Rowen followed, her head bent down. She should go back to her room. Turn and go right up those stairs. Instead, she continued along the hall, her stomach rolling inside of her.
Valin was dangerous.
But the silence and loneliness scared her more.
“What is this place?” Her voice echoed along the hall.
“A former Thyrian senator’s home.”
“And where is he now?”
Valin laughed, but did not answer.
Turn back!
She wrapped her arms across her middle and kept on walking.
At the end of the hall, Valin opened the door and stepped back.
Rowen passed him and stepped outside. A high stone wall surrounded the spacious garden. Paths made of small pebbles crisscrossed through the garden beds, which were unkempt and dotted with weeds. In the middle of the garden was a grand tree, its branches spread out high overhead. A bench was placed at its base, a perfect place to sit in the summer.
Only it was autumn now. The sun looked faded and its rays gave no warmth. The tree was empty and dead leaves were scattered across the bench and ground. The garden itself still held a couple flowers, but they looked shriveled and unloved. Dead leaves clung to the dying plants. Weeds poked out between the flowers, the only healthy looking things in the entire place.
At one time, this garden was probably a masterpiece of vibrant colors and smells. But now it was nothing more than decaying patches of vegetation.
Death seemed to be everywhere in Thyra.
Valin stood beside the first flowerbed. “Tell me about your life. Where do you come from? What was it like growing up different?” He bent down and picked the only white flower left in the patch.
Rowen pulled her arms even tighter across her middle. “Why do you want to know?”
Valin straightened and sniffed the flower. “I could find out your history other ways. But it is usually much easier to ask questions.” He held the flower away from his face. “And to receive answers. Generally that is how people find out about each other. I have no hidden agenda, I assure you. I simply want to know more about you.”
There was that threat again, of his ability to find out about her, without her cooperation.
He started down one of the overgrown paths. “Let’s begin with where you grew up.”
Valin seemed intent on becoming acquainted with her. What harm would there be in sharing a small part of her life? “I grew up in a small village in the Ryland Plains, near Anwin forest.”
“Yes, you said that yesterday. Were there only humans in this village?”
“Yes. I believed I was one, too, until . . .”
Valin looked over at her. “Until you discovered you weren’t.”
Rowen hesitated. “Yes.”
“How did you find out?”
A sick feeling pooled inside her middle. Maybe she didn’t want to answer his questions. What happened to her back in Cinad was personal and still carried a lot of hurt.
Valin held the flower between his fingers, waiting.
“I touched someone. A man.” She still remembered everything she had seen inside Cleon, all the anger and hatred. She grabbed the edge of her wrap and curled the hem between her fingers. “It scared him.”
“What scared him?”
She licked her lips.
He twisted the flower between his fingers. “You saw things, things you never knew about him. Am I correct?”
Rowen watched the petals move back and forth. “Yes.”
Valin stopped and turned toward her. “I suspected you were a Truthsayer. After all, there must always be a Truthsayer.” His tone held a bitter note to it. “Let me guess, when your village found out, they turned on you.”
The sick feeling intensified. “Yes.” She could no longer see their faces, but she could still feel the village’s fear and hatred of her.
“I had the same experience.”
Her head whipped up. “You did?”
“We scare them, people like you and me.” Valin pulled back his cloak and tugged at the neckline of his tunic. About two inches down from the base of his neck was a long, jagged scar.
Rowen touched her own scar across her neck.
His gaze followed her movement. “Is that how you received that scar? Did your village do that to you?”
“What? Oh, no. Not this.” She dropped her hand. “My village banished me.”
“I see.” Valin dropped the flower onto the path and crushed it beneath his boot. “At least they offered you more mercy than they did to me.”
“So what happened?”
“I lived. And they did not.”
Rowen stared at him. For one moment they had connected. But now . . .
He picked another flower, this one blue. “So your village banished you. Then what?”
“I . . .” Rowen watched Valin sniff the flower. “I . . . I found a new place to live. In the White City.”
“Really? They just let you in?”
“I hid my mark beneath a leather glove. No one knew.”
“Smart woman. That is how Malchus and I have survived all these years. It was how we were able to enter Thyra. We hid who we were. It seems our kind must always hide who we are.”
What exactly did Valin mean by ‘our kind’? They were nothing alike. He was a Shadonae and she was Eldaran. Still, he did wear a black glove . . .
He started down the path again. “So did they discover what you were?”
Rowen stopped, that night rushing back, the night she healed Lore and he learned what she really was.
Lore. His name sent a deep ache surging through her chest.
Lore never turned on her. Instead, he loved her, all of her.
Where are you? The last she had seen him, he was being dragged away by Velyni’s men. Rowen closed her eyes. Word, please let him still be alive. That’s all I ask. Let Lore be alive. “Eventually the people learned what I was. But not everyone feared me. There were those who stood up for me.”
“Really?” There was genuine surprise in Valin’s voice.
Rowen glanced at him. “Yes. Does it surprise you that not all humans are bad?”
Valin shrugged. “In the end, it doesn’t matter. Those who fear us vastly outnumber those who do not. And they have a good reason to fear.” He stopped and faced her.
Rowen didn’t look away. Instead, she was struck by how different Valin was from Lore. Lore’s eyes shifted with the moods of the sea: blue, green, grey. But there was always warmth in them. Valin’s eyes were icy blue and hard. Like life had frozen inside of him, and nothing would ever thaw him out.
Valin broke away from her gaze and slowly circled her. His fingers brushed her shoulder. “What you don’t realize is that humans are beneath us. No matter how kind or how accepting they are. Fear is their place, as it should be. Subservient beings should fear their gods. And Rowen—” he leaned in. His breath brushed her cheek, his mouth close to her ear. “What you haven’t realized is that we are gods. Their gods.”
“What?” She twisted her head around. His face was only inches from hers. Rowen took a step back. “What are you talking about? We are not the same. And I am no more a god than—”
The sober look on his face stopped her. Valin believed that. Really believed that.
“No, you are wrong. We both have power, power humans only dream of. The power to influence the mind, to heal the body, to bring an army from the otherworld.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is more to you than you know. I can feel it. That is why I have kept you safe. You have this power inside of you. You only need to unlock it and you will never fear again.”
“I know who I am.” She closed her eyes. I am a Daughter of Light. I follow the Word—
“Do you?” His breath moved across h
er cheek. “Do you really know? Or, perhaps, could it be you were never told.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Never told what?”
Valin backed away, the corner of his lips turning up in a knowing smile. “That is why you are here. So I can show you who you really are.”
Chapter
11
Lore studied Caleb as he sat by Nierne. Caleb never touched her, but his gaze was always upon her, guarding her. He might not have been able to heal her, but he would protect her.
It was hard to hate Caleb when the man acted so . . . good.
Lore looked away. Shadows spread across the small ravine. The horses munched away at the coarse, dry grass that grew along the sides of the rocky wall. Overhead the sky changed from blue to a dirty orange.
Still, he could not let the hatred go. No, that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t let it go. Every time he tried, he saw Lord Gaynor again, lying on the marble floor, shock across his face. A dull ache would then burn inside him.
It burned now.
All the hurt Caleb had caused, all the pain. He should pay. He should be brought back to the White City to face justice. Sometimes Lore almost acted on that impulse and reached for his sword. Then he remembered his own failure as well. He had failed to protect Lord Gaynor. Because of both of them, his lord had died.
Lore ran a hand through his hair. Now was not the time for condemnation. He needed Caleb if he was to cross the desert and reach Rowen.
Only Rowen held him back.
You need to let go.
The voice spoke inside his mind, like the desert breeze caressing his face. Lore didn’t answer.
You need to let Caleb go.
He had already argued with the voice before, reminding the Word of what Caleb had done. Still, the voice would insist. And the Word was right. This burn was consuming him from the inside out.
Peace will come when you let g—
Lore slammed the doors of his mind shut and stood. No. He would not make that choice now. But he would have to soon, or he would be swallowed up.
Caleb looked at Lore, then at the sky. “Night is almost here. We should go.”
Lore didn’t answer him. He wouldn’t be able to control his words if he did. Instead, he retrieved their packs and stuffed their belongings in with a certain brutality.
“We should reach Merida by morning,” Caleb said.
Lore nodded and strapped their packs to the horses. Caleb lifted Nierne and carried her over to Lore, who softened at the sight of her listless body. Her face was as pale as the white stone from back home. Even her lips were pale. Sweat glistened across her forehead and along her upper lip. Lore held out his arms. “How is she doing?”
“I don’t know.” The words came out raw.
Lore knew what Caleb was going through. He remembered sitting by Rowen in that cave near Avonai almost a year ago, driven crazy by fear that she would die from the stab wound she had healed him from. The half that wanted to forgive Caleb softened further by this connection. But the hatred deep inside squelched the merciful feeling.
Lore held out his arms and Caleb placed Nierne gently down. She felt lighter than she had yesterday.
Caleb mounted his horse and reached back for Nierne. “We will be able to rest more in Merida. And there will be water, so we can bathe the fever.”
Lore lifted Nierne up. Caleb grabbed her and pulled her across his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. His face looked tight and hollow in the shadows.
He almost said something, then turned away. No, he couldn’t keep doing this for much longer. He would either need to forgive Caleb . . .
Or let his hatred consume him.
•••
Caleb held his map up and the small, round compass. “This way,” he said pointing toward the dark hills in the distance. He gave his mount a nudge and the mare started moving.
Lore followed, with Nierne’s horse attached by a long piece of rope to his saddle.
Moonlight turned the sand into a pale landscape, dotted by the silhouettes of scrub brush. The desert was pretty, in a way. But he still missed the trees and the ocean.
He drew his cloak up closer to his chin. It amazed him how cold the desert could get at night. Caleb had told him that first night that it grew even colder in the winter. But the heat of the day drove away all memories of the chill from the night before.
The moon moved across the sky. The scrub brush disappeared altogether, leaving the desert empty, like a white ocean as far as the eye could see, except for the trail of horse tracks left on the virgin sand.
It was hard to picture an oasis in this empty place. Still, Caleb led on and he followed.
Near morning, Lore spotted a patch in the crevice of two hills. Caleb turned and led them toward the patch. As they drew closer, palm trees and shrubs came into focus, the greenery a lush contrast to the rest of the desert.
Beyond the trees water sparkled in the morning light. The sight of water released something inside him. Up until then, he hadn’t realized how much the heat and sand had leeched the life out of him. Avonains rarely traversed the desert, and now he knew why. His people belonged by the ocean. The very heartbeat of their soul was connected to water. To be away from water was to slowly die. And he had been, until now.
Past the tree line, they found a clear spot underneath a group of palms near the water. Charred remains from an old fire sat in a scooped out hole in the sand.
Caleb had said the nomadic tribes of the Great Desert used Merida as a watering hole. The fire seemed to indicate someone had been here recently.
Caleb looked back at Lore. “Here is where we will make camp.”
Lore nodded and dismounted. He let the horse wander over to a patch of tall grass while he walked over to Caleb and reached for Nierne. Her body was hot to the touch. Her eyes fluttered beneath her lids and a deep flush covered her gaunt cheeks.
He drew his lips into a firm line and held her. He didn’t know much about desert fever, but he did know death. There were traces of it etched across her face. His chest tightened. Death was cold and cruel and left a wake of hurt behind. How much would her death affect Caleb?
Caleb spread a blanket out beneath the palms and rolled a cloak into a makeshift pillow. “Place her here.”
Lore crossed the sand and laid Nierne on top of the blanket. Caleb, in the meantime, used his dagger on an extra tunic, tearing it into strips.
He turned and went to the water’s edge. The water was cool and clear. He scooped up the water and drank, then splashed more across his face.
Caleb joined him, drinking first, then wetting the strips he had made.
Lore looked over. “Is there anything I can do?”
Caleb finished wringing out one of the strips and looked around. “Do you know how to track animals?”
“Yes. What kinds of animals live here?”
“Desert hares. Desert foxes. Snakes. Birds. See if you can find any trails or dens where we can set some snares. Since we will be here a couple days, we should restock our supplies. I will make sure Nierne is comfortable, then I will join you.”
“Sounds good.” Lore started through the trees. After a couple minutes, he spotted a small trail leading from the water. Most likely a rabbit or fox. He looked around, memorizing the spot and where it was in relation to their camp, then moved on.
The oasis was quiet except for the occasional bird. A soft breeze blew along the trees. Lore leaned against one of the palms and closed his eyes. A moment later, he looked across the water to where their camp was. Caleb knelt by Nierne, holding her up, tipping the waterskin into her mouth.
His chest tightened again. He doubted Nierne would live through the night. The thought hurt, even though he hardly knew her. Death always hurt deep inside.
Why hadn’t Caleb been able to heal her? Was his blood so diluted that he no
longer possessed the ability to heal, or at least heal others? Lore rubbed his face. He knew what it was like to be close to saving the one he loved, and losing her.
He looked over the water again. Caleb laid Nierne down and placed a cloth across her forehead. Warmth flooded his middle.
How could he wish harm on a man in pain?
Then he saw Lord Gaynor again, blood pooling around his head.
Lore pushed away from the tree and made his way back into the palms.
Caleb joined him a half hour later.
Lore knelt by the water and cupped a handful to his mouth. It tasted like sand, but at least it wet his throat. He stood and shook the water from his hands. “I found a couple trails.”
“So did I. Hopefully we can catch something for dinner tonight. Do you know how to make snares?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s do it.”
The men spent the next hour making snares and setting them up along the game trails. Afterward, Caleb went back to Nierne and Lore gathered dates and other edibles he could find.
The sun now shone overhead and the heat quickly soaked through his clothes. He checked the snares and found two hares. He brought them back and gathered wood for a fire.
Time passed. Lore sat beside one of the palm trees that surrounded their little camp, his gaze on Nierne. Caleb sat next to her. Neither man spoke.
Nierne whimpered, the first sound she had made since they arrived. Lore sat up. Caleb was already at her side.
She gave a small jerk. “Father Reth!” She gasped and tried to sit up. “Don’t leave—don’t leave me!” Her eyes were out of focus.
“Shhhh.” Caleb leaned down and placed his hands on her shoulders. “No one is leaving y—”
“Noooo! You can’t—” She struggled against Caleb. Her face scrunched up. “I don’t want to be alone!” She grabbed Caleb by the shirt, her eyes seeing beyond his face. “Please, don’t leave me. I can’t do this!”
Lore stood and came over, bending down next to Caleb.
“She’s hallucinating.” Caleb guided her back down. “You’re not alone, Nierne.”
Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3) Page 10
