the canal. It’s stifling, even for Namaari. Especially for Namaari. She is responsible for their suffering twice over, first as their future chief and second as...
She stops in her tracks, gaze riveted to a cluster of stone citizens in the middle of the street. They must have been fleeing when they were caught by the Druun, but now they stand perfectly still; backs straight, heads bowed, hands cupped before them.
Namaari doesn’t know what she was thinking. This place is just as stifling as her home, just as crowded. Its people may not move, may not speak, but their presence fills the air all the same, as thick and oppressive as the fog that surrounds her. It curls over her skin, dampens her hair, whispers in her ear.
You are not welcome here.
The teenager shivers, then shakes herself, huffing a short sigh through her nose. With a final glance over one shoulder, Namaari picks up her pace, the mist cooling her cheeks as she breaks into a light jog. This place may not like her, but it’s a leader’s duty to learn from her failures... even if the failure wasn’t all hers. Namaari’s not sure what she’s going to learn here, but she’ll know it when she—
Something cannons into Namaari’s side, bowling her off her feet. One shoulder and half her face scrape the ground as she tumbles, barely managing to turn her fall into a clumsy roll. When she comes up, she’s met by a sword. Cursing her distraction, Namaari drags her gaze up the blade and the arms that hold it to take in her assailant.
It takes too long to recognize her. The hair is longer, freed from its old ties to fall in a tangled cloud. The face is only half familiar, aged years in the months since Namaari last laid eyes upon it. But what truly gives her pause is the other girl’s expression, the look of sheer hatred that burns through Namaari’s eyes and straight to her heart.
“Raya,” she breathes. “You’re alive.”
“Disappointed?” Raya sneers. “What are you doing here, binturi? Come to gloat?”
“No!” When Namaari tries to sit up, Raya’s sword twitches a warning. She freezes, the sinuous weapon striking a faint chord of recognition. It’s much too big for the other girl, clearly made for someone older, larger...
Oh.
“I—” she starts, only to cut herself off when the blade begins to tremble. Raya’s hands are shaking, her lips peeled back as she hisses through her teeth.
“Were you looking for me?” she demands. “Here to finish the job? Why not?” she half cries, half laughs. “You’ve already taken everything else.”
“Raya, I’m—”
“And not just from me!” the other girl goes on, slashing the air in a mocking flourish. “Nooo, that wasn’t enough for you! Your bodoh tribe just had to ruin things for the rest of us! First you broke Kumandra, then you broke the Dragon Gem—”
Namaari is suddenly on her feet, blood boiling in her veins. She is so tired of her people taking the weight of everyone else’s mistakes—for her mistakes. “It’s not like we did any of that alone,” she snarls. “Your tribe was the one hoarding the Gem, lording it over the rest of us. Toi, did you seriously think any of the others were there to make nice? To hold hands and sing songs? Grow up, Raya! They were all after the Dragon Gem; I was just the one who got there first.”
“And remind me, how did you do that?” Raya lets out a bitter snort. “I trusted you, Namaari.”
For a split second, her mask flickers, and Namaari sees a younger Raya, bright and eager and too open for her own good. Then the moment passes and the scowl snaps back into place, hope swallowed whole by shame and anger. The other girl has grown up quickly, Namaari realizes. No, she was forced to.
Fang’s future chief feels a spasm of disgust, her lips curling into an ugly grin. “Yeah,” she mutters. “Big mistake.”
With a strangled cry, the other girl lunges, blade slashing down. Namaari draws her knives as she dances aside, surprised at how easily she avoids Raya’s wild swipes. The sword splits and extends, whipping through the air, but Raya is not her father, and the strikes are simple to evade. Any skill she might have had is swamped by her rage, her face wet with more than mist.
Namaari could strike back, probably even take her down. Instead, she gives ground, parrying on the rare occasion that the clumsy flailing comes anywhere near her.
“Raya,” she murmurs, the hard edge falling from her voice. She feels... she feels too much, all at once. The guilt is a familiar ache, a stone in her gut that’s been there for months. The anger is right beside it, hot and defensive and always ready to pour up her throat. But now there’s Raya, and all the emotions she brings with her. Fear and grief and even a spark of joy at seeing the other girl alive and...
Not well, obviously. Whatever Namaari feels, it’s nothing compared to the storm within Raya.
“Fight back!” spits the other girl. “Fight me! I know you never cared about me, so just stop pretending!” Once so wide and earnest, her eyes are now rimmed red, swollen and shiny with tears. The end of her father’s sword rebounds off a wall, nearly catching her hair, and Raya gives a final shriek of frustration before dropping to her knees.
“Why are you here,” she gasps, weapon clattering onto the street. “Why can't you just—” Her shoulders shake. “Just leave me alone!”
There’s something curdling in Namaari’s chest, a horrible, sick sensation. She hates it almost as much as she hates—
She shakes her head and takes a step back, a step away from where Raya is doubled over, sobbing at the ground. Leave me alone, she hears, the cry bouncing off the walls of her skull. You’ve already taken everything, Raya’s voice accuses. What are you doing here? She takes another step back, but the sick feeling is as strong as ever. So she takes another, another, another...
When she finally breaks and runs, Raya doesn’t even seem to notice.
ii
Months later, Fang starts receiving reports from their scouts. Reports of a lone rider that doesn’t take kindly to being stopped or followed. Things rarely come to violence, but wherever their paths cross, the scouts are struck with small inconveniences. Supplies go missing. Gear falls apart. Mounts are led astray by catnip.
Fang soon learns to give Raya a wide berth.
These reports amuse Namaari more than they probably should. But they also let her trace the other girl’s travels, a meandering course that roves back and forth across Heart, Talon, Spine, and Tail. It takes her the better part of a year to realize the pattern, but when she does...
.
<~.~.~~
.
“Chief Virana.” Namaari salutes as she approaches the Fang chieftain, her fingers formed into a ring before her chest. “I’d like to accompany the upcoming trading convoy to Talon.”
One elegant brow arches in surprise. “Why?” asks her mother. “We’ve had no issues with our arrangement so far.”
Few are willing to trade with Fang after Namaari—after the shattering of the Dragon Gem. Talon is a rare exception, though that’s nothing to be proud of. They’ll trade with anyone, and even they still charge a hefty “convenience fee” for dealing with a bunch of no-good binturis.
Namaari despises them. Them and everyone else who stormed the Gem’s cave and stole its shards and then acted like their hands were spotless. Everyone who shunned and sneered at her people when they well know the blame lies on—
“Namaari?”
The chief’s voice draws her back to the present, where she’s apparently been scowling at thin air for several seconds. “Sorry, Mother. I... I should be acquainted with all our efforts,” she rushes to explain. “If I am to lead our people, shouldn’t I know exactly how their needs are met?”
“Mm.’ Chief Virana’s hum is a little too knowing for her daughter’s comfort. “True,” she allows. “You are growing up, my little morning mist.” A pause. “And I’m sure this has nothing to do with the... nuisance our scouts have encountered in the area.”
Namaari manages to hide her wince. “I can investigate, if that is your command.”
Her mother gives her a solemn look. “Guilt should not be ignored,” she says, reaching out to lay a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “But you know our tribe survives on a knife’s edge. We must make—”
“Smart decisions,” they say in unison. We’ve already made enough stupid ones to last a lifetime, Namaari reflects, a sentiment mirrored by every new line in her mother’s face. “I live to serve the tribe,” she says, meaning every word. “Please, Mother. I won't let you down.”
“Very well,” the chieftain chuckles. As Namaari beams, her mother’s expression sobers, hand shifting to cup her cheek. “Come back safely,” she orders. “And do try not to cause an intertribal incident.”
“Yes, Chief Virana.”
.
<~.~.~~
.
Namaari vaults over a rickshaw with a grunt, eyes trained on the cloaked figure a few steps ahead. Raya tosses a glare over one shoulder, but doesn’t break stride as she flees down the aisle of stalls.
With Namaari hot on her heels, she reaches the end of the boardwalk, where a passing catamaran provides a convenient stepping stone to the next platform. Raya dodges past a line of pushcarts, then slips into the crowd, just as graceful as Namaari remembers. Or maybe even more. Raya’s legs have gained several inches since they last met, and she’s putting all of them to good use.
The pursuit takes them over rattling rooftops and across swaying poles, from the unpleasant stench of the fish market to the... slightly less unpleasant stench of the perfume district. Raya leaps over canals and swings under hanging walkways, but Namaari matches her leap for leap, swing for swing, no obstacle too extreme.
She’s long since left behind the trading party she arrived with. None of them could keep up, and Namaari isn't about to let Raya get away. Not this time. She... she owes her that much.
Besides, she hasn’t stretched her legs like this in ages. As she chases Raya across the length of the floating market city, Namaari can't help but grin, the burn in her legs chasing away the bleak thoughts that have filled her mind for what feels like forever. It’s not what she expected when she tracked Raya to Talon, but the pursuit is almost refreshing, a blend of freedom and focus as refreshing as a rare mouthful of fresh water.
Even more shocking is the fact that Raya seems just as amused. The glimpses Namaari catches of her face show Raya almost smiling; eyes bright, lips quirking up at the corners. Still a long way from happy, but no longer the tortured girl she was a year ago. Now she just looks... driven.
With a burst of speed, Namaari draws within arm’s reach of the other girl—just in time for a parade of farmers to step into their path. Half are holding chickens, the rest balancing baskets piled high with eggs. Wincing, Namaari glances at Raya, spying a matching grimace on her face as they barrel toward the hapless citizens.
She jumps, Raya slides, and the farmers... scream. Fresh eggs go flying, and the chickens make their best attempt to follow suit, flapping at their owners’ faces and letting loose with a chorus of panicked bawks.
“Sorry!” they call in unison, sharing a breathless laugh. They lock eyes, and for a split second, the past melts away.
Namaari can see the moment Raya remembers that she hates her, the other girl’s face slamming shut with all the force of a flash flood. They stumble to a stop at the end of the platform, and she snags Raya’s arm before she can slip away, tugging them into the alley between two ramshackle buildings.
“Let go,” she bites out. Namaari does, stepping back as far as their cramped surroundings allow. Her prompt surrender seems to take Raya by surprise, drawing a bemused blink from the other girl before her expression turns wary.
“What is it this time?” she groans, leaning against the warped wood at her back. “Sorry, I’m fresh out of tribes for you to betray.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” says Namaari. “I’m here on business.”
“Business, huh?” Raya snorts. “So, what does that make me?”
“A bonus.” Folding her arms, Namaari matches the other girl’s not-quite-relaxed stance. “You’ve been harassing our scouts.”
A muscle jumps in Raya’s cheek. She’s not as gaunt as the last time Namaari saw her, but the baby fat she lost isn't coming back, her face narrower, harder. It makes her look... different. Namaari wishes she could say “worse” and mean it. With a start, she realizes that Raya is taller than her now. No wonder she ran so fast.
A low laugh from the other girl makes her realize she’s been staring, and she snaps her gaze away as Raya speaks.
“You can't tell me they don’t deserve it,” she says, each word a knife. “Well, they deserve a lot more, but I’m a busy girl. I just don’t have the time to punish every Fang lowlife I—”
“Stop.” Namaari pushes off her wall, glaring into Raya’s widening eyes. Glaring up into Raya’s eyes. Ugh. “Stop taking it out on them,” she goes on, watching the other girl’s face harden. “They’re not the ones who tricked you. They're not the ones who broke the Gem.”
“No, that was you.” Raya’s head falls to one side, gaze sharpening. “But they are your people, aren’t they? And you destroyed my tribe, so... Seems only fair.”
Namaari growls through her teeth. This isn’t the Raya she remembers, but it’s the one she deserves. “They don’t know what you’re doing,” she grits out, “but I do.”
“And what do you think you know?”
“You’re searching for the end of the river.” Panic flashes across Raya’s eyes. “Chasing a fairy tale. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Namaari sneers. “You always were ready to believe anything.”
The other girl glares, but keeps her voice even. “So what?” she says. “If it’s just a story, then what’s the harm?”
“Oh, nothing,” agrees Namaari. “I couldn’t care less. But if you keep bothering our scouts, I might have to tell them what you’re up to. Bet that’ll slow down the search.” She pauses long enough for Raya to weigh her options. “Your problem is with me,” Namaari presses. “Come on, dep la, why don’t we keep it between friends?”
If she was an inch farther away, she wouldn’t have seen Raya flinch. The taller girl holds her gaze for a long moment before jerking her head aside, lower lip caught between her teeth. “Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll keep away from your people. As long as they don’t get in my way.”
“Good.” Namaari lets herself relax, which is a mistake. She blinks, and Raya is at the end of the alley, a step away from vanishing into the crowd. “Wait!” she calls. “We’re not done.”
“I am,” snaps Raya. When Namaari frowns, she just grins, slow and sharp. “You’re going to let me walk away,” she says, aiming a meaningful glance at the Talon townsfolk meandering past their alcove. “Or we’ll see how many of them have a problem with you too.”
Namaari feels her face pale, and bitter triumph twists Raya’s mouth as she takes another step away. “You were right, dep la,” she says, the title layered thick with sarcasm. “We should keep this between friends.”
iii
“This is your fault.”
“I’m not the one who led us over a waterfall!”
“No, just the one who chased me into a pack of Druun.”
“Not on purpose.” Namaari finishes squeezing the water out of her hair as she turns to Raya, resisting the urge to make a face. After an impromptu dip and several minutes of frantic doggy-paddling, she must look horrid enough already.
The other girl glowers back, her own locks in a limp mass around her face. “Why were you after me this time?” she sighs. “I’ve stayed away from your scouts—I keep my promises.”
Namaari rolls her eyes. “So do I,” she says. “We never finished our conversation in Talon.”
“That was years ago.”
“A year and a half,” Namaari objects. “And it’s not like you’re an easy girl to find.”
“You ever think that might be, I don’t know, on purpose?”
Namaari shrugs, and Raya throws up her hands. They’re back to the same height now, though Namaari is pleased to note that she outmuscles the other girl. Raya’s sodden clothes reveal a lithe frame, all lean strength and easy grace. The build of someone who eats enough to get by, but not much more. It’s something Namaari is noticing more and more often back home.
Not that she’s been noticing Raya. She’s just... evaluating her opponent. Right, in case Raya tries to make a run for it. It’s not likely, seeing as they’re on a tiny island surrounded by Druun, but she wouldn’t put it past her. Namaari can take a hint, after all. It’s pretty clear that Raya wants nothing to do with her. Not many people do, these days; Raya just has better reason than most. But the fact that the other girl hasn’t already taken a swan dive into the river gives Namaari the faintest flicker of hope that she might be allowed to say her piece.
Then, as she opens her mouth, a shiver of Raya’s shoulders makes her reconsider. “I’ll start a fire,” Namaari says instead, averting her eyes. “Should be enough fuel here to last the night at least. We can dry off, warm up a little.”
“I’m fine,” grumbles the other girl, then shivers again. “Just because you have something against sleeves doesn’t mean we’re both cold.”
“Sure.” Namaari ducks to hide her smile, disguising the motion by stooping to collect driftwood.
“I can take care of myself,” Raya insists, but doesn't move to stop her. “I was trained—”
“You were trained to test traps and sit in a cave,” says Namaari. “I was trained to live off the land, to lead explorers and armies across the Fang Lands and beyond.”
After a moment of silence, a soft snort reaches her ears.
“Well at least it hasn’t gone to your head.”
.
<~.~.~~
.
Later, once they’re facing off across crackling flames instead of damp sand, Namaari speaks.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she says, staring at the fire. The light stings her eyes, but it’s easier than looking at Raya. “The Gem, the Druun... your tribe. All we wanted was what you had. Food, prosperity, security. No one was supposed to get hurt.”
“The Gem didn’t do anything, Namaari.” She expected more venom, but Raya just sounds tired. “If you’d just listened to my father—”
“Then why were you guarding it?” Namaari is tired too. Tired of blame, of hypocrisy, of the world not making any sense. “If Heart really didn’t depend on the Dragon Gem, then why didn’t you just let us have it?”
“Seriously? It was my family’s duty to guard...” Raya trails off, and Namaari looks up to her shaking her head. “Why am I even—Namaari, what is this? What are you trying to do?”
Namaari squints at her, mouth ajar. “I’m apologizing!”
“That wasn't an apology.” Raya laughs bitterly. “That was just a bunch of excuses. Is this really why you’ve been chasing me for the last year?”
She pushes to her feet, and Raya mirrors her. “You have to know I didn’t want this!” She flings out an arm, gesturing to the world at large. “You of all people—”
Namaari clamps her mouth shut, but not fast enough. “Why me of all people?” Eyes narrowing, Raya paces around the fire, only stopping when her presence burns into Namaari’s side. “Namaari, why am I—why is this so important to you?”
She can feel Raya’s eyes on her cheek, but she doesn’t turn. “Because you understand,” she whispers, gazing down into the flames. “I know you do. Years ago, when I saw you back in Heart, I could tell... I could tell that you blame yourself as much as I do.”
Raya recoils. “I made a mistake,” she says. “You can't think that’s even close to what you did.”
“Of course I don’t,” snaps Namaari, finally meeting the other girl’s accusatory gaze. “But what I think doesn’t matter.”
She sees Raya sway back, her expression flickering. “I—I don’t blame myself!” she spits, recovering with a defiant step forward. “I blame you.”
“So do I!” They’re nose to nose now, close enough for Namaari to count the shades of brown in Raya’s eyes. “So does everyone else!” She reins herself in with a slow breath. “And maybe they’re right, but they’re not innocent either. I don’t care what the world thinks about me. But you...”
“You think I can forgive you?” The scorn in her voice hits Namaari like an elbow to the nose.
“No!” She doesn’t want that. She doesn’t deserve that. She just...
“I don’t think you can forgive me, Raya. How could you, when I can't even forgive me? I just thought... maybe, even just a little, you would understand.”
Raya says nothing.
Namaari’s face burns, her jaw creaking as she turns on one heel and stalks toward the edge of the island. It doesn’t take long, and when she reaches the waterline, she’s greeted by the shadowy shapes of the Druun on the opposite riverbank. They’re just another slap in the face, another reminder of what she’s done. Squeezing her eyes shut, she drops to the ground, arms hugging her knees and water lapping at her toes.
What did she expect? Raya is right: there’s no comparison between their mistakes. It may not have been Namaari’s hands that shattered the Dragon Gem, but she as good as placed it in the hands that did. She was so sure she was doing what was best for her people, and instead she ruined the world for them and everyone else in it. She’s had to live with that knowledge ever since, and no matter how much she curses the other tribes, no matter how many excuses she makes, in her heart of hearts Namaari can't blame anyone but herself.
She was so stupid to think Raya would understand. So arrogant to hope that a few clumsy words could convince Raya to do anything but despise her. How desperate was she, to project her own guilt onto Raya’s grief?
The crunch of sand signals the other girl’s approach. Namaari doesn’t shift from her ball of self-loathing, chin resting on her knees, eyes still firmly closed. The footsteps pause at her side, and she braces herself for whatever Raya feels she deserves.
“Maybe you’re not all wrong.” The words are barely audible, exhaled in a low sigh. The sand shifts as Raya sits, her arm a hair’s breadth from Namaari’s. “I mean, what was I thinking, taking you to the Dragon Gem? Our tribes were mortal enemies until, like, a day ago.” The sound she makes is too harsh to be called a laugh. “I was such an idiot as a kid.”
“You weren’t.” It comes out with more force than Namaari intends. “Never feel sorry for thinking the best of people. I’m the one who didn’t live up to it.”
Raya lets out a noncommittal hum. “No argument here,” she says. “I guess what I’m saying is, there’s plenty of blame to go around. You, me, the roomful of idiots right there with us.” Her wry tone startles an amused huff out of Namaari.
“I might never trust you,” Raya goes on. “And I definitely don’t like you.” That stings more than Namaari thought it would. “But maybe, just a little... I get it.”
Namaari feels her eyes burn beneath their lids, and spares a moment to be thankful that her face is cloaked in shadow. She doesn’t dare open her mouth, but her arms fall from around her legs, gone limp with relief. As her hands drop to the ground, one shoulder comes to rest against Raya’s, and Namaari stiffens until the other girl’s complete lack of reaction lets her breathe again.
Behind them, the fire dwindles. Before them, the Druun stalk through the darkness. But Raya is warm and steady at her side, and Namaari can't bring herself to move.
They sit there for a very long time.
iv
Namaari brushes aside a low-hanging branch as she rides into the clearing. Her serlot, Fon, lets out a curious mrowp as she dismounts, swinging down into the verdant undergrowth of her homeland.
While the big cat noses around the perimeter, Namaari waits. After almost an hour, she starts getting restless. She’s in the right spot, isn't she? This is where they—
A low rumbling draws her gaze to one side, and moments later, something big and round rolls into the clearing. Raya is perched atop the beast, and she stays in the saddle as it uncurls, four stumpy feet and a furry face poking out beneath the leathery shell. For a handful of seconds, she ignores Namaari, her eyes darting across the surrounding jungle.
“You came alone?”
Namaari spreads her arms. “Like I promised.”
Raya is blatantly unconvinced, keeping a hand on her sword as she slides off her mount and turns in a wary circle. The animal trundles off, distracted by a passing fluttershrew, and Namaari watches Fon stalk after it, her tail twitching through the air.
With an amused snort, she turns back to her guest. “Come on, give me a little credit. If I’d brought backup, you’d never see them coming.”
Strangely, Raya doesn’t look reassured. She spares Namaari a roll of her eyes, then spends several more minutes glaring pointedly into the jungle.
“All right,” she says at last. “Let’s move. Tuk Tuk!” she calls, and her beast romps out of the undergrowth, Namaari’s mount still sniffing at his heels. Sighing, she summons the serlot to her side with the time-honored call passed down by generations of Fang riders.
“Pspspspsps.”
As they set off, Namaari ventures a grin at her companion. “Nice hat.”
Raya spares her a flat look. “It does the job.”
“Keeps the sun off?”
“Hides my face.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “Have people been giving you trouble?”
The hat tips back, revealing a smile just this side of cocky. It really shouldn’t look as good as it does.
“Nothing I can't handle.”
.
<~.~.~~
.
There are plenty of rivers in Fang territory, and Namaari knows them all. With her leading the way, they reach their first stop within the hour. As Raya lays out her offerings, she finds a nice rock to perch on, watching the other girl kneel and raise her hands.
“Sisudatu—”
“You’re doing it wrong.”
“Shut up,” Raya hisses.
“You forgot the candles,” Namaari hops off her rock. “Back home, we always light a few when we address the dragons.”
“That makes zero sense,” scoffs the other girl. “Who ever heard of a fire dragon? It’s water all the way with them, and Sisu’s, like, the wateriest.” She cocks an eyebrow over one shoulder, the Duh implied. “Some superfan you are. Am I going to have to revoke your club membership?”
Namaari grins back. “You’re right, fire isn't their thing,” she agrees. “So, what better way to get their attention?”
“That’s... very Fang.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Raya doesn’t object when Namaari crouches to add a pair of candles to her makeshift shrine.
“Oh, mighty Sisu...”
Namaari steps back, giving Raya plenty of space as she attempts to contact the dragon. And maybe putting a tree between her and the ritual. If Sisu really does decide to show up, she might not be pleased to see the girl who broke the world she died saving.
It’s a moot point, anyway. Raya finishes her plea, and nothing happens. After a few more minutes of kneeling, she rises and slips on her shoes, taking the failure in stride. “All right,” she says, marching back to Tuk Tuk. “Where to next?”
.
<~.~.~~
.
“I’m telling you, there’s nothing here. I checked all these rivers when I was a kid. You know, when I still believed in bedtime stories.”
Raya studies her out the corner of her eye. “Can't hurt to double-check,” is all she says, turning back to her little altar.
“Whatever.” Namaari folds her arms as Raya addresses Sisu for the tenth time in half as many days. “You really think this is going to work?” she probes once the ritual has predictably failed. “How long are you going to keep searching?”
“It will work. I just... need to find the right river. I think. Ugh!” Raya groans so hard she almost drops her awful jackfruit jerky. “If I’m even doing this right, anyway. Is there something I’m missing?”
Namaari crouches at her side. “Well, Fang custom says—”
“I’ve had enough of Fang customs to last a lifetime, thanks.”
“You are in the Fang Lands,” Namaari points out, keeping her voice light. “And this whole search is based off a Fang legend.”
“Oh yeah?” Raya twists, nearly smacking their heads together. “Well, if you know so much, why was Heart entrusted with the Dragon Gem?” She smirks, the curl of her lips almost playful.
“Maybe you were just closest?” Raya glares. “All right, all right.” Namaari raises her hands. “You’re the expert, apparently.”
Raya starts to stand, then pauses with a sigh. “What were you going to say?”
Namaari smiles. “We usually have something to talk to. You know, like a statue or a painting. Something dragon-shaped, just to get the point across.”
“Like this?”
Namaari stares, speechless for a long moment. “You kept it.”
The pendant disappears back into Raya’s palm. “It’s not like I could throw it away,” she mumbles, the red on her cheeks not quite hidden in the shadow of her hat. “It’s a collector’s item.”
.
<~.~.~~
.
It takes months for them to pray at every river, stream, and tributary in the Fang Lands. None of them cough up a dragon. Raya’s disappointment is almost a physical thing, but she grits her teeth and starts making plans to move on.
When Namaari is asked the fastest route to Spine, she finally screws up the courage to offer an alternative.
“Come back with me,” she says, catching Raya’s hand between her own. “To Fang.”
“What?”
The tone isn't exactly encouraging, but Namaari presses on. “It’s safe in the capitol. Definitely safer than this... dragon quest.” They’ve had to dodge Druun far too many times in the past weeks. “I know you want to fix things, Raya, but you can't pin everything on a kid’s story.”
“I...” Raya’s face wavers. “It’s all I have.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Namaari steps closer, running a thumb over the other girl’s knuckles. “Mother will welcome you; she owes you that and more. We’re not your people, but we’d welcome them too, if any of them ever came.” She lifts a hand to Raya’s chin, tilting it up to meet her eyes. “The dragons are gone, Raya. There’s no magic solution to fix the world.”
Oh, but how she wishes there was. Part of her, the part that fell headlong into friendship with the dragon nerd in front of her, still wants to believe it’s true. But she’s older now, grown past hoping for ancient magic to solve all her problems. The last time she tried that, it sort of unleashed the apocalypse.
“I can't just give up!”
“But you can't keep chasing a f—a fantasy, either! Not forever.”
Raya gives her an incredulous look. “Like what you’re suggesting is any less of a fantasy. What would I even do in Fang?”
Even the hint of interest has Namaari’s heart humming. “We’ve been planning to update our defenses,” she states. “And I hear you know a thing or two about traps. You’re not a bad fighter, either; the army would be honored to have you.”
“Not bad?”
“You’ve gotten better at living off the land,” Namaari continues, ignoring Raya’s scoff. “You could probably lead scouting expeditions if you wanted. Maybe even reach out to the others who fled Heart. Plus, we have a whole vault of dragon lore; you’ll love it!” She can't help the smile creeping over her lips. “And if you don’t like any of that, we can find something else. You—”
Her breath catches at the touch of Raya’s hand on her cheek. “You’ve thought about this a lot,” she murmurs.
“I—It’s the least I can do,” mumbles Namaari, feeling her face warm. “I know nothing I do can ever make up for what I’ve already done, but I... I want to try. If you’ll let me.”
Raya’s eyes bore into hers, deep and dark. A wrinkle grows between her brows, and Namaari’s heart plummets.
“It’s stupid,” she blurts. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
The press of lips against hers knocks the wind from her lungs. Her eyes go wide, then flutter shut as Raya’s hand moves to cradle the back of her neck, the other girl’s form slotting into hers from hip to shoulder. The sounds of the jungle drop away, overwhelmed by Raya’s taste in her mouth, Raya’s scent in her nose.
When they part, it takes Namaari an eternity to remember how to talk. “That was...” She can't find the words to compare, her hand drifting to her buzzing lips. “Was that a yes?”
Raya leans back, one arm still looped around Namaari’s shoulders. “I don’t know,” she breathes, eyes wide and dark. “But it wasn’t a no.”
Namaari beams. “I can't wait to show you my home!” she laughs. “You’ll love it there; I just know it. This is going to change everything!”
Her delight blinds her to the look on Raya’s face. “What does that mean?”
“With you on our side, the other tribes can't possibly keep holding a grudge. We can open trade again, maybe even expand into the Heartlands—”
The loss of Raya’s warmth in her arms shocks Namaari into silence. “Is that what this is all about?” The other girl stumbles back, eyes afire. “I should have known,” she murmurs. “Stupid, Raya. It’s all happening again.”
“What? No!” Namaari reaches out, but her hand is frozen by Raya’s icy glare. “Dep la, please—”
“Don’t call me that!” Raya’s face screws up, her eyes shining wetly. “You never mean it.”
“I do.” It’s all Namaari can do to hold herself still, hands trembling with the urge to reach for Raya’s. “I meant it every time. Please, Raya, trust me—”
The laugh that tears from Raya’s lips is barely human. “Trust you? You can't be serious.”
“I’ve never lied to you,” pleads Namaari. “Please, I swear—”
“No, you just manipulated me. Used me.” Raya takes another step back, reaching out to steady herself against Tuk Tuk’s shell. “This isn't... You—I... I can't.” With a choked sound, she swings herself onto the beast’s saddle. “I can't trust you, Namaari.”
“Raya!” Namaari calls, breaking into a run toward her fleeing back. Don't let her run away, she commands herself. Not this time. Not again. She whistles for Fon, and the cat lopes up beside her, matching pace so she can grab hold. Vaulting onto her back, Namaari plunges after the sounds of Raya’s retreat, urging her mount through the trees until—
Druun. The inky clouds billow up before her, and Fon rears, hissing madly as she twists away from the monsters. Namaari’s blood goes cold as she cranes her neck, stretching desperately to peer past the Druun. Is that a statue she sees behind them?
“RAYA!” she roars, but more Druun block her path, blooming from the shadows until Fon has no choice but to retreat.
As they gallop back through the trees, back toward the home she and Raya will never share, Namaari feels her heart turn to stone.
v
“Come on!”
Namaari raises her swords, scowling down at the soldiers sprawled across the training field. The closest one tries to push herself upright, but her arm gives out halfway, dropping her into the dust with a groan. Teeth bared, Namaari turns away from her exhausted opponents, eyes narrowing at the squad of warriors drilling nearby.
“Who’s next?” she challenges. The men and women of the royal army shuffle their feet and avoid her eye.
“Namaari.”
She blinks, then salutes along with her tribesmen. “Chief Virana,” she greets.
“I think that’s enough for today,” muses her mother. “You’ve all earned a break.”
The royal army lets out a quiet chorus of relief, but Namaari feels her lips press into a thin line. “I’m not—”
“Walk with me.” The chieftain doesn’t wait before striding off. Namaari has to jog to catch up, sheathing her swords as she hurries after her.
“I don’t need a break, Mother.”
“You may not, but they certainly do.” Chief Virana nods back at the training ground. “You’ve been running them ragged all week.”
Namaari looks away. “I’ve been a little restless lately, that’s all.”
“You’ve been ‘restless’ for the past year,” her mother gently corrects. “When you’re not thrashing the guards, you’re off riding wild through the jungle or holed up in your room with that dragon scroll.” She draws to a halt, one hand settling on Namaari’s sweat-streaked shoulder. “What’s wrong, Namaari?”
“Mother, I’m fine,” Namaari insists, leaning into the touch. “Have I not been fulfilling my duties?”
“This is about you, not your duties,” retorts her mother. “A leader can't take care of her people if she doesn’t take care of herself.”
Namaari ducks away, hair falling to shield her face. “I live to serve the tribe,” she recites woodenly. “If our people are taken care of, so am I.”
The chieftain sighs. “Still so stubborn, my morning mist.” She pauses long enough for Namaari to look up. “I know about Benja’s daughter.”
Raya.
“Raya?” Namaari whispers, spine snapping straight. “What—what do you mean?”
“I know she is the one who was troubling our scouts—until, I assume, you convinced her to stop. I know after that, you followed her trail for years—”
“A year and a half,” Namaari mumbles automatically.
“And I know you and she were spending time together before this streak of melancholy.” Chief Virana pins her daughter with a gentle look. “Did you two have another falling-out?”
She doesn’t know, Namaari realizes. She’s speaking as if Raya isn't—
The pain that flashes across her features seems to be answer enough for her mother. “I see,” she hums, voice soft. Her arm wraps around Namaari’s shoulders, giving her a brief squeeze before they resume their stroll.
“I regret many things about my actions five years ago,” the chieftain says several minutes later. Her tone is conversational, but the words send Namaari’s head swinging toward her mother. They never talk about That Day, not so directly. References are made to past mistakes and lessons learned, but an actual conversation has always been... too much.
“We needed the Dragon Gem,” Chief Virana reflects, Namaari hanging on her every word. “Or at least we thought we did. Fang was starving, slowly but surely.”
Namaari gives a short nod. It’s true. The only reason they’re not starving today is that there are far fewer of them, and isn't that a bitter comfort.
“But now... I look at the Heartlands, and they are still richer than ours, even without the Gem’s magic. I can’t ignore the nagging thought that Benja was telling the truth. Maybe...” With a hiss, she shakes her head, silver fringe rippling through the air.
“I tell myself that I did what I thought was right, and sometimes I can even believe it.” She leans on her staff, sounding as weary as Namaari feels. “But I can never convince myself to excuse involving you. There were other ways for us to reach the Gem. Not as efficient, perhaps, but by now it’s clear that our thievery was doomed from the start.”
Namaari places a hand over her mother’s. “I agreed to it,” she reminds her. “To gaining Raya’s confidence, to... to exploiting her trust.”
“But I never should have asked.” Chief Virana’s face twists, the butt of her staff striking the path. “Oh, I thought it was a grand idea, a lesson for you and a victory for Fang all at once. But I look at what it’s done to you, and know that no lesson, no victory could be worth this.”
“I’m fine,” Namaari tries to reassure her, but this time even she can't bring herself to believe the words.
“You are in pain,” her mother states. “Carrying weight that should never have been yours to bear. The most alive I’ve seen you is when you were running after Benja’s girl.”
“That’s not...” Namaari sags, abandoning the feeble defense. “She made me think things could be better someday.”
“And they can,” intones the chieftain. “But we can't rely on others to make it so. Fang is alone now, and it needs a strong chief to lead it through these dark times. You need to find that spark within yourself, my daughter. Not me, not Raya. Because—”
Namaari forces herself to breathe, one palm rising to rest over her heart. “Because she’s never coming back.”
.
<~.~.~~
.
After that lovely little chat, Namaari can't stop thinking about Raya.
Honestly, it’s not that much of a change. The ache of the other girl’s absence is always lurking in the waters of her mind, ready to surface at the slightest trigger.
So, a few weeks later, when she wakes up in the middle of the night and sees Raya standing in her room, Namaari takes it in stride.
“Thought I was done with these dreams,” she mumbles, propping herself up on her elbows. The dream-Raya flinches, her stance gaining a decidedly guilty air, which is... unusual. These nighttime visions usually go one of two ways; either Raya throws Namaari’s sins in her face, or she throws herself, tumbling into the bed for a far more pleasant encounter. Occasionally, it’s both at once, which leaves Namaari very confused the morning after.
Anyway, tiptoeing over to the desk in the corner is a new one. Bemused, Namaari watches with sleepy eyes as Raya shoves something into her cloak, then backs toward the window, gaze never leaving the girl in the bed.
A step away from the windowsill, her heel catches a seam in the floor. With a yelp, she stumbles, nearly tripping to her death before catching herself against the wall. “Toi,” she swears, and Namaari sits bolt upright.
“Raya?” She’s really... real.
With a groan, Raya tips back her hat, meeting Namaari’s eye with a cool stare. “Namaari,” she greets.
“You’re alive.” Namaari cocks her head. “Again.”
“Sure looks like it,” the other girl sighs.
“How did you...” Namaari swallows. “How are you not...” It hurts too much to even voice the possibility.
For just a moment, Raya’s cold eyes soften. “I told you I could take care of myself.”
“Against Druun? No one can—” She cuts herself off as understanding strikes. “You have Heart’s piece of the Dragon Gem.”
Raya’s eyes flash. “They’re all Heart’s pieces.”
As the fog of sleep fades from Namaari’s mind, she finds relief giving way to anger. “It’s been a year,” she hisses. “You were fine the whole time and you never—”
“It was none of your business,” Raya retorts, face as hard as the stone she let Namaari believe she was.
“None of my...” She feels her cheeks burn with disbelief. “After you—”
For an instant, the stony mask flickers. “That was a mistake, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Namaari echoes, fists balling at her sides. “Fine. Fine. And I guess the scroll you just stole is none of my business either.”
Raya hitches one shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Namaari takes a step closer, and Raya presses herself against the windowsill. Namaari stops. “Is—is the dragon scroll really all you're here for?”
“What else?”
The flat tone takes the last wisp of wind out of her sails. Raya’s clearly made up her mind: nothing Namaari says will matter. Her mother was right, she realizes. She can't keep using Raya as a crutch—especially when that crutch seems set on kicking her legs out from under her.
When she doesn’t respond, the other girl swings a leg out the window, her father’s sword extending like a grappling hook. She tosses a final glance over her shoulder, face painted silver by the moonlight.
“You want your scroll back?” she challenges. “Come and get it.”
.
<~.~.~~
.
“Remember what we discussed.”
Namaari tightens her saddle with a little more force than necessary, drawing a hiss of protest from Fon. “I remember, Mother,” she says, soothing the cat with an apologetic scratch.
“Do you?”
“She took what’s ours,” Namaari states. “We can't let that stand.”
The chief makes a noise that could mean anything. “Is this about what was stolen, or who—”
Namaari’s head snaps up, something in her expression startling her mother into silence. “No,” she growls. “I’m done chasing after her.”
Chief Virana nods slowly. “I see,” she says, watching her daughter swing onto Fon’s back. After a moment, her eyes slide to the small group of scouts readying their own mounts. “You’re not going alone this time?”
“Haven’t you heard? It’s dangerous out there.” Namaari cracks a grim smile. “And she’s not slipping away again.”
Her mother purses her lips. “Then I suppose you have my blessing. Be safe, my daughter.”
“Yes, Chief Virana.”
As she rides toward the border, Namaari’s jaw is set, her eyes narrowed into the wind. She meant every word she told her mother. This time will be different.
One way or another, she’s finishing this.
and vi
After six years and change, Heart is a little worse for wear. Between the overgrown wilderness and the buildings damaged by disuse, there’s plenty of work for Namaari.
Today she’s dealing with a collapsed house, clearing the wreckage so the old occupants can start building a new one. The people themselves seem content to watch from a distance, but Namaari can't take any comfort from their gaze. No matter how much she clears or cleans or carries, it will never be enough to replace the six years she stole from them.
She heaves a final armful of broken stone into her basket, then crouches to pick it up. A pair of unfamiliar hands beats her to it.
“Let me.”
Namaari looks up and feels her stomach puddle around her feet. “Chief Benja,” she croaks, raising her circled fingers over her head. “No, you shouldn't—”
“Hey, it’s sort of my job,” the man chuckles. “A chief’s work is never done—but I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”
He’s several steps away before she recovers enough to follow. “No, really,” she insists, reaching for the basket of rubble. “I have to...”
Chief Benja’s eyes stop her short. They’re so much like his daughter’s. “Don’t you have your own city to be rebuilding?” he asks after a moment. “I haven't been to Fang since... well, everything, but from what Raya tells me, there’s plenty of work to be done there.”
Namaari narrowly resists the urge to ask what Raya’s said about her. “My people can handle it,” she says, not without a touch of pride.
“Oh! So you think we feeble Heartlanders can't handle a broom?”
“No!” she yelps. “My apologies, Chief Benja. I only meant that my tribe has plenty of people, and my mother there to guide them.” Plus, most of them aren't recovering from six years trapped as rocks. “There’s no need for me—Not that you need me. Ugh, I...” Tongue thoroughly knotted, she ducks into another salutation.
“Stop that,” the chief groans. “I was joking.” Her blank look draws a chuckle from the man. “Too soon?” he guesses. “Look, forget it. I’m just trying to say... Hmm.” Chief Benja pauses, mouth twisting, and Namaari understands.
Of course.
“I can leave right away,” she mutters, hands twisting together. “I understand that you might not feel comfortable with my presence after... everything I’ve done. I’m sorry to trouble you.”
The chief stops walking, sets down the basket, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say that,” he says. “I might have been a little curious about why you’re so set on being our one-woman cleanup crew, but I think you’ve pretty much answered that already.” He hitches one shoulder. “So...”
Namaari stares at Chief Benja.
Chief Benja stares at Namaari.
After a drawn-out silence that’s just this side of awkward, she feels herself start to relax.
“Raya's told me a lot about you, too,” he pipes up, and the tension returns with a vengeance.
“All bad, I’m guessing?” she manages a weak smile.
The chief grins. “You’d be surprised.”
.
<~.~.~~
.
“So, I hear you met Ba.”
Namaari sags, forehead falling against the balcony railing between her arms. Not even Raya’s laugh can lift her spirits.
“It went that well, huh?”
“I have no idea,” she groans. “Either he’s the most forgiving person in the history of Kumandra, or he’s going to stab me in my sleep.”
Something nudges her shoulder, and Namaari looks up to see Raya’s smiling face an inch from hers. “Probably the first one,” she assures her. “I’m like seventy-five percent sure.”
“That’s not helping.”
“Don’t worry,” Raya laughs. “I’ve still got his sword.”
“He can find another one,” Namaari mumbles into her arms. “I’m dead.”
“Well, we can't let that happen! It'll get the tribes all riled up again, and we literally just fixed Kumandra.” Raya nods, mouth in a firm line. “Guess I’ll just have to keep watch.”
Namaari rolls her head to meet the other girl’s dancing eyes. “At night,” she confirms. “In my room. While I’m asleep.”
“Asleep, sure.” Raya’s tone dips. “Or... not.” She watches Namaari through her lashes, shy and sweet. “You know, for Kumandra.”
“For Kumandra,” Namaari echoes, straightening with a solemn nod of her own. “I think I can make that sacrifice.”
They make it ten seconds before Raya’s serious expression cracks, her shoulders shaking with laughter as she leans into Namaari’s side. When the giggles fade, they stay together, resting linked hands on the balcony rail. Raya shifts a little closer, and Namaari savors the rhythm of her breath, the steady in and out reverberating through their sides.
As the sun sinks over the horizon, the city lights up, a golden glow filling the streets as its people light candles and lanterns. Namaari hears a soft sound, and turns to see Raya covering her mouth, eyes wide and glossy.
“I’m still not used to seeing it like this,” she whispers. “Alive again.”
Even as Namaari squeezes her hand, she feels her heart sink. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
“What? No. No.” When she tries to slip away, Raya’s grip only tightens. “It’s all because of you.”
Namaari’s face falls. “Yeah, I know.”
“No—” The other girl sighs. “This,” she waves her free hand over the city. “This is alive again because of you.”
“And it was dead because of me, too!” This time she doesn’t let Raya hold her back, forcing herself to tug away from warm hands and steady breaths. “Six years, Raya. I took away six years from you, from them...”
“From us,” Raya says softly. “From you.” She flexes her now-empty hand. “Namaari, I can't forgive you.” Namaari looks away, feeling the traitorous burn of tears. “I can't forgive you, because it won't mean a thing until you forgive yourself.” Raya hesitates, lips moving soundlessly, then goes on. “You... you hurt a lot of people, yeah. And you’ve been working so hard to help the people you wronged in the past, but there’s someone you keep ignoring. Someone you’re hurting right now.”
“You,” mumbles Namaari.
Raya flicks her ear. “No, bodoh. You.” She frowns. “Once, you asked me if I understood how you felt. I didn’t, not entirely. Not then. I... I didn’t want to think about how you were suffering, because it made it that much harder to hate you.” Her eyes drop, her cheeks darkening. “It was hard enough already.”
“You were right to hate me,” Namaari says, fingers gripping the stone before her. “You say I’m working to make things right, but we both know it’s never going to be enough.”
An exasperated sound reaches her ears, rude enough to coax an unwilling laugh from her throat. “Enough? According to who? You literally fixed what you broke,” Raya points out. “I mean, did that solve everything? Of course not,” she admits, tone softening. “But you also brought back all of dragon-kind, so that has to be a point in your column.”
“You did that!” Namaari objects. “You and the others did all the work. I just... handed it in!”
For some reason, this makes Raya smile. “You helped when it counted,” she insists.
“I killed Sisu.”
“She got better! And you know her; it’s not like she’s out for blood.”
This much is true. “Hey, what’s a little arrow in the chest between friends?” were the dragon’s exact words. Sisu is... She’s somehow both nothing and everything that Namaari expected.
“You were scared.” Raya is suddenly at her side, resting a gentle hand on the small of her back. “You were desperate. And a little stupid, but we’re all a little stupid sometimes.”
“When will it be enough?” Namaari asks, clutching her chest. “How long will it take for me to step feeling...” She falters, unable to describe the emotions twisting through her ribs, “... like this?”
Raya’s sigh is soft. Her hand slides across Namaari’s back, soon joined by the other to link loosely around her waist. “I can't answer that,” she says, chin coming to rest on Namaari’s shoulder. “But you have to believe it’ll get better.”
“How can I? I—” Shame rises in her breast, but she forces out the words. “I work harder every day, and your people still look at me like a monster.”
“You won't change their minds overnight.” Namaari knows that, but it doesn’t make the complete lack of results any less depressing. “Not everyone can be as optimistic as my ba,” Raya chuckles into her ear, “but I know they can grow to trust you. Just give it time.”
“How?” Namaari almost begs, twisting in Raya’s arms until their eyes meet. “How can you be so sure?”
Raya kisses her, a quick press of lips that lets Namaari feel her growing smile.
“Because I already do.”