“Now pull the laces as tight as you can,” Lady Coraline Orthrop said.
Vrell obeyed, then tied the silk strings in a tiny bow and tucked the ends into the scooped neckline. “It is more comfortable than the binding and all the tunics.”
Lady Coraline stepped up to Vrell and ran her fingertips down the front laces. “And this will be easier than wearing so many layers. No one will suspect a thing.”
Lady Coraline was a master with thread and needle. She had crafted Vrell’s snug undergarment to be similar to a corset. This one had no uncomfortable whalebone at the waist, though. It was designed to give Vrell a small paunch of wool fleece rather than suck her stomach in. With Vrell’s only confidante going to Carmine, she would not have help to bind her breast and dress each day. The new undergarment would enable her to do it alone.
Vrell gripped Lady Coraline’s hands. “I wish I could go with you,” she said. “Must you really leave?”
Lady Coraline’s brown eyes met Vrell’s. “My father is ill, and I am overdue for a visit. Plus I have not seen your mother in over eleven years. Do not fret. You will be safe here.”
But Vrell wasn’t sure. She had been safe only because of Lady Coraline’s care. Lady Coraline had been like a mother to Vrell these past months, though she did not look like a mother of four, which she was.
She wore a maroon silk gown with green and gold embroidery. Every curl of her golden hair was pinned into place with a turquoise and silver circlet. At first sight, Vrell had thought Lady Coraline looked very out of place in this fishing town. A noblewoman from Zerah Rock, she was all elegance and decorum. She had married beneath her but did not care. In that, Vrell hoped to someday relate.
Lady Coraline walked back to her bed and began to pick up leftover scraps of fabric. The morning sun beamed though the closed shutters, painting stripes of light over the blue bedspread.
Lady Coraline’s bedchamber was small compared to Vrell’s chambers at home, and not more than a garderobe compared to Mother’s room there. Still, there was something quaint and cozy about this manor. Walden’s Watch was like a getaway cottage. This room consisted of a large oak bed and matching sideboard, a tall mirrorglass, and two chairs in front of a warm fireplace. An oval braided rug covered most the floor.
Vrell lifted the orange tunic from the sideboard and ran her thumb over the scratchy fabric. “I know I’ll be safe, but I miss Mother so.” And Bran. Her lips curved into a smile at the thought of Bran’s sunburned face. It had been six months since Vrell had gone into hiding here at Walden’s Watch, the home of her mother’s childhood friend.
Lady Coraline took Vrell’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. “Dearest, I cannot believe this will go on much longer. Your suitor will soon tire of searching and wed another.”
Vrell hoped so. She had come to Walden’s Watch last November to hide from the horrible man. Mother had felt the need to conceal more than Vrell’s location — thus the idea to take on a new identity and gender. Vrell’s suitor might be scouring all Er’Rets in search of her, but he would not be looking for a fourteen-year-old stray boy.
“I hope you are right.” Vrell pulled the orange tunic over her head and tied the brown rope belt. “Masquerading as a boy is fun, though. Trousers are so comfortable, but I wish I could have worn blue.” She walked to the mirrorglass that stood in the far corner of the bedchamber.
At seventeen, Vrell was fully grown, but because of her small frame, Mother had suggested her boy persona be fourteen. Vrell examined her short black hair and fair skin in the mirrorglass. She wrinkled her nose and gave her round cheeks a pinch.
“Orange does nothing for my complexion, and strays are treated so horribly. When I return home, I vow to be kind to every stray I see.”
Lady Coraline’s rose leaf-toned face appeared in the mirror over Vrell’s shoulder. “I am sorry you must take the part of a stray, my dear, but it is truly the safest hiding place. Few take notice of strays, and your sallow complexion better hides your beauty.”
It certainly did. That and the fact that the padded garment made her torso chubby despite her skinny arms and legs. Her shaggy, chopped hair would not lie flat, and she could only describe the dingy, orange tunic as hideous. Would Bran still think her beautiful if he saw her now? Would he forgive her for running away?
Vrell pulled on worn leather boots and set her hands on her hips. “Well?”
Lady Coraline clapped. “Perfect! Now just you remember your words.”
“I am trying!” She cleared her throat. “I mean, ‘I be tryin’ real hard, m’lady.’”
Lady Coraline giggled.
In Vrell’s efforts at playing a stray boy around Walden’s Watch, she most often forgot to speak like one. Thrice now she had ordered servants about in the manor before remembering her place. Lady Coraline had introduced Vrell to them as her husband’s ward and had insisted the boy be treated as a guest and not a servant.
The servants did not like Vrell much.
For the first time in her life, she was thankful for her hoarse, gravelly voice. She had always hated sounding like she had a cold that would not go away. Finally it came in useful.
A pressure squeezed in on Vrell’s mind. The thoughts of the little girl climbing the stairs at the end of the hall echoed through Vrell’s inner ear. “Aljee is coming,” she said to Lady Coraline. “She is hoping to wear your pearls and coral necklace.”
Lady Coraline’s face paled. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“I cannot help it.”
“You and your mother and your bloodvoices.” Lady Coraline scowled. “Your mother played the most rotten tricks on me until she finally confessed her gift. I had feared she was a witch for the longest time.”
Vrell laughed. “Yes, Mother told me.” The gift had begun in Vrell a month before she had gone into hiding. Mother had explained that bloodvoicing was an endowment. It enabled Vrell to speak with her mother’s mind when Mother reached out, but Vrell did not yet know how to reach for Mother. She found she could also hear the thoughts of anyone who was nearby. Some minds were easier to hear than others. Children were always susceptible.
Vrell had wanted to learn everything right away, but Mother said it would be safer to wait until this crisis passed so that she could be trained properly.
A knock sounded at the door.
Lady Coraline scowled.
“Sorry!” Vrell whispered.
“One moment, please,” Lady Coraline called.
Vrell darted behind the mirrorglass. It would not do for even young Aljee to see a boy in her mother’s bedchamber.
Lady Coraline’s footsteps creaked across the wooden floor until the door grated open. “Hello, dearest.”
Vrell peeked around the edge of the mirrorglass.
Nine-year-old Aljee, Lady Coraline’s youngest daughter, stood in the doorway looking lovely in ruffles of blue silk. “Father is ready to see you off.”
“Of course. Carry my purse?”
Aljee skipped to her mother’s table, golden ringlets bouncing, and swung a red silk purse over her shoulder. “Can I play with your jewels while you’re away?”
Lady Coraline sighed, and Vrell suppressed a giggle. “No, but you may use my purses and shawls.”
“Hurray!”
Vrell smirked at the child who could not wait to be a young woman. It would happen all too soon, and once Aljee tried the corset and learned the politics of court life, she might wish to return to age nine. After Lady Coraline and Aljee left, Vrell sneaked from the room and went downstairs to bid her mother’s dear friend farewell.
*
Less than an hour later, Vrell stood on the embankment with the four Orthrop children, just below the stone walls of Walden’s Watch Manor.
Lord Orthrop had walked Lady Coraline and her serving woman onto the ship that would sail to Nesos. Vrell had heard Shoal, the Orthrops’ eldest son, refer to the wooden boat as a cog. Vrell didn’t think a cog looked at all safe. Lady Coraline and her serving woman would be riding with six men in a space no bigger than Lady Coraline’s bedchamber. And the cog was stacked with cargo that caused it to sit low in the gentle waves. What if there were a storm? There had to be a better way to travel.
The unfamiliar warmth of the sea breeze tousled Vrell’s short hair in and out of her eyes. Her skin felt damp with the abrasive smell of seaweed, fish guts, and paraffin oil from boat lamps. The smell stuck to her. With Lady Coraline gone, Vrell would not have a decent bath until her return.
The sea stretched out before her, calm and heavy. Gulls swarmed the rocky shore, nipping bites of whatever creature had died among the rocks. The beach rose sharply up the hill until sand gave way to green grass that ran all the way to the greystone manor walls.
Vrell always felt awkward at these family gatherings. Council law required strays to wear orange. But, as at Zerah Rock and Carmine, Walden’s Watch did not employ slaves or strays. That did not stop people from treating Vrell with contempt. The Orthrop children were kind to her, though. Eleven-year-old Gil more so than anyone.
Lord Orthrop walked up the dock and stood beside Shoal. At first glance, the two men looked like twins. Both had blond hair slicked back into a tail, brown eyes, tanned skin, and broad shoulders. But eighteen-year-old Shoal did not have the weathered face of his father.
A chorus of good-bye s rang out from the children, and Vrell joined in, blinking away her tears. Aljee ran down the dock, tossing blossoms in the boat’s wake and waving to her mother. Riif and Gil had already moved on. They were fighting with sticks on the grassy lawn behind the manor. Shoal and his father were discussing the tides.
Shoal was quite handsome. If he hadn’t smelled like fish at all hours of the day, Vrell might’ve been tempted to get to know him better.
It was probably for the best. For one thing, Shoal believed in the Er’Retian gods, which Vrell held to be mythical. For another, Shoal was in love with Keili, a fisherman’s daughter. It was a shame that Lord Orthrop would never approve the match. Such was life. But those two topics of conversation would certainly cause trouble. Vrell had a bad habit of setting people straight about the gods that usually ended in ridicule. Plus, her own thwarted love would prod her to romantic discussions no true boy would venture into willingly.
Best to steer clear.
Shoal, still engaged in conversation with his father, grinned at Vrell as she walked up the hill, practicing her springy boy walk. Unfortunately, after hearing his thoughts, she knew his smile was not for companionship, but at his memory of clobbering her with a sword. Her hand was still bruised. Vrell sighed and started for the apothecary, kicking pebbles on the dusty road as she went.
The village of Walden’s Watch was crammed into a small, flat space at the end of the NaharPeninsula. Cliffs edged the ocean on both sides of the town. The houses were narrow, two-level stone dwellings packed close beside one another.
Vrell kept her head down as she walked, glancing up only to keep from running into anything. Strays were not to make eye contact with people above their station, and that took a lot of training on Vrell’s part. A little boy chased a rolling leather ball into the road. She did not meet his eyes or try to hear his thoughts, but his sunburned face reminded her of Bran.
Seven months ago, Bran Rennan had asked for Vrell’s hand. She longed to be his bride. He was her dearest friend and her only love. But Bran was only a lesser noble, and Vrell was heir to a duchy. She would be marrying beneath her, at least in terms of social station. To Vrell’s delight, her mother had actually been considering the match when another suitor had come along.
The powerful and horrible Crown Prince of Er’Rets: Gidon Hadar.
Vrell had wanted nothing to do with him. Thankfully, Mother had agreed. But when the prince threatened to send guards to provoke a favorable answer, Mother sent Vrell into hiding.
The plan was simply to wait. As soon as Prince Gidon yielded and chose another woman to marry, Vrell would return home. At which point she would beg Mother to accept Bran’s offer.
For now, Vrell was homesick but safe. It was winter’s end, and if she were home she would still be wearing heavy woolen skirts and furs. Here she did not even need an overcoat. Walden’s Watch was almost tropical, although it was more swamp than rainforest. According to Lord Orthrop, however, the gods always cursed the NaharPeninsula in a winter drought.
She rolled her eyes at such foolish superstition.
The apothecary sat two streets from the manor house in a stone building with a large wooden shutter covering the window. When the shop opened, the shutter would serve as an awning to shade both customers and merchandise. Vrell approached the building and followed the path to the backyard.
The shop owner, Wayan Masen, served as the only apothecary for miles around. Lord Orthrop had arranged for Vrell to apprentice there. But Vrell found the work of Wayan’s wife, Mitt Masen, much more interesting. Mitt was a healer and midwife. Vrell would have loved to see babies born, but under this disguise it was impossible. A boy apprenticed to a midwife was unheard of. And as far as the Masens were concerned, Vrell was a boy.
Thankfully, Wayan found Vrell a bother — an opinion somewhat helped along by Vrell — and was therefore quick to send her away to assist his wife. Though Vrell couldn’t help her with the midwifery, she was learning a great deal about the healing arts. Mitt frequently spoke of her visits with patients, and Vrell soaked up all the information she could. Using plants to heal was fascinating.
She enjoyed the smells of herbs and blossoms, and learning the healing trade gave her a sense of home. She missed her private garden, her hybrid plant projects, and Mother’s library. Lord Orthrop did not keep books or scrolls of knowledge — not that Vrell’s boy persona would be able to read them even if he did.
Vrell entered the Masen’s backyard, a small medicinal garden filled with all kinds of herbs and spices. Lines of twine zigzagged between the apothecary and the Masen’s home next door.
Vrell found Mitt hanging sprigs of juniper and oregano on the lines. Mitt was short and round but very able. She always wore a charcoal grey dress with a white apron over it. Her face was as round as the rest of her, and her cheeks were always flushed.
“Morning, Vrell!”
“Good morning. May I help you with those?”
“You surely can.” Mitt motioned to a basket of fresh blossoms. “Hang the lavender over by the wall, will you?”
Vrell took a bunch of lavender and a length of pre-cut twine, and made her way to the wall. The lavender smelled heavenly, like Mother. Vrell’s eyes watered as she thought of the wonderful visit her mother and Lady Coraline would be having soon. She blinked the jealous thoughts away, tied the sprig to the line, and went for another.
“Kehta Grett’s twins come last night,” Mitt said.
Vrell gasped. “How did it go?”
“Terrifying. For a time I wondered if I’d been wrong and there was only one. But when the girl come out weighing so little, I knew there was another. The boy was a jackal, though. Gave me a time of it. Come feet first with the cord around his wee neck. Survived in spite of it, and I praised the gods.”
Vrell bristled at how everyone so freely gave credit to the gods. As if mythical beings could be capable of acts of healing and controlling the weather. She itched to correct Mitt, but that would only draw attention and questions. She forced her thoughts back to the twins. “How lovely for Kehta there was one of each.”
“Yes. Though it’s rare for a boy to notice such things.” Mitt chuckled. “I suppose that’s why we get along so well, you and me.”
Vrell’s cheeks flushed. Even when she purposely tried to avoid drawing attention, she managed to slip. It was just so hard not to be herself around Mitt.
“How is your salve coming along?” Mitt asked.
With Mitt’s help, Vrell had been building her own healing kit. She had gathered quite the collection thus far. She was currently working on her first yarrow salve for cuts and bruises.
“It’s nearly finished.”
Mitt clipped a spring to the line and brushed her hands on her apron. She waved Vrell over to the garden. “Test time.” Mitt pointed to a small daisy. “What’s this?”
“Calendula? It’s the main ingredient in my salve. Does wonders for bruising and inflammation. And…grows naturally in the ChowmahMountains?”
Mitt nodded and pointed to a leafy tropical plant.
Vrell thought for a moment. “Kava kava? It’s used to make a sedative.”
“Yes, but how is it made?”
“You grind it and strain it to make a tea. And can you also chew it fresh?”
A strand of greying hair fell loose from Mitt’s braid. “That’s right. How about this one?” She pointed to a flat, petal-like, brown mushroom.
“That is reishi,” Vrell answered right away. “It is good for a weak heart, dizziness, and high mountain travel.”
Mitt led Vrell though the garden until she had questioned every plant. Then they went inside the shop, where Vrell helped make a large batch of clove oil for a customer with a toothache. Not long into the project, the spicy smell numbed her nostrils.
Vrell had just begun to grind willow bark for a tonic when young Gil raced into the shop, panting. At eleven, Gil was a weed. His body had reached that awkward stage where his head, arms, and feet seemed too big for the rest of him.
“Vrell! Father needs you at the manor straight away.” Gil shook his shaggy blond hair out of his wild eyes. “Some men have come for you.”
Vrell’s heart took off at a gallop. Could she have been discovered? How? She reached out with her mind to seek Lord Orthrop’s thoughts, but gleaned only his anxiety. “What kind of men?”
Gil’s eyes bulged. “Kingsguard knights, and one’s a giant!”
Mitt’s chuckle rose over the scraping of her mortar and pestle.
“Do not be silly.” Vrell tried to sound casual. She wiped her shaking hands on a towel and forced sensible words from her lips. “There are no giants around here.”
Gil grinned, baring his new adult teeth that looked oversized on his childlike face. “Just you wait and see, Vrell. He had to duck to come through the door.”
Vrell apologized to Mitt and walked back to the manor house with Gil, who prattled on endlessly about the Kingsguard knights. Vrell sought over and over but could not hear Lord Orthrop’s thoughts or the strangers’. If only Mother had taught her more bloodvoicing skills before Vrell had left. What if Prince Gidon had somehow found her? Sweat beaded under her wool padding at what may lie ahead. She prayed Arman would protect her.
The manor house at Walden’s Watch sat at the highest point on the cliffs. No wall or moat surrounded the sea stone dwelling. It was guarded by a single gatehouse entrance, which was the only way in or out. Vrell darted through the gate and pushed past the oversized oak door.
The manor was cool inside. She walked through the small foyer and down a narrow corridor. Her boots crunched over the dead rushes that were in need of replacement. Lord Orthrop’s study sat directly across from the dining hall. Two bulky packs lay beside the closed door, one three times the size of the other. Vrell stood outside the room, seeking the thoughts inside. Finally, Lord Orthrop’s amplified words rung in her head.
I’d like to travel again. It’s been a while since I’ve gone anywhere but to sea for fish. Been waiting for Prince Gidon to take the throne. Wondered if he wouldn’t make some changes to the appointed lordships.
Vrell groaned. If she had been discovered, they were no longer talking about it. But why else would she have been summoned? Lord Orthrop had always ignored her. Now that his wife had left, would he send her away? Sell her as a slave, despite Walden’s Watch’s laws? She did not know the man well enough to guess.
She raised her fist and knocked.
The valet opened the door, and Vrell stepped inside. Like the rest of the manor, the study was oak and sea stone. A large hearth lay cold behind Lord Orthrop’s driftwood desk. Lord Orthrop stood in front of it, pointing up at a wooden carving of a swordfish that hung over the hearth. “This is a replica of one I caught two summers past. Took me an hour to pull him in.”
Two knights stood before Lord Orthrop’s desk looking up at the wooden fish. They wore black New Kingsguard capes embroidered with the golden justice scales of Mahanaim’s crest. One man stood so tall Vrell understood why Gil had called him a giant. His head nearly brushed the timber ceiling. He was as wide as two men — but it was hard muscle, not flab. His legs were strapped in leather, sheathing daggers and axes. Most of his face was hidden behind a bushy black beard.
Vrell stepped up to Lord Orthrop’s desk. The giant looked down at Vrell with brown eyes the size of goose eggs. A red scarf was tied over his hair like a nightcap, and a fat braid hung over one shoulder and down to his waist.
Vrell suddenly missed her long hair. She shook the thought away and sought the giant’s mind.
She could not find it.
How strange. She could always read people this close, but when she tried for the giant, he was empty. The tops of her ears tickled suddenly, and she focused hard on drawing the curtains around her mind, as Mother had described the defensive action. One of these men must have the bloodvoices as well and was seeking her thoughts. Her ears always tickled the same way just before Mother communicated.
The idea brought a shiver of fear. If either of these men could bloodvoice, could they discover her true identity? Or did they know it already? Maybe this was about her being exposed, after all.
Vrell dragged her gaze to the other New Kingsguard knight. He was barely taller than she was. This scrawny man’s greasy brown hair hung in his dark eyes. Scruffy cheeks, a wild mustache, and a long neck added to his weasely appearance. He wore a sword at his side almost as long as he was tall. It looked ridiculous on him, like he was just holding it for the giant.
Vrell did not risk opening her mind to try and hear his thoughts. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to know what they were anyway.
Lord Orthrop turned to Vrell. “Ah. My good knights, this is the boy you’ve come for. Vrell Sparrow is what he’s called. Don’t know how you knew he was here. He’s only been my ward these past six months.”
Lord Orthrop walked from the hearth and sat at his desk. He motioned to the giant. “This is Jax mi Katt.” Then to the short man. “And Khai Mageia. It’s an incredible opportunity for you, boy. I don’t understand it entirely, but apparently you have a gift.”
Vrell’s jaw fell open. How could anyone have known about her bloodvoicing ability?
Lord Orthrop’s eyebrows rose. “You know of this?”
“I…” Vrell swallowed, hating to lie, but afraid to tell the truth. “N-None that I know of, my lord.”
“Well, I suspect you’ll find out soon enough. These men have come to take you to the great city of Mahanaim to apprentice for the Council of Seven.”
Vrell could only gasp and sputter.
“You’ll train under Master Macoun Hadar,” Khai said in a nasally voice.
“Hadar is a royal name,” Lord Orthrop said. “An amazing privilege for anyone — but of course even you must know this.”
Indeed, Hadar was a royal name, but not one she trusted much. Besides, Vrell could not travel to Mahanaim with two men! She would not. She needed to stay here to hide until she could marry Bran. Plus, such a thing was unheard of. Noblewomen did not travel without a companion. It had taken her months just to get used to walking to the apothecary by herself. Of course, she couldn’t say any of this without revealing her identity, or at least her gender.
Her heart rattled under her padded prison. “Forgive me, my lord, but Lady Coraline promised I could stay until my training with Master Masen was complete.”
Lord Orthrop waved his hand around. “I’ve indulged my wife long enough in this matter. You must trust me, Vrell. A man knows what’s best for a man. Serving a Hadar is a much loftier goal than apothecary in any city, especially Walden’s Watch. We’re at the edge of the world here, boy. No one much cares about this place.”
“I do.”
Lord Orthrop gave a small smile. “You’re a stray. You could do no better if you worked hard your whole life.”
All this would make perfect sense if Vrell were truly a boy and truly a stray. Lord Orthrop would never send a woman off with two men. Except he did not know she was a woman. He could not find out either — he might side against her. Vrell’s heart was a lump in her throat, choking back her words, and thankfully, tears.
If only she knew how to bloodvoice Mother.
“We will leave the moment the boy is ready,” the giant said in a booming voice.
Lord Orthrop’s eyes met Vrell’s. “Off you go then. Pack your things.”
She bowed. “Yes, my lord.”
After that, everything happened fast. Gil gave her a small leather satchel to stow her healing herbs and salves. She’d clipped a leather water skin to it. Vrell realized with a pang of loneliness that this was all she would leave here with. She had brought no personal belongings from home, so she had nothing more to pack.
When she came downstairs — with a sniffling Gil at her side — Lord Orthrop, Aljee, and the knights were waiting in the foyer. Lord Orthrop handed her a small velvet bag of coins.
“My lord, I couldn’t possibly—”
“You must, boy. And you’ll take a horse too. I’ll be in trouble enough when Coraline returns to find you gone. Accept this as a token of my apologies for rushing you off. You must understand: even if I wanted you to stay, the Council is law. I cannot speak against them. May the gods be with you.”
Aljee rushed up and grabbed Vrell around the waist. “Oh, Vrell, I wish you didn’t have to go. You’ve never teased me as much as my brothers.”
“And you never beat me as much,” Gil said, his posture slumped.
“It won’t be much longer, son, before you’ll be as skilled as your brothers,” Lord Orthrop said.
“My lord?” Vrell asked. “Might I bid good-bye to Master Masen and Mitt?”
Lord Orthrop shook his head. “I’ll send word. These knights have instructions to bring you back with haste, isn’t that right, Sir Jax?”
The giant nodded. “We must leave at once.”
Vrell hugged Aljee one more time. She longed to hug them all and beg them to let her stay, but it was too risky. Arman would protect her, would he not?
“I’ll tell Mitt for you, Vrell,” Gil promised.
Tears blurred Vrell’s vision. She followed the massive form blocking out the sun and his tiny partner to the stables. It would be a very long journey to Mahanaim — at least a fortnight. What would happen if these Kingsguard knights discovered her secret?
Fear scuttled over her like a thousand beetles. She concentrated on closing her mind and putting one foot in front of the other.
Vrell’s steps slowed at the sight of the giant’s horse. It stood before the stables, saddled and ready to go with the other two horses, but its back was as high as the others’ heads. Vrell had seen festriers at tournaments when she was younger, but none quite as large as this one.
Jax swung up onto the beast in a swift motion, his axes clanking against each other. The stirrup holding his massive boot dangled at the level of Vrell’s chin. How thrilling it must feel to ride such a horse. She wondered how her horse back home, Kopay, would react to the sight of one.
Vrell mounted Nickel, the withered grey palfrey Lord Orthrop had given her, and followed the knights out of Walden’s Watch.
The dirt road stretched out across the NaharPeninsula with nothing but sagebrush, chaparral, cactus, and the occasional juniper tree for miles on either side. She wondered if the scenery would change on their way to Mahanaim. She had been to the stronghold several times but never by this route.
Jax stopped his horse and waited until Vrell came alongside. He looked down on her with his oversized eyes. “Have you ridden much?”
“Some, sir.”
“What kind of horse?”
“Um…a…” Vrell faltered as she tried to decide how to answer. Kopay was a sleek courser. But a stray would have no business on such a fine animal. She feigned ignorance. “I don’t know, sir.”
Jax looked straight ahead. “It will be a hot afternoon. It’s best we move mostly at night to avoid the sun. Have you traveled this road before?”
“No, sir.”
“Where you from?”
Jax’s deep, rumbling voice shook Vrell’s already frazzled nerves. She would need to keep her answers short, as Lady Coraline had suggested. Since she had a tendency to forget her role and speak like a noblewoman, the less she said the better.
She decided to name the city her boy persona was supposedly from. “Zerah Rock.”
Jax nodded. His red head scarf made his skin look darker. She knew from her lessons with Sangio, her tutor back home, that Jax was a yâtsaq giant. Since Darkness came, the giants had divided into two tribes: eben and yâtsaq. The ebens were said to be pale and fair-haired. Yâtsaq, the opposite. Jax’s black braids were as thick as Vrell’s wrists.
She hoped he would not try to make idle conversation the entire journey. She did not think she could handle the stress of coming up with the right answers. She allowed Nickel to slowly fall behind Jax’s mount. Eventually, Jax spurred his festrier to Khai’s side.
Vrell’s every nerve was on edge. Her body ached more from tension than from the miles they had covered since leaving Walden’s Watch that morning. She feared making a move that might give her secret away. Staying behind the two knights gave them less opportunity to wonder, but doomed Vrell to witnessing hour upon endless hour of their crude behavior.
Khai craned his long neck around, his dark eyes plowing over Vrell as if to dig up her secret and anything else she held dear. He was probably only making sure she had not ridden off — as if there were any place to go. She focused hard on keeping her mind closed. Khai turned back and let out a loud, horse-like laugh.
Vrell cringed.
These knights were far from noble. They were soldiers who scratched and spat and smelled and swore — though Vrell doubted that even noble knights would behave chivalrously around a stray boy. Did Bran do such things when no ladies were present?
She should have told him the truth about the prince’s proposal. By now, Mother would have done so. She hoped he did not do anything foolish when he heard.
Without any warning, Khai dismounted to relieve himself on the side of the road. Vrell gasped and spurred her horse to pass.
Men were revolting.
Vrell had to go herself, but was not sure how to manage it. They were headed for the NaharForest, but it was three days away. She couldn’t wait three days for the privacy of a tree, but how would she ever escape long enough to do her business?
The sun set quickly, casting a beautiful array of color over the flat horizon before vanishing. Jax lit a torch and held it high above his towering form to light their way on the dark, dirt road. It helped little. Natural darkness stretched around them on all sides. Within the beam of light, Vrell could make out only the silhouette of her horse.
She would rather wet herself than leave the small circle of light beaming from Jax’s torch. The darkness had plunged the meadowlands into a black void. Behind her, a hollow squawk rang out and dwindled to a gurgling moan. Her horse jolted.
Vrell’s breath caught and she patted his neck. “Do not fear, boy.” She shuddered to think what kind of an animal made such a—
RAWHH!
Nickel reared up. Vrell gripped his mane, but the horse took off at a gallop.
“Vrell!” Jax called out as she passed.
The horse bolted out of the torch’s beam and into a shroud of darkness.
Shadows loomed before her, making her afraid the roaring beast might attack at any moment. She gripped both reins and grabbed the roots of Nickel’s mane with her fingers. She pulled back with her left hand, turning the horse’s head toward her. Nickel slowed to a canter. Vrell pulled the left rein back to her hip and let the right slip through her fingers a bit, hoping to turn the horse’s head more.
Nickel circled. The sensation was terrifying in the dark, but Vrell fought to maintain her calm since horses could sense their rider’s fear.
When he stopped completely, Vrell patted his neck. “See?” she said in a soothing voice. “You are just fine. Yes, you are. You are a good boy, Nickel.”
She stayed put, continuing to comfort the animal. She strained to hear any sound of the wild beast approaching again. Jax’s torch bobbed in the distance, growing slightly with each passing second.
“Vrell?” Jax yelled from afar.
“Here!” Vrell called back, not too loudly.
Nickel stiffened beneath her palm, but did not bolt.
Slowly, the torch lit her surroundings. Jax and Khai trotted up and reined their horses.
“You okay?” Jax asked.
“Yes. A wild animal scared my horse.”
Khai snickered. “Jumpy little sprig is just like his rider.”
Jax spun around, the torch’s flame sputtering. “Enough of your gowzal calls, Khai. We don’t have time for this foolishness.”
Vrell gaped at the weasely knight. Had he purposely frightened her horse? She could have been killed.
Khai glanced away, still smirking.
Jax scratched underneath his beard and dismounted. The dead grass crunched under his footsteps and his axes jangled. “We’ll stop here to get some food in our bellies. But only for a few hours. I want to travel as much as possible when it’s cool.”
“How will we get back to the road?” Vrell asked.
“It’s just there.” Jax pointed the direction they had come.
Khai wheezed a laugh. “Plus, the sun will come up soon enough, boy. This ain’t Darkness, you know.”
Vrell gritted her teeth and slid off the side of her horse. “I meant to ask, how can you be certain where the road is? Everything looks the same here, even in daylight. We have been traveling all day, and I have not seen a single traveler. How do we know we are even on the right road? Have you a map?”
Khai mocked Vrell’s raspy voice with a lofty tone. “Yes, Sir Jax. But how can you be certain where the road is? Everything looks the same and I’m tired and hungry and daft.”
Vrell was thankful for the black void that hid her flushing cheeks. This was why it was best for her not to speak.
Jax rounded on Vrell and thrust the torch into her hands. “Hold this.”
She pulled her neck back to keep her hair free of the flame and lifted the torch high away from her skittish horse.
Jax unfastened his pack from his horse and dropped it into the grass. He removed some rope from it and tossed it to Khai. “Tether and water the horses. Vrell, help him.”
Khai gathered his and Jax’s horses and stomped away, the parched grass swishing under their steps. The tip of his massive sword’s scabbard dragged behind him.
Vrell stayed put, unsure of what to do with the torch. “Do you need the light, sir?”
Jax looked up and held out his large hand. Vrell passed him the heavy torch, and he drove it into the ground so it stood on its own. He got on his knees to go through his gear. In this position he was almost her height.
Vrell turned and blinked. The torch cast enough light that she could see where Khai had taken the horses. Bushes lit up like misty shadows. She led Nickel to the others. Khai had already stripped off their saddles and set out a bucket of water for each, including her own.
This surprised Vrell. “Thank you for pouring a bucket for my horse.”
Khai grunted. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it to conserve water. If I see your skinny fingers on the water pack, I’ll break them. Understood?”
Vrell’s eyes widened, but she held her tongue. She turned away from Khai and tied Nickel to a chaparral bush. She took care of his gear, then returned to the torchlight. Khai and Jax busied themselves in their packs. If ever there was a time to steal a moment alone in the dark, this was it.
“I am going to…” She pointed away into the darkness. “I need to…”
“Fine.” Jax dug in his gear for something. “Don’t go far.”
Vrell inched away, looking over her shoulder with each step to verify both men remained at the camp and that she could still see the torch. She walked straight ahead, arms stretched out in front to feel for anything. She did not want to stumble into any cactus.
When the camp had shrunk to a small glow, and Vrell was confident she would not be seen, she crouched over the dead grass. For the first time in her life, she relieved herself outdoors. When she finished, she used water from her water skin to wash her face and hands. The road had been so dusty her nostrils were stiff and crusty. She did not have a handkerchief.
She did have a salve to protect her skin from sunburn, though. She had made it herself with chaparral from Mitt’s garden. How strange it had been to see so much of the desert bush in its natural state during her ride earlier. She rubbed the salve generously over her face. The cool mixture tingled the heat from her skin. She thought of Bran and smiled. He had such a fair complexion. She had often tried to convince him to use one of her salves, but he never had.
Vrell returned to the torch and found Jax and Khai eating. She settled down on the ground to Jax’ left, putting the fire between her and Khai. Jax passed her a hard bread roll, some dried figs, and a chunk of dried meat.
“Thank you, sir.”
Vrell bowed in silent thanks for the meal, then bit into the bread.
Khai was watching her, his brows heavy over dark eyes. “What’d you do? Bewitch it to taste like tarts?”
Vrell lowered her hands into her lap and swallowed the bite of bread before answering. “I always thank Arman for my food.”
Khai bit into his roll. He tore off a chunk and spoke with a full mouth. “Arman? Why not Zitheos or Dendron? It’s their provisions you eat.”
Vrell huffed a sigh. “There is only one God: Arman the Father.”
“Ohhh.” Khai tipped his head back with a wide grin. “You’re one of those crazy Waywarders.”
“I am not crazy,” Vrell pointed out coldly, “and it is called the Way.”
“If your Way is true, why do so few follow it?”
“Khai,” Jax’s voice boomed. “Leave him be.”
Vrell hid a smug smile. She ate her bread and meat first, saving the figs for last. The sweet taste reminded her of the plump raisins so plentiful back home.
The men ate in half the time Vrell did. She watched Jax while she nibbled her figs. The giant had removed his cloak and head scarf. He sat motionless, hands in his lap, head tilted up to the starry sky, glassy eyes staring at nothing.
His undershirt clung to his muscled torso. The iron cuffs gave the appearance of shackles on a convict bound for IceIsland, although these were not the same kind. Guards often stopped in Vrell’s hometown, transporting criminals to the icy prison. Those cuffs were always thin and chained to one another. Jax’s covered both forearms and seemed to be painted or carved, but she could not tell in the low light of the torch.
A quick glance at Khai caught him leering again. Did he suspect she was a woman? Could he read her thoughts? She swallowed her fear and nodded to Jax. “What is he doing?”
Khai yawned, his tiny mouth stretching abnormally wide. “Reporting.”
“To whom?”
“Your new master.”
Vrell blinked. “You mean to say he is communicating with someone? Now?”
Khai leaned back on his elbows.
She stared at Jax’s flickering eyes. “How?”
“Don’t play the fool with me,” Khai said. “You know how or you wouldn’t be here.”
Vrell pulled her knees up to her chest and took a bite of her last fig. Khai was implying that Jax was bloodvoicing someone. She realized she shouldn’t be surprised. She had seen Mother do it before, but never with her eyes open.
Why had Mother not tried to bloodvoice her in so long? Was she in danger? Surely she hadn’t forgotten her own daughter. Lady Coraline would not have arrived in Carmine yet. That journey would take at least a week. When she did arrive, Mother would certainly contact Vrell to let her know. Right?
Vrell sucked in a sharp breath. What if her avid focus to close her mind to the knights had blocked out Mother? That seemed a logical answer to Mother’s lack of communication. There had to be a way to connect with one person and block out the rest, but Vrell had no idea how. Dare she risk asking Jax?
When they had finished eating, Jax ordered Vrell and Khai to ready the horses. Vrell obeyed, though she was so tired she was certain she would fall asleep in the saddle. Jax wanted to sleep during the day, though, so she obeyed without complaint.
They rode over the same barren desert plains until the sun brought sweat to her brow. Vrell was so tired she hardly remembered the day’s journey. Jax stopped where a juniper tree and some chaparral bushes clustered together. Vrell tied up Nickel where Khai tethered the others. Jax took all three horses’ blankets and draped them over the vegetation to make a shady place.
Jax unfastened his bedroll from his pack and tossed it in the shaded spot. He looked to Vrell. “You have no bedroll?”
Vrell paled. She had not considered sleeping arrangements. How foolish. Someone else always took care of such things when she traveled. “No, sir.”
“Well,” Jax said, “the grass is rough, but at least it’s not rocky.”
Sleep on the ground? Vrell looked at her horse, blinking away tears. Of course the men would not give up their beds for a stray. Maybe if she made her rank and gender known?
She pressed her lips together and found them dry. Her mind weighed the consequences of revealing her identity. If she did, Jax or Khai would likely offer her a bed. She could sleep soundly. The knights would behave in her presence and return her to Walden’s Watch. She was not certain of Lord Orthrop’s political views, but there was at least a chance he would not turn her in.
On the other side, if Prince Gidon had offered a bounty for whoever located his intended, the knights might know of it. In that case, one of them might give up his bed to see her comfortable tonight, but in the morning they would escort her to Mahanaim, where she would be forced to marry the pig.
Or they might attack her.
She would keep silent and be thankful to sleep on the ground. The grass would be heavenly compared to a lifetime of sleeping on a featherbed next to a cockatrice. She suddenly realized why she disliked Khai Mageia so — he reminded her of the prince.
Vrell found a flat patch of earth a few yards from Jax and stomped the dead grass stalks flat. She got down on her knees and brushed away the broken blades and bits of sagebrush until she had a clear place to sleep. When she was satisfied, she glanced at the men. Jax had lain down. Khai was digging in his pack, his longsword stretched out behind him like a third leg. She strode away from the camp. She found a place where some chaparral obscured her view enough that the men would not see her use her latest privy.
When she returned to the shelter, Khai’s bedroll lay in the spot she had cleared to sleep in. She gasped. “What is the meaning—” She stopped herself before she spoke above her station.
One side of Khai’s mouth curved into a grin. “I thank you for clearing a place for me, boy. Saved me some work. About time you made yourself useful.”
Vrell seethed. Clearly that had not been a place for Khai. He had seen her clear it when Jax had told her the grass was softer than… Oh, why bother to think on it? The man had done it on purpose, and she would not let him see her anger. She turned her nose in the air and started trampling a new spot on the other side of Jax.
Then she realized a boy — especially a stray boy — would probably not put his nose in the air, so she slouched down and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Yes. Much more like a sulking boy.
She lay down in her earthen bed and curled into a ball on her side. The bitter chaparral smell filled her nostrils. She watched Khai pour red powder into a small, wooden bowl. He added a drop of water from his water skin and stirred it with a stick. What was he doing?
A sharp kick in the side woke her. A dark form loomed above.
She cringed as Khai sneered, “Up, sloth!” Then he mumbled, “What Master Hadar sees in you is a mystery.”
Vrell blinked wildly and scrambled back to avoid another kick. The sharp, dead grass scratched her palms. It was dark. Jax already sat atop his festrier and held the torch high. He held the reins to Vrell’s horse in his other hand. Nickel was already saddled and ready to go. Vrell sat up. Her body ached from so much riding yesterday and from sleeping on the hard ground.
She yawned and mounted her horse. She took a drink from her water skin, only to find it nearly empty. It had probably been unwise to use it for washing. What would she do if she ran out of water? Khai’s courser carried two jugs for the horses, but she had no desire to have her fingers broken.
Vrell’s eyelids were heavy in the darkness. She was thankful she did not have to walk. Occasionally she remembered to worry about slouching in her saddle like a boy, but she was too tired to keep up the concern. They rode for hours with only the clomping of hooves and the crickets’ song for company. Soon the darkness faded and the endless savanna lit up with the dull, grey dawn.
The air was cool, for now, and Vrell took a long cleansing breath. Her surroundings looked no better today than yesterday, however. Sagebrush and chaparral. A few juniper trees squatting here and there. But no streams, no ocean, no vibrant colors. With each step her horse took, the sun rose higher, the sky turned bluer, and Vrell grew more and more thirsty.
And now her water was gone.
Khai knew of Vrell’s bloodvoicing gift. Jax probably did as well. Maybe there was no point in hiding it. She spotted Jax’s red head scarf ahead. If she could get him aside, she could ask him how to bloodvoice someone directly. Then she could contact Mother. The instant Mother discovered Vrell’s plight, she would surely send someone to her rescue.
But as much as Vrell wanted to be home again, she desired to wed that fool of a prince even less. He didn’t love her. His attentions were strictly based on political gain. Carmine influenced much of northern Er’Rets. The prince likely figured that an alliance with Carmine would give him better control over the kingdom. But Prince Gidon’s reputation already held doom for the future. His rule would not be a noble one.
For the sake of the kingdom and Vrell’s future, she was safest hidden. If she could play her part, perhaps this apprenticeship in Mahanaim would be the perfect refuge.
Was she mad? The sun must be melting her good sense. She could not continue to travel with these Kingsguard ruffians. She should be seeking opportunities for escape. If she could get away and make it back to Walden’s Watch, perhaps Mitt would take pity. But Wayan would never keep secrets from Lord Orthrop, and if Lord Orthrop discovered Vrell had fled the Kingsguards, the blow to his pride might make him cross enough to deliver Vrell to Mahanaim himself. If only Lady Coraline had not chosen this time to travel.
Khai’s horse kicked up a plume of dust, and the wretched wind threw it back in her face. She coughed and spluttered and brushed the dirt off her tunic. As if her problems were not plentiful enough, where would she bathe?
Vrell’s mouth and throat were parched, her lips were crusty, and swallowing had become difficult. They rode until Jax found another cluster of juniper to build a shelter in. As soon as they dismounted, Khai led the horses — and the extra water — away. Vrell halfheartedly stomped out a clear spot in the dead grass, then lay down and instantly fell asleep.
All too soon, Khai’s kick jerked her awake. As they rode through the dark night, Jax demanded she pick up the pace, but she was so tired and thirsty. Her body would not stay focused enough to guide her horse. Every muscle throbbed and spasms of pain pulsed in her temples. Finally the sun rose, blurring the endless savanna like melted butter.
Jax reined his horse beside hers. “You must move faster, Vrell. We can make the forest before dark.”
Vrell blinked. Her horse had stopped completely. She looked at the giant, but his face went out of focus and she could not determine whether he was truly angry. Wasn’t it time for bed? Her eyelids drooped, her head rolled back, and she slumped. Jax’s ample hand gripped her arm, and she snapped to at his touch.
Her words came out in a whisper. “I shall try, sir.” She blinked and wiggled her tongue, but her pasty mouth could gather no saliva to swallow.
Jax tugged the water skin off Vrell’s satchel and shook it. “You have no water?”
Again her voice croaked, “I finished it yesterday.”
Khai groaned to the sky.
Jax pushed Vrell’s empty skin into her hands. She hugged it tight, cradling it like a broken child. The giant lifted a strap over his head and offered her his water jug. It was carved from some kind of gourd, the surface intricately burned with a picture of a tree. She clipped her empty water skin to her pouch and reached for Jax’s jug.
The wet, cool liquid softened her shriveled tongue. She swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, until Jax pulled the sweet moisture away. Vrell whimpered and eyed the jug greedily as he hung the leather strap back over his head.
“You must take small drinks,” Jax said. “Make your water last. How is it you live in Walden’s Watch and don’t know of the pre-spring drought?”
“Because he’s a half-wit,” Khai said. “Let him thirst. It will teach him to think next time.”
Vrell scowled at Khai. She had not understood about the drought. Lord Orthrop had said it came from mythical gods, so she had dismissed it as mere legend. Besides, Lord Orthrop and Mitt had always had plenty of water to drink. She forced her befuddled mind to answer as the stray, Vrell Sparrow, would.
“Um…” Her pounding head made it difficult to remember. She was to give Lady Coraline’s hometown as her own. That should suffice to explain to Khai why she knew little of Walden’s Watch. “I…come from Zerah Rock.”
Khai groaned again and looked away. “No wonder.” He turned back and threw up his hands. “He’s a sapient slave. Fancies himself worth more than he is.”
Jax silenced Khai with a sharp look. “I will share my water, but we must keep moving if we are to reach the forest before dark. There are many streams in NaharForest to refill our jugs.”
The drink revived Vrell enough that she could keep pace with the men’s horses. She was further strengthened when Jax passed out another meal of bread, meat, and figs.
She didn’t know why Jax treated her kindly, but she was glad. It had been fun, the first few days of playing a boy in Walden’s Watch. But the first time she’d gone to apprentice at the apothecary, she had quickly learned what life was like for a stray. No one had made eye contact, no one had spoken to her, and when she had tried to ask directions, she had been shoved, cursed at, or ignored. They had treated her as Khai treated her. But Jax did not.
The journey continued. Vrell’s eyes stung, begging to close. If Jax wasn’t going to let them sleep, couldn’t they stop to eat? Judging from the sun’s place in the sky, it must be early afternoon. A strange shadow painted the horizon. Could the drought be coming to an end?
Vrell occupied herself with memories of Bran. She recalled his wide smile and brown eyes, the feel of her hand in his. How she missed his company. She prayed that he was not too cross with her having gone into hiding. She couldn’t risk his knowing where she was. He sometimes did the silliest things for noble reasons.
An itch seized her left ear. A fly? She batted at the air, hoping to send the bug away, but the itch grew.
Vrell Sparrow.
Vrell halted her horse, clutching the reins until her knuckles whitened. Mother!
The call came again. Vrell Sparrow.
Jax glanced over his shoulder, then turned his horse around. “You all right, Vrell?”
Vrell Sparrow.
Did she dare answer Mother now?
The pressure increased. Vrell scratched at both ears, certain that Jax was now trying to pry into her mind as well. She concentrated on keeping her defense strong, fearful that she was about to be discovered.
Jax steered his horse back to her side. “Are you well?”
Vrell nodded. “Something bit me, I think.”
Jax leaned close to examine her ear. He grabbed her chin and turned her head to look at the other. “Looks fine. We must ride.”
Vrell nodded. As the party continued along the dusty road, a sorrow settled over her. What could her mother be thinking now that Vrell had not answered? Would she call out again? And how could Vrell know if it was safe to reply?
As the day wore on, the shadow grew until Vrell realized it was actually a forest stretching across the land. Her heart raced for the change in scenery. Shade would make such a difference in the temperature. To her distant right, water glittered in the sun. She thought back to her geography lessons and figured that it must be the Lebab Inlet. She longed to run and bathe, but it was miles away — and saltwater would not quench her thirst.
The road before them curved up a small hill and entered the woods. Yellowed grass gave way to green. New sounds of nature met her ears as her horse neared the trees. A rustling of branches, twittering birds, and…
A stream!
A bubbling brook curved out of the forest along the road then cut east through the dry earth to run toward the ocean. Vrell dismounted and ran into the shallow flow. She slurped with her hands until satisfied, washed her face, then pushed up her sleeves to clean her arms.
Khai squatted by the stream and submerged his leather water jug into the current. “Good thing you’ve not been recruited for the Kingsguard. You’d make a pathetic soldier.”
Vrell ignored him and washed the dusty grime from her skin. She spotted leafy green sorrel growing along the bank. She dug in her satchel for her tiny knife and cut some. Mother’s cook, Jespa, made a divine salad with sorrel, walnuts, and strawberries, when they were in season. Vrell washed the leaves in the stream and ate some. It tasted fresh and juicy and welcome after days of dry food. Vrell cut more and wrapped them in the largest leaf for later. She also cut some white clover. If she could somehow dry it, it would make a hearty tea.
Jax knelt to fill his jug, He pulled off his head scarf and rinsed his face and hair. His gaze met Vrell’s as he tied the red scarf back over his head. “I like your thinking, Vrell.” He pulled a knife from his belt and cut strips of river cane as long as Vrell’s arm. He tied them into torches with hemp twine and tucked them in his pack. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, sir.” Vrell filled her jug and clipped it to her satchel.
They mounted and rode into the forest.
Never had Vrell seen such trees. Redpines and cedars stretched to the heavens, their trunks wider than four grown men. Branches intertwined overhead like a green, red, and brown canopy that let in shafts of light but blocked the merciless heat of the sun. Thick yellow moss carpeted the ground. Leathery orange ferns and tiny white flowers grew from it in a lush garden array. Even the dusty brown path they’d been riding on had now changed to red clay.
Such beauty distracted Vrell from her weariness, her plight, and her task of acting a boy. The next few hours passed pleasantly. She hummed softly with the rustling trees and chirping birds. Chunks of shell mushroom clung to the side of an oak tree. She reined Nickel and slid off his side.
Vrell stepped off the path, and her foot sank deep in the spongy moss. Maybe the worst of the journey was over. If they camped in the forest tonight, she wouldn’t mind sleeping on such soft ground. She longed to snip some white flowers and thread them in her hair, but dared not pick one without an herbal excuse. She withdrew her knife and reached up to cut the mushroom.
“Boy!” Khai yelled. “We’ve no time for gardening.”
Vrell wheeled around to see that Khai and Jax had turned their horses sideways on the road. “I only wish to cut some mushroom,” she said. “It’s quite good.”
“Quickly, Vrell, then no more stops,” Jax said.
She sliced off wedges of mushroom until her satchel bulged. A mentha plant waved in the breeze only two paces away. She glanced at the men. They were engaged in conversation with each other. She crouched to cut as much mentha as she could.
Khai suddenly cried out.
Vrell looked up to see him scrambling into her side of the forest on foot, his horse galloping away. Jax dismounted, slapped his horse’s rear, and crouched in the middle of the road. His horse ran on ahead. Jax yanked two axes from his leg sheaths, one in each hand. Vrell’s eyes widened.
A song-like cry warbled in the distance. It sent a tremor to her heart. Something whooshed past her arm and thunked into a nearby redpine trunk. She stepped toward it to get a closer look. It was an arrow with a crude, black, obsidian head and—
“Vrell!” Jax yelled. “Look out!”
Vrell darted behind the redpine just as another arrow pierced the trunk.
“Wee ahlawa men teeah!”
Vrell peeked around the tree to see a man as tall as Jax, but pale as a lily. His long blond hair hung around his face like a curtain. Animal skins were draped over one shoulder, across his white chest, and down around his hips like a skirt. He clutched a spear in one hand and a curved axe in the other. Both weapons were chiseled out of obsidian and lashed to wooden handles with leather.
He stood on the road facing Jax.
Jax bowed to the giant. “We seek passage through NaharForest.”
The giant pointed down the road, back toward Walden’s Watch. “Wee ahlawa men teeah!”
Jax shook his head. “We will not go back. We must take this road to Xulon.”
The pale giant tipped his head back and bellowed a trilling cry into the treetops.
A chorus of voices returned the cry from all sides. Vrell’s horse turned and trotted back toward the peninsula. Vrell scowled and whipped around, her back pressed against the redpine trunk.
Two more pale giants approached where Khai stood in the forest. Another three walked up the road and stood behind the leader. Jax stood motionless before the four giants, clutching his axes, waiting.
Scraping metal on wood turned Vrell’s gaze back to Khai. The knight had drawn his monstrously long sword. He held it at the two giants who faced him, waving it back and forth to keep them at bay.
Vrell bounded over the soft ground to an oak tree with low branches and scurried up. Climbing trees had always been something she enjoyed, as much as it vexed her mother. She had barely settled on a thick branch halfway up when the clash of weapons sent her spinning around.
The two giants had attacked Khai. One swung an ax and another stabbed with a long spear. Khai chopped the tip off the spear, parried the axe, sliced its wielder’s leg, and spun back to lop off the hand of the giant holding the remainder of the spear.
Vrell gasped. The little weasel could actually use that weapon. She tore her gaze away to look at Jax.
The four pale ones rained blows upon him with club and spear. His red scarf shone bright against their bleached skin and hair. She had never seen men fight with anything but swords. Jax swung his axes in a blur and blocked his opponents’ attacks with the iron cuffs on his forearms. So that was what they were for.
Khai vaulted over the mossy ground and onto the road, barging into Jax’s fight. Vrell climbed to a higher branch to get a better view. She glanced back to where Khai had first fought and found his first two attackers slain. Their pallid bodies lay on the yellow moss as if they were asleep.
A heavy tear fell down her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought the bile rising in her throat. She must not panic or weep like a girl. These giants had attacked without cause. Jax and Khai had killed in self-defense. Had they not, the pale giants would have killed them.
She choked back her tears. A sudden silence caused her to look back to the road. The battle was over. Khai had left two dead in the forest. And now four more ashy giants lay dead on the road. Blood oozed from their skin and seeped into the red clay road like red rivers converging. Khai and Jax appeared unharmed. Khai crouched and wiped his blade on the moss.
Jax peered through the trees then spun around. “Vrell?”
She croaked, “I am here.”
Jax’s long legs carried him to the oak in four long strides. He lifted a blood-spattered hand to her. She hesitated, then gripped it and jumped down into the spongy moss.
“Who were they?” she asked, wiping her hand off on her tunic.
“Ebens.”
Vrell nodded and followed Jax to the road.
Jax squatted and cleaned his axes on clumps of moss before pushing them back into their sheaths. “Khai, we must retrieve the horses and keep moving.”
“Aye.” Khai jogged down the road, farther into NaharForest.
“Why did you dismount?” Vrell asked.
“They might have slain the horses otherwise.” Jax stepped past her and strode back toward the peninsula, studying the ground as he went. “There will be more, Vrell. We must find your horse quickly.”
More ebens? Vrell’s toes curled in her boots as she fought to conceal her fear. Jax didn’t stop, so she hurried after him. “Why did they attack?”
Jax veered off the road and around a thick oak. “When ebens come out of Darkness, it is for mercenary work. These ebens were well paid.”
Vrell traipsed over the soft moss and spotted Nickel ambling under the low branches of an oak tree. She swallowed. “You mean they were here to kill us?”
“No, boy, they were hired to kill giants. Although they would kill anyone who tried to pass through NaharForest right now.”
“But they are giants.”
Jax took Nickel’s reins and handed them to her, his face hardened. “They were giants, Vrell. Darkness changed them.” He cast his eyes to the sun, as if judging the time. “Now, no more questions. Their battle cries will have alerted their comrades. We must move quickly and quietly. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir.” Vrell led Nickel back to the road and mounted. Khai was waiting with the other two horses. Vrell urged Nickel slowly up the road as she waited for Jax and Khai to mount. She passed the dead giants on the road and gazed down at one of the massive pale men. His glassy blue eyes stared into the canopy of branches above.
They rode for hours without encountering any more ebens. Vrell hadn’t slept in way too long, but Jax wanted to press on until he felt it was safe to stop.
When they finally did stop, Khai went off hunting on his own.
Jax sat against a tree and removed his black cape. The left arm of his white shirt was matted with blood just above the elbow.
Vrell gasped. “Jax, you are hurt.” She hurried to his side and saw a broken stick protruding from his arm.
“One of their arrows struck me. It’s not bad.”
Vrell lifted the strap of her satchel over her head. “I have been learning the healing trade. May I help?”
Jax smiled. “You may assist. I’ve likely mended more battle wounds than you.”
Vrell knelt beside him and nearly fell over in the deep moss. She settled herself and met Jax’s huge, brown eyes.
His grin warmed her cheeks. “The first thing you must know in treating an arrow wound is what kind of arrow you are dealing with. Best way is to find one and look at it.” Jax shrugged. “I know ebens well. Their arrowheads are barbed obsidian.”
“Yes. I saw one,” Vrell said.
“Barbed arrowheads are harder to remove. It’s best to use something to pry them out with. But mine is not deep. What do you have in your pack?”
Vrell laid out her assortments of herbs and jars. “I have a yarrow salve I made myself.”
Jax beckoned for the jar. She pried off the lid and handed it to him. He took a long sniff and raised his brows. “That will do fine.”
Jax removed the arrowhead easily. Vrell helped him clean the wound and added her salve. He bandaged it with strips from his spare shirt. She listened avidly to his battle tales of how healers worked on wounded soldiers. She found Jax a fountain of wisdom and questioned him on herbs and healing, until Khai wandered up with a dead rabbit.
They made a wonderful meal of the rabbit and Vrell’s mushrooms. Vrell also shared some of her sorrel lettuce with Jax. Khai refused any.
When it was time for sleep, Vrell snuggled into the deep softness of the moss. It was indeed as comfortable as she had imagined. She let her mind wander to the last time she and Bran had been together.
She had met up him at the southwestern vineyard and led him to her special corner, where she had been experimenting with cuttings of a thunbergii mountain vine, hoping to blend it with the local vinifera. Not much had grown yet, but Bran had sat beside her, listening avidly as she’d explained her hopes for the test. She had wanted to—
Vrell Sparrow.
It was her mother, calling out to her again. Vrell was still too afraid to answer. Jax and Khai were awake, murmuring to themselves a few feet away. Had they heard Mother’s call? She pushed the fears from her mind and fell asleep thinking of Bran.
The next morning, Jax shook her awake. She much preferred his gentle hand to Khai’s kick. She rose quickly and they set off on the road, heading south.
“When we come to the King’s Road, we’ll head north,” Jax said.
Vrell pictured the map of Er’Rets in her mind. The King’s Road stretched the length of the kingdom, from Tsaftown in the far north all the way down to Er’Rets Point in the far south. They still had a very long way to travel. If ebens were being paid to keep people from entering XulonForest, all roads would be guarded. This would only lengthen the time she would have to spend with the knights and increase her chances of being discovered. Vrell did not want to be a stray boy anymore.
She wanted to go home.
Vrell cowered under the canopy of a leathery fern. Rainwater poured over the edges, but the plant’s vastness offered a semi-dry sanctuary. It also provided camouflage, its orange and red surface blending with Vrell’s tunic. She had been covering her head with her arms for so long they had grown stiff. The patter of rain, screams, grunts, and clanking metal rang out from all sides. She dared not move.
Jax had shoved her under the ferns before lunch, when another group of ebens had attacked. The fighting had only gone on a few moments before some different giants had joined in to help the knights. Yâtsaq giants like Jax, not the pale-skinned ebens. Vrell found the battle sounds petrifying, although they had faded some. The sun sat low on the horizon, squeezing rays of orange light between the thick tree trunks. Had the fighting ended? Now that Jax and Khai had help, would it be over for good?
Something poked her in the back. Vrell jumped inside her skin, then berated herself. She should have played dead.
“Oi! I found one hidin’ in the ferns, Po!” The voice was young and girlish.
Swishing pant legs grew close, and a young boy’s voice said, “Think it’s alive?”
Something poked harder and Vrell twitched.
“You see that?” the girl said.
“Poke it again!”
If her two Kingsguard escorts could fight mercenary giants for weeks on end, Vrell could best a couple of children. She sat up and snatched the stick. “Do you mind?”
Two children stared at her with huge brown eyes and dirty faces to match. At least, they looked like children. Their heads were bigger than normal. The boy matched Vrell in height, the girl nearly so, but their faces were childlike. Both had long hair that hung in braids. The girl had two braids. The boy had three. They both wore leather clothing.
“How old are you?” Vrell asked the boy.
“Eight. Name’s Po. This here is Nina. She’s six.”
Six! They must be giants’ children. Yâtsaq giants, perhaps, since they had black hair and tan skin like Jax.
The girl flashed an insincere smile. “Our pop pop is going to kill your pop pop.”
The statement shocked Vrell, and she looked out from under her fern to see where the knights were. She spotted Jax’s red scarf through the red and brown trees. He was very much alive, swinging two axes and growling.
“He is not my pop pop,” Vrell said. “They are taking me to Mahanaim.”
“Our pop pop lets no one go to Mahanaim without a fight.” Po folded his arms as if he were one of his father’s soldiers. “Most travelers work for the Council, and the Council’s evil.”
“Why do you think the Council is evil?”
“’Cause they tell lies,” Nina said, her large, brown eyes fixated on the stick Vrell had taken from her.
“And they make secret votes, and they work with ebens,” Po said. “Pop Pop says Prince Oren should be king, not the puppet prince.”
Puppet Prince? Vrell straightened. “You mean Prince Gidon?”
Nina’s dark eyebrows sank. “He don’t deserve to be king, our pop pop says. He’s a puppet, which is like a doll. I’ve a doll at home. Do you?”
“Don’t be thick, Nina. Boys don’t play with dolls.” Po pushed Nina’s arm and scowled. “Pop Pop says if the puppet prince is king, it’ll be the end.”
“The end of what?”
Po shrugged. “Enough talking. You’re our prisoner, eben-lover.”
“That’s right, human.” Nina picked up another stick and jabbed at Vrell. “We’re taking you to our nest where you can’t help the puppet prince.”
“But I do not want to help the puppet prince.”
Po’s nose wrinkled. “You don’t?”
“No. I have met him on several occasions. He is an absolute snake.”
Nina giggled. “He’s slimy?”
“Very,” Vrell said, enjoying herself despite the violence that might still be taking place around her fern haven. “He snorts a lot, and he chews with his mouth open.”
“Po does that.”
“Do not!”
“Do too. Mama always says to shut your yap.”
“Does not!”
A deep and rumbling voice called, “Po! Nina!”
Nina’s eyes went wide again. “That’s Pop Pop. We’ve got to go. You stay here, and if you see the puppet prince…skin him alive!”
Vrell cringed at the cruelty of little Nina’s words.
“I skinned a reekat once,” Po said. “Then Mama made me these boots.” He held up one foot clad in thin brown fur.
Vrell had never heard of a reekat.
“Nina! Po!”
“Bye!” Nina dropped her stick and scurried off through the leathery ferns.
Po smiled and saluted. “Skin him alive!”
Vrell stayed under her fern, watching Po’s reekat boots squish over the wet moss. Her mind repeated their conversation. The idea that some felt that Prince Oren should be king was new to her. Vrell had met Oren — Prince Gidon’s uncle — at court many times over the years. He never seemed a bit interested in ruling.
Months ago, Bran had mentioned that Sir Rigil, the knight he served, was loyal to Prince Oren Hadar. She had not thought anything strange about that comment at the time. Who would not loyally serve Prince Oren? He was a wonderful man. But could Bran have been hinting at treason? Was he loyal to Oren but not Gidon? She knew how much he admired Sir Rigil. Did Sir Rigil and Po and Nina’s father serve the same cause? Could Prince Oren Hadar be looking to take the throne from his nephew? She did not believe it.
Vrell listened to the gentle patter of rain. She wondered how her new master, Macoun Hadar, fit into the royal family. He had obviously been passed over.
Soggy footsteps caused her to cower back out of sight, but Jax’s familiar voice came like a gift from Arman.
“Come on out, Vrell. It’s all over.”
Stepping out, she disturbed a pool of water that had settled on top of the fern. It spilled down the back of her tunic, and she gasped at the coldness. Jax looked down and smiled. His handkerchief sat crooked on his head, and his black hair frizzed out at odd angles. Other than that, he appeared to be in one piece.
Did she dare hope? “Is Khai all right?”
“He’s with Lord Dromos. Come, we are invited to dine and rest.”
Dine? Vrell bounded over the springy moss after Jax, which was the only way to keep up. She was so hungry. Because of the battle, Vrell had not been able to eat lunch. And now it must be nearly dinnertime. She wondered who Lord Dromos was. She did not recognize his name from court. They walked a long while, weaving around immense tree trunks and brushing past wet ferns. By the time they ventured onto a red clay road, Vrell’s tunic was soaked.
They followed the road south and met up with an amazing sight. Khai stood with all three horses beside a giant, who sat on his own giant horse.
“I see you survived the attack,” Khai said to Vrell. “How ever did you manage?”
Vrell did not acknowledge Khai. The giant man and festrier captivated her.
The man seemed taller than Jax, but maybe only because he sat on his horse. The huge beast was at least a head taller than Jax’s horse. It was silky brown and wore checkered banners of grass green and emerald. Like Jax, the giant man had black hair. Three thick plaits hung over one shoulder to his waist. A jumping brown stag was embroidered on the front of his beige tunic.
“Lord Dromos,” Jax said, “this is Vrell, our charge to deliver to Mahanaim.”
Vrell nodded. “It is an honor, my lord.”
Lord Dromos nodded in return and spurred his horse onward.
Vrell, Jax, and Khai mounted their horses and followed Lord Dromos down the road. The rain had stopped, but the forest continued to drip. Before long, Lord Dromos ventured west into the forest over no discernable trail. He stopped suddenly. His demeanor was that of a man arriving at the front door of his home, but though Vrell turned full circle, she could see no manor. Not even a cottage.
“Pethach!” Lord Dromos called out.
Vrell jumped at the sound of a clicking of chain against metal. A section of the forest slid away not fifteen feet from her horse. The moss-covered door had blended in so well with the surroundings, Vrell had not noticed it.
Lord Dromos led them into an oversized fairytale village. Hulking stone cottages, overgrown with yellow moss, sat beside one another. The air was sweet inside the gate. Honeysuckle and bluebells edged the wide dirt road beneath her feet. The road curved around tree and bush, as if it would’ve been a sin to cut down any living plant to make room for the path.
Large faces glared out windows and cracked-open doors as they passed. Did the giants dislike visitors? Certainly they could not dislike her. She had never met them.
Then she saw the giant girl, Nina, clutching the leg of the biggest giant yet.
She reached out for the girl’s thoughts and heard, Skin him alive!
Vrell smiled. Nina’s father was a watchtower, and Vrell craned her neck to get a good look as she passed. All these giants were black-haired with dark eyes. This man was no different. His long hair gathered in a single braid, and his short, bushy beard clung to his chin like moss.
Lord Dromos led his horse down the winding dirt road and across a stone bridge that arched over a sparkling stream. As Vrell’s horse crossed, her gaze followed the stream to where it disappeared into an opening in another wall of leaves. Lord Dromos led his horse around a curve in the road and up to the wall. Sure enough, before Lord Dromos reached the wall, metal clinked and the gate slid to the right. Vrell spurred her horse to catch up.
Beyond the gate, the sun lit a vast, grassy field. The color was so vibrant Vrell gasped. She turned to find where the crystal stream came in and traced its flow along the edge of the curtain wall. It turned in front of an immense greystone manor house and plunged off a mossy-green rock into a bubbling pool. The manor was built into a steep hill. On the far end, the walls rose five levels high, but on the end where the stream plummeted into the pool, only the top two levels emerged. An arched stone bridge crossed over the bubbling pool and met a set of carved stone doors twice Jax’s height.
The whole place reminded her of the quaint rock garden and fountain in the courtyard back home. Only ten times larger.
Lord Dromos dismounted the festrier in front of the waterfall. A young giant boy, just taller than Khai, led the animal away. Vrell dismounted as well and handed her horse off to another giant boy. She met his eyes, awed at his height and youth.
A tinkling bell caused her to turn away from the boy just in time to see a gargantuan dog bounding toward her. He was tan with black jowls, nose, and the tips of his long ears. He came straight for her face, his curling pink tongue — with a long stream of drool — swinging under his chin. She cried out and tucked her face into the crook of her elbow, but the beast was not dissuaded. His wet jowls flopped on the top of her head and his sniffing nose tickled.
Laughter rang out all around. Vrell’s pounding heart slowed, and when she no longer felt the slobbering mouth on her hair, she peeked out. The dog had found its master and was jumping up against Lord Dromos’s legs.
Lord Dromos gave a hearty chuckle. “Missed me did you, Cheyva?”
Vrell loved animals, but this one was no pet. If saddled, it could be ridden by a grown man. A man who didn’t mind drool. She caught Khai’s smirking stare. “What?”
“Scared you, did he? He’s just a little doggie.”
“Little?”
The giant lord walked across the stone bridge and entered the manor. Vrell paused on the bridge and stared into the water, where thousands of smooth pebbles sparkled in the sun.
She caught her disheveled reflection in the glassy surface and cringed. How horrible she looked! If Mother could see her now, she would faint from shock. It had not helped that the beast-dog had drooled all over her head. His stench added to her own, and she longed to be clean. But she doubted a stray would be offered the hospitality of a bath.
“Boy!” Khai snapped.
She stepped though the massive doors and the temperature dropped. She followed Khai through a spacious greystone foyer and stopped at a half wall that wrapped around the perimeter of a vast atrium. The sun lit up a colorful courtyard below. From Vrell’s viewpoint, she could see all five levels of the manor and each staircase that connected them. She stood three levels up from the garden, but the levels were much taller than those from any manor house Vrell had seen. Lord Dromos, Jax, and Khai had already descended to the second floor. Vrell ran to catch up.
Lord Dromos led them down a cool stone hallway and turned into a warm sitting room. A fireplace crackled on the outer wall. A kinsman woman and two girls sat on a stone bench by an arched window. The human females looked terribly small in Vrell’s eyes. She had heard that giants did not keep slaves. Perhaps they were servants.
“Papa!” A girl, smaller than Vrell, with black ringlet curls, jumped up from the bench and ran toward Lord Dromos. He scooped her into his arms, twirled her once, and kissed her cheek. “Are you staying for dinner?” the girl asked.
“Yes. And I’ve brought guests. Xylene, this is Jax mi Katt and Khai Mageia of the New Kingsguard, escorting young Vrell to Mahaniam to apprentice.”
Xylene beamed, her sweet round face filled with joy. “Welcome, welcome to you all!”
The woman and an older girl made their way across the room. The girl’s thick brows furrowed at Vrell, whose cheeks burned knowing how wretched she looked, even for a boy.
Yet the girl thought, He’s filthy, but it’s cute how he blushes.
Vrell fought back a smile.
The woman, big boned and tall for a human, looked down on Vrell. “Oh, you poor thing! Did Cheyva get you? If you see him coming again, say atsar.”
“Atsar?”
“He’ll stop, won’t he?” The woman looked to Lord Dromos.
Lord Dromos nodded. “Yes, of course. This is Lady Kiska, my wife. And my daughters, Zoea and Xylene.
Vrell studied the women again. It had never occurred to her that kinsmen could marry giants. Lady Kiska was tall and big boned. She had light brown hair that hung in four long braids to her thighs. She wore a gown of green wool embroidered with leaves.
Her girls wore their dark hair in the same manner, but neither seemed to have inherited their mother’s height. Both were shorter than Vrell. Little Xylene had rosy round cheeks and a dimpled smile. Zoea was as slender as a blade of grass and could not yet fill out the womanly gown she was wearing. It was way too long for her. It crumpled around her feet as if it belonged to her mother and she were playing dress-up.
“I’m sure you would all like to wash before dinner,” Lady Kiska said. “Ez will take you to the steams, won’t you, Ez?”
A wispy poplar of a man appeared from the shadowed corner of the room. “This way.”
Vrell followed the Kingsguard knights, who followed Ez. She had never heard of steams. Most gatehouses had a bathhouse for the guards. Were steams like a bathhouse? Either way, she could not risk being ushered in with the men. Not knowing what to do or say, Vrell followed the men to the lowest underground level. Ez drifted down another cool stone hallway until he came to a thick green tapestry hanging across an entrance. He held it aside, and a cloud of steam puffed out.
“I thank you,” Jax said, ducking to go inside. Khai entered without a word.
Vrell stopped and asked, “Might you have a privy?”
Ez nodded and trailed further down the hall. He held aside another green tapestry. “In the far corner.”
“Thank you.” Vrell slipped under the stiff curtain and tied it closed. She stood in a small, stone antechamber. A deep wash basin sat empty on one wall. Pegs protruded from the opposite wall in a straight line. Another green curtain separated the privy from the antechamber. She slipped inside, blinking at the extra large privy hole, and surveyed her only option — a small basin of water meant to rinse one’s hands after using the privy. It would have to do.
Ez led the knights and Vrell to the great hall for dinner. The ceiling was at least four kinsmen levels high. Fat candles burned in brass fixtures that hung from the ceiling, casting shadowed light over the room. Wall sconces held more thick candles. A long stone table stretched across the far end of the room. Lord Dromos and Lady Kiska sat at the center of it. Three tables lined each of the side walls, but they were mostly empty. A few giants sat at the lowest tables, those farthest from the high table.
Ez seated Jax and Khai to Lord Dromos’s right. He seated Vrell to Lady Kiska’s left — a shocking, and completely unheard of, honor for a stray. Zoea sat on the other side of Vrell, batting her eyes. Xylene sat next to Zoea.
Zoea had changed into a dress that fit her slim body. Maybe she truly had been playing dress-up earlier. She touched Vrell’s shoulder and gazed into her eyes. “In what will you apprentice at Mahanaim?”
Vrell knew she at least looked clean now, but the idea of looking handsome to this kinsman-giant girl turned her stomach. Plus she had a headache. She worded her answer carefully. “I do not know the specifics yet.”
A line of serving giant girls entered the room carrying various things. One set a stone platter before Lord Dromos. Another servant set one before Zoea. It was covered in a pile of dark meat that smelled like venison. Another tray was heaped with steamed vegetables. Zoea waited for a servant to set down a stack of flat stone disks. She lifted one and began to pile food on it as if it were a trencher.
A stone trencher. How interesting.
Vrell filled a round trencher with food and thanked Arman for her meal. She took a bite of the venison, which was salty and very rich. Zoea watched her every move. Vrell had learned from Ez that Zoea was thirteen and Xylene, seven. That fact brought little comfort when Zoea scooted down the stone bench, inch by inch, until her arm brushed against Vrell’s. Vrell did not even want to try and read the girl’s thoughts.
Lady Kiska turned to Vrell. “Yulessa, my eldest, is married now. She just birthed darling twins, she did. They weren’t too big, so they’re likely not true giants. One of each, named Dunfast and Paisley. Aren’t those nice names? Yulessa’s husband is human. Royalty, he is. Not in line for the throne, but kingly blood is in his veins as much as Prince Gidon himself.”
“What is his name?” Vrell asked.
“Donediff Hadar. He’s Prince Oren’s son.”
Vrell nodded. No wonder the giants — the non-eben ones — supported Prince Oren for King.
Lady Kiska went on. “Donediff has been given the assignment of warden at Er’Rets Point. That’s a lordship, that is. Makes our Yulessa a lady all over again.”
Seeing Lady Kiska’s pride brought a smile to Vrell’s face. “How lovely.”
She winced inside. Again she had used the word lovely. Well, it was not exactly easy to carve certain words from her vocabulary. At least she had not yet used it on a man. Besides, she had met Donediff Hadar at court on several occasions. He was a lovely young man. Handsome. Kind. A little boring, perhaps, but Yulessa was lucky indeed. Many noblewomen found far less favorable matches in marriage.
Which brought her mind back to why she was here pretending to be a boy. But Vrell did not want to think about that right now. Her head was throbbing as it was.
She did wonder how tall Yulessa was, having had a tall mother and a giant for a father. Last she had seen him, Donediff was at least six feet tall. All the Hadars were tall men. And even though Lady Kiska was the tallest human woman Vrell had ever seen, her children were much shorter than giant children. She could not imagine Donediff with a woman taller than him.
Vrell scooped up another bite of venison and tuned her ear to Lord Dromos.
“I do try to stay neutral,” he said. “The Mârad oppose the ebens’ mercenary work.”
“Then they oppose the Council,” Khai said.
“They operate outside my authority,” Lord Dromos said, reaching for his goblet, “but we bring many wounded into Xulon.”
“Wounded ebens?” Jax’s tone implied the mere mention was scandalous.
“Never. Only yâtsaq giants are brought into Xulon.”
“How can you tell which ebens are mercenaries and which are only passing through?” Vrell asked.
The room silenced, and Vrell flushed at having spoken out of turn. At home she was able to speak whenever she pleased, even given the floor. But here in Xulon, under the guise of a stray boy, speaking to the lord of the manor without having been spoken to was far too bold.
Lord Dromos seemed of good cheer, however, and answered without scolding. “Ebens live on the Dark side of the CelaMountains. They never leave for innocent reasons. If they do enter Light, it is because they have been hired. The Council of Seven has chosen to employ them, so I do my best to support that, though I cannot understand why Kingsguard knights cannot do the work. Er’Retians would trust them more.”
Zoea leaned close. “Because of ebens, it’s disgraceful to be born blond. Though sometimes when you marry a human, your children are born blond. That’s why very few yâtsaq marry out of our race. Yulessa was an exception. And Mother. But they married Kinsman men. Still, I won’t marry a human.”
Vrell turned away, annoyed at the young girl’s prejudice. The kinsman people were those descended from Echâd Hadar, the first king of Er’Rets. They had dark hair, brown skin, and blue eyes. Vrell’s hair was dark, but her skin was pale and her eyes were green. Was little miss Zoea suggesting Vrell would not make a good match for her?
It was true, but terribly rude to speak of such things. Strays were not permitted to marry in most parts of Er’Rets. Vrell knew little of Nahar Duchy, but few nobles got away with marrying that far beneath their stations. Still, Zoea’s pointing it out was in poor taste.
Vrell wondered where Lady Kiska hailed from to have taught her daughter so little decorum. How she managed to marry her eldest to a prince’s son, Vrell could not fathom.
That night, Vrell snuck down to the bathhouse. The scrubbing she had given herself in the privy had made her temporarily presentable, but it had been weeks since she had had a proper bath. Grime coated her from head to toe. Only hot water, like the steam she had seen when Ez opened that green curtain, would pierce her greasy shell. It might also clear her head. The headache had grown stronger, almost bringing tears to her eyes. If only she had lavender or chamomile tea.
Her heart throbbed as she walked along the stone corridor leading to the steamy chamber. Giving in to this small temptation could ruin everything. She peeked around the heavy green tapestry.
Steam clouded everything, and for a moment, Vrell could not see. She slipped inside and crouched down where the air was cooler. Water rushed somewhere nearby. The smell of minerals was strong. Hazy light flickered above her and appeared to come from two torches on the walls. She saw no one.
Like all the others, this room was grey stone, but the floor ended two yards out from the entranceway, like a pier. Beyond it, a steamy underground river lazed by just below floor level. She walked in a crouch to the edge and peered down a black tunnel on either side but could see nothing but a fine net draped across the openings. She shuddered, wondering what it was meant to keep out.
She turned back to the emerald tapestry and could hardly see it. She sighed. There was no tiny corner to bathe in here. If anyone entered, she would be discovered in all her feminine splendor. But at least the steam provided some protection. If she heard someone enter, she could likely get dressed in time.
The steam had already loosened her pores, and so, with a quick prayer that Arman would keep her safe, Vrell gave in to the watery temptation. She stripped off her clothing. Her chest heaved when she removed the undergarment that had not been taken off since Lady Coraline had helped her tie it a week ago. She lowered herself into the hot spring and gasped at the water’s scalding temperature. She would be pink from head to toe when she got out.
She kept to the front of the stone ledge against the net. Kicking out her foot, she found that the net continued under the surface. What strange creatures might lurk in an underground hot spring that only a simple net could keep out?
Vrell washed quickly and thoroughly, scrubbing the layer of grime from her body with heavenly honeysuckle soap. Then she scrubbed her clothes. When she finished, she reluctantly returned to her padded prison and stray’s tunic, both sopping wet, and snuck back up to her bed for the night.
Vrell entered the large room, realizing it was likely considered small by giants’ standards. A plain fireplace filled the wall opposite the door. Two long beds occupied the side walls. A small straw mattress had been placed beside the door for Vrell to use. Jax and Khai sat near the fireplace whispering. Vrell settled onto the firm mattress with a smile on her face and stared at the stone beam of the high ceiling above. Wet or not, she was clean. Joy filled every tingling pore. She laid her head on the pillow and shut her eyes.
A thick pressure flooded her mind. On top of her already aching head, the tension brought a tear down her cheek. Had the hot water aggravated her headache? Or maybe the venison had worsened it. It had been very rich.
I sense you! an elderly man’s monotone voice droned in her mind. Tell me your name!
Vrell stiffened and yanked the covers up to her chin. She fortified the walls around her thoughts, but the pressure grew. She sensed confusion. A bright orange light. Heat and…iron? Wetness? No, that was her clothes.
Hello, new one. Welcome to our ears. My, how strong your presence is. Who are you?
Mother? Vrell sat up in bed and twisted around. Khai and Jax had stopped whispering. Both sat very still. Vrell’s heart pounded in her chest. Was her mother nearby?
A man yelled, Who’s there?
Blood! Blood was on her arm! Vrell swiped her shoulder, but the wetness would not dissipate. Something had died. Tears streamed down Vrell’s cheeks. So sad. The baby. An orphan. All alone. She shook her head, confused, and pulled her blankets up to her chin. Something tickled her legs and she twitched. She threw down the blankets and swatted at her legs. A spider?
Who are you, gifted one? a deep male voice asked.
What are you called? an old woman asked.
Please! the elderly man said. What is your name?
Vrell cowered, wincing at the force in her mind. Perhaps her headache was not from the hours on the road, the hot water, or the venison. These were bloodvoices she was hearing. She turned back to the knights. Were they hearing it too? And why was she unable to block them out?
Stop it! the man yelled. Don’t speak to me!
Vrell clutched her ears. So loud, this voice. So heavy the weight it brought to her mind.
Do not be afraid, Vrell’s mother said. It is a gift.
Vrell waited to hear more, curious what else her mother would say, but the sensation faded. Jax and Khai whispered to each other again, nothing she could overhear. She sank into her mattress and pulled the covers over her head.
She thought over the bloodvoicing conversation. Apparently a man had discovered his gift, but he was confused, alone, and possibly bleeding. Something had happened to his legs or his shoulder. Why had his thoughts brought such tremendous strain to Vrell? When she had discovered her gift, she had accidentally spoken to her mother’s mind. That was all. Mother had heard it and started to teach Vrell. But this…this was…frightening.
Vrell’s ears had not even tickled first, so this person had not been intentionally seeking her mind. But she had not been able to block him either. Without trying, his thoughts had bled over into dozens of minds. What could someone so strong do with his gift? Was that why the people had called out to him? Why Mother had called out?
And why hadn’t Mother tried to call her again? Vrell would have answered when she was in the steams. Why couldn’t Arman work the timing out so that Vrell and her mother could speak?
Vrell dwelled on the voices until she drifted to sleep. She dreamed of Mother comforting the frightened man. Mother wanted to know if he was okay and where he lived. Vrell wanted to know too so she could help him. There were so many voices and he did not know how to block them. Vrell could teach him.
In her dream, the man dropped to his knees and moaned. He was in pain. There was still blood.
Your home, dear, Mother said. Where is it?
The man yelled, Please stop! Stop!
And then all was silent.