Page 85

Bryn chuckles. “That he did. And what I may have written off as a fluke meeting before, I can no longer ignore. That you happen to be Amyrah’s father ...” Wonder overcomes his face. He shakes his head to clear it, then extends his arm out to us. “I should have known. The resemblance is strong.” He smiles. “Please, I insist you both join me at my house.”

Father nods, but I step back, swinging the bag in front of me. “I actually want to return the book Tress gave me, if you don’t mind.” The excuse is a convenient way to hide my shock at my father making a friend for the first time in thirteen years.

Disappointment dampens Bryn’s expression, but he concedes and gestures toward the library with an incline of his head. Clapping an arm around my pada’s shoulders, he leads him down the street. I am left with the cloying scent of flowers forcing itself into my lungs.

31. Wehna

WEHNA

LOSING MYSELF IN A BOOK is the only escape I can think of to free myself from my paralyzing thoughts. I step through the door of the library, a little bell making a middle-aged man look up from his counter. He smiles briefly before returning to repairing a tome with a crumbling spine.

Though the library in this neighborhood is diminutive, it’s moderately varied and beautifully maintained. I run my hand along the meticulously polished shelves. There are children’s fables, school primers, manuals on husbandry and various trades. Only a few history books dot the shelves, which strikes me as strange, considering how vehemently the Vale clings to its traditions.

This small collection is more than I have found anywhere in Utsanek. The valefolk do not place a high importance on literacy, largely because of the hand-to-mouth existence most people have been forced to live. It wouldn’t surprise me if lack of education contributes to the fear-based system enslaving the Vale. It makes me sad.

My mother brought her own collection of books when we came here, determined my education wouldn’t be wasted, and her son wouldn’t be held back. I bite my lip, remembering how I left them at our little apartment. I wonder how long it will take me to work up the courage to retrieve them, or if they will even still be there when I do.

You need to be strong, Wehna.

I grit my teeth and force my brain to focus on the lines of books in front of me. I came here to distract myself from my troubles, didn’t I?

For the next while, I travel around the room to every shelf, looking at the titles, slipping some out, and thumbing through the pages. Once I’ve visited all the sections, a frown creeps across my brow. Each book I’ve looked at has something in common, and it troubles me. I approach the counter where the librarian works in silence.

“Excuse me, do you have any books written about or by someone outside of the Vale?”

His hands go still, and he looks up from his task, his smile growing brittle. He glances around the room and out the window, like he is checking to make sure no strangers are around.

Is no place in Utsanek free from fear and suspicion?

His eyes return to mine. “That’s a dangerous question to ask, young lady.”

My eyes narrow. “Why is that?”

He sets down the pot of glue and paintbrush he’s working with and rests his hands on the countertop. Although his red hair is relatively untarnished by age, he has a maze of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He’s older than he looks.

“I’m surprised your parents wouldn’t have told you about such an important event in Utsanek’s history.”

I shift uncomfortably as his dark eyes bore into me, casting around for an excuse. “They had better lessons to teach.”

He scratches his temple with a long index finger, no doubt confused by my answer.

“Please,” I say, slipping my fingers under the bracelet Arvo made me. “I really do want to know.”

Weariness claims his features after a long silence. He rubs the space between his feathery eyebrows. “To me, it feels like only yesterday, but I suppose it has been over thirty years.”

“What happened?”

The librarian drops his hand and pinches his lips together for a long while, as if waiting for me to give up and walk out. But I don’t. Eventually, he gives in. He leans forward and lowers his voice.

“It happened during the season of Elberu, when the harvest was at its peak. The attacks from the kaligorven had been growing more numerous, and no matter how many solas the people hunted down, the dark beasts would not relent. Bloodied bodies were found in the forest daily.”

The image of my parents lying dead in the streets pops to the forefront of my mind, threatening to undo me. I swallow against the surge of sorrow and try to make the librarian’s face come back into focus.

“People grew fearful and desperate, and a sect soon formed that wanted to leave the Vale. The idea caught on, and Jakkor, Foremost of the Vale—Dravek’s predecessor—could do nothing about it except issue idle threats.”

“Why would he oppose them if people were only trying to protect their families?”

The man scratches an eyebrow “Control. The entire structure of the Vale depends on it. If people knew they could leave and were successful in doing so, what would keep anyone here?”