Silvay glanced at Zara a little nervously, so she smiled back to show she was not dismayed. “You’d be surprised,” she assured them both, “how little will bother you after three months in an enchanted castle.”
“Oh!” Wilder exclaimed, staring intently at Zara. “You have them too!”
“Have what?” she asked, her palms beginning to sweat under the intensity of the girl’s gaze.
“Thorns,” Wilder explained. “Like Athven. And a crown, I think. Just like Alexei.”
Zara swallowed hard. Roses and thorns? A crown? What kind of child was this?
“You have music too, but it’s sad,” the girl announced. “I think it’s lonely.”
“Ah, Wilder,” Silvay interrupted, “would you go and tell Malichai that he will be needed shortly in the kitchens? We are all going to want breakfast soon.”
Wilder sighed in disappointment, but turned and scampered back the way they had come.
“I’m sorry,” Silvay said gently. “She’s just a child, and I think she forgets how disconcerting her prescience can be for those who aren’t accustomed.”
“Prescience?” Zara managed to squeak the word between frozen lips. Apparently she was still more easily surprised than she’d anticipated.
“Yes. I don’t know what you might have heard, but we of Erath have different gifts. Ways of using our magic. Wilder sees auras and can sense needs, though not always clearly, as she is young and untrained. Auras,” she added, “are generally believed to be a representation of a person’s deepest self, but what she told you can be interpreted in many different ways, and I would ask you not to let it upset you.”
“No,” Zara managed to say. “What about you?”
Silvay looked somehow apologetic. “I am a seer,” she confessed. “I occasionally have dreams or visions about what is to come, but they are rarely clear or easily interpreted.”
“Did you know about me already?” Zara asked quickly. “Did you know I would be here? Or whether I will be able to leave?”
“It’s not so easy, I’m afraid,” Silvay told her. “I knew things would not be straightforward, but I had no direct knowledge of your presence. And I cannot speak at all to your future. Those things must work themselves out in time.”
She did not say she hadn’t seen it, just that she couldn’t talk about it.
“And you are all Erathi but one?” Zara asked, not yet ready to admit why she felt the need to ask.
“Yes,” Silvay answered, seeming more at ease now that they were no longer discussing her talents. “Malichai, as he mentioned, is from Andar. Gulver has lived here all his life, while Alexei, Wilder and I have remained in exile.”
Zara’s heart sank a little. Malichai had at least treated her with courtesy. The third man had said nothing at all, but he was also quite a bit older, unless she was mistaken. The resulting conclusion was making her faintly nauseated.
“Fortunately,” Silvay went on, “Malichai is also an excellent cook. If you will permit him, I’m sure he’ll be happy to take over the job of preparing meals for everyone.”
Temporarily diverted, Zara couldn’t help but express her skepticism. “The large one? With the weapons? He cooks?”
“Very well actually,” Silvay answered with a chuckle. “Oh, I was skeptical myself at first, but I promise you’ll be astounded at what he can come up with out of practically nothing.”
“I’ll probably be willing to kiss his boots, no matter what he chooses to make,” Zara declared. “I’m an indifferent cook and I’ve been existing on jerked beef stew for the last three months.”
“Then tonight, we will ask him to prepare a feast! As glorious a meal as he can conceive, to celebrate our arrival.”
Zara laughed, but it was hollow and without much enthusiasm. When they learned what she knew, they wouldn’t feel much like celebrating. And when she did what she had to, she would be lucky if they didn’t toss her into the stew with the jerked beef. Though there was always the possibility they would laugh in her face instead.
It was depressing to realize that she couldn’t decide which one would be worse.
When they finally stepped inside the kitchen, Zara stopped and looked around blankly. She’d gone the wrong way. Hadn’t she? This was not the same room she’d left earlier that morning.
But no. There were her blankets. Her pack. The gently flaring coals of her fire.
Otherwise, the room was as different as it was possible for a room to be. In the center of the kitchen was now an enormous trestle table with sturdy benches pushed underneath. Pots and pans of every size and description hung from a rack overhead. Utensils sprouted up like flowers out of clay jars in the center of the table, and the walls were hung with dried herbs.
Zara’s teeth clenched tightly on her scream of frustration. Had this been here the whole time? Had the damned cat been hiding it from her on purpose?
“Why, this is lovely!” Silvay exclaimed. “And so well preserved too. I would have slept here as well, had it been me.”
“Yes,” Zara answered between her teeth. “But you should know that as of this morning, none of this was here.”
Silvay’s brows went up, but she didn’t seem terribly surprised. “Athven must be growing stronger. Perhaps she was only waiting for people to care for, and what was hidden will come to light now that there is more life in the castle.”
Behind them, Zara heard the tread of feet and then a gasp of pure, unadulterated joy.
“I must be dreaming.” The bearded Malichai had just entered the kitchen. “I think I may actually weep, if you all will forgive me. To be able to cook properly after weeks on the road will be a pleasure!”
“You may not feel so joyful,” Zara told him, “when you see what there is to cook.”
“Oh, never fear,” he reassured her with a broad smile. “I can make a feast from very little. Only direct me to the pantries and I will have something delicious for you all long before my companions”—he jerked his head back in the direction of the hall—“have finished their reminiscing.”
Zara found herself smiling at his enthusiasm. “I will show you,” she agreed, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She had just finished pointing out the wood and the stores of food when a strange feeling assailed her. It was faint at first, as if something was tugging at her spine, pulling her first one way, and then another. Her head began to spin and her eyesight went fuzzy.
“Are you all right?” Malichai was watching her with concern.
“I think so,” she gasped, leaning against the wall for support. “Just a dizzy spell. Probably from too much of my own cooking.” She stepped out of the pantries and felt another tug, back towards the entry hall. With a muttered curse, she headed that direction as quickly as her poor balance would allow, staggering across the kitchen as a fresh wave of dizziness hit her. In addition to the darkness creeping into the edges of her vision, there was a sensation like part of her was being stretched unbearably, a tearing, almost-separation that seemed to have nothing to do with her physical body.
When the pain shot through her chest, Zara fell to her knees, but pushed upward and tried again to walk. She thought about shouting for help, but didn’t know if anyone would hear her. If only she could find where the feeling was coming from. Was it Athven? Were they under attack?
She took a final step into the entry hall and stumbled again. Her sight was almost completely gone, but when she squinted against the pain, in the direction the unseen force had been pulling her, she could make out the motionless figure of Alexei. He stood in the center of the floor, his eyes closed and his arms outstretched, and when his fingers clenched, the pain and darkness squeezed her so tightly that she screamed.
Chapter 6
Alexei planted his feet atop the rose mosaic and reached out for Athven once more. She was there. He could feel her growing ever more aware now that there was life within her walls. But there was still something wrong. He couldn’t connect, couldn’t seem
to get her attention. Almost as if she were deliberately ignoring him.
He pressed harder, grasping at the murmur of her power and pulling it gently towards himself, hoping to awaken whatever lay dormant, whatever would not allow her to speak.
“Stop!” The anguished cry came from the far side of the hall, opposite the entry door. The woman, Zara, staggered in and fell to her knees, holding her head, tears streaming down her face. “Please, whatever you’re doing, stop. I can’t bear it anymore.”
Stunned, Alexei released the strands of magic and dropped his arms, feeling the blood drain from his face as he did so. The woman collapsed to the floor an instant later. He and Gulver reached her at the same time, the other man placing his scarf between her head and the cold stone floor.
“She’s in shock,” Gulver murmured, as he felt for her pulse and peered into her eyes. Then he took her hand and dove in with his healing gift instead. A moment later, his jaw fell.
“Alexei,” he said, appearing to be in shock himself, “she’s…”
Her eyes fluttered open. Uncertain. Embarrassed. She looked at Alexei and despite her brown skin he could see her flush.
“What was that?” she whispered. “What were you doing?”
“I…” What could his attempts to awaken Athven have had to do with her? Why should he even try to explain?
Just then, the gray cat pushed its way past him to sit on the woman’s chest and stare into her eyes.
Zara looked back defiantly. “Yes, I’m all right, no thanks to you,” she muttered after a few moments. “Talk to him.” Her hand lifted weakly to point at Alexei. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
The cat turned vibrant green eyes on Alexei once again, and this time, he fell all the way into them.
He still stood in the Grand Hall, but it was the Grand Hall he remembered, rather than the cold, empty cavern of the present. There was light and color, and the rose mosaic glowed with life. Standing in the center of it now was an achingly familiar woman with gray hair, holding the Stone Scepter.
“Your Majesty!” He knelt before he remembered that Beatra Nar was dead. Whoever this was, it was not his cousin.
“Stand up,” she snapped. “And stop meddling. If you kill the girl, you’ll never get what you want, so I suggest you take better care of her.”
“Athven,” he whispered. “You are alive! But what has the girl to do with you? She is not Erathi. She barely has any magic.”
“She was here!” The crack of the woman’s voice left no doubt of her anger. “I was nearly past reviving when she arrived. Enduring Beatra’s death took much of my strength, but I survived and waited for a new guardian, as I have always done. But it was too long! I had never waited more than a handful of days before. I almost didn’t have the strength to sense Zara’s magic, and when I seized it I was not even aware enough to know what I had done.”
“You…” Alexei almost couldn’t say the words. “You bonded… with her?”
“It was that or die!”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing she spoke the truth, but devastated to his soul.
“You left me,” the woman said softly. “All of you. I waited and waited and you did not come. I had no choice. Not if I wanted to live.”
“Then I have failed you,” Alexei said, still on his knees. “Nar has failed you and your anger is entirely justified.”
“Perhaps,” the woman answered. “But that is of little matter now. What matters is the Rose.”
“Yes.” Alexei came to his feet. His pain and shame were as nothing next to that. “You know where it is?”
“No.” The woman who looked like his cousin had her same expression of frustration—the tightly furrowed brow, the flare of nostrils. “We have looked for it, Zara and I, but cannot find it. I can feel that it’s near, but my senses are still dull.”
“We will find it,” Alexei promised her. He swallowed a surge of fear. “Perhaps you did not feel him, but I brought the Betrayer. I had hoped he would lead me to it, but he escaped.”
“Yes, I felt him,” Athven admitted. “But faintly. He has not yet retrieved what he stole.”
“Then we have a chance.”
Athven drew herself up. “If you work together, you have a chance.”
Alexei growled under his breath in spite of himself. “How can I work together with one who came here to rob you? To take the spoils of our people’s destruction?”
“You brought the Betrayer here, and you can ask that?” Athven responded dryly. “If I can work with her, so can you. You can do it because it is needed. Because I am bonded with her, and there is no changing that now. Because you are Nar and you will do what you must to help your people. It is your birthright. Your gift and your doom.”
“Very well.” Alexei bowed. “I will do what I can. But why will you not unlock the doors? Why hold us prisoner here?”
“I have my reasons,” she said, and for the first time, she seemed somewhat evasive. “And if I were to open the doors, it would be as easy for others to enter as it would be for you to leave. Trust that I will do what is necessary to protect you and focus on the task at hand.”
Alexei felt a strange surge of disquiet, but dismissed it. Athven was right. She had always protected his people. He could trust her, even if he didn’t understand. “Then we will search. And I will not fail you again.”
“You will,” Athven retorted. “You are human and weak, and all of you fail in the end. But whatever you do, do not harm the girl. Whether you approve of her or not, she is mine.”
Alexei inclined his head. The pain and betrayal still seethed within him, but there was no choice to be made. Athven still needed him. His people needed him. For that, he would do as Athven asked. He would not like it, but he would do it.
He blinked into sudden darkness. After the brightness of the vision, the shadows of the hall seemed deeper and darker, but for the bright green of the eyes staring into his.
At least now he knew why the woman kept talking to the cat.
“I am sorry,” he said again, bowing his head to the avatar of his childhood home. He hoped it would hide the devastation in his eyes. “I should have come sooner. But I will do what I can to help you while I am here.”
The cat seemed satisfied and jumped to the ground before stalking off.
“Can someone please tell me what happened?” Zara asked.
Alexei pushed back all of his anger, all of his frustration, all of his disappointment and tried to think of her as simply another one of his companions, rather than a treasure-hunting opportunist who had stolen the only thing his family had left. The only thing he had left.
“My name is Alexei. When I was younger I used to live here.” He didn’t think it necessary to tell all of his secrets. If Athven wanted her to know, she would no doubt inform her new caretaker of his identity. “I have come back to see if Athven could be restored and I was attempting to communicate with her. It had not occurred to me that she would already have bonded with…” He stumbled over choosing a word and Zara’s face turned bleak.
“With a worthless thief?” she asked, sitting up and flexing her fingers carefully. “With a foreigner? With a magic-less nobody?”
“Athven is yours now,” Alexei answered, taking care to keep emotion from coloring his tone. “You clearly have some magic. And as caretaker of Athven Nar, you are responsible for the future of the Erathi people. She is our home and our hope. She is what binds us together. You are neither worthless nor a nobody, but rather carry an enormous responsibility.”
Zara leapt to her feet, jaw clenched. “Wrong, Erathi. I am not responsible for you, your people, or your future. I am a prisoner here by no choice of my own. Your precious Athven didn’t ask me before she forced this bond on me, and I have no intention of staying here simply because you have some misguided ideas about my responsibilities.” Her hands turned to fists before gradually unclenching. “If you’re so concerned with the future, you can be responsible for it.
Instead of muttering and glaring at me, you’d be better served working on freeing me from this bond. Then I will leave you in peace and stop polluting the air with my foreign presence.”
Alexei was trapped between anger at her dismissal and worry at her lack of understanding. Athven had admitted to bonding with Zara without permission, which was a grievous offense had it been done purposefully. But he believed Athven when she said it had not been intentional. She had been too near dissolution to understand what she was doing. And therefore too far gone to explain what the bond meant. If Athven had never explained the true nature of their relationship to Zara, the treasure hunter could still jeopardize everything.
“Perhaps you don’t understand,” he began, but she cut him off.
“No, I don’t understand,” she snapped. “And clearly neither do you. I don’t want your wretched home. I want my own! I want to be free! I want to not be stuck here with people who despise me. I want to find my friends and never see this place again. But thanks to your magic castle, none of us get a choice in this. So don’t talk to me about understanding, Erathi. You understand nothing!” On that note, she turned and stalked away.
Gulver sighed deeply. “Don’t be too hard on her,” he said softly.
“Why does everyone keep defending her?” Alexei protested. “All I asked was for her to cooperate with us. As she said, none of us have a choice here, but if she had not been trespassing where she did not belong, this could have been avoided. We don’t have time to soothe her lacerated sensibilities.”
Gulver eyed him sideways. “There is always time. And I don’t think you’d like yourself if you were willing to sacrifice a person, any person, even for a goal as noble as ours.”
Alexei winced. Gulver was right. He hoped he would never be that kind of man. And yet, to have come so far, only to be balked by an uncooperative thief…
“And she’s afraid,” Gulver added, not looking Alexei in the eye.
“Of what?”
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