Adana wandered along the river, gathering firewood, as she focused on the events of the night. Who survived? A deep sense of loss tightened her chest at the thought of kind-hearted King Donel. Unlike his second wife, he had provided a calm in the storms Quilla rained on Adana during her exile in Elwar. If the rumors were true, Kiffen was an orphan.
She longed to wrap her arms around him. If Kiffen knew about his father, he would prefer she didn’t give solace. The man she knew preferred to hide his feelings. Maybe, when they finally found each other, she could convince him to soften his stiff demeanor. At times, he appeared more stoic than her Watchers, a feat hard to imagine if she hadn’t witnessed it.
Wood laid for a fire, Adana worked at coaxing a small flame to life, glad to see three years in Elwar hadn’t diminished her skill. She settled beside the fire, staring into the flames. Images of burning tents danced in the small blaze.
Unease forced her to her feet. She studied her surroundings again, seeking to look through Am’brosia’s eyes. The sun setting in the distance hid most of the landscape, but to a Watcher’s eyes, details could still be seen. Nothing stirred. All remained quiet.
With a sigh, she sat down and searched through her pack for something to eat, finding little. A short while later, Elayne wandered up with a string of fish.
“There’s plenty of food for us here.” She reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a handful of large, red berries. “There’s a large patch of sweet berries on the hill. I don’t think the rabbits will mind if we take a few.”
Adana accepted a handful and bit into the largest one. She moaned as the sweet juice rippled across her tongue.
Elayne smiled. “I haven’t baked fish with berries over an open fire in a long time.” She squatted by the fire and began to clean the fish.
The comment surprised Adana, and she sat back studying the lady. “You’ve cooked over an open fire?”
Elayne glanced up, her eyes wide for a brief moment. Then she smiled. “As a child. With my brothers. I insisted on going on their campouts with Father. They allowed it but made me do all the cooking.”
Adana returned her smile and added this to the tiny bits of information she had learned about the lady.
The three ate and lingered by the fire until well after nightfall. Standing to dust off her clothing, Joannu said, “I’ll take the first watch of the night. The giraffes need sleep, too. We’ll let them rest until morning. I’ll wake you in a few hours to take over.”
* * *
Adana dreamed of fires shooting high in the night sky and of people fighting. She ran through the trees searching, searching, but always ended up where she started.
A nudge from Am’brosia pulled her from the dream. The sun peeked above the horizon. Joannu hadn’t wakened her. She sought the link to ensure all was safe and saw Montee approaching. The First Vision, the highest-ranking Watcher and main advisor to Adana, greeted Joannu who stood on the rim of the valley.
The soldier strode down the slope and knelt before Adana. Her shoulders heaved once before she spoke. “My lady, forgive me.”
For the second time in Adana’s life, she found herself staring down at the perfect seam dividing Montee’s hair into a braid. Even as the heir to the Seat of Authority, this was one Watcher she never felt comfortable looking down upon. Montee’s role in Adana’s life had shifted from her teacher to First Vision, and now, when she needed the advisor most, the soldier had dropped into the role of supplicant.
“Forgive you? For what? I am safe, thanks to your quick actions. Am’brosia tells me Prince Kiffen is safe.” Adana’s gaze returned to Montee’s perfect braid, not a strand out of place. She hesitated, wondering at the woman’s humility. A cold fist formed in her belly. “Rise and report.”
Montee lifted her eyes to meet Adana’s. She didn’t rise but spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “They attacked from several directions at once. I moved to protect you, not your father.”
Adana stiffened. Montee gazed up at her with deep green eyes, but Adana saw her father’s blue ones staring back at her instead.
“One of the soldiers guarding his tent betrayed you. Your father is…” Montee took a deep breath. “Your father did not survive.”
Adana’s throat closed with tears. She struggled to swallow the rising pain. Focused breathing, the first skill a Watcher learned, provided little comfort. This she remembered from her mother’s death.
Still, she tried. Holding out her hand to pause Montee’s report, Adana inhaled through her nose, then exhaled through her lips in a quiet hiss, one slow breath at a time.
After several breaths, several, but not enough, Adana refocused her gaze on Montee. “What else?”
“Elwarian soldiers attacked. Joined by many from within our units.”
Adana recalled the two men she witnessed fighting as they fled camp in the night. Both wore Elwarian uniforms, and one had been part of the troops chosen to escort her safely to Moniah. An Elwarian soldier provided by King Donel. She had hesitated, her arrow nocked and bow drawn. She hadn’t known which one to shoot.
Anger over this treachery and the strange twist of fate flooded her body. Her shoulder burned deep inside the puncture wound. It ached as if the pin still stuck in her shoulder. She fought to keep her breathing controlled. At least, the rising frustration cleared the tears from her throat, but she fought the urge to scream insults at the Creator.
Turning her back on Montee, Adana marched up the rise toward Am’brosia.
King Donel dead.
Her father dead.
Quilla on Elwar’s throne.
Kiffen alive.
Kiffen alive? The attack came from Elwar. Was Kiffen involved?
Horror burned in her chest, making each breath a painful drag of inhalation. Did he seek power through their betrothal? The night of their betrothal, rioters outside Elwar’s castle had claimed that. She thought over her last few days in Elwar. Their happiness was real, based on true feelings. Wasn’t it?
Expanding her link with Am’brosia, she formed an image, foreign and painful to consider, of Kiffen standing over her, sword in hand, ready to strike her down. She saw herself cringe and sink beneath his attack.
Am’brosia’s head swung toward her. “No!”
Adana stopped mid-stride. Had Am’brosia just spoken to her through the link? The golden beast tramped down the slope and stopped a few steps away, towering over her. She recognized the giraffe’s intent but couldn’t move fast enough. Am’brosia’s great head butted her shoulder, hitting the spot of the pinprick. The giraffe’s single word resounded in Adana’s brain again as she toppled to the ground. “No.”
Her shoulder burned with intense heat.
“My lady?” Elayne rushed up the slope toward her.
Adana took a cleansing breath before pushing up from the ground, her back to Elayne. She eyed Am’brosia with caution and brushed the grass off her tunic. The answer echoed in her mind once more, overwhelming her with a mix of confusing emotions. The sting in her shoulder brought tears to her eyes as she confronted the truth. Her father, separated from her three years ago, was gone forever. Never again would she hear his voice or look into his kind eyes. He wouldn’t stand by her side as she took Moniah’s Seat of Authority. Her father, gone.
Yet, Kiffen, the man she desired even when she knew the impossibility of such a match, had been given to her. He lived and was hers forever. Did the fulfillment of her desires steal the lives of her father and King Donel? She shook with the effort to regain her composure. Nothing could hold back the strange combination of relief and sorrow.
The reassuring bulk of Am’brosia stood before her, and she moved toward the giraffe, but this time, the animal stepped sideways, away from her. The great head swung toward her again, but this time, with a gentle sweep, Am’brosia nudged her toward Elayne. The woman took one look at Adana’s face and wrapped her arms around her.
Adana fell into Elayne’s arms and cried out her pain and anger and guilt, unable to hold
back, even though Elayne might be her enemy. The woman stroked her back and murmured sounds of comfort, none registering in Adana’s mind beyond their intended purpose.
After a few moments, Adana straightened and stepped out of Elayne’s embrace. She wiped her eyes before glancing toward her Watchers. Montee stood at the bottom of the hill, wary and tense. Joannu stood at the center of the top of the rise with Bai’dish. Both scanned the horizon, sentries over their small band.
When Adana again swiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands, Elayne pushed a frilly handkerchief into her grasp. The tatted lace rendered it an accessory rather than useful, but she appreciated the woman’s kindness. The contrast between this handkerchief, given in compassion, and the knife the woman wielded in Adana’s protection two nights earlier struck Adana.
“You saved my life,” she said, recalling the soldier who attacked her during their escape. She had struggled under his weight as he held her pinned to the ground. One moment, she felt true fear, and the next, the soldier’s body went limp. “You killed that soldier who attacked me. He would have killed me.”
Elayne swallowed and licked her lips. “I didn’t think about it. I just did it.”
“Thank you.” Adana squeezed the woman’s hands then turned and descended the hill, seeking strength with each step. When she reached Montee, she motioned for her to sit and waved Joannu over to join them. She turned toward Am’brosia and Bai’dish, sending a request for them to maintain lookout. A brief flash of indignation flew down the link from Am’brosia. Even briefer, she sensed a flicker of amusement from Bai’dish.
The giraffes’ reactions spoke volumes about the complications of her three-year separation from Am’brosia while exiled in Elwar. She wondered if Bai’dish’s amusement stemmed from his recent bonding with Kiffen. It felt like him.
Under normal circumstances, she would have taught Kiffen how to communicate with Bai’dish years ago, but now they both must learn. Her mother’s decision to remove her from Moniah at such a crucial point in her training still baffled her. It hadn’t stopped Maligon. As far as she could tell, it hadn’t protected her from anything, either. It only served to complicate her training and keep her from her kingdom.
Aware her companions waited, uncertain of her thoughts, she turned toward them. Joannu came toward her and dropped to the ground, her eyes downcast. Montee, alert as always, scanned the valley, tension in her shoulders the only sign she still shouldered the responsibility for Adana’s loss.
“Montee,” Adana said, “your apology is unnecessary. We knew the risks when we departed Elwar. My father…” Adana swallowed at the sudden catch in her voice. “My father knew the risks.”
She turned toward Joannu, surprised when the Watcher’s eyes remained downcast. She could not recall a time when Joannu had not met her gaze.
“Joannu?”
The Watcher raised her head, but she bowed it again before she spoke. “My Queen?”
Adana’s knees weakened. In a few weeks, the title would be hers, but with her father’s death, coronation or not, she was Queen of Moniah, the Seat of Authority.
Oh Mammetta, how I wish you were here.
As if summoned, she heard her mother’s voice. “Adana, when you are queen, you must stand firm. No matter how unprepared you may feel, don’t show it to your Watchers or your people. They must see your confidence in all that happens. Never show doubt or weakness to them.”
At least her Watcher’s training had prepared her for this. She knew how to hide her thoughts behind a calm façade. Envisioning her mother’s royal demeanor, she squared her shoulders and assumed a straight and commanding posture. Then, in the same tone her mother used time and again, she said, “Joannu, look to me.”
The Watcher looked up. Eyes wide with sorrow, she had chosen to reveal her emotions rather than mask them, a gesture of great honor from a Watcher.
Adana breathed in deeply and inhaled the smells of the wood fire, the action drawing her back to her own training, a time focused on her obligations, her future as queen. “Joannu, I am your queen and your Seat of Authority. Thank you for reminding me of that.” She broke eye contact and glanced toward Montee, noting the woman’s nod of approval. “I’m counting on you and Montee to ensure I stay your queen and live to sit on the Seat of Authority.”
The fire Adana had built crackled and popped as she waited, allowing those words to resonate within them. Finally, she asked, “Do you have any plans? How we move forward?”
“Yes.” Joannu’s voice rang in the firm confidence of her rank, a Strategist Leader of the Watchers.
“Good.” Adana turned to Montee. “What do the two of you suggest?”
With a stick, Montee sketched a rough map in the dirt, pointing first to a spot to the west. “We are two to three days from the Border Keep. Four from Adana’s View.” She marked a point to their south. “That’s if we encounter no trouble.”
Adana pondered the map. The keep sat on the border between the two kingdoms, the original seat of royalty before Yarada’s ruler divided his kingdom in half for his two daughters, Elwar and Moniah. Adana’s View, her home, beckoned to her, but four days without knowledge of the enemy’s whereabouts would make the journey treacherous.
“Our plans were to head for whichever was closer if we encountered trouble.” Montee squinted up at her. “The giraffes took us in a different direction.”
Adana studied the map and reached out to Am’brosia, scanning the area through the giraffe’s watchful gaze. Still nothing of concern stirred within sight. Why had they sent her east instead of west?
“Where is the nearest village?”
“A half-day’s journey in that direction.” Montee jabbed the stick at a point to the southeast.
An excited tingle whizzed in her shoulder. Approval?
“What of our troops? You followed us. Did you encounter anyone? People you trust?”
Montee shook her head. “I ordered Sinti and Veana to scout a larger area along your escape route while I followed your path.” She glanced up the hill. “Am’brosia and Bai’dish led you to an obscure location. They did well. I’ve never crossed this valley, and its features are not on any of our maps.”
The tingle in her shoulder hummed with energy when she turned her attention to Elayne. The woman squatted beside them as best she could in her Elwarian dress, but she didn’t seem to mind or exhibit any discomfort. A notion about this new companion had plagued Adana since their entry into the forest.
At first, she had thought Elayne showed latent signs of a Watcher’s abilities, but when she and Montee tested the lady, she didn’t exhibit any enhanced visual skills. Still, Elayne noticed things others didn’t.
She’d had plenty of time to contemplate the woman’s comments about the sounds in the forest. Distant bird songs Adana could not hear without straining to pick them out. Then, Elayne had led Adana toward safety as the battle raged around them, veering the right way every time, except for when the soldier jumped her. And there had been the storm that rolled in on the night before the caravan entered the forest. Elayne knew of it without seeing the lightning in the far distance. She’d heard the thunder long before most people could see or hear the storm.
Adana scratched her shoulder, the energy vibrating from the puncture creating an aggravating itch. Might as well pursue her suspicions.
“Elayne? Do you hear horses in the distance?”
“Horses?” A frown crossed Elayne’s face.
“Yes, are there any approaching riders?”
A furrow divided Elayne’s brow, causing her to squint. She tilted her head and closed her eyes.
Adana watched carefully, looking for signs of when or if Elayne dropped into pure concentration. The woman inhaled as she settled her mind and relaxed her body. A subtle clue to potential gifts, but she’d take it. Her actions resembled a Watcher’s focused breathing.
Elayne released each breath through her mouth, then tilted her head to the left, paused, and then tilted it
to the right. Her breathing became slower.
Confidence radiated warmth deep within Adana’s shoulder as she strained to listen for what Elayne might hear. A log on the fire popped. A fish splashed in the stream. Their horses stomped and snorted. Those were the only sounds she heard, but what about Elayne? The thunder. The faint bird songs. Did she possess a different gift?
A look of wonder and surprise spread over Elayne’s face as her eyes popped opened. She scanned the sky with excitement.
“No one approaches, but I heard—” She pointed upward. A hawk, with a small animal clutched in its claws, flew overhead.
She jumped to her feet and turned to watch the bird soar away, then she spun back to look at them, a grin spreading over her face. “I heard it.” The words tumbled out of her. “There was a whistle of wind, a thud, and a squeak, then wings beating so loud they drowned out the mouse’s struggles.” She took a step in the direction the hawk had flown.
Montee’s eyebrows shot up. Joannu twisted to look after the hawk.
Adana smiled. “Montee?”
Silence settled over the First Vision as she scanned the sky. “She’s a Listener,” Montee whispered.
“A what?” Elayne asked.
“A Listener?” Joannu leaned forward. “I thought Listeners were bedtime stories.”
“They disappeared centuries ago.” Montee turned toward Adana. “How long have you suspected?”
“A few days. Ever since the—”
“The storm,” Montee said.
Fighting back a self-satisfied grin, Adana nodded.
Elayne crossed her arms. “What are you talking about?” She paused, a look of loss and fear settling over her face. “Please don’t talk over me. What is a Listener?”
Adana smiled at her and patted the ground, inviting her to sit back down. Did the woman know and hide the truth or was she truly ignorant of her gifts? It would be useful to have a Listener working for her, though. If she could trust her.
“I’ve never met one. Tradition says they died out centuries ago, but Listeners possess keen hearing. They specialize in eavesdropping.”
The Watchers in Exile Page 3