Jason

“Good morning! Rise and shine!” Tlaya greeted Jason in English. It was strange to hear his native language spoken aloud, stranger still to hear it in Tlaya’s odd accent and sing-song cadence. She was dressed in another of her flouncy dresses, this one pink with white pin-stripes, and her hair was tied into two braids with matching pink bows.

“Are you always this cheerful early in the morning?” Jason asked.

Tlaya laughed. “Are you always this grouchy, big brother?”

Jason tried for a moment to imagine what it would have been like to grow up with a little sister. She’d probably have constantly been on his nerves.

“I found out what they’re planning.” Tlaya leaned in close to whisper to Jason. “They are hiding Netil and the others under the floor. And the Knights of Galibasti are coming. It is very exciting and scary.”

“I’d rather not be here when they come.”

“Why not? It will be interesting.”

“I just want to go home.” The words came automatically to his lips, but Jason wasn’t so sure anymore if that was all he wanted. His father was here, and in danger, and his sister had come to him for help. He couldn’t just turn his back on them.

But could he do what she was asking him to do?

Esar and Naomi weren’t at breakfast. “They went off early for one of Naomi’s lessons,” Kelsam explained. “There’s work to be done in the Sanctuary for the refugees. Will you help me today, Jason?”

“Oh, please don’t run off just yet,” Guennet said. “I could use your moral support when those so-called knights get here. I’ll be putting on the haughty noblewoman act, so it’ll help if I can boss you around.”

“Just like old times,” Kelsam muttered.

“What’s the deal with you and Guennet?” Jason asked, after Guennet had left the room.

“We went to school together,” Kelsam replied. “She used to be the class bully.”

“Used to be?” Jason echoed.

“Well, she’s definitely changed, at least in some ways.”

Guennet returned a bit later, dressed for the part of a noblewoman in a fine yellow tunic that reached to her mid-thighs, accented by a gauzy red scarf.

“Oh, you look so fancy!” Tlaya said.

“Not as fancy as you, dear,” Guennet said absently. “You should be getting ready for school, Tlaya.”

“Oh, don’t make me go to school today! I want to see what happens!” Tlaya protested.

“I can’t allow you to miss school for this,” Guennet sighed.

Tlaya deflated but acquiesced. It hadn’t occurred to Jason that Tlaya would be attending school, but it made sense—she was a school-aged child, after all.

After Tlaya departed, the abbot brought Sir Salgiar Amontel and his knights to meet with Guennet in her courtyard. She invited them in, but they preferred to continue the parley outdoors.

Jason followed the others outside, his stomach tied in knots. He looked to Kelsam, who looked just as much on edge, like he’d rather be anywhere else. Why did they have to get mixed up in this? It had nothing to do with them. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“We’re looking for the scum that attacked his highness’s storehouses,” Sir Salgiar Amontel. “The other refugees don’t matter to us.”

“Do you expect me to know the faces of the ones you are looking for?” Guennet asked. “Abbot Paolun has given you permission to search for the ones you are seeking, so search. And don’t trouble me anymore.”

“Suspicious individuals were seen approaching your house last night,” Salgiar said.

Guennet laughed. “Suspicious individuals? You mean my guests? I’d love to see you call the Tresuan and his husband suspicious individuals to their faces.”

Jason’s stomach dropped. Kelsam gasped. What was Guennet doing? They were supposed to keep Esar’s identity a secret!

“The Tresuan is here? You mean . . . Esar Semfrey?” Salgiar said.

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“I don’t see why it’s any concern of yours,” Guennet said. She looked like she was trying to suppress a smile.

“That man sent the king’s son to his death in Bhadrat,” Salgiar said. Kelsam tapped Jason’s arm, and the two backed away, but there was nowhere to run. While Guennet had been speaking to Sir Salgiar, his goons had been spreading out to encircle the house, using the glowing Asprai wall to cut off any possible route of escape. They were surrounded. Jason cursed under his breath.

“Well, I’m afraid you’ve missed Esar, but his husband is still here,” Guennet said, indicating Kelsam. “Perhaps he’ll be of more interest to your king than a few bandits?”

“What are you doing, Guennet?” Kelsam cried out.

“Esar has to answer for what he’s done, Kelsam,” Guennet said coldly. “I’m sorry, but it’s for the greater good. The rot in Elorhe goes all the way to the core. The king and queen, the Tresuan—their time has passed.”

“Guennet . . .” Kelsam said as the knights advanced on him.

“But Kelsam is innocent,” Guennet said. “Don’t you dare harm him.”

“Our king just wants to have a little chat with your husband,” Salgiar said to Kelsam. “You’ll be there to make sure he comes quietly.”

“Jason has nothing to do with this,” Kelsam said quickly as the soldiers surrounded him.

“Sounds like he’s mixed up in this too,” Salgiar said. “Grab the boy!”

“Leave me alone!” Jason tried to run, but there was nowhere to go except toward the Asprai barrier. He could smell it as he got closer, a weird metallic scent in his nostrils.

“You’ve got nowhere to run,” said the nearest knight to him, slowing his steps as he closed in on Jason. Two other knights, one to the left, one to the right, were closing in on him. They were wrong, though, when they said he had nowhere to run.

The way to the Asprai barrier was still clear.

Jason took off at a run for the golden mist, praying that what Tlaya said last night was true, and the barrier wouldn’t affect him—and only him.

The mist didn’t even slow him down; he plowed right through it, and it swirled around him, clogging his senses. He drew in a breath and gagged. The fog tasted like he had just licked something rusty.

Then he was through, and falling into a ravine. He landed with a splash in a shallow stream. Some kind of bird—not the construct, something more like a heron—flapped away, startled by his sudden arrival. Other than that, everything was quiet.

Jason broke the silence with a curse.

He was soaked and sore from the fall, but he seemed to be all in one piece. He couldn’t see or hear anything on the other side of the barrier. There was no sign of human habitation on this side, just more trees and bushes and the continuation of the stream. No one came to follow him through the golden barrier. He was all alone.

Jason scrambled up onto the bank and took a few deep, gasping breaths. What was he supposed to do now? If he climbed up the ravine, he could get back through to the Elorhan side, maybe—but there were soldiers there, waiting for him. Soldiers who already had Kelsam in their clutches. If Jason went back, was there anything he could do to help?

Jason sat down beneath a tree to calm down and gather his wits, still watching the barrier for any sign of what was happening on the other side. He tried to picture Esar’s map in his mind. He could follow the barrier north for a while before he went back through—but would the knights anticipate that and be watching the barrier for him? If only he could get to Esar and Naomi and warn them—but how was he supposed to reach them? Maybe if there was a way he could get a message to Tlaya . . .

For now he decided to continue moving north along the barrier. Before long he came across a dirt road cut through the forest, running parallel to the barrier. Deep wheel ruts were scratched into the road, filled with muddy brown puddles from yesterday’s rain. So there were people here, after all, and . . . animal footprints. Whatever had left those footprints on the road had three-toed feet larger than Jason’s own, and they reminded him of nothing so much as a dinosaur footprint.

“Great,” Jason muttered. “Apparently I just stumbled into Jurassic Park.”

He walked along the edge of the road. How far should he go before trying to cross back over? What should he do if he ran into someone on this side?

And why had Guennet turned on them? What did she mean, about the rot in Elorhe going all the way to the core? Even after the disaster, things hadn’t seemed terrible for most of their journey. They found people repairing and rebuilding wherever they went, more inconvenienced than devastated by the state of affairs. Not one of those monsters they were so worried about had broken out of their seals—at least, none that Jason knew of.

But Esar had the money and prestige to smooth their journey and make it as comfortable as possible. Now he’d glimpsed a side of Elorhe he’d never seen before, in the burning house in the village and the refugees in Rhadasy. People with burns and bandaged limbs, dressed in dirty clothing, as if they’d been forced to leave their homes in a hurry. Haunted eyes had followed him as he crossed the Sanctuary. All because of the cruel overlord who had declared himself king—and Guennet had just handed Kelsam over to the knights of that same overlord.

Guennet said that the king and queen’s time had passed, but it didn’t make any sense. The king and queen of Elorhe were supposed to be good, right? Wasn’t that the whole point of having the magic ocean to pick them out? Jason still wasn’t entirely clear on how that worked. He’d gathered from Naomi’s dream meetings with the prince that the king was currently comatose, and nobody in the capital trusted anybody. None of it should have mattered to him, except how it might affect his chances of getting home in one piece, and in a reasonable amount of time.

Jason froze at the sight of an approaching carriage. It was coming at him fast, and he lost whatever chance he might have had of diving away unseen in the moment he lost to his shock when he realized what was pulling it.

Well, now he knew what had made those footprints.

He thought they were dinosaurs at first, two of them, running on two legs. But as they got closer he saw that they were covered in brown-black fur—or was it feathers? Yes, they were birds, but they were the largest birds he’d ever seen, probably about twice his height, and they didn’t appear to have wings. They were harnessed to the carriage like horses would have been, and a person sat on a bench at the front of the vehicle holding the reins. She slowed the beasts as they came closer to Jason.

“Ah! There you are,” she greeted him. She was a woman in later middle age, with a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth and hair evenly mixed between gray and black. Her attire reminded Jason a bit of Tlaya’s fancy dresses, though this woman’s slate-colored gown was more formal than flouncy. “Jason, isn’t it?”

Yet another stranger who knew his name. Jason supposed he ought to be getting used to it by now, but he just found it annoying. He crossed his arms. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I believe you know my son,” the woman replied. Jason narrowed his eyes at her, and he saw the resemblance.

She had the same stormcloud-gray eyes as Esar.