He opened his eyes then. “What are you thinking about?”
Maybe it was selfish to tell him now, when he was still so sick, but I didn’t think he would mind having something else to think about for a little while. “Lunla told me to find the Sisters of Light if I wanted to find out more about the heir.”
“And I assume you do?” He shifted slightly, obviously uncomfortable.
I reached behind his head and fluffed the feather pillows, situating them so he would be propped up a bit. “I have to,” I answered finally. “I can’t go home if everyone thinks I’m this Suun heir. It would lead the ur’gels right to the Western March and put even more people in danger.” Most importantly my father. He had done so much to protect me and guide me that I couldn’t do that to him, no matter how angry I was with him for potentially keeping secrets about my mother from me. Secrets that would one day change my life.
“Who are the Sisters of Light?” Arun asked.
“I was hoping you would know.”
He furrowed his brow in thought. “I know we’re in a temple of light, and Lunla is a priest who worships the light. So, I assume the Sisters have something to do with the same thing. Maybe it’s another temple.”
“Maybe.” Why wouldn’t she have just said that, though?
“Did she say anything else?”
“That they’re near the Valley of the Horses.”
Arun scoffed, much as I had when I’d first heard the name. “There are no horses on Bruhier. Have you ever heard of it?”
I shook my head. “I was hoping you had.”
“No, but I’ll help you find it.” He pushed himself up on his arms, groaned, and fell back. All the color had drained from his face with that one movement. “Just as soon as I can get up.”
“When might that be?”
“Soon,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows at him.
“I’m an elf,” he said as if that explained everything. “It won’t be long. All you have to worry about is getting your family rounded up. I think you might have the harder job of the two.”
It was my turn to groan.
Silence fell between us again, and this time Arun did sleep. His breathing grew steady and his face relaxed. Lunla and the healer priest returned shortly after, carrying more smooth black stones. I left him in their capable hands and went to find Erik and Estrid. I didn’t know how, but I would find a way to get them on that ship and leave Savarah behind, where she could find her own way home.
Chapter 7
The sun had risen by the time I made my way out of the infirmary wing, and the temple was bustling with activity.
A pair of girls passed me in the hall carrying a bucket and two mops. “It was your turn to clean the floors,” one of them said.
The other girl huffed a sigh. “Don’t be stupid. I cleaned them yesterday.”
I watched them pass. I’d never heard any of the priests speak more than a few words, and to hear them being mean to each other felt wrong. Outside the dining hall, I found Xalph and Grissall lounging on the stone floor, sharing a sliced orange.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Xalph said around an orange peel he had stuck in front of his teeth.
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I entered the room against his better judgment. Erik sat at the head of the table, his knife and fork held in his hands like weapons. To his right, Estrid stood, both of her hands planted flat on the table as she towered over him. On his other side, Savarah sat casually buttering a piece of toast.
“You’re an insufferable know-it-all,” Estrid was saying to our brother.
Erik, who was at times an insufferable know-it-all, shrugged. “And you’re a control freak.”
Savarah took a long swig of the orange juice in front of her. Then, “Seems to me that you’re both just stating the obvious.”
“I can’t take it anymore.” Estrid slammed her hands down on the table, rattling the glasses and silverware.
“Then you should have just let me stay in Barepost like I told you to.”
“Erik!” I said, my voice sharp.
Both of them turned to look at me, anger still twisting their features.
Savarah glanced at me, and then back at her breakfast. “I told them to stop. They wouldn’t listen.”
I found that hard to believe. The woman seemed to thrive on discord. “What are you even fighting about?”
Neither of them answered. Estrid’s mouth flopped open and closed like a fish gasping for breath out of water, but nothing came out. Did they even know why they were calling each other names in the middle of breakfast?
Savarah leaned back in her chair and surveyed the three of us. “They’re fighting over me.”
It wouldn’t be the first time Erik and Estrid had fought over a girl, but did it have to be this girl? “What about you?”
“What to do with me.”
This felt familiar.
“She’s coming with us,” Estrid said, finding her voice again.
“She’s going home.” Erik snapped his eyes to Savarah. “If you want. We’ll take you wherever you need to go.”
“No, we won’t,” I interjected, joining the argument.
Savarah smiled at me, looking amused. “Let me guess. You want to leave me here.”
I pulled out the chair beside Estrid and sat down heavily, tired of this same fight. “Our journey is not yours. There’s something that I have to do, and my brother and sister are going with me.” Channeling Lunla, I added, “Here is where our paths divide.”
“Oh, you have a plan now?” Estrid rolled her eyes at Erik. Now that they could gang up on me, they were on the same side again. “Where are we going?”
I glanced up at Savarah and then quickly away when I caught her looking back at me. “I’d rather not say in front of present company.”
The door to the kitchens swung open and the sound of raised voices drifted out to us before it swung shut again. A young priest with flushed red cheeks refilled Savarah’s juice glass and eyed the table.
“We’re fine, thank you,” Savarah told her.
We were definitely not fine—it didn’t seem like anyone was. Ever since the battle with the walking corpses, everyone in the temple had been on edge, like a line of galestone waiting to ignite. No, not since the battle. Since we’d found Savarah. And she hadn’t even tried to defend herself when I’d voiced my mistrust of her.
I stamped down the anger building inside of me and looked up to find Savarah still studying me across the table.
“What is that mark beside your eye?” she asked, tapping a finger to her chin.
I reached up and touched the five-pointed star without even thinking about it. If Beru were to be believed, it was the mark of Onen Suun, designating me as one of his descendants. Not a blessing, but a curse.
“I don’t know,” I answered finally.
Her eyes narrowed, her otherwise smooth skin wrinkling on her brow. “Well, what do you think it means?”
“What I think doesn’t matter. It’s just a birthmark.” I hoped Erik and Estrid would keep their mouths shut. I didn’t want Savarah knowing any more than she already did. Thankfully, they had turned their attentions to eating and were mostly ignoring me.
Before Savarah could continue her interrogation, the door to the dining hall opened. Grissall and Xalph pranced through, talking excitedly. Behind them was Arun, leaning heavily on a man in the orange robes of the temple. It was the first man I’d seen this entire time, but it wasn’t surprising. Priests could be male or female, as long as they served the light.
The four of us around the table stood and watched his slow progress across the dining hall. He was wearing a loose shirt that gaped at the neck, revealing the edge of the white bandage over the wound on his shoulder. His hair was loose and stringy, and his eyes were sunken into his face, ringed with black. He very nearly looked like a walking corpse.
Erik cleared his throat and we all jerked to life. “Arun, it’s so good to see you doing better.”
Savarah pulled out the chair beside her. “Yes, it’s incredible.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes wide, as if she hadn’t believed he could be saved.
Arun sank into the chair, releasing his hold on the priest. The man bowed and took his leave while Grissall and Xalph descended on the table like a pair of hungry dogs. They snatched pastries and fruit, stuffing them in their mouths, while the rest of us watched Arun catch his breath.
I watched Arun grimace and shift in his seat. “I can’t believe Lunla let you out of bed.”
“It’s … incredible,” Savarah said again.
Arun reached for the plate of pastries. “It wasn’t without her objection.”
“When will you be able to sail?” Erik asked.
The door opened again and Lunla entered. “He’ll need several more treatments. It will take at least another day, and that’s if we hurry.” Her face was outwardly serene as she crossed the room, but there was a tightness to her small smile that wasn’t normally present. My guess was Arun put it there.
Savarah was twirling one of her golden curls around a finger. “What kind of treatments?” she asked.
Lunla studied her for a long, tense moment, and I thought she wouldn’t answer. Finally, she said, “It is only light that chases away the dark. I am using the light of my own soul to heal him, but I do not know if it will be enough. It may be that we need a brighter soul to fight the darkness of the spell that is working its way through him.”
That explained what she’d been doing when I’d come to his room earlier, the strange vibrations of magic in the infirmary. It stood to reason a priest would not heal with medicines and herbs, but with light and magic. It was still hard for me to believe, but the proof was sitting right across from me, licking sugar from his fingers.
“Tomorrow, then,” Arun said.
Lunla patted his head as if she were humoring a small child. “Or, perhaps, the next day.”
Arun looked around the table and gave a small shrug. “There’s really no arguing with her.”
While Arun spent the day under Lunla’s ministrations, I spent it avoiding Savarah and my siblings. I hunted with Stiarna in the woods on the edge of the plateau and brought back a string of pheasants to Cook. The woman was so happy she gave me a whole tray of strawberry cakes Stiarna and I ate while perched on the edge of the cliff, my legs dangling over the abyss.
In the afternoon, I followed one of the younger priests, whose name was Jyne, around the gardens while she pointed out different plants and their uses. I’d met her before, that morning in the infirmary, when I’d gone to visit Arun. She was training to be a healer and working closely with Lunla and Arun. And she was surprisingly good company, easy to talk to, and willing to share.
“What do you think?” I asked when she stopped to pull a red-stemmed weed from the dirt. “Will he be able to leave tomorrow?”
She straightened and shrugged, wiping a bead of sweat from her wide, freckled brow. “This isn’t any normal sickness. This won’t be cured with a brewed tonic that I can mix up in the pharmacy.” She tossed the weed into a nearby trash bin that was being dragged around by another gardener.
We turned and continued our walk. She pointed out a three-leafed plant she said was good for headaches when brewed in hot water. I steered the conversation back to Arun. “He seems to be doing better, though.”
She grunted, keeping her eyes on the plants at our feet. “Sure, but at what cost?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, that’s why I wanted to study healing. I don’t have any magic, but it’s like magic, isn’t it? Chasing away sickness with potions, fixing people with my bare hands. But there’s one big difference.” We’d reached the stone garden wall, and she pulled herself up, perching on top and placing her basket beside her. “Healing is external. Everything comes from outside of me, is separated from me. But magic is internal. What Lunla is doing …” She trailed off, her eyes distant.
“What is Lunla doing?”
“She’s using her own life force to heal him. Giving him bits and pieces of herself to put him back together.”
I’d never heard anyone speak of magic with such mistrust before, but it was interesting. I’d never been partial to it myself, but I’d thought it was just because I was D’ahvol. To hear a human—a priest, no less—be suspicious of it felt kind of validating. “What does that mean?” I asked.
She pulled a vine from her basket and began plucking the deep green leaves off the stem, dropping them onto her lap. “It means that they will be bound to one another. Depending on how much of herself she gives to him, his life might be bound to hers, or to some talisman she gives him. It’s a scary thing, I imagine, to live on someone else’s time.”
There was so much more I wanted to ask. Did Arun understand what was happening and what that meant for him for the rest of his life? Did it have to be Lunla who was bound to him? And most importantly, what would happen if Arun, tired of fighting, gave in to the darkness one day?
But Jyne was done talking. She hopped down from the stone wall and we continued our stroll through the garden. I trailed behind her, listening to her point out different plants and their uses—this one for congestion, that one for infections. None of them, though, seemed to be exactly right for what was ailing me.
Chapter 8
I left Jyne at the door to the infirmary soon afterward and made my way back outside where I had less of a chance of running into my brother or sister. While I was there, Xalph enlisted me to help him map out the hedge maze. I wound my way through it, unspooling a red thread as I went. Xalph and Grissall were behind me, Grissall measuring the paths with her steps while Xalph drew the maze on a piece of wrinkled paper.
“Isn’t this cheating?” I called back to them at one point as I backtracked after making a wrong turn.
Xalph’s voice carried through the bushes. “It’s only cheating if it’s against the rules.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
It didn’t take as long this time for me to reach the center of the maze. When I did, I was surprised to see Estrid there, staring at the figure of Onen Suun on top of the enormous fountain, her hands on her hips.
“Why do you look like you want to rip him down?” I asked, only half joking.
She startled, turning to me. “I thought I heard the kid.”
“I’m helping him.” I motioned to the string wound around my hand as if that explained anything. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to get away. I haven’t felt like myself lately.” She began to pace, her nervous energy almost palpable.
“You haven’t acted like yourself either.”
This made her stop and snap her attention to me.
“Not since we found Savarah,” I added. I needed to see if she could be made to see the truth of what was happening.
She was quick to say, “That’s ridiculous,” and roll her eyes. But in the silence that fell between us, I could see her thinking, analyzing all our recent interactions—the tension between us all when we first heard Savarah’s story, the fight in the sitting room, the argument at breakfast. We hadn’t had a single peaceful conversation since the girl had turned up, and Estrid was now realizing it.
“It might be ridiculous, but does that make it any less true?” I asked after giving her a few moments to process her thoughts.
She was still trying to reason it away. “If I’m not myself, it’s only because you and Erik have been acting too irrationally.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Really? Just us? You’ve been perfectly reasonable?”
“Well …”
Xalph and Grissall emerged from the maze then, a ball of red twine in their hands. “There’s one path mapped out,” Xalph said, holding the sheet of paper up triumphantly. “Only …” He spun around in a circle, counting the entrances to the maze. “Eight more to go.” Xalph hobbl
ed over to a stone bench, where he sat and began fiddling with his drawing.
Grissall crossed to the fountain and dipped her fingers in the frigid water. “I don’t know why you bother,” she said. “We’ll be leaving soon, surely.”
Xalph looked up at me. “Are we leaving?”
“Soon,” I told him. “When Arun is able to fly.” It occurred to me the two of them might be safer here, at the temple. I would have to talk to Lunla about that later. “You shouldn’t give up on your map, though. I’m sure the priests would appreciate having one.”
“The priests don’t need a map.” He rolled his eyes at me as if I were daft. “They use the light to guide them.” Xalph stood and was unrolling the string again, handing one end to Grissall.
Grissall tied her end to the stone fountain and disappeared through an entrance, trailing the string after her, Xalph right behind her.
Estrid sat on the recently vacated stone bench and leaned her elbows on her knees. The long side of her hair draped forward, hiding her face from me. “You never did tell us where we were going.”
“And I won’t, not until I’m sure you won’t tell Savarah, or try to bring her along.”
Estrid sighed, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I think you’re right.” Before I could gasp with fake astonishment, she held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. If I have to, then I’ll take it back.”
I laughed and sat down beside her, bumping her shoulder with mine.
“What do you think it is?” Estrid asked. “Magic?”
“Can’t be. It wouldn’t work on us.” Then I remembered what Jyne had said about magic being internal. “It must be something external. Something about the way she talks and manipulates us with her words.”
“Maybe.” Estrid tilted her head back. “What do we even really know about her anyway? Do you believe anything she’s told us?”
I shrugged. “It’s hard to say. She’s supposedly the trusted companion of a High Elf, even though she herself isn’t an elf. And she hasn’t even mentioned returning Arun to Tsarra. Wouldn’t that be her top priority if she was who she’s claimed to be?”
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