Page 97 of Keeper of the Word

The Order of the Siria captain appeared in the glen. “No sign of any other trace, m’lady.”

“Good. Then I shall seal this and be on my way. I am sorry, Sir Tolvar and Sir Jenz, but only the Order of Siria may play witness here. I shall join you back at your camp.”

Tolvar obediently left, but not before giving one backward glance to Kyrie, who, still gloved, appeared as though she threaded a thin strand of the very essence of light through a large, crystalized needle.

When Kyrie returnedto Tolvar’s camp, she was as pale as a wilted moonbeam flower.

“’Tis done,” she said, as she took the cup Tolvar offered her and a chair beside him outside his tent. The Order knights had placed themselves around the area. “But do not hope to think that the Curse cannot be unburied again. There is much animosity I sense here. Including your own.”

Tolvar was quiet. His finger ran along the scar on the back of his neck.

“’Twas my intent to leave today,” Kyrie said. “Return to Ashwin with haste, but I find that I need rest. Pulling the dark threads of the Curse, as you might imagine, brings exhaustion.”

“You said you know who Crevan is. Because of the stars?”

Kyrie took a drink. “Because he has a pair of gloves like mine.”

“What? How?”

“What do you remember of that night with Crevan during the War of the Hundred Nights?” She took another sip of her cup. Her color was beginning to return.

“Very little. The sky seemed darker than normal. We were in battle. Winning. I had given chase to one of the commanders and was about to corner him when I was struck with an arrow. ’Twas laced with the Curse of Adrienne.”

Kyrie flinched but didn’t comment on Tolvar’s use of the word.

“I began to feel as if the night ’twas even darker, if that was possible, and pain shot down my spine. Then Crevan was there, and the next thing I remember, ’twas morning. I knew Crevan had pulled the Curse from my wound but didn’t know how. He refused to discuss it, said that I would not like it. At the time, I left well enough alone. He was my brother. Stars. How did he come by a pair of those gloves?”

“That is a tale I Saw long ago. Moons before that night.”

“You Saw?—”

“Aye. On his trek to join you in battle, Crevan cut through a cynth mine and then across a little-known mountain passage. There, he was provided shelter in a storm. And in return, for a single piece of cynth cristal, your brother was offered a pair of midnight gloves.”

Tolvar waited for more of her tale, but she ended it there and said no more. There was no sense pressing the StarSeer. If she was finished sharing what she had Seen, nothing Tolvar asked would change that.

“Strange that his fortune’s path resulted in his ability to save you.”

Her gaze wandered into the distance. “And I have Seen him make use of them again. Yet not to aid anyone this time.”

“What can the gloves do?”

“They protect the wearer from the full effects of the Curse. For me, because I am a StarSeer, the starlight in my blood helps touphold that safeguard. But for another, such as your brother, the effects will eventually seep through. I needn’t tell you that the effects havealreadylikely seeped through.”

Tolvar nodded. “Where came you by your gloves?”

“The same place Crevan did. From the witches, of course.”

Chapter

Thirty-Six

ELANNA

Tara had refused to speak until dusk. That is to say, she refused to cease praying until dusk. Elanna had continued her daily prayers here in Asalle—of course she had—but as her knees wailed in pain when she finally rose, she had to admit that those prayers had been cut short more days than not.

Mayhap that is why she felt as if ill fortune perched upon her shoulders.

Tara had also refused her a prayer pillow, although Elanna agreed that she deserved it. The physical pain in her knees, coupled with the weight of Tara’s presence, reminded Elanna that ill fortune had been coiling around her since she’d left Ashwin.