Diviner's Prophecy (Book One Diviner's Trilogy)

by Nicolette Andrews

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I would have use of your service,” he said in a clipped tone. He looked away from me as he spoke.

  “You would need to make a request through my lady Damara.”

  “No!” he shouted, and for the first time he looked me fully in the face. Dark circles lined his eyes, and I had the impression he had not slept well for some time.

  “I do not want this condition to be common knowledge. I will pay you well for your discretion in this matter.”

  His need was apparent, and I could not deny him. “I will do as you request.”

  He relaxed his shoulders. “I would have you help at your earliest convenience.”

  I glanced back in the direction of Duke Sixton’s appointed rooms. Damara would not be expecting me back for some time, though Earvin would most likely be looking for me soon. I decided I did not care, this I would do because I had decided to. At least I could perform a reading.

  “If my lord wishes, I am available now.”

  He eyed me for a moment as if expecting some trick. He looked over to his companion for confirmation. The second man shrugged. “Follow me, then.”

  He turned and strode down the hall, and I had to widen my paces to keep up with him. We entered a part of the palace I had not had the chance to explore but recognized as the housing for foreign dignitaries and those of the merchant class lucky enough to have a place at the palace. He threw open the doors to his appointed rooms, and once inside, he barked sharp orders to his servants.

  “What needs done, diviner?” He turned to me with a snarl curling his lip.

  “I need a quiet place to read your dreams and a place to burn some herbs.”

  “See to it!” he snapped at a servant, who cowered and ran to do his bidding.

  A place was prepared, and Lord Malchor lay down on the ground. I kneeled beside him once the fire had been prepared. I slipped into the dreaming place. It had become easier with each reading. His vision came hard and fast, and I had little time to prepare.

  Two boys played in a garden. The taller of the two ran through a winding maze of hedges the height of a full-grown man. He reached a fork in the maze and waited for the younger boy to catch up. He tilted his head back, and the blue sky reflected in his brown eyes. The second boy called out as he reached the first. Their voices silenced, and I could not decipher their exchange. The first boy pointed upwards towards the fluffy clouds and a V-shaped flock of birds cutting across the sky.

  The second boy grinned, and it lighted his sapphire-colored eyes. The older boy seemed pleased as he smiled as well. They were surely brothers. They shared the same chestnut locks; even the shape of their eyes was the same. Only the color differed. A man appeared around the corner. His hair was entirely gray and sparsely covered his spotted scalp atop which he wore a silver crown.

  He beckoned to the older boy with a crabbed hand. The older boy shrugged his shoulders at the second and went to join the old man. They disappeared down a maze path. The second boy picked up a stone and tossed it with force. Angry tears streamed down his face as he grabbed at branches, tearing apart the manicured hedges.

  Two young men rode horses side by side. The older of the two, a fuzzy beard displayed proudly on his chin, dug his heels into a fine gelding. The striking beast easily out-strode the younger man’s steed. They raced to a cliff’s edge before pulling back, rocks cascading beneath the churning feet of the horses, but the edge held. The older of the two stroked his fledgling beard and beamed at the younger. I recognized the boys from the garden maze, grown and yet the same two boys.

  The younger man smiled at his brother, but it did not light his eyes as it once had. The older brother’s horse danced beneath him, unwilling to be still. He shushed his animal, attempting to control its trembling energy. As he turned his back, his brother watched him with hooded eyes. His hand hovered over a dagger at his belt. He motioned to extract the weapon, but the gelding threw its head back and cantered off. The younger boy removed his hand from his dagger. He stared at the hand, which had reached for the dagger, as if in disbelief before following after his brother.

  Two boys played on the beach, drawing circles in the sand, one with chestnut curls and the other, hair the color of ripe wheat. The older of the two brothers, King Dallin, older now and more careworn. He beckoned to the boy with chestnut curls, Adair as a boy, I recognized him. The boy dropped his stick and ran over to the man. The boy with the blond hair, I knew, was Johai. He sat back on his haunches in the sand.

  Waves came in, soaking the bottoms of his breeches, but he did not move for a long time. He merely stared after their retreating backs. His blue eyes reflected the endless stretch of beach on which he sat. I pitied him left alone, rejected by his family.

  Then a figure in a black cloak approached him. I could not see his face beneath his hood pulled down low. I needed to stop him. He must not hurt Johai. I ran towards him. He upturned his face to the cloaked figure, and a pair of skeletal hands cupped his face. I tried to scream, but nothing could escape my throat. My feet were heavy and useless. The figure faced me, and the specter, greedy smile in place, looked at me before he wrapped the boy in his cloak and they disappeared.

  I broke the connection with a gasp. Had this been the dream to haunt the ambassador’s nights or were my own personal nightmares blurring with the readings. He stirred from the herb-induced slumber; his eyes rolled beneath his lids before they shot open.

  He saw me looking down at him, and he eased himself into a seated position. He pressed his hand to his temple.

  “You saw?” he asked.

  “I did. Is that the dream you have had every night?”

  “Nearly. Those other boys and the king, that was new, but each night I see him as a boy and death taking him away…”

  He thought the specter was the face of death, and maybe he was. From what Johai had said of his grandfather, I thought he cared little for his grandson, but perhaps Johai was wrong. Though it was not my place to pry, I said, “He does not think you cared.”

  He scoffed. “Rightly so. When his mother died giving birth to him, I never acknowledged him. I never should have let her marry that man.”

  I wished to press him further, but the ambassador snapped out of his reverie and turned to me. “You think I need to talk to the boy. Will that solve these nightmares?”

  I tried to imagine Johai and his grandfather having a heart-to-heart and could not picture it. “Your dreams are showing your guilt for leaving the boy behind. You must come to grips with your past mistakes before you can move forward.”

  I knew there was more to the vision than I told him, but the rest I knew was for my eyes only. Johai and the specter were connected; I had not seen it until now. What I did not know was how it was connected with me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I returned from the ambassador’s reading to find Damara and Johai awaiting me. The pair of them sat side by side, and from the scowl on Johai’s face, I knew they had discovered my attempt at freedom.

  “Welcome back, dear,” Damara greeted me. She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

  They know! I panicked, and words tumbled from my mouth unbidden. “I am sorry I delayed. I met Sabine for a moment after Duke Sixton’s—he’s inherited the duchy—and well, I thought Earvin might want some time off, and I did not think you would mind.” I clamped down on the streaming nonsense that escaped from my mouth.

  Johai, arms crossed over his chest, glared intensely enough to leave a brand across my forehead. Damara’s brows pinched together in thought, and her hands lay folded in her lap. She clutched bits of fabric between her fingers, running them across her thumb as I spoke. I focused on the action so I would not have to meet either one of their gazes. And have my disobedience discovered.

  Damara spoke after a lengthened silence. “Duke Sixton sent a message while you were out.”

  My heart sank. I had nearly forgotten about Jon’s proposal.

  Let it not be to their
benefit! I prayed. Goddess knows I do not love the man, and I cannot stand the thought of my life yoked to his.

  Silence reigned. I considered telling them about my appointment with the ambassador to change the subject. Though I knew it would not change anything, I would not mind some time to process the day’s proceedings. The tension in the room was palpable, and on foolish impulse, I looked into Johai’s eyes. They were a burning blue and trained on me.

  Damara stood and walked over to a window across the room. She placed her hands flat against the sill. “He says you are aware of what he is offering, and I will admit, it is a tempting proposition,” she said.

  Johai shot to his feet, and my voice overlapped his.

  “You cannot be serious!” We spoke in unison. His reaction stunned me to silence. He continued to be an enigma. Though I had heard him speak of me with regret and tenderness, I could not believe he cared for me. There had to be something in my past that linked us together, and I was not sure I wanted to find out. It was easier to hate him and not know why than to face the likely fact that he cared for me and had betrayed me.

  It was a foolish thing to do, but I goaded him. It was easier than facing the truth. “You disapprove, Johai? Surely you’d jump at the chance to spy on Adair.”

  For a moment, he appeared as if I had struck him. Then just as quickly as he had revealed his hurt, he snapped closed the lid on his emotions, and his usual impassive expression replaced it.

  “Not at this cost.”

  I laughed bitterly. An overpowering emotion bubbled up inside me. How could he say those things and then use me like this? Anger made my tongue loose. “You would hate to lose your tool to another man, wouldn’t you, Johai?”

  He balled his fists at his sides as if he were trying to stop himself from striking me.

  I stood my ground and gazed into his bottomless blue eyes. A myriad of emotions flickered across their surface, anger, fear, sadness and, most surprising of all, regret.

  “You are not just a tool to me. You mean much more to me than that,” he said in a soft tone so different from his usual cutting manner.

  Pain bloomed inside my skull, and I struggled to concentrate on his face. I dropped my gaze. The room span, and my thoughts were muddled. I leaned on a chair for support, trying to keep my feet from tumbling beneath me. My breathing came short and ragged.

  “What am I to you exactly, Johai?”

  I could feel his gaze on me. Without looking up, I knew he was watching me. I always knew when his eyes were on me as if we were connected by an invisible thread.

  “Maea, perhaps now is not a good time,” Damara interjected. “You should rest. You’re still recovering—”

  I held up my hand to halt her. “No, let him answer me.”

  I was wroth with the situation. He pretended to care and yet continued to keep me in a gilded cage. Now I feared I would be given to a man I did not love, as if I were a coin to be bartered, and he would stand by and let it happen, I knew it. The troublesome voice at the back of my mind disagreed. What if they do care? What if you are wrong? They’ve said nothing yet about accepting the duke’s proposal.

  Neither of them answered me, and I let my anger speak in their stead. “I am not a mare for you to choose a stallion to mount me. I am a woman, and it’s time you both realized that!”

  Johai grabbed my arm, but there was tenderness in the gesture. It forced me to look at him. Though the pain redoubled, I could not look away. “Don’t you think I know that, Maea? I have watched you grow from a spirited youth to a beautiful woman. I, too, have watched you pull away from me, and I cannot stop you. Your life is your choice, and I have never been able to control the decisions you make. No matter how much I wish I could.”

  The drumming filled my ears once more, and it seemed to rattle inside my skull.

  “What do you mean, watched me grow…?” I swayed on my feet, and a flash of pain ricocheted behind my eyes. I grasped at his lapel in an attempt to keep my feet. “What does it mean? Who are you to me?”

  He helped me to a chair, and Damara hovered at his shoulder. My vision blurred, and I could not make out their features clearly, though from the restless way she paced, I knew she was agitated.

  “I warned you to hold your tongue. You’ve said too much,” she hissed.

  My brain attempted to make a connection, but the pain prevented it. My body screamed for me to take hold of the necklace to let the pain ease away into oblivion.

  “What have you done to me?”

  His face swam in and out of focus in front of me. The drumming drowned out their conversation but for snatches.

  “… had… she… much… me…” Johai spoke in a low tone to Damara. He turned back to me, and I could see the pain written on his expression. I concentrated on his face, the contours of his nose and brows. A memory tickled at my brain; the small voice at the back of my head told me it was important. His hands brushed against my neck, and a shiver crawled down my spine.

  Remember, a voice whispered in my ear before the vision swallowed his face.

  I stood on a cobbled street. Upturned stones littered the ground, and debris overflowed vacant doorways with missing hinges and doors propped against their jams. The air smelt of illness and death. Seawater gathered in puddles along the long-neglected road. A man stumbled by, grasping at walls for imaginary handholds. He tottered as his hands fumbled for purchase before tumbling over and collapsing face down.

  Out of the shadows, a slight figure emerged. A child with matted black hair cautiously approached the man. She, for I assumed she was a girl, leaned over the man and fumbled about his neck. The man gurgled and turned his head, spitting out a mouthful of water. He spasmed, and the girl jumped back to avoid his flailing limbs. He grew still, and then a rattling snore emitted from him. The girl heaved a sigh of relief before proceeding to rummage through his pockets.

  A shadow loomed over her. She scuttled back and ran down a nearby alleyway. A hooded figure followed her. I pursued them; I felt compelled to protect the girl. When I reached them, she had backed into a wall, baring her teeth like a rabid dog. Her luminous violet eyes peered out from beneath her tangled hair. The child was me.

  The figure pulled back his cloak, revealing hair whiter than fallen snow. His youthful face was juxtaposed with his silvery hair. I gasped, but they did not hear me; it was only a memory. Johai offered a chunk of bread, steaming slightly as it cooled, to the child. This is the day he found me. I remembered. He took me off the streets. If only I had known, I would have rather stayed there and starved.

  The child version of myself crept forward, hunching low to the ground. She waited for him to make the slightest move to trap her. He waited as she snatched the bread from his hand. She retreated to the wall, licking the crumbs from her fingers, and stuffed the leftovers into a pocket in her filthy dress.

  “Beautiful eyes…” he muttered, as if to himself.

  I wanted to scream and shout, tell her to run to get away, but my attempts were futile. I could not change the past, my past.

  The vision contorted and blurred. When it came back into focus, Johai—younger than I knew him, not quite a man—sat, head bent over an old tome and writing on pieces of parchment. He wore his hair loose, and it spilled onto the lacquered desk, pooling like white silk. As he worked, a young girl sat by the fireplace, an open book on her lap.

  Her violet eyes flickered in his direction every so often, watching him, as his pale brows would pull together in concentration. He shifted in his seat, and she half-rose, her book gripped loosely in her hand. He sighed and then returned to his work. She sat back down, but her eyes continued to flicker in his direction. Johai continued on, unaware of the adoration in her gaze. He never noticed me. I would do anything for him. I worshiped him for saving me, and it was as if I were not there, I recalled.

  Had I the ability to weep within the vision, I would have. What a fool I had been!

  Despite my bitter analysis, those unrequited feelings swel
led my chest and threatened my ability to judge the vision subjectively. Let it be a manifestation of my dreams, I prayed though I knew the truth. With the memories, those feelings were also returning. I walked up to his desk and let my hands trail across the papers scattered there. They were cold to the touch and melted in my hands like vapor. A complex series of symbols, neatly written in rows, covered his parchments. I glanced down at the younger Johai, he never once turned his grave expression to the young me.

  “What did you do to me?” I whispered, but there was no answer. Did you use my love for you to your own ends? What are you after?

  The scene blurred before coming back into sharp focus. Johai, closer to how I remembered him, sat at the same desk, head bent in a familiar fashion. The room had grown cluttered. Stacks of tomes filled every spare inch of the room. The fire had gone cold, and there was no me to watch him like a faithful dog from beside the fire.

  A knock echoed through the chamber, and Johai glanced up to issue a command to enter. The door swung open, and I stared at my reflection. She hung back in the doorway as if hesitant to enter. He turned towards her, and for a moment, his expression softened before he directed his attention back to the parchment on which he was studying.

  “You should be abed,” he said as she entered.

  I took a step forward and halted.

  “You’ve been avoiding me, why?”

  He did not look up as he replied. “You’re imagining things. There’s a lot to prepare for a journey to Keisan. I’ve just been getting household affairs in order.”

  “You’re lying, you’ve been avoiding me since I had the dream. Are you afraid?”

  He scoffed. “What do I have left to lose?”

  She inched closer, as did I, hanging on every word. I wished I had the ability to question them, to try to understand what the vision was trying to tell me other than taunting me with these snatches of memories.

  “You have me,” she said.