The injured plants responded slowly as she reached out, calling to the tiny sparks of life left behind in each. Even dead, they would have become part of the soil to nourish others, giving the gift of life, and it was to this tiny bit that she spoke, urging them to flourish and grow. She offered them the warmth of her gift, replacing what they hadn’t gotten from the sun, and before her eyes the leaves refreshed, turning green.
Smiling at her progress, she channeled stronger energy and the flowers rewarded her with tiny purple and yellow blossoms.
Terin’s hopes plummeted as the birds fell near her horse’s feet. Yet, part of her couldn’t help being relieved. Without knowing what message her brother and Emariya sent, it was better for no messages to pass at all.
Alrec lowered his bow.
“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” Reeve asked with an unusual level of respect.
Alrec twisted his mouth into a rueful half-smile. “At Sheas Harbor, bowmen are the first line of defense. I grew up there.”
They’d lingered just past Warren’s Rest for several days. Until the pigeons appeared that morning, Terin hadn’t known the reason. Although Reeve had begun to trust her before, since they’d left the Rest he’d treated her as if she didn’t matter.
It shouldn’t have hurt her feelings; she was supposed to hate him. But it did. His behavior didn’t lessen the pull between them in the slightest.
“Did any get through?” Reeve asked, sitting astride his mount.
“One, headed Northwest,” Alrec said.
Reeve shrugged. “Felton won't be hard to convince. I doubt it will be an issue.”
“Better see what that sister of yours said.” Khane reined his horse around, away from the lifeless bird's feathered corpses.
Terin watched them, curiously, wondering if Reeve was more worried than he let on. Any other time, he would have bristled at Khane attempting to give him anything resembling an order.
Reeve dismounted and plucked a rolled-up scroll from the bird’s corpse. The paper crinkled slightly as he unfolded it. “They’ve called the Councilors to Damphries.”
“How can you be sure you got all but one? I don't want them calling in reinforcements—if they even have any to summon.” Reeve wouldn’t meet Terin’s eyes.
“Count the birds.” Alrec pointed to the feathered corpses. “Five birds. One for each of the Councilors other than Felton. One for Castle Ahlen.”
Khane leered in Terin’s direction. “There goes your hope of rescue.”
Terin wondered if they could tell she was only hoping for rescue half of the time. The rest, she was desperately wishing Reeve would look at her again the way he had when he’d found her with the knife in her hand. In that one instant, she’d known he was afraid—not of losing his path to taking over Thalmas, but of losing her.
“If we’re going to stay ahead of them, we need to get going. If they’ve sent the birds, they’ll be on their way soon. I’d like a chance to ensure the Councilors see it my way, before they have a chance to hear anything from my sister.” Reeve climbed back onto his horse.
“So do we meet them there, or do we go to Castle Ahlen as planned?” Khane asked.
Alrec looked right at Terin as he spoke. “I can slip back into Castle Ahlen once we’ve dealt with the immediate threat. The king will be no obstacle for me, and they know me there. That is no rush.”
Terin closed her eyes, not knowing how to feel. She didn’t want her brother or Reeve hurt, and it seemed inevitable that one of them soon would be. He’d protected her physically, but now he was breaking her heart. If she had her way, they’d abandon Alrec and Khane and ride as fast as they could in the opposite direction.
“To Damphries then,” Alrec said, chilling Terin through and through.
Reeve nodded. “To Damphries.”
Emariya had one thing left to do before leaving Warren’s Rest, and it wasn’t a visit she looked forward to. She paused outside the canvas flap covering Neela’s doorway.
Smoke and incense wafted through. And then so did a voice. “Well, don’t just stand out there, come in and be out with it.”
Chuckling, Emariya ducked inside. In all the times she’d been to Neela’s before, never had she come not knowing whether the woman could be counted as a friend or a foe. Large rucksacks lay strewn about the room, filled with vials of herbs, linens, and other supplies until they overflowed.
Neela would be setting out on her own journey before long, off to join her husband Norval at the fjord.
It wouldn’t do her any good to be anything other than direct. Both of the women knew why Emariya had come. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I made a promise to your father.” The bird-like woman hadn’t changed. Leathery skin wrinkled around her eyes as she grimaced.
Her father’s voice remained conspicuously silent. “Be that as it may,” Emariya said, “I had a right to know.”
Neela nodded. “You did, I agree. But a promise is a promise, and your father was still my Lord. I don’t break my word. He was determined that you’d make your own choices about who to love, who to marry, and if you wanted to pursue herbcraft, without any pressure of prophecy or bloodlines.”
“What about the mindroot? How did you know what it was even for?”
“Fidwen sent it for you from Sheas Harbor, just as he once sent you your mother’s locket. I knew what it was for. I didn’t know exactly why you’d need it, but I knew from your mother’s time here who he was. I trusted that if he said you needed to take it every day to guard your mind, then that was the truth of it. I told you then, we women don’t have choices in much. You didn’t need someone else telling you what to do.”
Emariya’s eyes narrowed. “Who exactly is Fidwen?”
Neela pursed her lips. “If you don’t know, then it’s not for me to say. But he’s been looking out for you for much longer than you know.”
While their soldiers finished loading the wagons for departure, Emariya slipped into the quiet stables. The sweet scent of hay wafted between the rafters as wavering rays of sunlight crept through the windows. Dust glowed in the air, as if it had gathered to celebrate the return of the sun. She had to force herself not to expect Roel to stick his head out of a stall in greeting. Trying to clear away the memories begging to take hold, she shook her head. Drea rested in her familiar stall and she nickered at Emariya’s approach.
“Hello girl,” Emariya whispered, leaning against the stall while she rubbed the mare’s nose.
“Don’t fret, you can come too this time.”
“Talking to horses instead of spirits?” Torian’s voice came from behind her.
“I didn’t hear you come in. And yes. I’ve talked to Drea far longer than I’ve talked to spirits.”
“Have the spirits been talkative lately?”
Emariya opened the stall and hooked a rope to Drea’s halter. “No. My father has been mostly quiet since we got to the Rest. I haven’t heard from anyone else since shortly after we left the fjord. Why?”
Torian shrugged. “I guess I was just hoping that one of them was watching your brother and Terin.
Maybe they could tell us where they are.”
“So you can find them, and kill them both?” Part of her regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, while the rest of her waited anxiously for the answer. They’d barely spoken since she’d fled her father’s study.
Torian slammed a fist into the corner post of the stall beside him. “By The Three, Emariya, don’t you understand? I don’t
want
to hurt my sister, but I’m afraid I may have no other choice. Your brother is another matter. I don’t want to hurt you either, you know.” In his tender words, his posture softened, and his tone held an apology.
Not knowing what to say in response, Emariya buried her face against Drea’s neck. She would
not
cry again.
After a long moment of silence, Torian said, “Maybe your father is busy confronting your mother, or maybe being here is just too hard for him right now.”
Emariya sighed. “That’s what I was thinking too. When I asked my father about her, he evaded the question. I almost wonder if she’s being punished for her interference.”
“It would make sense,” Torian said, shutting the stall behind Drea as Emariya lead her down the aisle. “It would explain why your mother hasn’t tried anything else.”
“Who would punish her though?”
“The Three, I guess.” Emariya paused in the stable aisle.
Torian collected his own horse from a stall. “If I ever see The Three, I’ve got a few questions for them.” His voice filled with anger.
“Questions like why would they let you see something that would make you decide to kill your own sister?” Emariya asked softly.
“I haven’t decided anything, Emariya. It’s just that if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I can see no other way, but believe me, I wish I did.”
“I’m sorry, I cannot accept that as a possibility. I’m sure when he detained my father, my brother thought he was just doing what it took, too. Family should count for more than that. Loyalty, and years of memories together, have to count for more than that.”
Not looking back, she stormed out of the stable.
Goodbyes took longer than Emariya would have liked. Once Jessa had tearfully finished bidding her mother farewell and settled herself in one of the wagons, Garith nodded to his father and gave the call for the soldiers to start out. This departure was filled with much less fanfare than the last time she’d left Warren’s Rest.
Most of the men of the estate had returned after collecting their families from the nearby hills, but the mood as she left was significantly more subdued. When she’d left before, it had been in the hopes of marrying a prince for the benefit of her people. Now, she sought to find and stop her brother, as well as rescue Torian’s sister. None had any misconception that either goal would be accomplished without bloodshed, and likely it would be one of their own—Riya or Reeve—that was lost in the end.
Garith rode beside her, with Torian on her opposite side. “We’ll need a decision fairly soon,” he said, “about whether you want to aim toward Calkirk or go straight for Damphries.”
Emariya gazed off into the distance, eyeing the empty hills as if they might hold the answer.
“From what I saw of the map, I think going to Calkirk would take us a day out of the way,” Torian said.
“I’d like to get to Damphries as soon as possible. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can begin assessing the situation between them and the citizens of the Uplands,” Garith said.
She wouldn’t mind traveling to Damphries with Lord Calkirk’s party, and having the opportunity to see what the Councilor knew of her brother’s recent activities. But Garith made a strong point. “So straight to Damphries, then?”
Torian nodded. “We should reach it within the week. How defensible is the estate itself?”
“I haven’t been there since I was much younger, but from what I remember, the outer wall is solid.
It has a good view to the south, so they should see us coming easily. Unfortunately, there’s a thicket of woods to the north that would offer cover if someone wanted to approach unseen.”
“Will they have been able to withstand the uprising?”
“I don’t know. I suspect so. They are the only estate that employs full-time protection, but it isn’t much protection. More live there than near the other estates, because people naturally relocated there as they gravitated away from the Thalmas border. Those who left the Uplands over the years didn’t have their own farms and homesteads, so they took up residence in the estate. Some of them became a militia, though you’d think them quite weak.”
“So enough to stand against the people of the Uplands, but not enough to quell them?”
“Exactly. Plus, being citizens of the Uplands previously, they won’t want to raise arms against their former neighbors.”
Garith shook his head. “I don’t know, Riya. From what you saw when you rode through there before, they don’t have the same attachment to their neighbors as we do at the Rest.”
Emariya frowned, contemplating. “You’re right. Definitely straight to Damphries so we can put a stop to it before it gets out of hand.”
The night before they expected to reach Damphries, Emariya and Torian lay in their tent together, not speaking, and barely touching. A light spring rain drizzled a soft pat-pat-pat against the tent, creating what should have been a soothing lullaby. The emotional distance between them lingered, despite several attempts on Emariya’s part to reach out to him. Staring at his back as she lay beside him, Emariya thought he might as well be at Castle Ahlen for how far away he seemed.
“Are you angry with me?” she whispered.
At first she thought he’d either not heard her or was ignoring her, but then he rolled over. When he reached out to gently touch her face, his hand trembled slightly.
“Angry with myself, not with you.”
Her heart broke for him. If only she knew how to ease his pain. “Why?”
“For not knowing how to protect you.” The words didn’t sound as if they came easy, instead they almost stuck in his throat and he struggled with each one. “I’m afraid, Emariya.”
“Of what?” she asked, scooting closer to him. His warmth seeped around her.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he said,
“Losing you.”
“I’m afraid of losing you, too,” Emariya let him see the truth of it in her eyes.
“Losing
me
? How?”
“If Reeve is to take the throne...”
“That is why I cannot allow him to marry my sister, at any cost. For both of us. For our people.”
“I know, but Torian, that’s not the only way I’m afraid I’ll lose you. You’ve been so distant. I’m afraid your visions might take you from me too.” She bit her lip, afraid he’d be angry at her words, or worse, hurt.
“Like my father,” he said, turning back away from her.
“I think maybe you should take the same herb we gave him. It will help you keep sight of what is real, and what isn’t. I don’t want to lose you any more than you want to lose me.”
“For all we know, that herb could also end up preventing me from having a crucial vision. What if I have these visions for a reason? Maybe they are supposed to help us in our goal. I’m sorry, I can’t risk losing whatever help they can provide.”