“And why would I want a man who isn’t strong enough to stand up for what he really needs?”
Immediately, she knew she’d crossed a line, from anger to cruelty. He watched her, eyes wide. Then he turned away, but not fast enough to hide the pain twisting his mouth.
“Damn it,” she muttered. She hadn’t even meant what she’d said. At least she didn’t think she had. But whether or not the attack was true, it had hit him like a bullet to the heart. Nothing else she’d said today had convinced him . . . but maybe those impulsive words would.
She almost ran after him and apologized, but she needed him to be angry. Otherwise, she might end up changing her mind. And staying with Ovrun would be even more cruel than the words she’d just spoken.
He walked halfway down the hill, then turned and trudged back toward her. Standing just out of reach, he studied her eyes. He must not have found what he wanted there, because his shoulders fell. “So that’s it?”
Nora squeezed her eyes and lips shut, a wave of sorrow nearly knocking her down. She drew a harsh breath in through her nose, held it, and forced herself to look at him. “Yes.”
His chin trembled, and tears filled his eyes.
It might’ve been the worst possible thing to do, but Nora couldn’t help herself. She pulled him into her arms.
After several seconds, he returned the embrace.
Ovrun realized he was holding Nora so tightly, she was probably finding it hard to breathe. He loosened his grip a bit but didn’t let go.
How had this happened? Their day had begun with so much promise, riding a dragon to find their next home. As the sun had risen, he’d found himself mesmerized by the beautiful fields and charming farmhouses. And yes, he’d briefly given in to the dream that tugged at his heart, imagining himself and Nora living in one of those homes, caring for the land and for each other.
She was part of his silly farm fantasy. Maybe he should’ve told her that. Except he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Because that particular dream couldn’t come true. That was her whole point.
He understood what she was saying, but she didn’t get it. A perfect little farm wouldn’t truly be perfect without her there. He’d made his choice: she was more important than his other dreams. Why couldn’t she believe that?
Tears ran down his cheeks, dampening Nora’s hair. He drew in a deep breath, trying to contain his emotion.
Nora’s arms loosened. He forced himself to let her go, then wiped his cheeks. She stepped away and turned her back to him. He watched the small movements of her shoulders as she breathed in and out. Without meaning to, he timed his breaths to hers.
“Are you two okay?” It was Krey, standing on the slope above them.
“Any word from Sarza?” Nora asked without looking up.
“Yeah,” Krey said. “She knows which farm we’re supposed to walk to.”
Nora and Ovrun joined the others, avoiding Krey’s and Hatlin’s curious looks. Sarza, thank the sky, only had eyes for the landscape below.
“It’s pretty far,” the seer said, “so I’ll point out some landmarks. See the farm with the white roof? Look to the west toward that orchard. Now look north . . .” She continued guiding them, finally saying, “You might have to squint, but there’s a black roof and a red one next to it. See them?”
Ovrun’s pulse sped up. Dread pooled in his gut. He blinked, trying to convince himself he was imagining things. Every moment, his certainty grew.
“That’s where we’re going?” Krey asked.
“Yeah. I don’t know why they’ll welcome us, but I think they will.”
Not peeling his eyes away from the farm, Ovrun said, “Tell me this is a joke.”
“I don’t make many jokes,” Sarza said.
“What’s wrong?” Krey asked.
“I know that farm.” Ovrun shook his head with a humorless laugh. “My ex lives there.”
8
Happy Panyar Day! It’ll take a couple of weeks for you to get this letter, but here, we’re still celebrating the holiday. For the next fifteen minutes, anyway.
I hoped to experience Panyar Day in the capital, but last night, Uncle Quin informed me we were going to his cousin’s farm. He saw my disappointment, but he just chuckled and said he was sure I’d have a good time.
I’ll give credit to his cousin; he knows how to throw a party. The food was great, and the games were fun. After dark, a band played.
After dancing for a while, I walked to the drink table. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see the broad shoulders and grinning mouth of the prince of Cellerin.
He held a finger to his lips and beckoned me to follow him behind the house. In a whisper, he told me he’d arranged with Uncle Quin to surprise me. We danced with no audience, pressed close together and swaying to our own rhythm, until someone finally came and found us. Then we danced with the others until the band went home.
-Letter from Ambrel Kaulder to Dani Kaulder
Dated Centa 25, 180 PD
“Your ex?” Krey stared at Ovrun, who was gritting his teeth, glaring into the distance.
Ovrun cursed.
Nora was watching Ovrun too, breathing quickly, her lips pressed together. “Is something going on?” Krey asked. “I mean, besides the obvious awkwardness of—”
“What’s going on is,” Ovrun interrupted, “we’re walking to my ex’s farm and asking her parents if we can stay there.” Without looking at any of them, he started down the hill.
Sarza followed, muttering, “You’re all way too emotional.”
Hatlin went next, seeming unaffected by whatever was happening with the teenagers he’d been stuck with for three weeks.
Nora didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on Ovrun.
Krey approached but stood far enough away to give her the space she seemed to need. “What the hell happened?” he asked softly.
She blinked, and the morning sun shone off a film of moisture in her eyes. “I told him I loved him.”
“That’s great!” Krey said, though his twisting gut disagreed. Their hours in the library had given him way too many opportunities to dwell on everything he liked about Nora. I’m such an ass. SUCH an ass.
She interrupted his self-flagellation. “I also broke up with him.”
Krey’s feet moved of their own accord, bringing him right up to her. Her words had sent a terrible lightness into his chest, a sense of hope he refused to embrace. Ass. Ass. Ass. “Why?”
“You know why.” She turned her gaze to him. “I care too much about him to let him give up his dreams for me.”
True sympathy squeezed his heart. Better late than never. Krey’s feelings about Nora were all over the place, but he didn’t want to see her and Ovrun in pain. “Damn it, Nora. I’m sorry.”
She wrapped both arms around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder. Krey responded by instinct, returning her embrace, his arms firm around her shoulders.
She felt soft and warm and . . . Oh by the ever-loving stone, this was a bad idea, but it’s not like I can push her away. He turned his mind to the most boring thing he could think of, calculating how many diced feathers he might still have in the pouch in his sleeve and in his backpack. I’ve got at least twenty pieces left in my sleeve, and the pack is half full. I’ve never counted how many fit in there; that would be a good thing to know. I could calculate how many I use every quarter-hour on average. Then I could—
Nora pulled away, wiping her eyes. “Thanks. I needed that.”
I didn’t, his flummoxed mind protested. He laid an awkward hand on her shoulder. “I really am sorry. It sucks.”
She sniffled and pointed at Ovrun, Hatlin, and Sarza, who were at the bottom of the hill, approaching a bridge. “We better catch up.”
Dreary exhaustion weighed down Nora’s legs. Her eyes kept turning to Ovrun. He hadn’t looked at her once as they walked from one farm to the next, staying far away from barns and homes. His shoulders were square, his steps sure. Did his heart ache wit
h the same deep, sharp pain that was consuming her? Or had he somehow closed himself off from it?
Hatlin, Krey, and Sarza chatted a bit, but Nora didn’t join in. It took all her energy just to keep moving. Every so often, she caught Krey watching her, concern compressing his brow. She tried to smile, but she knew it looked as fake as it was.
There were maybe twenty steps between her and Ovrun, but it might as well have been a thousand clommets. Nora couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said to him: Why would I want a man who isn’t strong enough to stand up for what he really needs? The words sat in her belly, sharp and heavy. They’d fulfilled their purpose, pushing him away. She’d be lucky if he ever talked to her again. Would she take it back if she could?
She wasn’t sure. And that made her feel even worse.
She fell behind the rest of the group. When Krey and Hatlin looked back to check on her, she waved them on. Walking with them would be nice. They’d distract her. Krey knew what was going on and would do his best to support her.
But drawing close to her friends would set her up for future disappointment. If there was one positive element of this eminently crappy morning, it was this: breaking up with Ovrun put everything in perspective. It erased her natural optimism, bringing stark clarity to all her relationships.
Ovrun wasn’t the only person whose dreams didn’t line up with hers. Once Nora was queen, everyone would leave. Krey would do something big, making his mark on the world. Hatlin would return to his New Therroan friends. Maybe Sarza would find work as a tailor.
Ovrun was the only one of them Nora had been depending on to stay at her side. And now she’d sent him away too. It had been a massively idiotic act . . . yet it was right. She was terribly certain of that.
She’d be alone once she was queen, so she’d better get used to it now.
After perhaps an hour of brisk walking, Ovrun pointed at the next farm and called, “It’s that one.” He turned to walk along the banks of a canal that bordered a green field. Ten minutes later, they stopped at a white fence surrounding an expansive, bright-yellow, single-story house.
Ovrun turned to face them, his eyes still avoiding Nora. “Wait here.” He opened the gate, strode to the front door, and knocked.
A round-faced woman of medium height, with long, straight, brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, opened the door. “Ovrun!” she said, pulling him into a hug.
After a short conversation, he turned and beckoned his fellow travelers. There was a small smile on his lips, and Nora’s shoulders relaxed a bit to see it.
The woman led them into the house, to a huge living room. “Come and sit, please.”
A hint of unexpected peace stole over Nora’s anxious mind when she entered the room. There were several couches and chairs, all made of dark-stained wood with cushions in a variety of bright colors. The white walls featured paintings of farms and animals. Dark beams ran across the ceiling between large skylights that covered the room in brightness. The floor’s wooden planks matched the furniture and ceiling beams.
“Now this is a house!” Hatlin said, his voice bouncing off the walls and floor.
They all sat. Sarza looked around her with wide eyes, like she’d never been in a home this nice. Krey’s gaze found a small, well-stocked bookshelf in the corner. Ovrun sat stiffly, watching the hallway the woman had walked down.
She soon returned, stopping at the room’s entrance, her smile making the space even brighter. Someone was behind her, hidden in shadows. “I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself in the excitement. We haven’t seen Ovrun in so long! I’m Varia. This is Joli.” She looked over her shoulder, beckoning the other person closer.
The first time Ovrun had mentioned his ex to Nora was in Deroga’s suburbs, at a warehouse he’d visited with Joli. Since then, they’d occasionally talked about her. She’s just part of his past, Nora told herself. Then the truth punched her in the gut: I’m part of his past now too.
Joli stepped into the room. She was of average height, like her mom. Her wavy, medium-brown hair came to her shoulders. She looked like a farm girl in all the best ways. The sun had darkened her skin to a deep brown and painted her hair with lighter streaks of brown tinged with copper. Her sleeveless shirt and pants cut off at the knees showed off toned arms and legs. Joli was pretty, but more than that, she was remarkably cute, with a small nose and a nervous smile that highlighted the little gap between her front teeth.
“Ovrun,” Joli said in a melodious voice, “it’s good to see you.”
Ovrun nodded at Joli, then returned his gaze to Varia. “Sorry to drop in like this. We, uh”—his eyes flitted to Sarza briefly—“didn’t know we were coming here until this morning.”
Varia’s brow creased, but she didn’t ask for clarification. “I’ll get Tiam. Joli, make them feel welcome.” She exited.
“I’ll get water for everyone,” Joli said. “I’m sure you’re hot.” Her eyes flitted to Ovrun, a blush darkening her cheeks. “From walking here, I mean.” She hurried out of the room.
A few minutes later, she returned, holding a tray of mugs and a pitcher. At the same time, Varia entered with a man at her side. He was slightly shorter than his wife, with broad shoulders and hips and a full head of gray hair. His skin looked like leather, despite the wide-brimmed hat he carried that should’ve protected him from the sun.
Joli handed out the cups of water. She and her parents sat on an unoccupied sofa, her father settling with his thick arms crossed over his chest. His gray brows drew together over eyes that glared at Ovrun.
Just when I was thinking we were welcome here, Nora thought.
“This is my husband, Tiam,” Varia said. “Ovrun, we’d love for you to introduce your friends.”
“And tell us why you’re here,” Tiam said in a smooth tone that didn’t match his rough exterior.
“Of course.” Ovrun sat up straighter. “This is Hatlin, Sarza, Krey, and—” He gestured to Nora. “Uh . . .”
“You forgot her name?” Tiam asked, one of his thick brows rising.
Nora never knew if strangers would recognize her. Most people had never seen her in person, and the drawings of her in the newspaper weren’t always the best quality. Through her teenage years, everyone had known her for her chin-length hair. It had been months since she’d gotten it cut, and it now hit her shoulders.
She wasn’t sure why Ovrun was hesitant to introduce her, but someone needed to do it. Nora pasted on a professional smile and said, “My name is Nora Abrios.”
She had to hold back a laugh when she saw the family’s varied reactions. Varia went still, her only movement the rapid blinking of her eyes. Joli tensed, her mouth forming an O. And Tiam’s eyebrows furrowed further, creating a single, bushy line.
“You brought royalty here?” Tiam said it like he was accusing Ovrun of bringing a fire-breathing dragon. Which Nora supposed was an option if this went badly enough.
“We heard the princess was missing,” Varia said.
Nora’s eyes didn’t leave Tiam. Animosity covered him like a noxious cloud. If she told him the truth, he might turn her in, just because he hated her.
Or he might join her quest because he hated the king.
No one else seemed inclined to speak, so she took another chance. “I’ve been in hiding, but I’m returning to Cellerin City because my father has lost his mind, and I intend to take his crown. Our nation needs a new ruler.”
Over the course of the next few seconds, Tiam transformed. He uncrossed his arms, and the sun-hardened skin of his face creased with a broad smile. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” He stood and crossed to Nora, holding out his hand.
She rose and took it. His fingers crushed hers as he pumped her arm up and down. “Any enemy of that bastard is a friend of mine.” He winked, slapping a hand on her shoulder. “No offense.”
Nora didn’t particularly like hearing her father called a bastard, but she couldn’t entirely disagree with it either. “It’s good to meet you.”
Tiam returned to his seat and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Tell us how we can help.”
Sarza chewed a big bite of the casserole Varia had made for dinner. A sense of satisfaction—not an emotion she was used to—warmed her chest. They were here, with people who’d welcomed them and would help them, all because of her vision.
I guess there’s something to be said for sharing my prophecies with others. Half a year ago, she’d never have thought that. Of course, half a year ago, she’d never have guessed she’d be staying in this big, fancy house, eating an amazing, home-cooked meal.
They hadn’t even had to ask to stay here; Tiam and Varia had insisted. Joli still seemed a little nervous, probably because of her history with Ovrun. But once she’d gotten away from her ex, she’d loosened up. She’d been happy to show Sarza and Nora to the room they’d be sharing.
Sarza’s jaw had dropped when they entered the bedroom. It was huge, big enough for at least six beds, though it only held two. When she’d taken a nap, it had been like resting on a cloud.
“Sarza, you should probably explain that part,” Ovrun said.
Sarza looked up, eyes wide and mouth full. Every person at the table was watching her. She chewed quickly, scrambling to figure out what they were discussing. It was no use; the last thing she’d heard was Varia telling them all to dig in.
Krey rescued her. “Varia asked how we decided to come to their house.”
Sarza swallowed, heat filling her cheeks. “Uh . . .” Her eyes found Nora, who nodded encouragingly. Okay, apparently they trusted these people. “I’m a seer.”
“You can see the future?” Joli asked, her eyes bright. “That’s incredible!”
A sarcastic laugh escaped Sarza’s mouth. At this very table were two flyers and a girl who could talk to dragons. Getting headaches from annoying visions wasn’t all that impressive. “I had a vision of a bunch of farms,” she explained, “so we traveled here. Once we got to that big hill past the river, I got another vision where I saw your farm. I knew you’d help us.”
The Stone Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 3) Page 9
