Page 8
Story: The Arrow and the Alder
“Would that I had your grace, my little lion,” Seph whispered to Nora, who’d fallen asleep. “I’ll let you rest.” She kissed her sister’s forehead, slid off the bed, gathered the stones she’d left on the floor, and made her way into the main room where Linnea spoke animatedly to their mama.
The conversation ceased when Seph appeared at the threshold.
“Thereyou are.” Linnea gave her a quick once-over, making Seph—yet again—painfully aware of their differences. They were all highlighted in her middle sister, the renowned beauty of Harran. Where Linnea was tall, Seph was short to average. Where Linnea was soft and curved and supple, Seph was all sharp angles and muscle from so much hard labor. Linnea’s dark hair fell in lustrous dark waves, while Seph’s ivory strands fluffed into a wild mane that was barely tamed by braids. Seph called Nora a little lion, but Seph actuallylookedlike one.
She had the temper of one too, which she’d inherited from Nani, unlike Linnea, who’d been born with a poise that could challenge society’s highest and most affluent circles.
Their differences hadn’t always been an issue. In fact, the two sisters had got on quite well when they were children, before the war had forced Seph to occupy the roles their papa and brothers left behind. Linnea had always been softer, and so she’d admired Seph’s strength and unshakable convictions, while that same softness had tempered Seph’s hard edges with much-needed grace. Together, they’d been stronger than their individual parts, but then Linnea’s specific qualities caught the attention of Lord Bracey Gazinno, eldest son of Baron Gazinno, overseer of Harran and all surrounding hamlets within Kestwich’s southern province. Lord Bracey now occupied the space Seph used to fill, giving Linnea new purpose and resolve—both of which were completely at odds with Seph’s.
And Seph hated him for it.
She took one look at Linnea and said, “You told him, didn’t you.”
Linnea’s lips parted for the lie, but her expression fell with resignation, and truth came out instead. “He won’t say a word?—”
“Dammit, Linnie!”
Linnea flinched. She never liked it when Seph cursed.
“How long has he known?” Seph demanded.
Linnea hesitated. It was enough to make Seph curse again—beneath her breath this time.
“He hasn’t said a word, Sephie…he promised!” Linnea defended, as if the promises of a lord meant anything at all. “He understands why you do it, but he’s still concerned for you, as I am, and he wants to help.”
Seph bit her bottom lip and strode for the fire, furious.
“Please don’t be angry,” Linnea pleaded, then, more quietly added, “I just…I worry for you. You know I do. What if you’re caught?”
Seph looked straight at her. “Oh, you mean like ifsomeoneratted me out?”
Linnea’s lips pursed. “He’s not going to tell anyone, Sephie, and anyway, that’s not why I was trying to find you.” A pause. “The kith are in Harran.”
It was clear that Linnea expected that last confession to alarm Seph and thus put an end to the argument. But Seph was not alarmed, and the tension simmered.
Seph set the stones upon the embers, picked up the iron rod, and shoved the stones in deeper. Iron scraped stone. “Yes, I know.”
Rainwaterplinked.
“How can you possibly know that?” Linnea asked with a mark of exasperation that plagued every exchange between them these days.
Seph hung the rod back on its stand. “They rode past me in the woods.”
“What?” Mama exclaimed.
Seph imagined Linnea and Mama exchanging a commiserative glance of frustration, but she didn’t turn to look. Instead, she reached for the pail to snag a log and realized there was only one left. She’d have to split more wood today too.
“Well? Did you speak to High Lord Massie?” Linnea pressed.
Seph’s breath hitched. The kith man with the horned mask, the one with the stark contrasts and cold eyes—he was none other than High Lord Massie of the Weald Court, second only to the queen.
“They didn’t see me,” Seph replied carefully. “I observed them from the trees.”
Linnea frowned.
“Odd that they would use the old woodland road…” Mama mused, and Linnea voiced her agreement.
“From what I gathered, the high lord is searching for someone,” Seph added, then glanced back at Linnea and said, “but you probably already knew that.”
The conversation ceased when Seph appeared at the threshold.
“Thereyou are.” Linnea gave her a quick once-over, making Seph—yet again—painfully aware of their differences. They were all highlighted in her middle sister, the renowned beauty of Harran. Where Linnea was tall, Seph was short to average. Where Linnea was soft and curved and supple, Seph was all sharp angles and muscle from so much hard labor. Linnea’s dark hair fell in lustrous dark waves, while Seph’s ivory strands fluffed into a wild mane that was barely tamed by braids. Seph called Nora a little lion, but Seph actuallylookedlike one.
She had the temper of one too, which she’d inherited from Nani, unlike Linnea, who’d been born with a poise that could challenge society’s highest and most affluent circles.
Their differences hadn’t always been an issue. In fact, the two sisters had got on quite well when they were children, before the war had forced Seph to occupy the roles their papa and brothers left behind. Linnea had always been softer, and so she’d admired Seph’s strength and unshakable convictions, while that same softness had tempered Seph’s hard edges with much-needed grace. Together, they’d been stronger than their individual parts, but then Linnea’s specific qualities caught the attention of Lord Bracey Gazinno, eldest son of Baron Gazinno, overseer of Harran and all surrounding hamlets within Kestwich’s southern province. Lord Bracey now occupied the space Seph used to fill, giving Linnea new purpose and resolve—both of which were completely at odds with Seph’s.
And Seph hated him for it.
She took one look at Linnea and said, “You told him, didn’t you.”
Linnea’s lips parted for the lie, but her expression fell with resignation, and truth came out instead. “He won’t say a word?—”
“Dammit, Linnie!”
Linnea flinched. She never liked it when Seph cursed.
“How long has he known?” Seph demanded.
Linnea hesitated. It was enough to make Seph curse again—beneath her breath this time.
“He hasn’t said a word, Sephie…he promised!” Linnea defended, as if the promises of a lord meant anything at all. “He understands why you do it, but he’s still concerned for you, as I am, and he wants to help.”
Seph bit her bottom lip and strode for the fire, furious.
“Please don’t be angry,” Linnea pleaded, then, more quietly added, “I just…I worry for you. You know I do. What if you’re caught?”
Seph looked straight at her. “Oh, you mean like ifsomeoneratted me out?”
Linnea’s lips pursed. “He’s not going to tell anyone, Sephie, and anyway, that’s not why I was trying to find you.” A pause. “The kith are in Harran.”
It was clear that Linnea expected that last confession to alarm Seph and thus put an end to the argument. But Seph was not alarmed, and the tension simmered.
Seph set the stones upon the embers, picked up the iron rod, and shoved the stones in deeper. Iron scraped stone. “Yes, I know.”
Rainwaterplinked.
“How can you possibly know that?” Linnea asked with a mark of exasperation that plagued every exchange between them these days.
Seph hung the rod back on its stand. “They rode past me in the woods.”
“What?” Mama exclaimed.
Seph imagined Linnea and Mama exchanging a commiserative glance of frustration, but she didn’t turn to look. Instead, she reached for the pail to snag a log and realized there was only one left. She’d have to split more wood today too.
“Well? Did you speak to High Lord Massie?” Linnea pressed.
Seph’s breath hitched. The kith man with the horned mask, the one with the stark contrasts and cold eyes—he was none other than High Lord Massie of the Weald Court, second only to the queen.
“They didn’t see me,” Seph replied carefully. “I observed them from the trees.”
Linnea frowned.
“Odd that they would use the old woodland road…” Mama mused, and Linnea voiced her agreement.
“From what I gathered, the high lord is searching for someone,” Seph added, then glanced back at Linnea and said, “but you probably already knew that.”
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