“You’ll be all right.” Uncle Abel patted her back.
No, she wouldn’t. But she couldn’t tell him that.
Courage. Leith thought she had it. He and Shad were out there somewhere, watching over her and Brandi every step of their journey. Maybe she wasn’t brave, but could she at least pretend?
She straightened her spine and bit the inside of her cheek until the lump cleared from her throat. “We’ll miss you both.”
A guard led a brown horse over to her. He knelt, and she used his knee as a stepping block to reach the stirrup and heave herself into the saddle. She settled a large brimmed hat onto her head to protect her face from sunburn.
After snatching final hugs, Brandi scrambled onto her palomino. Her hat flopped against her back by its string, her hair already frizzing from her braids.
Lord Alistair led his horse over. He and Uncle Abel spoke in low voices for several minutes before Uncle Abel gave a half bow. Lord Alistair settled into his saddle and motioned to his guards. They swung onto their horses almost in unison and closed around Renna, Brandi, and Lord Alistair.
Lord Alistair nudged his horse forward, and Renna’s horse eased into a walk without her urging. Brandi twisted in her saddle and waved her entire arm as if warding off a swarm of mosquitoes.
Aunt Mara’s chin trembled as she waved back. Uncle Abel waved, but lines dug into his face around his mouth.
Renna forced herself to wave back. Aunt Mara, Uncle Abel, and Stetterly Manor’s tan stones blurred. She blinked, and twin tears burned down her cheeks, curled around her chin, and dried on her neck.
Would she ever see Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara again? What would King Respen do to them once she and Brandi were out of his reach? At least the guards from Uster remained behind to ensure their safety.
Brandi trotted her horse next to Renna’s. “I’m going to name this horse Sunshine.”
“What? A name that actually matches its color?” Renna’s voice cracked, but she managed to smile.
“It seems to fit him.” Brandi patted the horse’s neck, but Renna caught the wet gleam in Brandi’s eyes.
When they reached the edge of the Spires Canyon, Renna craned her neck and spotted the gray slate roof of the manor peeking above the rolling prairie hills, its four chimneys poking at the hard, blue sky.
She watched until her horse started down the trail into the canyon and the horizon swallowed the tips of the chimneys.
Leith read the pages of the Bible intently, so absorbed with the story unfolding in its pages that Blizzard could’ve run over him and he wouldn’t have noticed.
His stomach churned. The main character, the Son of God called Jesus, knelt in a garden, pleading with His Father to be spared what was coming. The scene echoed deep in Leith’s bones. He understood a father’s silence.
A betrayal. An arrest. A trial. The pages shook. Leith took three tries to turn the page. Surely Jesus wouldn’t die. He’d performed many miracles throughout the book. He had the power to stop what was happening to Him even if His Father wouldn’t step in to save Him.
But He didn’t. His death punched Leith’s stomach. No miracles this time. He wasn’t spared the way Daniel’s three friends had been spared from the fiery furnace. He’d actually died. God had forsaken His own Son.
Someone nudged Leith’s boot. Leith dropped the book and had his hand halfway to his dagger before he noticed Shad. “He died.” Leith closed the book and stood. “He actually died.”
“Who died?” Shad’s eyebrows scrunched. His hand rested on his sword’s hilt.
“Jesus. He was nailed to a cross and died.” An ache ground into his chest. Why was this such a big deal? It was just a story. But, he’d expected happy endings from this book. Daniel and his friends survived some awful things. He’d thought Jesus would do the same.
Strangely, Shad smiled as if he was happy. “Yes. Yes, He did.”
Shad walked over to his horse, leaving Leith stumped by his cryptic answer. Shaking himself, Leith headed for Blizzard, placed the Bible in his pack, tightened the girth strap, and swung into the saddle.
Shad led the way, following the trail that Lord Alistair’s party had left in the pebbled ground. Leith directed Blizzard to follow him. They rode in silence for several minutes.
Leith gave up. He nudged Blizzard to move alongside Shad’s horse. “If Jesus was the Son of God like He said He was, then why did He let Himself be killed like that?”
Shad leaned onto his saddlehorn. “The answer to that question is the basis of my faith. All of humanity is evil at its heart. This evil is like a debt to God that we can never hope to pay. All of our sins add to this evil.”
Leith hunched his shoulders. He deserved death for each of the killings he’d done, yet he couldn’t die several deaths to pay all the spilled blood even if his life could be considered worth the same as the lives he’d taken.
“But God chose to pay this debt for His people. He sent His Son Jesus to pay the full amount of our sins. Man could never pay it, but Jesus could. It’s this punishment that He bore on the cross.” Shad’s eyes searched Leith’s face.
Leith shuddered. He wanted no part of this God. No father should sacrifice his son for someone else’s debt. “Jesus still ended up dead.”
Shad grinned, as if he knew a great secret that Leith had yet to discover. “You didn’t read the next chapter. Jesus didn’t stay dead. He rose from the dead three days later. He returned to Heaven in glory.”
“Really?” Leith couldn’t help the hope that crept into his voice. The story didn’t have a sad ending after all. Questions pressed on his tongue too firmly for him to ignore. “How do you become one of God’s people?”
“God chose His people before He even created the world. The Holy Spirit works in their hearts and draws them to God and belief in Him.” Shad sneaked a glance at Leith before turning his gaze back to his horse’s ears.
Leith hunched further in his saddle. His knives weighed on his chest and waist. God wouldn’t choose him. He was too evil. He’d done too many bad things, killed too many people. His own father hadn’t wanted him when he’d done nothing wrong. God surely wouldn’t want him after he’d done everything wrong.
Shad halted his horse and stared at Leith, his brown eyes somber. “God’s choice isn’t based on our actions. We’re all completely evil. God chooses us because He decided in His good pleasure to love us. That love isn’t dependent on our actions or our choices. God can choose, and has chosen, anybody, no matter their past actions.” He opened his mouth but snapped it shut as if deciding he’d pushed Leith far enough.
The idea pounded at Leith’s temples. The God he’d read about in the Bible was a majestic, glorious God. Why would the God with the power to create the world even take notice of despicable humans on this earth? What would love from a God like that be like? So huge, so enduring, so powerful that no mere human could ever comprehend it.
If he could trust it. Could he trust a God who’d forsake His own Son? Leith didn’t want to trust, only to have that trust ripped away when God changed His mind. His father had taught him exactly how painful that could be.
Still, God wouldn’t choose Leith. Leith had done too much. He’d been a slave to King Respen for too long. The most Leith could hope for was a slight mercy if he helped the ones that God did love. At the very least, Leith’s conscience would rest a little easier.
29
Renna had never been more thankful to see civilization when they crested the hill overlooking Walden. The two wings of the gray stone manor formed an L around a hedged garden while trees bordered the manor’s yard.
To the north, the town sprawled along two roads, much larger than Stetterly’s single line of wooden buildings. Would she still remember every path in the garden from the times she’d dashed through it when she’d visited Walden with her parents?
As their horses trotted down the hill, eager with the smell of home flaring their nostrils, she gritted her teeth and clung to the saddlehorn.<
br />
She ached down to her bones. Every muscle in her body was stiff while her hips were so bruised from sleeping on the ground that she could barely walk. She hated touching her scratchy hair while her dress and body stank. At least Shadrach followed at a distance with Leith, so neither of them was close enough to see how bad she looked.
Her horse stopped without her urging beside the others in front of Walden Manor. Brandi was off Sunshine and unbuckling her saddlebags before Renna managed to ease down from her horse. She fumbled with the buckles on her saddlebags.
Brandi skipped to her side. “Here. I got it.”
Renna stood back and allowed her little sister to unstrap the saddlebags and swing them over her slim shoulder. Renna should’ve reached for her saddlebags and carried them herself, but her arms hung at her sides, and she wasn’t sure she could coax them to move.
Lord Alistair led the way up the bluestone stairs and through the double, oak doors into the grand entry hall. A broad staircase marched to the second level directly in front of them, a red carpet flowing down the center.
Over the staircase landing hung a large painting of King Brian Eirdon on his dappled horse driving back the Surrana raiders to found the country of Acktar.
When she was nine, she’d stood before that painting and asked her father about it. He’d placed his arm around her shoulder and told her the story, his deep voice echoing down the stairs like a drum calling for battle. And King Brian drew his sword and nudged his steed into battle. The warriors found courage at the sight of their king riding before them…
“Welcome!” Lady Alistair swept down the staircase. Her sleeves formed a series of puffs down her arms while her juniper green skirt billowed around her feet and trailed on the stairs behind her. A gold chain wove through hair the color of polished walnut. Her mouth curved into a smile too large on her delicate face.
She gave Brandi a hug. “Brandiline! You’ve grown so much.” When she turned to Renna, her smile never faded, and she hugged Renna despite the dirt and smell. “We’ve missed both of you so much these last few years.”
Lady Alistair stepped back as a young lady glided down the stairs. She wore a blue dress the color of twilight sky while her brown hair, several shades lighter than her mother’s, flowed over her shoulders.
Renna blinked. Was that Lydia? She’d been eleven the last time Renna had seen her, frizzy braids flying as they dashed through the garden to annoy Shadrach while he practiced his archery.
Lydia smiled and performed a poised curtsy. “Welcome to Walden, Renna.”
Renna opened her mouth, but she couldn’t force her mouth to form any words.
Another girl flounced down the stairs in a pink and lace dress with fluttering sleeves. Before she had a chance to reach the bottom, Brandi dropped the saddlebags onto the floor and flung herself into a hug. “Abigail!”
Abigail returned Brandi’s hug. “It’s so good to see you again, Brandi.”
“Papa!” A flurry of brown hair and light blue dress dashed down the stairs, brushed past Renna and Brandi, crashed into Lord Alistair, and clung to his legs.
Lord Alistair tousled her hair. “And this is Esther. She was only a baby the last time you saw her.”
Renna nodded and swallowed. Her family had visited Walden a few weeks after Esther had been born. Renna had cradled the baby close, watched her tiny mouth pucker and her delicate lashes brush against her cheek, and decided that babies were the most beautiful things in the world.
But that was before King Respen killed her family and stole the possibility that she’d ever marry and have a family of her own.
Another set of footsteps tromped in a halting rhythm. A twelve-year-old boy turned the corner and started down the final set of stairs. He eased down one stair at a time, his eyes glued to the pages of a leather-bound book he held in one hand. The other hand trailed down the banister, only leaving to turn a page.
Lady Alistair motioned towards him. “And this is Jeremiah.” A stern tone sharpened the edge of her voice. “Jeremiah, welcome our guests.”
The hand on the banister lifted in what might’ve been a wave.
Lady Alistair turned back to Renna. “Let’s show you to your rooms. Abigail, would you like to show Brandiline her room?”
Brandi grabbed Abigail’s arm and half-dragged her up the stairs. “Come on!”
Renna grimaced and picked up the saddlebags Brandi had discarded on the floor. Lydia swept to her side. “Let me help with those.” She picked up one the saddlebags and draped it over her arm, holding it away from her skirt. “The servants will fetch the rest.”
Hugging her saddlebags to her stomach, Renna followed Lady Alistair up the stairs and to the right, Lydia at her side. Lady Alistair opened one of the doors along the corridor and stepped inside.
A rosy pink paint covered the walls and matched the rose pattern twined in the rugs on the floor. A cream dressing table and chair stood next to a matching wardrobe along one wall while a four-poster bed with gauze drapes and pink bedspread took up the other wall. Across the room, a window overlooked the garden.
“I thought you might like the Rose Room. You and Brandi always shared it when you visited.” Lady Alistair rearranged the pillows on the bed, eyed them for a moment, and turned away with a nod. “Brandiline is in the Violet Room next door.”
The room her parents’ had always had. Renna blinked and focused on the sound of Brandi’s and Abigail’s voices drifting through the doorway. Would Brandi remember? If not, Renna would have to tell her. Anything to keep their parents close.
“Hot baths are being prepared and will be sent up to your rooms. Supper will be served in the dining room in an hour.” Lady Alistair put a hand on the latch. “If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”
When Lady Alistair had slipped from the room, Renna dropped her saddlebags on the floor near the wall, her shoulder cramping from the weight. She’d unpack later.
Lydia placed Brandi’s saddlebags beside Renna’s. “We usually spend evenings in the parlor, if you’d like to come. You can read or work on a new dress or play Raiders, though don’t play against Shad. He’s pretty much unstoppable at that game.”
“I remember. We used to play Raiders a lot.” Renna found herself smiling. Perhaps they hadn’t outgrown the friendship they’d had as children.
“I’d better let you get settled in.” Lydia left the room with the same graceful stride as her mother.
Would Renna have learned to be as graceful and poised as Lydia if her mother had lived?
She snorted and shook her head. No, definitely not. Her mother had been like Brandi, moving through rooms with the grace of a tornado. When it rained, she dragged them all outside to jump in the mud puddles. Her father had been the serious one, warning about the danger of catching a cold or the discomfort of soaked clothes, right before their mother yanked him outside.
But Renna wasn’t like either of them. They’d been as flinty as the rocky columns in the Sheered Rock Hills the night they’d been killed. All Renna ever did was run and hide. She’d never have the courage to turn back and sacrifice herself, no matter what Leith thought.
She shuddered and stared out the window looking south towards Stetterly Manor. Were Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara putting themselves in danger, like her mother and father had, to buy Renna and Brandi more time to escape?
When her bath arrived, Renna scrubbed the prairie dust from her hair and changed into the mostly clean dress she’d stuffed in her saddlebags. The skirt remained crinkled, but she didn’t have time to press the wrinkles out before supper.
At supper, she sat between Lydia and Lady Alistair. She squirmed. Her wrinkled, cotton dress stuck out between their silks and flounces.
Lydia leaned closer. “Tomorrow you can raid my wardrobe. We’re close enough to the same size. The bodice on my dresses might be a little big, but I think we can lace them tight enough to fit you.”
“Thanks.” Renna lowered her eyes to the beef roast o
n her plate. Her cheeks heated. Lydia had noticed the state of her dress. At least Shadrach hadn’t shown up for supper so he wouldn’t see her like this.
As soon as supper finished, Lord Alistair excused himself from the room. Lydia stood next to Renna’s chair. “Would you like to join us in the parlor?”
Renna squeezed her gritty eyes shut. Slide under the pink covers and rest her head on the fluffy pillow or stay awake and try to be sociable? She opened her eyes and caught sight of Lydia’s hands twisting in front of her and the eager expression tightening her eyes. “For a little while. Can I borrow a book to read?”
“Sure. They’re in Father’s study.”
Renna used the table to drag herself to her feet. “I know where it is. I’ll join you in the parlor in a minute.”
While Lydia, Lady Alistair, Brandi, and the rest of the family crossed the hall to the parlor, Renna tiptoed through the entry and into the corridor on the other side. Her shoes sank into the green rugs while candles in wall sconces lit the corridor. Halting, she knocked on one of the paneled doors.
When it opened a few inches, Renna caught her breath. Shadrach peeked his head through, his hair still dusty, several days of scruff covering his chin and cheeks.
She scrubbed her hands along her skirt. “Shadrach. I…I hadn’t…realized you were back. You’re all right?”
Renna bit her tongue. Of course he was all right. He was standing right in front of her. She sounded as silly as she had when she’d been thirteen and so infatuated with him that her tongue spoke before her brain could catch up. She backed away from the door. “I just wanted a book, but I’ll come back later.”
“No, come on and pick a book. It’s fine.” Shadrach stepped aside and opened the door wide enough for her to step through. As soon as she was inside, he closed the door behind her.
She halted. Leith sat in one of the chairs in front of Lord Alistair’s desk. He jumped to his feet, his green eyes widening. Lord Alistair slid to his feet and nodded at her. “Feel free to pick out any book you like.”
Dare (The Blades of Acktar Book 1) Page 16
