A solitary auburn-haired figure pored over amber shards split open on a table stacked with maps. With a heavy needle, they chipped at the crinkled legs of spiders and wasps trapped inside. The two seagull feathers sat next to an aged sextant on the maps.
Shay crouched down next to the small fire, mesmerized by feeding wood inside and watching it be eaten at. He showed no sign of moving.
The discovery of Saikasu had been an accident. A seasonal priestess on her way to Bhin, sailing on the mapped way she’d used for a decade—Lotus, Queen’s Tattoo, Threecorn—found her route interrupted by a body in the stars she’d never seen before.
He killed any fondness for his favorite game, of spotting the nervous buttonquails when they ran. He thought not at all of being sent off to bed without haggard carers and squabbling sisters.