“He’s not here,”
“Then where is he?” Mia demanded, stalling in the doorway.
“Out. He’s out bringing the horses in from the pasture. He will not be back for another hour yet.”
Mia made a sound in the back of her throat, “But I need to talk to him now.” She turned to face Hanna, “I need to.”
“Ye’ve had a trying day, why not wait until tomorrow when ye are rested?”
“But I-”
“Ye can’t think to hold a conversation with a man in nothing but a shift girl.” There was a flash of something familiar in Hanna’s eyes, a warning not to push any further. Mia recognized it immediately and was so surprised that this woman, this stranger, was using it on her that she forgot to argue. It wasn’t as if arguing would get her anywhere either, it never did with her own mother. “There,” Hanna took a breath, her shoulders sagging, “I shall plait yer hair for ye, and then ye will go to bed. Tomorrow ye may ask any questions ye will of my husband, fully dressed and well rested.” The look the older woman gave her was crystal clear; this conversation was over.
So Mia agreed- outwardly. As Hanna sat her on a stool and started pulling a thin white comb through her hair from root to tip, Mia’s mind was taken up with figuring out the best way to get to Orden. Because this was not a conversation that could wait, even thinking about the time, it would take to convince Hanna that she was actually fast asleep in her bed made Mia grind her teeth in frustration. But if it turned out to be true- if she could go home- it would make all of it- the pain and the tears, the waiting- it would make it all worth it to know she’d one day see her parents and Jake again. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, Mia winced as Hanna pulled her hair tight, I will do whatever I have to do to get home.
Chapter 30
Vander was propped against the stall door, struggling to keep his eyes open as Orden made yet another attempt to bottle-feed the wobbly-legged foal standing in the straw. They’d been trying with little success for the past hour or so and still the little thing would not take to the makeshift nipple Orden had fashioned from a thick wad of material at the end of the glass bottle. He would not drink. And Vander could not blame him.
It always angered him, the fickleness of animals. The foal was sick, had been for the majority of its short life, and now, when the fever had broken, and it could stand again, the mother had decided she did not want it. Vander tightened his grip on the stall, fingers digging into the chewed, rotting wood and averted his gaze. If the little fellow did not start eating soon, it would only be a matter of time before he fell sick again and this time it would kill him. If he did not die of a broken heart first.
Orden made a low, dissatisfied sound in the back of his throat. “Come on lad, drink. I know it’s a poor substitute, but still, ye must eat.”
“He can’t understand you.” Vander shook his head and stood straight, his hands hanging by his sides as he prepared to leave.
“You know better than I that is not true.”
“He’s not listening, is he?” Vander eyed the trail of straw littering the dirt floor, dropped and left there by the girl earlier. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as the air went from his lungs. He met Orden’s gaze. The lines around the old man’s eyes were made even deeper by the meager light of the lantern hanging on a nail in one of the posts. In those grey eyes, Vander saw Orden’s own frustration and worry warring against his determination to succeed.
Orden’s attention was called away as the little foal folded its legs beneath it and lay down in the thick bedding of straw that covered the hard-packed earth, “No. He is not.” Orden murmured, the hand holding the bottle full of cooling milk falling to his side in defeat. It was unfair, Vander knew it. He was allowing his emotions to cloud his mind; these things did happen and more often than he would like to admit. It never did get easier for him to accept it. Orden was doing his best to influence the foal to drink, but ultimately it was always the animal’s choice. It was possible to bend a creature to one’s will, but it was something neither he nor Orden or any respectful being would ever do.
Vander sighed. “Leave it for now. I’ll come back later tonight and try again.” The old man nodded in response. Vander turned for the door; he should take the mare to join the other horses in the yard.
“Good, ye’re both here,” Hanna came striding into the barn, looking flustered and unkempt with flyaway hairs framing her face. “I must speak to ye.”
“Where’s the girl?” Orden asked from the stall.
Vander watched Hanna, taking notice of her small hands twisting in the fabric of her apron. “Asleep,” Vander stepped aside as Hanna moved past him, her shoulder brushing against his ribs. She stopped in front of the stall and waited for Orden to let himself out, frowning as she took the bottle of milk he offered her. Orden closed the stall door and leaned against the worn gate. His gaze slid to Vander who shrugged in response. What was this about?
Hanna set the bottle on an oats barrel and turned to face them. Her eyes were fixed on her hands, clasping and unclasping in front of her. “Well?” Orden prompted.
Hanna looked first to Orden, then to Vander and back again, her mouth pressed into a troubled line. Vander was beginning to grow impatient when she finally spoke. “I must ask ye,” She seemed to have decided Orden was the correct person to address her question to. With direct, unblinking eyes trained on Orden’s face, Hanna continued, “Is it possible for Mia to return to her home?”
The silence was deafening.
Orden was the first to recover, “What?”
“Is it-” Hanna hesitated, “Is it possible?”
“No,” Vander answered for him. It wasn’t possible. The Guardianship was meant to be forever. It would undermine the entire purpose if the Chosen could simply leave when they felt their duty finished. It was not possible- was it? “Is it?”
Orden shook his head, a deep frown etched into his weathered face. Vander could not read his expression; the old man had retreated deep within his mind, his thoughts hidden. “Why do you ask this?” Orden asked eventually.
Hanna stiffened marginally. Vander saw it in the way her neck tightened, and her chin tilted upwards. “Never mind that, is it possible?”
“What have ye said to the girl?” Orden leveled his brows at his wife, giving voice to the same question swimming around in Vander’s head.
“I have said nothing. Mia is convinced she will never see her loved ones again and it is destroying her Orden. I must know; Is there any hope ye can give her? Something to hold to?”
“She cannot go home. The Guardianship is intended to keep the peace in Nethea-”
Hanna gave Vander an impatient look, “But if Kairos is defeated then peace will surely follow-”
“There can be no guarantee of that,” Orden said in a quiet but definite voice.
Vander was struck with a realization, a perfect solution to their predicament. “We do not need a guarantee.” He took a step toward Orden, “Just hope.”
“It would be a false hope,” Orden said after a short pause. He ran a large hand down his face to grip his chin.
“It’s still hope.”
Hanna jumped in surprise. Orden’s eyes shot to the barn door. Vander blinked and turned to see Breahn standing in the wide doorway, no doubt having listened to their entire conversation from some hidden spot. She skirted around Vander, giving him a wide berth and went to stand next to her mother.
“I do not mean for us to deceive her.” Hanna murmured, crossing her arms. It did nothing to keep her fingers from fidgeting in the fabric of her sleeves.
“We wouldn’t be,” Vander argued, “in theory, she could go home, ‘one day.’”
“Ma, ye said yerself she needs hope.” Breahn flicked her bright blue eyes in Vander’s direction and back. He wondered if anyone else noticed. Apparently, they were to be on the same side in this.
Orden scratched his beard thoughtfully, the dry rasp the only sound in the quiet barn. “It may be t
he only thing that will motivate her to begin her training-” He trailed off, lost in thought.
Hanna shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her face a mask of discomfort in the dim light, “But is it possible? We would not be lying to her?”
Everyone looked to Orden.
Hesitantly, “It is- unlikely- but it is not impossible.” Orden sighed, “Much would need to change for there to be peace in Nethea, I cannot give her a set time.”
“You don’t have to.” Breahn smiled, “Simply knowing a chance exists will be enough for her.”
“For now,” Hanna interjected, “What will happen later when she comes to realize that chance is as a slim as a blade of grass? What will ye tell her then?”
“I will manage that when the time comes,” Vander answered and felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders, heavy despite the confidence he’d felt moments ago.
Breahn snorted. Vander narrowed his eyes at her but she wasn’t even looking at him, she was looking between her mother and stepfather. “This is what she needs right now.” Breahn said, “It would be thick-headed of us to deny her the one thing that will hold her together. I say we give her this.”
Vander could not believe he was saying it but, “I agree.” This was the best chance they had at getting the girl to stop fooling about and start her training. He looked to Orden and saw the same thoughts mirrored in the old man’s eyes. This could work. It had to if there was going to be any hope for Nethea.
Orden inclined his head in Vander’s direction, then he slid his gaze toward Hanna who’s expression turned grim under the expectant looks of three sets of eyes. “We will not lie to her if she asks questions-”
“I do not believe she will.” Orden supplemented, “Breahn is right, for now, the hope of returning to her home will be enough. She will not ask questions that might take that from her.”
“So we are agreed?” Vander dared to ask.
Orden took one long, steady look around the barn, his grey eyes settling on each one of them before he finally spoke. “We are agreed.”
Chapter 31
Mia inhaled deeply, filling her nose with the smell of clean linens and pinewood. She opened her eyes, blinking against the watery light pouring in through the window. “Crap!” She exclaimed fully awake. In her rush to get out of the bed her legs tangled in the sheets and sent her crashing to the floor with a shout.
She sat up, rubbing the elbow that had taken the brunt of the impact. She’d fallen asleep. How had she fallen asleep? Mia extracted herself from the sheets and got her legs under her. If Mia thought she was sore yesterday, there was no comparison to how she felt today. Her lower back ached like someone wearing steel-toed boots had spent an hour repeatedly kicking her in the spine. And her arms, her arms were so heavy that Mia doubted she’d be able to hold a spoon let alone a shovel again. “Crap, crap, crap,” Mia muttered, casting about for something to pull over the nightgown fluttering around her legs. How the hell had she fallen asleep?
Mia slammed the lid of the chest at the foot of the bed shut and sat back on her ankles. There was nothing for her to wear. The casket was empty, and so was the wardrobe. Breahn had taken her stuff to be washed last night, Mia remembered that, but where was it? She’d even wear her own dress, short and ripped as it was, that was how desperate she was to get out of this room and find Orden. Mia glared out the window, or at least she tried to; she could only see about an inch above the wooden sill. The sky was a funny greyish blue color, a veil of clouds stretched thin enough to allow the sun through. Mia hoisted herself up and went to stand by the window.
It must have rained at some point while she was asleep. Water droplets sparkled against the glass in front of her face. It dripped from the pitched roof of the outhouse below and pooled in shallow puddles in the packed earth. If she moved closer to the glass and slanted her eyes far to the right Mia could make out a small section of the large garden bed, its soil darker in the damp. She looked down at herself. There was no way she could go out there dressed as she was, not in this weather, not in a piece of clothing Mia suspected was a bit see-through. Maybe Breahn had something she could borrow?
Mia poked her head out into the hallway, listening hard for the sound of footsteps or voices. On light feet she snuck down the narrow hall, pausing at the landing before darting across and slipping down the hallway to Breahn’s room. Mia pulled the door shut behind her and stood with her back against it, looking around the room. The bed was made, and the curtains were drawn back from the window. It looked as if nothing had changed from the night before like Breahn hadn’t set foot in her own room. Breahn, Mia suspected, was a little bit of a neat freak. A suspicion made even more believable when she opened up the other girl’s wardrobe and found it to be immaculately organized, not a fold of linen out of place.
Mia’s pulse quickened as she reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a plain dress, as good as identical to the one she’d seen Breahn wearing. Before she could think any more about how wrong it felt to be taking the other girl’s clothes without asking, Mia pulled the dress on over her nightgown. It didn’t make it feel any less weird. Mia walked over to the window, tugging the laces at the front of the dress into some semblance of a bow.
Mia stood against the wall, out of sight in case someone cared to look up and see her there. Hens pecked at the damp earth, fluffing their white feathers in the watery sunlight while the golden rooster strutted in and around them. Mia was following his royal procession around the yard when she heard a door open somewhere below and then Orden was walking across the yard. Something in his hand caught the light and reflected it back. Mia waited until he’d disappeared into the barn and then a bit longer to see if he would come back out. He didn’t.
Mia was out the door and running down the hall, bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor. Hanna was at the kitchen sink with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows when Mia barrelled right through the kitchen and out into the yard. There was a splash of water and a shout but Mia would not be stopped. She was so close to reaching her target. She ran into the barn, skirts snapping around her legs feet caked with dirt and skidded to a stop. The warm, thick air of the barn caught in her throat, ripe with the distinct animal smell. Mia coughed, eyes watering.
“In here,” Said a disembodied voice. Mia twisted around, searching for the giant of a man who should not be so hard to find. The rustling of straw had her squinting in the direction of one of the stalls. She took a hesitant step toward the door, craning her neck to see into the box. Orden was in the back corner of the rectangular stall with his back to her, squatting in front of what could only be the smallest horse Mia had ever seen.
She stood there watching, enthralled by the little animal and the man speaking in soft murmured tones so quiet Mia couldn’t hear what he said. The horse shifted its feet, dragging tiny black hooves in the thick bedding of golden straw. Three of its four knobby legs were socked in black, the right foreleg in white. From the knees up it was the color of coffee with a generous helping of cream. She could see nothing of its face, save for a tiny black nose, nostrils flared wide as it sniffed at the bottle Orden held in his hand.
“This wee lad will not take the bottle,” Orden spoke in a hushed voice. Even then the foal snorted and jerked its head back.
Mia waited until Orden had calmed it down before asking, “Where’s his mom?”
Orden adjusted himself to the right enough for Mia to see the creamy little face, a splash of white in the center of its forehead. Her heart squeezed in her chest. “She’s in the pasture with the other mares. She won’t have him.” He explained, answering her next question. “He came early into this world. Early and sickly.”
He told her how he'd found the mare and her new foal in the pasture early one morning nearly two weeks ago. He’d immediately brought them into the yard to keep a close eye on them both. It was dangerous for the mother when the baby came this early. There could be any number of difficulties that needed to be watch
ed for. But it wasn’t the mare that got sick.
The foal contracted pneumonia and steadily declined, becoming so sickly that Orden had been prepared for the worst. Then, miraculously, he’d come into the yard two days ago to find the little guy on his feet, wobbling after the mother. But the mare would not allow her baby to suckle, evading, even kicking at the foal if he came too close. “And now he is here,” Orden said, tugging on the tuft of black hair standing straight up between the delicate shells of the foal’s ears. Orden looked at her over one broad shoulder, “But you did not come here to discuss the intricacies of farm life.”
“No,” Mia admitted, “but I don’t mind.”
“Be that the case, I believe you came here with another purpose in mind.”
“I do have something I want to talk to you about-” Mia trailed off when Orden turned his attention back to the foal. He tried again to coax the animal to take the bottle, but the little horse only pulled away. Mia took a deep breath. “You asked me the other day if I have accepted my-” The word was too weird, a word she would never say under normal circumstances and had a hard time using now.
“Fate?” Orden supplied.
“Ya.”
“And have you?”
Mia didn’t answer right away, couldn’t because she didn’t know what it meant. Her fate? What did the word even mean? It sounded too much like ‘destiny’ for her liking. Slowly Mia tried to put into words what she did know; “I know I’m not in Manhattan anymore.” She paused, “I don’t know how it’s possible but I do know that. I know something brought me here and I know you expect something from me, but I have no idea what it is.” Orden sighed and shot her a look over his shoulder. Mia’s throat constricted. She hadn’t actually answered the question, “So, no. I guess I haven’t.”
Chosen (The Last Guardians Book 1) Page 17
