Alet hadn't spoken to Jiro since the night before. She had been quiet when they left the inn, when they rode the hoist, and even when they claimed the nyx from the stables. She had seemed ghost-like beside him—no sound from her steps, no rustling of her movements, and no whisper of her breaths. There had to be something bothering her, but Jiro couldn't know for sure. All he knew was that something lurked in her mind when she was silent.

"Alet," Jiro said, breaking the eerie silence between them. He tugged at the nyx's reins to move it forward on the road.

Alet patted the animal's head, reaching from her seat on the saddle. Its ears twitched as it followed Jiro's lead.

"Why did you want to go to Biran?" Jiro asked without looking at Alet.

Alet didn't answer, and he glanced at her, grimacing at her quietness, but he said nothing else though he grew annoyed. He huffed out an irritated sigh before turning back to the road. She did this often, ignoring him whenever she liked, disregarding him so simply.

Jiro focused on the path ahead. The dirt road that led away from Biran crawled against the foot of the tepui before it trailed over hills. The sun had not yet risen, but the sky had become bright gray over the land. The waking birds chirped from their branches among the trees in the forest that lined the path. Before the sun broke the horizon, they had left Biran, the city in the mountains fading behind them.

"I thought I'd remember." It had been a long while before Alet spoke, and Jiro had already forgotten his question but renewed.

He looked over his shoulder and saw her. She kept her face to the road.

"I wanted to see Biran because I thought that if I'd been there before... before the Brilliance... before I lost my memories, maybe I'd remember something." Alet turned and met his gaze. A soft wind blew and pushed her hair only a little to the side, revealing the edge of her green eye.

Jiro turned back to the road, a little regretful. He didn't know what to tell her. He'd nearly forgotten that she had no memories of her past life. During the days in the Forest of Zinar, he had been too consumed in his situation that he hadn't thought about anything else.

"It was a stupid plan." There was anguish in Alet's voice, and Jiro stopped, pulling the nyx to a halt.

"No, it wasn't," he said. He understood why Alet wanted to search for her memories. He couldn't know the torture of not remembering anything, but he understood why she needed it. And somehow, he understood how she felt, even when he was trying to escape his past, and she was trying to get hers back.

Alet stared down at him, lips parting. The blue of her eye waited for him to say more, and when the wind blew harder to sweep her hair aside, the green of her iris brightened the darkness of dawn.

A sigh escaped his lips, a frustration with himself for not knowing what to say to comfort her. "Maybe you'd remember something in Kata," he suggested.

"Kata?"

"Yes," Jiro said. "I think you'll like it there. It's the holy city of the sun. It's the next city to the north from here. I passed through it before I came to Kimracka." He recalled Mariko, and a chill crawled up his spine, but he hadn't seen her since, and she wondered if she had been too injured then to go after him.

Alet regarded him briefly, but she nodded once, and a small smile tugged her lips. Without warning, the nyx nudged and licked Jiro's face as if it, too, approved of his proposal, making him step away in disgust at the slob on his cheek. He wiped a hand to mop away the drool and glared at the animal.

Alet snorted a laugh, but it wasn't to ridicule him. It had seemed funny, and he gave her a grin.

"We should name her." Alet leaned forward and patted the head of the nyx again.

"What name?" Jiro asked, keeping his eyes on her.

"I'll think of something," she said as she straightened on the saddle. "When we get out of these mountains, we should leave the road. We don't know if your friends are waiting for us along the way."

Jiro agreed to that and wondered how long they would need to run. What would happen if Hako and Shoka caught them? His anxiousness at the thought grew. He had become dependent on Alet, only riding along her journey, and he needed her more than she did him. She was now his new sanctuary.

But after they reach Kazima? What then? Would Jiro go back to Aradack? Would the Aradacko still welcome him home after what he'd done?

He pushed the thoughts away. The answers to those questions would come at a further time. He didn't want to think about it now, so he set the concern aside. For the moment, he decided to concentrate on only one thing—to get Alet to Kata and help her remember something. It was a small enough step compared to the problem that he had to face, and he found it doable.

They continued to travel through the mountainous regions until the late afternoon, stopping only once to eat. After their short rest, Alet had volunteered to walk while Jiro rode on the nyx, but he wished they could ride together. He was too shy to suggest it.

They passed rice terraces carved on the side of the sloping hills like giant steps. From afar, the yellow grains made it look like gold slathered the land.

They finally reached the lowlands before sundown, and Alet led them off the road to find a spot to rest for the night. The forest was all dirt and green, with no moss or flowering narra trees like in the Forest of Zinar. Though Jiro was more used to the thinner air of the mountains, he breathed in and enjoyed the fullness of the warm, humid lowland breeze.

"Jiro?" Alet said as she guided the nyx.

"Mmmhh? What is it?" Jiro's voice came lazily.

"Tell me about your mother." Without stopping, she looked at him over her shoulder.

Jiro considered for a while, unsure why she had asked such a request. He had been telling her stories since they left Kimracka, but his mother was not a simple story to tell.

"She was—" he began but trailed off. The fear of her memory lingered, but as he thought of her, his breath no longer caught in his throat, and his heart didn't race in his chest. He could think about his mother without too much pain now.

"It's alright," Alet said when he said nothing. "I'm sorry I asked."

"No." Jiro tried again. "My mother made the best aratrov jams in Aradack." He smiled fondly, saying the first thing that came to his mind about Nana Ricka.

"Aratrov jam," Alet repeated. "I've heard of that, but I've never tasted it. Too expensive."

"They're made from arat fruits. They're grown only on our island. Maybe when you visit—" he stopped before he could say more. Why would Alet visit Aradack? But her response surprised him.

"I'd like that. I'd like to visit your island and taste your fruits." She had slowed her pace so that she was walking beside him, and he could see the side of her face. A hint of a smile was in her eye. "So your mother was a jam maker?"

"You could say that. She was also a great dancer, she had a beautiful laugh, and she was the best cook." A weight fell on his shoulder, and he missed his mother's cooking so much. A bitter tear formed in his eyes but did not fall.

Jiro wanted to say more, to keep talking about his mother, which he hadn't done in a long while. The words about Nana Ricka felt like a release of this heavy burden he hadn't known he'd been carrying since he left Aradack. He wanted to let the memories out. It was more than her mother deserved to be shared with the world. But Alet stopped so suddenly in her tracks, and her head jerked back as she looked over her shoulder, eye squinting at the trees behind them.

Startled, Jiro asked, "What is it?" He looked in the same direction and listened, but other than the wind and the soft purr of the nyx, he didn't hear anything. Nothing but the trees were there.

Can Alet see more than I can? How?

Alet didn't speak, and she pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. She turned back and tugged at the reins as they moved deep into the woods.

Becoming silent again, she had seemed more attentive to their surroundings. This reaction from her made Jiro nervous, and he tried to listen for more but, like before, he couldn't hear anything until—there it was—the slightest change in the rustling leaves.

Jiro knew what it meant. Someone was following them.

"Alet," he whispered, lowering his head to her ear. The beating of his heart began to race underneath his vest.

Alet's grip on the reins tightened. "Do you trust me?"

He thought he'd need more time to answer it, but a quick response came from his lips. Instinctive and true. "Yes."

"Then do as I say," she whispered. She tugged the nyx to stop. "We can make camp here."

Jiro dismounted without question though his chest tightened. A part of him wanted to ask what her plan was, but he kept his mouth shut.

Tying the nyx to a tree, Alet gave him a reassuring look. "Can you get the firewood? I see some over there." She cocked her head in the direction.

Without questioning her, Jiro strode to the trees, his heart still pounding. When he reached the root of a growing bush, he glanced back at Alet, but she was gone. Only the nyx stood there, right where she had been.

"Alet?" he called and whirled around, peering into the graying surroundings.

Jiro heard footsteps then, but he didn't see anything until something or someone tackled him to the ground. The impact was sudden. A man had jumped on his back and pinned him to the forest floor. A hand gripped his wrist, and another pushed on his shoulder.

This was it. The single flash in time when he would die. He grunted and struggled, but he was too weak, and whoever had him locked on the ground did not move. The sharpness of a blade glinted in his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Jiro's muscles clenched under the force, but the press was suddenly released. The attacker pulled off of him, and he scrambled to his feet.

When Jiro looked, his attacker was lying on the ground, and Alet stood over him. He rushed to her side to aid her, but the man didn't move.

Holding a knife, his father's kampit, Alet pointed it at the man.

Jiro had thought he'd lost that knife when he killed Tata Ero, and he didn't think he would ever see it again, but there it was, in Alet's hand.

With the tip of the blade, she reached to uncover the man's head, pushing the salakot from his face. She revealed the grays of a familiar thick beard.

"Piriu?" Jiro said, shocked. He expected Hako, Shoka, or even Mariko, but he hadn't expected Piriu to attack him here.

Alet knelt on the innkeeper's chest, her knee pressed on his lungs, and he squirmed beneath her. "How did you find us?" she snarled and glared at him.

The man couldn't even speak, and he started to cough. He grabbed her knee and tried to push her off, but she didn't budge.

"You weren't supposed to follow us! How did you find us?" Alet asked again and bared her teeth. Something cold stirred in the air, and the hair on Jiro's nape rose as she pressed the glinting blade to Piriu's cheek.

"I wasn't follow—" Piriu coughed. "I was going to Kazima to petition the Kahani for your return when I saw you on the road from Biran."

Of course, how stupid of Jiro to stay on the path, but there was no other way. But he was a little glad it wasn't Hako who found them. "The Kahani is the one who asked for her to go to the Ozaro Palace."

"Please," Piriu squealed. "I couldn't... let you... go." He coughed the words out. "He stole... you."

"I'm not a thing to be stolen!" Alet said savagely. "I left. I'm not your property, and if you follow us again, I will gut you. I will do it slowly, starting with your cock. Old kings and the skies help me. After what you did to me, I will enjoy it!"

Jiro had never heard her like this before, vicious like an animal. But he didn't fear her. If anything, he wanted to hold her, to calm her down before she did anything she would regret, even though he knew that Piriu would deserve it.

The innkeeper's eyes widened with terror as Alet leisurely traced his cheek with the blade. She started on his temple and moved it to his chin under his beard, letting blood ooze from his face. The man grunted in pain.

"Alet," Jiro said her name calmly.

Her shoulders twitched at his voice, and she stopped. She pulled away from Piriu, who squirmed and crawled to escape. The innkeeper rolled over on his hands and knees before scrambling to run into the woods without turning to look back. He had come all this way only to get a scar.

Jiro let out a breath. A small dark spot of darkness stained the ground where Alet had knelt. The grass turned to ash, blotting in black. But the air around them had returned to normal. The unnatural cold had gone.

"Are you alright?" Jiro asked, stepping closer to her.

Alet averted her eyes, still gripping the blade in her hand. She shook her head roughly and took in a deep frustrated breath. "I should have killed him." Her voice trembled.

Jiro reached for her and touched her by the elbow, but she stepped back.

"I should have killed him!" She bared her teeth, and she was breathing hard through her lips.

"You're upset," Jiro said.

"Upset?" Alet looked at him then. There was so much pain in her blue eye, and if he could see the other, he knew he would see the same in that. She bared her teeth again. "After months of suffering him! I am not upset! I should have killed him!"

"This is not you, Alet," Jiro reminded him. He understood why she was angry at the moment, but this was not the girl he'd met on the roof of the tavern, the girl who was calm and silent but also afraid.

"And how do you know who I am?" She challenged him and raised the knife to him.

Jiro didn't move. He faced her and the blade. "Because if you were, you would have already killed him."

Something softened in Alet's face, and she lowered her hand only a little. She looked sideways as if she was confused, her breathing still rough. When her eyes came back to his, they glistened with tears. And then she dropped to her knees, collapsing on the ground with shuddering shoulders. The blade released from her hand, landing tip first and burring in the soil.

Alet curled in on herself, forehead pressed to the earth as she began to whimper. "Why couldn't I kill him?" The regret now became a question.

Jiro knelt beside her and placed a hand on her back, his touch soft and comforting. "Because it's not who you are," he said, lowering his lips to her ear. "You're a soldier. You only kill to protect others."

There had been so much restraint on her part that much Jiro knew. He did not know the extent of what she suffered, but he understood that it took so much of her self-control not to kill Piriu. It would have been so easy for her to plunge the blade into his neck, but she didn't. For a moment, there was a dark look in her eyes, and Jiro thought she would, but she didn't.

Alet's shoulders still shuddered with her sobs, and Jiro let his hand drift higher until he found the nape of her neck. She became still all of a sudden, and she didn't move.

There was something there. Something hard. Something round and buried into her skin, hidden beneath the cascade of her hair. Old kings, what is it?

Alet raised her head slowly until she sat upright and she faced him. Her face was still stained with tears, but she had stopped crying.

Jiro's hand never left her nape, too entranced by what he felt on her neck.

"I have two more on each side of my head." Alet's voice dropped into a whisper.

Jiro stared into her blue eye, but his mind was on the tip of his fingers, touching the circular plate that seemed to sprout from her skin. It was cold, like metal. It was metal.

"What is it?" he finally asked, slowly tracing its curved edge.

Her brows creased, and she looked vulnerable in front of him. Much less like the soldier who threatened to gut Piriu and more like the girl he had met on the roof in Kimracka and the girl who sat on the black shores curled up, hugging her knees.

"That's what I want to know," she whispered.

This thing on her nape, this was a part of her past. The part that she couldn't remember. Holding it now made Jiro think that she might not be entirely human. Whatever happened to her, how this came to be, she was no longer entirely human. But he didn't tell her that. Instead, he wanted to pull her closer, to comfort her the way she had during their days in the Forest of Zinar. Yet he didn't do that either because he found it inappropriate to provide more physical touch unless she wanted him to. He only allowed his hand to linger, touching not only the metal cylinder but also her skin, warm under the tips of his fingers.

And he offered her this. "We'll find out what it is. I'll help you. I'll get you to Kazima, and the Kahani will know. This must be why she's looking for you."

.