It had been a day and most of a night since the word had come: we had a ship, and we would be going home. Two days hence, and we would finally leave Ziran soil behind us. Part of me had been so insanely relieved to hear it that my hands had shook, and I had to hastily hide them in my lap so I didn’t show it. It had been quite some time since I was last forced to dance the dance of political life, and I was rusty. The Zirans had been a trial by fire for us all, a first taste of the vipers nest we could expect to find if we ever made it back to Aclatan soil successfully. I was more than passing glad to see the back of polite society for a while.

The heat was oppressive, and I could not manage sleep. Zira’s tropical climate had taken a lot to adjust to. It was similar to the wet, heavy heat of my childhood, and drummed up memories of sticky nights, sand midges and mosquito nets billowing above my bed. It had been a long, long time since I was a child though. I had become soft, living through the mild warmth and bitter winters that dominated both Aclatan and Miskin seasons. Even Ultaos with its searing, unrelenting heat, had nothing on wet, endless island summers. My arm itched where wounds, hastily stitched, were still healing.

There was something that bothered me, something that ran deep. A feeling of wrong that sat in my belly like a stone that was slowly gaining sharp edges. Dell’s triumphant announcement that we had a ship, and the shine of excitement in Tiru’s eyes had solidified it, turned it from a dull ache to a tight, impatient pain.

Restless, I rolled out of bed. I half expected to wake Dell, but the demon barely stirred. Edgar was tucked against his chest, looking far more fragile asleep than he ever did awake. He never came to us of his own accord, no matter how bad the night terrors seemed to get. The thickness of his fear was suffocating, Dell had said, almost enough to drown in. He slept far better with company, and I could not blame him, as I wagered I had nights that could have rivalled his. It was not something that anyone should suffer through alone.

Edgar was unexpected. I felt like he surprised me at every turn. I’d dealt with made wolves before, but had never thought to find one across the ocean. Waking, he was a mess of contradictions. He carried himself like someone who had seen a fight or two. Not a killer, but someone who had copped and dealt out his fair share of pain. But he was achingly fragile. I’d been so scared when he first came, sure that even the slightest touch would have broken him. The wolf had given him strength, in a way I suspected he wasn’t even aware of. He was still so unsure though, so ready to flinch like an animal waiting to be struck.

For a moment, I allowed myself to stare down at them both in the dark. The knot in my stomach twisted, viciously. What would happen, when we went home? What would become of Edgar, where would he go? He’d spoken very little of the cult, but I guessed he had spent more than a little time with them. Not all of his scars were fresh. I doubted he had much to go back to, or anyone that would accept his new, furrier side. I sucked in my bottom lip, and sunk my teeth into it until the bright, sharp pain gave me something else to focus on. Breathing deep, I could feel some measure of control return. The smell of them clung to me. It was a comfort, and I found myself already starting to associate with calm. Dell had always smelled smoky, like someone who had sat a little too close to a woodfire. Edgar was woodsy, a rich earthy smell that reminded me of rich soil and trees and living things.

It stayed with me, even as I let myself outside. The air was cloying thick, and smelled of rain. The little house that Roa had found for us was on the beach, not far from where we had washed ashore what felt like an eternity ago. There was little swell, and the ocean appeared glassy and black.

Almost without thinking, I picked my way down to the sand. It gave under my bare feet, some warmth still lingering within its granules from the sun. I wiggled my toes in it, staring distantly at the ocean with my hands jammed deep in my pockets.

My nose itched, though not quite enough to cause me to sneeze. I frowned.

“If I turn around, am I like to melt?”