Page 8 of Silverbow (The Godsung Saga #1)

The Cobleghs scratched out a living on a hard patch of dirt north of Ryerson House in the shadow of Greenridge.

Rocky land that was, and it grew little besides humble, hard working people.

Stubborn as his folk might be to not give up that ground, Elling had been her friend, growing close to her and Liam in the years he mucked stalls for extra coppers in Ryerson Stable.

He had perhaps been more than a friend. A Harvest Festival kiss on Wil Sheahan’s dare had turned into something more by spring. But then, the Testing came.

Three years Elling had been gone, and if Oslee Amcot told it true, Mistress Coblegh still kept a candle burning in the front window every night in case he found his way back home.

A candle the Cobleghs would be hard pressed to afford without Elling’s extra work at Ryerson House.

The thought always knotted Enya’s insides.

“Well, Lady Blakwell, this was as pleasurable as always, but if you’ll excuse us, we do need to be on our way.”

“Do say that we will see you at Lord Thornson’s next week.”

“Perhaps,” he said, bowing his farewell.

He mounted before the lady got in another word, and Enya followed, suddenly finding the walls around Westforks too confining .

Whispers of the Testing were enough to cast her and Liam into a broody silence as they rode.

She had two left before she would receive her papers declaring her giftless.

Two more Testings, and then she would never have to hold that cursed rod again.

She could manage twice more. Ryerson House had no wielders on record, though how far back those records went for a newly raised house, Enya didn’t dare to ask.

Lost as she was in her own spiraling thoughts, she hadn’t realized they’d passed the gate or the guards until they stepped off the road into the sand. With frigid waves curling and breaking on the shore, the beach was deserted except for a cluster of raggedy children poking around in the rocks.

“Race to the south point?” Her father asked over his shoulder.

Liam gave Enya a reluctant look. She didn’t much feel like it either, not after what Lady Blakwell said. She was on the point of declining, suggesting they turn for home, when Liam suddenly booted Pips and took off for a head start.

“You’re a cheat, Liam Marsh!”

The Testing fell away as she flung herself low onto Arawelo’s neck.

The mare burst at the slightest encouragement, long legs swallowing up the ground in sweeping strides that had Enya half standing in her stirrups.

Sand flung from Pips’s hooves pelted her face, scouring her skin in an unpleasant reminder of what losing felt like.

“All’s fair in hearts and horses,” Liam shouted back over the wind in her ears.

Enya laughed. She might cheat too if she had to run against one of the fastest horses in Estryia. Even with his head start, Arawelo pulled level with Pips and matched the gelding stride-for-stride in a taunt before surging ahead, Farrah on her heels.

Father and daughter galloped on, cloaks and tails streaming behind them like banners in the wind.

For those few heartbeats, Enya soared. The world had fallen away.

There were no suitors, no wielders. There was only her, Arawelo, and that shrinking stretch of beach.

As they thundered past the jutting rock that marked the point, Enya pulled up, grinning with her victory.

“Light, I forget how fast she is,” her father said, reining in beside her. “It’s unnatural. We ought to breed her, En.”

“Welo hasn’t found a good enough suitor, either,” she crooned as she leaned forward to scratch behind the mare’s ears. Her father rolled his eyes. “Perhaps next year. ”

“What could be better than more ill-tempered red mares,” Liam mused.

Both Enya and her father laughed at the prospect. She would fill a whole wing of Ryerson Stable with Arawelo’s foals if she could, but she was loath to give the mare up to being a nursemaid. Arawelo pinned her ears as if she too disliked the prospect.

The sun was starting to sink into the ocean beyond the horizon when they finally rode through the gate that divided the east and west wings of Ryerson Stable. Before they’d even dismounted, Marwar was limping toward her father, an envelope with a wax seal in his hands.

“Message came for you, my lord,” he said curtly.

Enya was eyeing the parchment, trying to determine if courtship or the Testing was worse. She decided she liked her odds with the Testing rod better, Sana’s gift aside. “I hope that is not another invitation.”

Liam sniggered as he led Pips inside.

Her father’s brow furrowed as he broke the seal, eyes darting across the message. “No,” he said solemnly, crumpling the parchment in his hand. “It seems Lady Blakwell’s rumors were true. The Testing is indeed coming to Westforks.”

“When?” She asked.

“Soon.”

***

The news of the Testing settled over dinner like a weight not even Mistress Alys’s cinnamon sweet rolls could lift.

No one called an end to the many games of stones she and Liam played quietly in the drawing room.

No one reminded them how early dawn came on a farm.

Perhaps it was because they knew they wouldn’t sleep anyway, or perhaps her father and the others also feared what might come with the new day.

So they sat locked in their silent battle for the board until the candles burned to nubs, and since no one particularly felt like lighting new ones, Liam finally crept back out to his father’s apartments.

Still, Enya tossed and turned beneath her blankets.

Perhaps she should have gone east with the demi-elves, but to flee the wielders was to bring ruin upon your house.

When she closed her eyes and tried to drift, it was Elling’s face she saw, etched in that smile he saved only for her.

Her eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling.

When she couldn’t abide that any longer, she kicked off her blanket and crept down the stairs.

Snatches of murmured conversation drifted from her father’s study.

Curiosity drew her like a moth to a flame.

She was practiced at this particular form of eavesdropping.

She knew which floor planks would keep her secrets, and which would squeak the alarm.

She held her breath as she tiptoed down the hall to lean against the doorframe.

“The seconds have often been…headstrong,” Marwar was saying.

It made all the sense of a half heard conversation, and her father’s inaudible reply didn’t help, but soon they moved on, and she willed her breath to quiet so she could hear.

“Is there one you like for her?” Marwar asked.

“No,” her father sighed. “I don’t blame her, they are all insufferable.”

Enya’s heart leapt with triumph as she smiled into the dark.

“My lord, if I may be so bold...” Marwar rarely took such a formal tone with her father behind closed doors, and it made Enya strain to listen. She heard no response, but the Master of Arms continued. “If you seek a marriage only due to the issue of male inheritance, might I suggest Liam?”

“Liam?” Her father asked.

Liam? Their Liam? She had never known the Master of Arms to be a funny man, but this had to be some kind of jest.

“They’ve been raised like brother and sister.”

She was vigorously nodding her agreement in the dark.

“Somewhat, my lord,” Marwar answered. “I suspect she sees it that way, but it would solve a number of problems.”

Enya could not think of a single problem a marriage to Liam Marsh would solve. The old man had gone mad.

“And the boy?”

Enya had to clutch the doorframe to keep from bursting in. He could not be seriously entertaining this line of thinking. Liam?!

“For some time now, I’ve suspected his affections may not be entirely platonic.”

“I’m inclined to trust your instinct,” her father mused.

Enya’s mouth hung open. Marwar’s instinct had clearly failed him. Mad, blind, senile, or perhaps a combination of all three. The notion was so ridiculous, Enya’s bewilderment was all that kept her from laughing.

It was mad.

But even as she dismissed it, some little voice in her head squeaked that there were far worse fates than running Ryerson House with her best friend.

I am going mad. Liam? Light, the whole world is going mad.

“Her feelings might change if she knew of his affections.”

She scrunched her face again. They most certainly would not.

“I’ll take that under advisement, thank you.”

“Of course, my lord.”

A pause stretched so long that Enya considered darting back up the stairs, lest she be caught listening at the door, but she waited, holding her breath.

“Concerned about the Testing?”

“There’s not been a wielder in the bloodline for what, five generations?”

The words crashed into her like a blow low in the gut. The doorframe pressed against her spine was all that kept her upright. On record , he told Lady Blakwell.

Since she was a girl, he’d said she had nothing to worry about.

Five generations? That suddenly didn’t seem like many, or perhaps it was too many, and the gift was ripe to appear again.

She sagged against the wall, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

He lied to me. Enya did not hear what Marwar growled back over the roaring of her own heart in her ears.

“I’ve not seen her exhibit anything that looks like a wielding gift, have you?”

“No, my lord,” Marwar answered.

That was little enough consolation as beads of sweat broke out on her brow. You’ve held it thrice. You’ve held it thrice. She drew a deep breath, but trying to seize calm was like trying to seize smoke. He lied to me.

“And the bow? Not some trick of air or spirit?” Her father asked.

“No,” Marwar replied. “Sana’s gift or force of sheer stubborn will, I am not certain, but I don’t believe it to be wielding. The demis didn’t seem to think so either.”

“And Liam?”

“Nothing I’m aware of.”

“Did you learn any more of them?” He asked.

Enya leaned closer.

“Only the shadow of rumor.”

“And what do the shadows whisper? ”

“Bounty hunters.”

Enya thought her eyes might pop out of her head. Bounty hunters had come to Ryerson House, and one of them knew she had Sana’s gift. Oh, light. She wondered if it was too late to start praying to Mosphaera and Sakaala, the goddesses responsible for the godsung gifts to men.

“Seems they had business with a ship captain. They went east and haven’t been spotted since. Seems only happenstance they stopped here.”

“And their offer?”

Marwar’s guffaw was answer enough.

“Do you think they’ll turn her over?”

Enya held her breath.

“I suspect they value their own gifts more than a single bounty,” Marwar growled. “If the rod doesn’t pick up the gift, they’ve no way to prove it.”

“And the rod?”

“She was striking true years before she ever held the blasted thing.”

“Yes, I was thinking as much.”

Enya let out a shaky breath. That at least was true, even if her father’s account of the family tree wasn’t.

Another long silence stretched before she heard the creak of the floorboards and the clunk of the staff signaling Marwar had gotten to his feet. She darted to the deep shadow of the staircase. The Master of Arms crossed the hall and strode out into the night without looking back at where she stood.