His eyes flicked to the chest and back to me as if calculating the time it would take to discuss anything. Then his tiny smile brimmed with apology. “I’m sorry, but it’s important that I go immediately. I’m expected at the first stop along the way tonight. If you have an urgent issue, Aldar can help translate now. Don’t worry, he’ll keep anything you say confidential.”
I couldn’t mention what Jonas had said with servants listening. If I was wrong, I’d ruin Aldar’s reputation—and mine. And based on my recent experiences with him, who knew if Aldar would even translate my words accurately?
I shook my head and pushed down the lonely feeling crawling up my throat. “I’ll miss you.”
Raffar clasped my hand. “And I you. I look forward to seeing what you’ve learned when we meet each other again. I’ll have Freyad and Matid bring you to meet me in Gluwfyall in a few weeks for the Lake of Light Festival.”
A few weeks? I’d be alone here for a few weeks?
He strode to the bedroom and returned with a stack of books. A servant accepted them and placed them in a trunk. “After the festival, we’ll return to Baaldarstad together.”
Only moments later, Raffar’s belongings were completely stowed. He pressed his lips to the top of my head a few seconds longer than was proper when people were watching, but no one said a word. As he left the room, the servants and Aldar followed him out.
In the hall, Raffar clasped Aldar’s arm. “Give my regards to your father. And please take good care of Jiara.”
As I closed the door, a vise tightened around my throat. I’d be alone—I was alone. And how would Aldar “take care” of me?
A fiery slap hit my face, sending me tumbling against the table. The room was empty. Tears stung my eyes, both from the pain and the realization that Scilla’s violent outbursts were coming more and more often. I covered my cheeks with both hands to prevent her from striking again, but it did no good. Smack—another blow struck the crown of my head. My vision doubled, and I wobbled on my feet.
Earthwalkers were impossible to understand. Was she just violent? An earthwalker who’d been dead for nearly seven months now and had lost all rationality, hitting me for no reason? Was she mad at me for not finding her killer? Or because she thought my worries were inconsequential compared to hers?
“Scilla,” I whispered, choosing to believe it was a combination of the latter two reasons, as I propped myself against the table for support. “I have the right to be worried.”
There was a long pause, then an invisible hand stroked over my hair.
Wetness slipped down my cheeks as I stood, all alone except maybe for a dangerous and unpredictable ghost, in the middle of this room so far from home.
Chapter 20
In Azzaria, I’d had my own suite, and I’d adored the sanctuary from court life it had provided. With Raffar gone, being in my chamber felt hollow and empty. Silence weighed on my ears until I could hear each beat of my pulse.
Normally, whether we comprehended every sentence or not, Raffar and I talked. And we did understand each other, in some way. Whether it was from spoken word or smiles or gestures or with the help of the lexicon.
Now, morning meant waking up, dressing, and breakfasting alone. Every creak of settling timbers was potentially Scilla, returning to punish me for not finding out more about her murderer, not being faster. A few solitary hours after getting out of bed, I stood silently in front of the scented blocks I’d set up in honor of the gods. They didn’t make me feel less alone like I’d hoped. Maybe the Farnskager way of life was influencing me. They revered no gods here, performed no rituals to keep the gods on their side. They only had Watchers, who literally watched from afar, rarely influencing life on earth, except to save a few individuals from death once in a while. It was up to the Farnskagers themselves to forge a connection to the world around them.
I imagined Mother were here. “Mother,” I said, my voice rough from disuse. Then I forced myself to continue in Farnskag, with Azzarian words sprinkled in when I didn’t have any idea as to the right phrase. It was good practice, and it didn’t matter how many mistakes I made. “Raffar left yesterday. And now I’m . . . I don’t want to act like a baby, but I feel so alone.”
A caress on my hand. I tensed, waited breathlessly, because it could only be Scilla. But violence didn’t come. My sister was gentle this time.
“Thank you, Scilla. I worry about Aldar.” And even though I was talking to the dead, I could only make myself whisper the next part, “I don’t know if I can trust him.”
Scilla stroked my cheek this time, and I closed my eyes and pretended she was here and her normal, rational self.
A cheerful knock banged at the door, but it could have been a fist pounding in anger considering how I jumped. Thankfully, I’d spoken quietly. I ran from my altar and ushered Aldar in.
Tutoring was the same as always. I repeated words. Sometimes I knew the meanings, sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I suspected he’d taught me a different translation the day before. I’d carefully broached the topic with Matid and Freyad, but they hadn’t understood me, and before I knew it, Matid had pulled in Aldar to translate. So I’d changed the subject. Without Raffar around, my threat for Aldar to rot in jail had little effect.
Aldar smiled encouragingly, as if nothing had ever happened between us. “Queen Jiara, Raffar will be proud of how hard you’re working.”
Like every day, I nodded and wished with all my heart that my lesson would end. But today, I didn’t bother trying to understand or memorize anything he taught me. I just watched his reactions for clues to his sincerity.
As soon as Freyad arrived and Aldar left the royal manor for his father’s house, I headed for a room down the hall I had thus far avoided: the library. If I were at home, I’d ask a Servant of the gods if there was anything else we could do about Scilla. Maybe I could do the same thing here—but with the Watchers. But first, I had to understand them better. Jonas had suggested a book. I wanted to look at it before I spoke to him—or someone else—again.
The gut-churning scent of dusty leather assaulted me as soon as I walked in, whispering of headaches lying in wait. The library was as large as the dining hall, with a door at each end and rows upon rows of Farnskager books. Freyad sighed as I walked along the shelves, running a finger over the spines. If only Scilla or Watcher of Sky would point me in the right direction.
The longer I forced myself to concentrate on the book titles, the more I felt like I was back in the classroom with my siblings and our childhood tutors. They’d read entire pages in the time it took me to get through a single paragraph. I stopped walking and leaned my head against the books. The leather covers pressed against my skin as I tilted my forehead back and forth, but no knowledge magically entered my mind.
This was ridiculous. I needed help.
I stalked around the shelves to find Freyad at one of the windows, smiling as she looked out over the street. A woman down below struggled with the reins of an unruly elephant bird—the same woman Freyad had hugged when they’d brought me to Baaldarstad that first day weeks ago, and who I’d seen several times near the stables.
“Freyad,” I said. “Who is that?” I pointed out the window.
She turned to me, the corners of her lips still raised in a smile. “Linnd.” She said something else I didn’t catch, except for the word wife.
I pointed to Linnd. “Your wife?”
She nodded absently, then turned back to the window.
“Can we open it?” I didn’t wait for her answer. I shoved open the window and waved a hand outside. The woman didn’t look up.
Freyad laughed at me but called, “Linnd!”
The woman yanked on the bird’s reins, finally stilling it, and scanned the length of the building until she saw Freyad. The expression on her face smoothed and warmed my chest. She called up to us, and Freyad answered.
I couldn’t do much, but I could say hello. “Guuddug, Linnd!”
The woman grinne
d at Freyad, then waved to me. “Guuddug, Skriin Jiara!”
The two women exchanged a few more phrases, then Linnd called a goodbye to both of us and tugged on the reins, dragging the reluctant animal up the street. Freyad watched until she was out of sight and asked me a question . . . possibly whether I was finished.
“No, I’m looking for a book about the Watchers.” I pointed to my bracelet, then swept a hand over the books.
“Ahh,” Freyad sighed. She pushed away from the window and walked along one of the shelves, her head swiveling back and forth, up and down.
As much as I would have liked to wait until she found what I sought, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to browse a different shelf. Four eyes were better than two, even if half of them belonged to me. A quarter of an hour later, I finally found something useful, even if it wasn’t what I’d sought: an Azzarian-Farnskag lexicon, similar to the one Raffar kept next to the bed and had accidentally packed when he left for Gluwfyall. I wasn’t looking forward to more reading, but it would definitely be helpful.
“Here.” Freyad pushed a second book into my hand.
I tried to focus on the title, but the letters kept slipping around. No wonder I hadn’t found it myself. “Thank you, Freyad.”
“. . . just a few moments,” said a familiar voice from the door we’d entered. Aldar.
My stomach clenched as if I’d been caught misbehaving. Which was silly. I was the queen and had every right to be in my library. But I suddenly didn’t want to see Aldar, or rather, didn’t want him to see me here, among all this written word, especially not holding a lexicon. If he didn’t want me to understand the language, keeping what I did understand secret seemed the right thing to do. At least for now.
I put a finger to my lips. Freyad’s eyebrows wrinkled, but she trailed after me when I grabbed her sleeve and headed for the opposite door.
Once Aldar had left the first row, we sneaked around the shelves and slipped out of the room.
Freyad shook her head at me and rolled her eyes. I shrugged. I had no way to ask her to keep the lexicon secret from Aldar, except . . . the book weighed heavy in my hand. If I had a lexicon, I could find a way. We navigated the manor’s passages to the narrow staircase at the back and slipped out into the garden below.
Usually, when we went on walks, Freyad took me through the town so I could meet my people. But today, I looked up the word for water and pointed to it. She mimed a drinking motion, and I shook my head. “No, like a lake or river.” I found both words and pointed to them.
She motioned for me to follow her. We walked all the way through the garden behind the manor, past the tall trees and the bushes and the stones covered in succulents. A spike-topped wooden fence surrounded the grounds, but there was an unmanned gate at the rear. Why have a fence if the gate was open? Why didn’t they feel the need for more security? In Glizerra, I never left without at least two guards—not that anything had ever happened. Maybe it was more for show.
Raffar constantly went to town with no guards at all. If I hadn’t proved to be such a danger to myself, I probably wouldn’t have constant protection either. On the other hand, considering Scilla’s death and the attempt on my life in Loftaria, maybe I would.
Freyad kicked the gate open, and we headed into a lush span of forest. Pine trees, lacy ferns of all heights, even some of those purple flowers Raffar had given me during our journey.
Freyad ran a hand along the ferns, greeting them. “Small river,” she said, pointing.
Around a copse of tall trees, we came upon a creek about three feet wide and a few inches deep. It was nothing compared to the river that emptied into the sea at Glizerra or even compared to our canals, but I crouched down and plunged both hands into the cold, clear water. I closed my eyes and tried to squelch the ache in my throat. I’ve missed you, Azzoro.
When my hands were chilled to the bone, I wiped them on my pants. A fallen log in the shade of an ironfern tree made the perfect seat, and I opened the lexicon on my lap. I looked up Watcher, and matched it to a word on the spine of the book Freyad had given me. Freyad said the word over and over, until I could pronounce it flawlessly. Then she told me the names of them all. Watcher of Sky, Watcher of Stone, Watcher of Water.
My guard slipped down to the ground and leaned her back against the log on which I sat. She tipped her face to the sun then squinted up at me. She pointed to the sun and said a word. I repeated it.
She did the same for the log, and one by one, named most every object around us. Like a spinning carriage wheel, she cycled through a dozen words, over and over, quizzing me until she was sure I had them.
Finally, she pointed to my bracelet. “Watcher of Sky,” I said.
She beamed. “Very good, Queen Jiara.”
She stood up and said we should return to the manor, but I held her back. I flipped between the pages until I knew what I wanted to say, and how to do it diplomatically. Just because Aldar gave me an odd, uncomfortable feeling didn’t mean he was actually doing anything truly dangerous. And he was Raffar’s cousin and oldest friend, after all.
“Please don’t tell Aldar about this lexicon,” I said. “I want to surprise him with my progress.”
If she found my request unusual, she didn’t show it. At her nod, we followed the narrow path back home.
__________
After that first day with Freyad at the training grounds, I began accompanying her several times a week, begging her to teach me the words for everything around us. In order to see more people, I asked her to take me to more surrounding villages and towns. Everywhere we went, I studied faces, tattoos, always ready to pounce should the right tattoo come into view.
I also joined her during training. Mostly, I was a glorified assistant, handing her weapons, separating trainees into teams, and sending fighters for a couple of laps around the field when they became too hot headed. Occasionally, I joined the youngest children and tried my hand at throwing a knife, wielding a club or a staff. No one said it aloud, but weaponry skills were not my strength.
The portion of training that always earned cheers was Capture the Queen. Freyad allowed it at least once a week because it schooled strategic thinking. Whether soldiers chased me around trees or I helped to build a barricade of fallen branches, every session had me reach a point where I laughed until I thought I’d fall over.
When one of the youngest girls won her first fight with a staff, I placed my hand on her head and congratulated her for her hard work. Soon soldiers of all ages dropped to one knee before me to receive praise, and within two weeks, new recruits started showing up. Some of the eldest from Baaldarstad even began making the trek out to the training grounds, calling suggestions from the sidelines, or stepping in to help with posture or techniques to try. After a few Farnskag-style “discussions,” during which Freyad’s posture had been ironfern-wood strong, she’d come to an agreement with them. Outside of one man who was eventually barred from the practice field, the eldest now took direction from Freyad whenever she gave an order during training.
Shortly after I’d taken the books from the library, I stood in front of my blocks for the gods. “Thank you for providing for me here. Raffar is a good man, and a good king. And thank you for Freyad. Without her, I may not have found my place in this country. Please protect my family from Scilla, and please help me or Father find her killer so she may be freed from this world.”
Freyad’s knock and bright “hello” through the door broke me out of my thoughts, and I hurried with her to the front door of the manor. I had special plans today. I needed to make progress on Scilla’s murder. I used the lexicon to explain I wanted to go to the prison while Aldar visited his father. Freyad scratched her short hair, but agreed to take me. Linnd, who turned out to be one of the bird masters, led an elephant bird to the two-seat carriage that would pull us there.
As we rode, Freyad tested me on the words she’d taught me lately by pointing to things and having me say their names. She corrected my pr
onunciation.
Suddenly, she asked, “How are you?”
My heart squeezed a little, and I swallowed. The townspeople might enjoy my appearances during military training, but outside of Raffar and Aldar, no one had ever asked.
Only, how to answer her question was a different story. Scilla had barely been around the past several days. I was luckier than I could have hoped in marrying Raffar. Despite our speech issues, we had an inherent understanding of each other. And as much as the slowness frustrated me, my Farnskager language skills were improving. Our relationship would only get better the more we could communicate.
I missed my family and Azzaria. The weather wasn’t as harsh as I’d assumed—at least not now, in the summer. And I was getting used to the new cuisine. “Some good, some . . . I learn still.”
Freyad patted my back. “You’re doing fine. The people like you.” She uttered another phrase I didn’t catch, but with the lexicon, I figured it out: “You are a good support for our king.”
A good support. Months ago, I’d thought I’d have a meaningful life with Marro in northern Azzaria. Despite how different everything had turned out, I was glad I could still make my life meaningful. Probably more so, considering the protection the alliance brought to Azzaria.
After a quarter of an hour, we reached the prison. The same guard as the first time was there, and she held her torch high as she descended the steps in front of us. Again, Jonas shielded his eyes from the light, but his face was less dirt smeared, and his hair and beard had been trimmed.
“Did they allow you to bathe?” I asked, wrinkling my nose at the scent of too many unwashed bodies and no fresh air. I had never enjoyed visiting the prisons back home, and I didn’t like it here.
“Queen Jiara,” the prisoner said, with a voice rough from lack of use. “Yes. I wondered why.” He smiled politely. “Please . . . please visit me often. Then I can keep cleaner. I see you left the translator away this time.”
“He was busy. And I can understand you fine.”
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