by Grace Martin
I didn’t feel sleepy. I was fully alert. It was so nice just to lie there that it was ages before I finally kissed his warm, bare shoulder, and slipped out of bed. A servant came to fetch me shortly afterwards.
I went down to the library and greeted Nimue and the watermaids. Nimue answered my greeting solemnly and indicated that there was someone who wanted to talk to me. Jegu was out, in one of the caverns below the fortress, exploring the wonders that Umbra left behind. He had been gone all night and would probably be gone for another day before hunger drove him home, if past expeditions were anything to go by. He’d found wonders in those caverns. I suspected it would be a good many years before I was fully master of all Ce’deira’s secrets, if ever.
I followed the graceful wave of Nimue’s branches. There was a small group sitting at a table, half hidden by the great staircase that swept up to the first gallery.
‘Good morning,’ I said, cautiously. Sparrow and Rhiannon smiled and murmured guarded greetings in a way that set me on edge. The other two at the table were a man and a little girl who was probably about David’s age. The man was unremarkable. At least, I found him unremarkable. Aine must have found him remarkable, though, because if that girl wasn’t Umbra’s heir, then I was a duck in disguise.
I couldn’t even remember his name. I knew Aine had mentioned it, but I hadn’t been paying attention. He rose to his feet to greet me while the little girl stared at me with big eyes.
‘Greetings, Bach Chwaer,’ he said, his tenor voice slow and courteous. He bowed. ‘My name is Ruairi, and this is my daughter, Rhiannon.’
Sparrow and Rhiannon exchanged glances, but didn’t speak. We knew that Rhiannon wasn’t Aine’s daughter, but it still took her a while to reconnect with the new way of identifying herself. She didn’t know who her family was now. Didn’t even know where she was from or why the White Queen had chosen to mutilate her and enslave her under a false name.
‘I’ve heard of you,’ I said. I smiled at the little girl. ‘Hello, Rhiannon. Your mummy has told me a lot about you. She loves you very much.’
Sparrow spoke up. ‘We’ve already sent for Aine. There is something we wanted to talk with you about first, though.’
I took the seat at the head of the table. Ruairi sat back down next to Rhiannon.
Sparrow went on. ‘Ruairi has brought news from beyond the Thousand Counties.’
I nearly fell off the chair. ‘Beyond the Thousand Counties?’ I asked. ‘There is no such thing.’
‘I assure you, Bach Chwaer, there are lands beyond what we know. There are whole kingdoms and empires we have never seen. This last year I have been keeping Rhiannon safe in a land far beyond our shores. That is why it took us so long to return, once the White Queen was defeated.’
‘Why has no one mentioned this?’ I asked, as though it was their fault I hadn’t been informed of the breadth of the world.
‘It’s probably in one of these books somewhere,’ Rhiannon suggested. ‘Most things are. Once someone gets around to reading them.’
I couldn’t argue with that. I leaned forward. ‘A land beyond the Thousand Counties? I think one of my librarians would be very interested in that.’ Jegu, presently pointing a lantern down a dark crevasse would be in his element when he learned about this. We would have to put together an expedition.
‘I bring more news, Bach Chwaer,’ Ruairi said.
I dragged my thoughts back to our current location. ‘Go on.’
‘There are rumours that the White Queen left Rheged, that she travelled beyond our shores. When she returned, she brought with her a captive. A little girl. Rhonwen, would you come out, please and meet the Bach Chwaer?’
I wasn’t ready. From the nearest study nook, from behind the rotten drapes we still had to replace, came a little girl. About four years old, the same age as Aine’s daughter and my son, but this girl wasn’t Aine’s daughter Rhiannon. She was Sparrow’s Rhiannon, her little cheeks already branded with spiral sorrow signs. I gasped. Rhiannon… the older Rhiannon… grasped Sparrow’s hand where it lay on the table next to her own.
We were interrupted by a wordless cry of joy. Ruairi turned, recognising Aine’s voice even in that wordless sound. He rose, ran to her and swept her up and Aine sobbed into his shirt. Their daughter followed and clung to Aine’s leg before Aine bent to pick her up and enfold her in their family embrace.
I looked back at my sisters, to give the others a little privacy. ‘Why don’t you come sit with us, Rhonwen?’ I asked, patting the seat Ruairi had just vacated. She shook her head and withdrew behind the curtains again. ‘That’s all right,’ I murmured. ‘We will always have a seat for you at our table, Rhonwen.’
A very small voice came from behind the drapes. ‘Uh, huh,’ but she didn’t come out again.
I turned back to Rhiannon. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked in a low voice. Her face was inscrutable.
‘My family is out there, Emer.’
I reached out to take her hand and she curled her fingers around mine. It wasn’t so very long ago that I wouldn’t have made the gesture and she wouldn’t have let me. ‘I’m so sorry for all you’ve lost, Rhiannon.’
‘I might not have lost it. They may still be alive. I might find out who I am.’
I squeezed her hand. ‘I know who you are. You’re my sister. You’re my friend.’
She shook her head. ‘It isn’t enough, Emer. I have the opportunity to find out. I need to take it. I need to leave the Thousand Counties. I need to find out where I come from.’
‘But you have a home here!’ I wailed. Behind me, Ruairi and Aine paused their murmuring.
‘I will always have a home here. But I need to find out where I’m from. Look at that little girl. Hiding. Hurting. Would you tell her she doesn’t need to be returned to her family? You have a home and family now, was it worth it to be raised by creepyguardians your whole life, in order to be where you are now?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I need to go.’
I closed my eyes. ‘I’ll miss you, Rhiannon. You’ll always have a place here. I’ll always be waiting for you to come back.’
Our eyes met and understanding passed between us. I didn’t like it, but I understood it. Then Sparrow spoke up. ‘I’m going with her, Hawk.’
I ripped my hand from Rhiannon’s. ‘You are not!’
‘I have to.’
‘Be buggered if you do!’ I pushed my chair back from the table as if I was going somewhere, but my legs were too rubbery to rise.
‘Swearing about it won’t change my mind. I love Rhiannon. And I’m going with her.’
I wanted to rage. It was building inside me, everything Aoife had ever been. I was hurting more than I thought I could hurt, when I woke up warm and snug against my husband. But Sparrow met my furious gaze calmly. There was a certainty there that cooled my rage. I clasped my hands tightly in front of me and closed my eyes for a moment.
I understood why Rhiannon had to leave. I understood why Sparrow had to go with her. But it hurt so much. ‘Of course, you are,’ I said, my voice thin and thready before I burst into tears. ‘My Sparrow’s flying the nest already.’
‘I’ll come home, Hawk, I promise.’
Well, that did it. My face crumpled and I started to cry. Sparrow rose from her seat and came around to embrace me. I buried my face against her, my arms around her waist. Rhiannon rose, too, and embraced me from the other side, so I was the middle of a sister sandwich. I relished every moment. I was going to lose them. They were going to go off and have their own adventures.
I couldn’t begrudge them the right to leave. I loved them. I wanted them to be happy. And if I was honest, I’d known they’d leave sooner or later. So, I just enjoyed the cuddles while they lasted and made sure they knew how much I loved them. There was a touch at my knee.
I opened my eyes. Rhonwen was standing there, watching me solemnly. ‘It’s okay, Rhonwen,’ I murmured, still watery. ‘We’ll be all right.’
&n
bsp; She nodded, and climbed up into my lap. I held her like I held David, and all four of us comforted each other.
They didn’t even take long to prepare for their journey. Both my birds travelled lightly through the world and everything they owned was packed shortly after breakfast.
‘Come back soon, Sparrow,’ I ordered, ‘or I’ll go all White Queen on everyone and start killing people for being fools.’ I was never going to stop trying and failing to be funny.
Sparrow shook her head. ‘You’re not a killer, Hawk. I’m the one with the bottled-up anger. You’re the brave one. You’re the hero.’
The brave one. The hero. I’d never considered, while I was beating myself up for not being the nice one, that maybe Sparrow was using similar words to castigate herself. The Master had used words to poison us both.
‘Was that why you healed Aoife in Cairastel, when you were a featherskin and I tried to rip her face off?
Sparrow nodded. ‘You’d never stop beating yourself up if you did it. I know you, Hawk. You care too much to forgive yourself for things like that.’
Sparrow didn’t know I’d killed Maldwyn, but she knew, even without being told, that I struggled with it every day, even though that man had deserved everything that happened to him and more.
‘And that was why you stopped me from killing Aoife and killed her yourself?’ I asked.
Sparrow shook her head. ‘No. I’m sorry, Hawk. I killed her because I wanted to be the one to do it. I hated her. And I’m glad I did it. That’s where we’re different. You’d be sorry. I’m not.’
I stared at her. There was no compunction in her face, no hiding her feelings. She was telling the truth. I nearly shivered, although she would never have forgiven me for it. There was the implacable determination that had led to her becoming the Empress.
She took hold of my arms. ‘Now that I’m leaving, I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. I just want to say, I know.’
She knew? About Maldwyn? My eyes went wide. I had the presence of mind to say, ‘Know what?’ in a perfectly innocent voice.
‘I know that you’re Umbra.’
I wasn’t expecting that. My head went back in shock, then I leaned towards her. ‘How did you guess?’
‘David.’
‘David?’
She nodded, and spoke in a low voice. ‘All Umbra’s heirs are female. We all look alike. Your features are the same as Umbra’s heirs. You are born of one of Umbra’s heirs. But you can’t be her heir if your baby was a boy. The only logical conclusion is that you will one day be Umbra herself.’ Sparrow smiled. ‘You have great adventures ahead of you, Hawk.’
I felt a pressure against my leg and looked down. Rhonwen was nuzzling against me. I put my hand on her hair. ‘This is the adventure I want,’ I said. ‘Maybe one day, far in the future, I might want something else, but right now, what I want more than anything is to have my home and my husband and my children. And my library.’
Sparrow laughed. ‘And your enchanted forest and your magical river and gossipy roses?’
‘Absolutely. And my secret passageways and magical artifacts and hidden caverns in the mountain. Just like any other house and garden.’
She hugged me. ‘You will be happy, Hawk. I know it.’
She was right. I didn’t know what was ahead for her, but I wanted her to be happy more than anything, and that meant leaving me to my home and garden.
We waved until they were out of sight, then turned and went back through the grove. The river called out to me, telling me that Sparrow and Rhiannon were crossing the new bridge. The forestmaids whispered that they were going down the road. The roses told me they stopped to share a kiss along the way. I shushed the roses, and with Caradoc, David and Rhonwen by my side, closed the door behind us.
The End.
A Note from Grace
Hi there!
If you enjoyed Resistance, Book 3 in the Umbra Chronicles, I hope you would consider leaving a review. You can do that by clicking here . Independent authors (like me) rely on readers (like you!) sharing reviews. It helps other people like you find books they would enjoy. A simple review would make a big difference to me. If you’re not sure what to write in a review, check out my website where I link to several handy guides to help you. You can also leave a star rating if you purchased or downloaded the Kindle version.
Thank you so much,
Grace.
EXCERPT
An excerpt from my debut novel, Daughter of a Captive God, the first book in The Author’s Daughter Series. Set in the same universe as The Night Princess, it follows Katie as she learns that not everything is as it seemed and the world was more dangerous than she ever knew.
CHAPTER ONE
When I was twenty-three, my Dad ran away from home. Given that he was living with my mother I was sympathetic. Still, I had to go home to help Mum, no matter how I felt about it. That’s what you do. I spent my first day back home talking to the police and spending a terrible, terrible time in the morgue identifying a body that looked enough like my father to fool the casual observer.
That night I lay awake, upstairs in the guesthouse in my parents’ backyard. I planned my Dad’s funeral. While I was at it, I planned my own funeral and listened to the house settle.
I’d never slept in the Guesthouse before. It was a very old building and to give my Dad credit, he’d renovated it thoroughly. It had a big bedroom upstairs with an en-suite with a lounge room and a kitchenette downstairs. They say old buildings make noises as they settle, though you’d think they had enough time to settle in the last century and a half.
There was another noise. That wasn’t the house settling.
I swung my legs out of bed. Silly me, I’d packed clothes and soap and deodorant. I hadn’t packed a weapon — not that it would do much good, since I didn’t know how to use one. Mum had moved all my toys from my old room into the Guesthouse with me, so I picked out the one I could most easily use as a club.
A hobby horse, with a plush fake-fur horse’s head on top of a stick might sound like something out of a horror novel, but it’s an actual thing. When you’re five and pretending you’re a knight on horseback it serves well enough as a horse. Now it served well enough as a pointy stick.
I crept downstairs, quiet, quiet, the hobby horse raised in my hand.
There was nothing there. An empty room, kitchen benches clean and tidy, the bank of storage cupboards that lined the back wall… wait. One of the doors wasn’t quite shut.
There was another thump. You couldn’t miss it. It was inside the cupboard. I braced myself, hobby horse at the ready. The cupboard doors bumped slightly, hiccoughed almost. They burst open with a loud crash.
I took stumbling steps backwards as a slavering, bestial thing shouldered its way out of the splintered remains of the cupboard doors.
It was enormous, looming over me, a Thing of leathery skin and teeth and claws and its breath tasted of things long dead. It lunged towards me and knocked me to the ground, claws digging in to my arm and drawing blood. I screamed in pain and fear and rolled away, the force of my movement ripping my own flesh on the monster’s claws.
It caught up to me, roaring in fury as I beat it around the head, swinging the hobby horse with more strength than I knew I possessed. I screamed again, this time in fury. I spun the hobby horse around and drove the sharp end into the belly of the beast. As it fell it reached out a clawed hand and dragged me down with it.
The Thing pinned me to the floor. I tried to roll and scramble away but it drew me back to it. I gagged on the smell of its breath and fought to free myself. The beast lowered its head, its teeth ripping my shoulder. I screamed in horror at the idea that it might torture me, play like a cat before finally killing me. It lowered its head again and from that bestial mouth came a sound, a word. My name.
‘Katie,’ it growled.
***
Three days before, the only person I had to hide from was the boss. I was gardening, gardeni
ng, I say, when the boss called out from the verandah that there was a phone call for me. I could have been gone into the bush and not been found for… well, usually people who go into the bush aren’t found, so I answered the damn phone.
‘Yes, Dad?’ I said, cradling the phone next to my ear while I picked dirt out from under my fingernails. It was only just past sunrise but that’s the best time to get started on garden work. I had to be sure I worked hard and was seen to work hard. It had been hard for me to get work and I couldn’t afford to lose this job. I had no ID. When I’d asked Mum for my birth certificate, she told me that I didn’t have one.
‘Do I exist?’ I’d joked.
‘No,’ she replied and kept a straight face. So, when I ran away I disappeared into the Australian outback and did odd jobs on enormous stations for cash in hand, bed and board.
‘Katie, it’s Cecilia. I’m so sorry to call-’
‘Silly?’ I asked. It wasn’t my fault I called her Silly. Her name was Cecilia Beally, what else did her mother expect? ‘Silly.’ I sat down. I sighed into the phone and she sighed on the other end of the line in response.
‘I’m sorry, Katie.’
‘Don’t be sorry. It’s just my family I ran away from, not you.’
‘Katie, it’s about your Dad.’
‘Yeah, what?’ I rubbed gingerly at my chest. The scars were still fresh and sore, so I poked at them five or six times an hour to see if they were any better yet.
‘Katie, your Dad’s gone missing.’
I stopped probing the sore spots. ‘Missing? He hasn’t left the house since I was sixteen. Has Mum checked behind the lounge?’
‘Katie!’
‘Sorry.’ There weren’t many people on earth I’d say that for, and even for Silly it was a recalcitrant mumble.
‘Katie, your Mum needs help.’
‘Can you stop saying my name like that? It’s not Simon Says. Has Mum even tried to do anything or has she been too busy weeping into a lace hankie and complaining that Sherlock Holmes hasn’t been any help at all.’ I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled scrap of paper. It was my bucket list, treated with no more respect than it deserved.
