Daughter of Light (Follower of the Word Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

Her eyes came to rest on Captain Lore. Tonight he was attending the dinner as Captain of the Guard, not as Lord Gaynor’s varor. This was a side of Lore Rowen had never seen before. She was used to finding him in the training room, stripped down to a simple white shirt and dark pants, sparring with the other guards or teaching the new guards some defensive move. Once in a while he would wear his dark leather jerkin and shirt while patrolling the city.

  But tonight, with his hair falling on either side of his eyes instead of slicked back with sweat and his shirt spotless, the white of it matching the eagle crest across his tabard, he looked every inch the Captain of the Guard, second in command of the city, and only son of the Palancar family.

  As if sensing her gaze, Lore looked up and caught her eye. Rowen felt her face grow warm, and she looked elsewhere. She could feel his eyes lingering on her but found she could not look back. Instead, she continued her study of the other dinner guests. Moments later, his gaze was gone. Rowen looked from the corner of her eye and found him in conversation with the young man from Avonai.

  A small part of her sighed with relief. Another part wondered at her strange reaction. After all, she had been in the White City for months now and had never felt uncomfortable with Lore before. Had something changed?

  Rowen pondered this as she shifted her weight again and looked over the rest of the guests. She recognized most of them from other royal functions: councilmen and their wives, nobility who dwelt in the city, and merchants with large coin purses.

  As if on their own volition, her eyes drifted back toward Lore. He was still in deep discussion with the young man, the latter gesturing with his hands. Lore looked on with interest. Taking advantage of his distraction, Rowen studied Lore more, trying to figure out why tonight was different.

  With his hair falling forward, she could barely make out the grey she knew graced his temples. Not that he was old, but he was also not as young as many of the guards. She placed his age to be near his late thirties, perhaps even forty. But time had not begun to diminish his physical prowess. On the contrary, if their sparring matches were any indication, Lore was at the height of his game. Rowen believed he actually went easy on her.

  Lore looked up again. That same flush of heat rose to her cheeks. What had gotten into her tonight? Lore flashed her a smile before turning back to the young man beside him. Rowen fought the urge to lift a hand and rub her burning face.

  Whatever this was, she hoped it would soon disappear.

  • • •

  Lore took a sip of the golden liquid in his cup. He and Prince Evander reminisced about shared experiences on the coast near Avonai. Apparently the prince had spent his younger summer days in much the same way Lore had: running along the beach, exploring the nearby rock cliffs, checking tidal pools for treasure left behind by the receding waves. Just thinking of those happier times made Lore smile.

  He looked up and noticed Rowen staring at him. The pleasant feeling inside him suddenly extended toward her. But instead of smiling back, she shifted her eyes elsewhere. His smile turned to a puzzled frown. He studied her for a moment, noting the slight creases below her eyes and the way she kept shifting. He knew from experience that it meant one thing: She was exhausted.

  Lore began to wonder when the last time was that Rowen had been given a couple of days off. Granted, she was the only woman varor—the only female guard, for that matter—so it was difficult to find others to cover for her during those times she went off shift. Difficult or not, he would make sure she had some time off. Lore took another sip. He would fill in for her after Prince Evander’s visit.

  “So your mother was from Fiske?” Prince Evander said, interrupting Lore’s thoughts.

  “Yes.”

  “But you only spent your summers on the coast.”

  “Yes. It was difficult for my father to leave his position here for extended periods of time. So my mother and I would go during the summer.”

  “Wasn’t that hard? To be away from the sea, and then to come back.”

  “Yes. It still is. Every time I visit Avonai.” Lore stared at his cup, remembering his visit a few months ago. His Avonain blood had connected him to the sea, causing him to feel the storm that had moved in. Most Avonains were used to the feeling, since they lived by the sea and felt it every day. But he rarely visited the coast. The storm felt like fire was running through his veins. “The sea still overwhelms me. I have not yet learned how to disconnect myself from it.”

  “Do you ever feel the sea, way out here in the White City?

  “No, not usually,” Lore said. “Thankfully. I can’t imagine trying to do my job while the ocean wreaked havoc on my emotions. On the other hand, more exposure would probably have built up a tolerance in me.”

  Prince Evander asked him questions, using his hands to emphasize his words. Lore replied, enjoying his talk with the young man. As he got to know him, Lore felt more and more confident that, if Lady Astrea were to choose to accept the bonding, it would not be a bad thing. Of course, one night of conversation with a man was certainly not going to reveal everything about him. But Prince Evander proved to have a good head on his shoulders, a humble attitude, and a love for his country and people.

  Lore felt like he was being watched. He looked up and found Rowen staring at him again, this time with a thoughtful expression on her face. He gave her another smile. In the dim light, he could see her face color. Was she…blushing? Embarrassed? Immediately her eyes moved away, staring intently down toward the end of the table.

  Curious now, Lore picked up his goblet and took a sip of the sparkling liquid inside. He studied her over its silver-tipped rim. After months of knowing her, Rowen remained a mystery. He had been able to establish a relationship with her up to a point, but there was an invisible wall around her, and no one, not even Lady Astrea, seemed to be able to get past it. Rowen held everyone at arm’s length.

  Which made Lore wonder why. Did Rowen feel such a strong sense of professionalism that she was unwilling to forge any relationship with anyone beyond that of a fellow guard? Or had something happened in her past that had caused her to shun others, not in a hateful way, but in a protective way?

  Did a wounded soul hide behind the beautiful face?

  Lore placed his goblet down and felt a gentle stirring inside his heart. Having followed the Word for years, he knew immediately what it was. And he knew that he had somehow touched on the issue surrounding Rowen.

  Word, he thought, please show me how to reach her…if I can.

  12

  Rowen stood at the edge of the castle gardens, watching Lady Astrea and the young man from last night walk along one of the paths.

  It had rained the night before, leaving the air smelling fresh and new. The sun shone with a white brilliance. She could feel the heat and water combine, making her clothes sticky. Raindrops clung to the mountain roses that lined the pathways, and in the morning light, they sparkled like tiny diamonds. Ahead, the garden ended abruptly at the face of the mountain. The sheer grey rock wall went up higher than the castle, ending past the lazy wisps of fog that clung to the mountaintop.

  The young man’s varor stood on the opposite side of the garden, in the shadow cast by the mountain wall. His arms were folded across his chest, his face unreadable in the dark.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Rowen saw Lore exit the castle and walk toward her. He was dressed in his usual way: white shirt and jerkin, dark pants, and boots. At the sight of him, the strange tickling sensation from last night returned.

  Lore smiled. “Good morning, Rowen.”

  “Morning, Captain.”

  “Sleep well?”

  “Yes.” She felt herself begin to relax, and the tickling sensation slowly disappeared.

  Lore motioned to the couple in the garden. “I did not have a chance to tell you who our guest was last night. He is Prince Evander.”

  “Prince?”

  “Yes, of Avonai and the coastal region.”

  The prince of Av
onai, Rowen thought, studying the young man more. “So he is the reason for our dinner last night.” Rowen turned to look at Lore. “Why is he here?”

  “To negotiate an alliance between Avonai and the White City.”

  “I see.” That made sense. She knew that for the last year the Ryland Plains had been negotiating with the neighboring northern countries to unite against Temanin. Nordica had agreed and sent troops, but Avonai—Prince Evander’s realm—had chosen to stay neutral. But now, with Temanin in the north and the Ryland Plains troops stretched thin from the losses at Hershaw Pass, the north needed Avonai to join the fight.

  “I will need you to accompany Lady Astrea the entire time Prince Evander is here, not just during your shift.” Lore watched the couple. “Not that I don’t trust Prince Evander or his varor, but when we have guests here in the White City, I like to have the royal family watched closely the entire time.”

  “I understand.” Rowen turned her attention back toward Lady Astrea.

  The two young rulers had stopped at a nearby bench. Prince Evander brushed away some of the water, then motioned for Lady Astrea to sit. The young woman did, a faint pinkness to her usual white cheeks.

  “When Prince Evander’s visit is done,” Lore said, “I’ve arranged for you to have a couple days off. You’ve been working hard, and after the prince’s visit, you’ll need some time to rest.”

  Lore’s words surprised Rowen. True, she had spent many long days the last few months following Lady Astrea around. But that was her job. “Who will take my place?”

  “I will. Before you came, Aren, Justus, and I would take turns watching Lady Astrea when her governess was needed elsewhere. We can do it again.”

  Rowen opened her mouth to protest. Lore’s face grew stubborn, one eyebrow raised and lips pursed together.

  “Yes, Captain,” she said instead. Perhaps Lore was right. Anyway, she’d seen Lore’s stubbornness with other guards, and she knew that there was no getting around it. Besides, she really could use the break. Perhaps she would explore the city. Since arriving in the White City, she’d had little time to visit the city itself. Rowen’s mood brightened at the thought.

  “I will see you tonight.” Lore turned and headed back toward the castle.

  Rowen’s eyes followed him, the tickling sensation in her middle returning.

  • • •

  Later that afternoon, Rowen and Lady Astrea meandered through the field just outside the city. After spending all morning with Prince Evander, Lady Astrea had said she wanted some time to think.

  The walls of the White City provided a pale background to the colorful field in full bloom. White daisies, yellow buttercups, and tiny bluebells bobbed on the warm breeze. Long grass waved back and forth. Rowen could smell the wet rich earth and subtle flower scent. Overhead, the sky was a brilliant blue except for a few white puffy clouds.

  Other people were enjoying the warm spring afternoon, as well. Rowen spotted a couple far across the field, walking near the walls, which had grown hazy with the distance between them. Next to the gates were four little girls, twirling amongst the flowers. She smiled.

  Her glance slowly moved toward Anwin Forest half a league to the west. Its tall, dark trees bordered the field. She could see no ray of sunshine past the treeline. Only shadows. The forest was a stark contrast to the bright and cheerful field. Rowen reached over and felt for her sword. Its cool metal hilt reassured her. Perhaps they should head back to the city. Anwin was giving her the chills.

  “Rowen, I do not know what to do.”

  Rowen turned around. Lady Astrea wore a simple green dress with a golden cord around her middle. Her hair was pulled back into a braid and wrapped around her head like a dark crown.

  “Do about what, milady?”

  She bent down and picked a single white daisy. “Of course—you’re wondering what I’m talking about.” Lady Astrea stood back up and laughed softly. “Seems I’m starting to talk nonsense.” She studied the white flower in her hand.

  Rowen frowned. She heard the slight tremble in Lady Astrea’s voice. There was something going on, something between Lady Astrea and Prince Evander. But what? Might it have something to do with the alliance Lore spoke of?

  Lady Astrea dropped the flower and covered her face. Rowen heard her sob.

  “My lady, what is wrong?” Rowen hurried to Lady Astrea and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you not feeling well?”

  Lady Astrea turned her face away and wiped her eyes.

  “We can head back to the castle if you like…” Rowen felt at a loss at what to say. She had never seen Lady Astrea cry before.

  Lady Astrea wiped her cheeks again. “No, I’m well. It’s just that—” She looked at Rowen as if debating with herself. “Avonai will not join the alliance unless I bond with Prince Evander.” Her lip began to tremble again.

  Rowen stared at Lady Astrea. “What? That can’t be… It’s not right… I…” Rowen stuttered to a silence. What should she say? Never had such a thing been done in the Ryland Plains. Other countries were known to force a bonding between their royal members, but the Ryland Plains had always been above such barbarism. Until now, apparently.

  “It’s still my choice,” Lady Astrea said. “When my father told me about King Alaric’s proposition, he emphasized that I did not have to go through with it. In fact, I think he secretly hopes I won’t. But Rowen…” her voice quivered a moment… “it’s the only choice I have. Without Avonai’s support, we cannot hope to drive back Temanin.”

  So that’s why Lady Astrea had been with Prince Evander all morning. He was negotiating the part of the alliance that required the hand of the Lady of the White City.

  Rowen felt her heart move toward the young woman before her. She couldn’t even begin to imagine making such a choice. And the pressure…

  Lady Astrea studied her fingers. Rowen could see the silver trail left by the tears Lady Astrea had been unable to keep back. “I’m sorry.” Lady Astrea wiped her eyes again. “I just needed to tell someone and you’re always so—”

  A long piercing howl filled the meadow.

  Rowen dropped her hand to her hilt. She swerved her head toward the tree line a half league away.

  The howl echoed for a moment, then faded. A chill raced down her back. Something was watching them.

  Rowen took a step away from the forest, straining her eyes against the shadows. She could see nothing. “My Lady,” Rowen said quietly feeling the sudden need to get to safety, “I think you should…”

  A dark creature moved past the trees and onto the field. It was as large as a horse but looked more like a wolf. Its body was covered in spiky black fur. Eerie yellow eyes darted back and forth, searching for something. The smell of rotting meat filled the air, even across the distance. Rowen stared at the creature, horrified. It lifted its head and howled again.

  Rowen staggered back, pushing down the urge to cover her ears. The creature’s unearthly howl made her insides shatter. She had heard of the black wolves of Anwin in stories told to scare little children. Never had she thought they were real.

  Another wolf stepped out from the trees.

  Rowen’s hand tightened over the hilt of her sword. She had to do something quickly. According to the stories, the wolves could not see, at least not the physical world. She didn’t know what that meant, but she hoped it could work to their advantage.

  “Lady Astrea,” Rowen called softly. She kept her eyes on the two black wolves. Lady Astrea did not reply. Rowen chanced a quick glance to her left and found Lady Astrea paralyzed, her mouth open and eyes wide. Rowen turned back to the wolves. Their large shaggy heads were bent to the ground, sniffing. Slowly Rowen sidled toward Lady Astrea. Hopefully they wouldn’t see—

  One glanced up and looked straight at the women.

  No time left.

  The wolf charged.

  “Lady Astrea, run!” Rowen placed herself between Lady Astrea and the wolf. Astrea stood frozen. “Astrea, run now!”<
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  Lady Astrea turned and ran.

  This is it. Rowen drew her sword. Her whole body shook with fear. No escape for her. She needed to give Lady Astrea enough time to reach the city gates. Her body urged her to run. Stay, I need to stay.

  The wolf slowed as it approached her, its yellow eyes darting between Rowen and Lady Astrea fleeing behind her. Suddenly its ears pricked up with interest, and it sniffed the air as if catching a tantalizing scent. The wolf looked directly at Rowen and began to sprint toward her in a frenzied dash. It covered the distance with astonishing speed.

  The wolf leaped high in the air.

  Rowen barely had time to swing her sword. She swung with all her might and caught the wolf across the shoulder. The blade slid through muscle and tendon, catching on the tip of the bone.

  The wolf yelped. It landed awkwardly. When it got up, it was favoring the injured leg.

  Rowen staggered back as well, thrown off balance by the blow. She breathed heavily and brought her sword back into a defensive posture.

  She felt sick. It was one thing to spar back in the White City, and it was another thing to draw blood. Her hand continued to shake.

  The wolf hauled itself up and snarled at her.

  Rowen took a step back.

  The wolf began to circle her, a slight limp to its walk.

  Rowen kept her blade pointed at it. Where was the other wolf? A chill ran down her spine. Had it caught Lady Astrea? She couldn’t turn to look. She had to finish this wolf first, or it would finish her.

  A sudden twitch in the animal’s back made Rowen lift her sword. The wolf snarled and leaped toward her. Rowen swung the weapon.

  This time she caught the wolf across the chest.

  The tip slipped across black fur. She tried to drive it into its chest, but she did not have the strength behind her blow to penetrate. Instead of piercing its heart, her blade simply followed the wolf down.

  The wolf backed away again, watching her with its yellow eyes.

  Rowen held her sword and panted, sweltering under the springtime sun, drenched from the adrenaline racing through her. She lifted the sword again and shifted into a defensive position. The wolf just watched her. Why wasn’t it—