Page 27 of The Arrow and the Alder

O nce the meeting with Abecka and her elders concluded, Alder left to be with his people, to determine their next course of action against Lord Massie. The kith high lord might have granted life to the citizens of Weald who’d sworn loyalty to him, but he still took from them as the baron had taken from Harran. But where the baron sent Harran’s people off to war, Lord Massie kept his people for himself—those whose power he sought to strengthen his reign. Apparently any who stood against him were made a public example, like Alder’s family had been.

Some were even thrown into depraved nests.

So while Alder strategized with his kin, Seph was escorted back to her chamber to await Abecka’s impending visit so that they could speak in confidence about Seph’s future. Seph should’ve been eager for this necessary conversation, but all she felt was a blinding hot fury.

She clenched her fists and growled at the silence. How could she have been so stupid? Seph of all people should have known better. Yes , Alder had compromised his own well-being to heal her hand, and yes , he’d gifted her a beautiful bow, but Alder was kith. First and foremost. That should’ve anchored every other thought, warned away every fleeting spark of intimacy. But somewhere along their journey, his thoughtfulness and respect had dulled her convictions, and saints, how sincere he’d seemed!

Of course, this was the prince who’d charmed an entire kingdom into overlooking his sins.

Alder hadn’t come to Harran for any noble cause. He hadn’t come on Rys’s behalf or because he’d held any affection for her brother. Alder had used Rys to take something from them, just like every other damned aristocrat. Taking what he thought he deserved because he thought he was superior, that his life was more valuable, his purpose more important.

Seph regretted promising not to shoot him with the ivory bow.

A knock sounded at the door, and Seph was in a such a state that her “Come in,” was more impassioned than intended.

The door cracked open, slowly, as if whoever stood on the other side feared an attack.

“It’s all right,” she said, softer this time, pushing the hair back from her face as she approached the door.

The door opened wider, revealing a stranger on the other side. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She didn’t know this kith, but she recognized him from Serinbor’s escort. She thought his name was Rian. He had a young face but old eyes, and a posture of quiet confidence. The sort only those with many years were able to carry, as if he no longer cared to prove anything to anyone because he’d proven it all already.

She was surprised to see him now. “Am I needed somewhere?”

“No, I thought I might have a word…?” He had a pleasant voice. Strong, but not imposing.

“Um, sure…?” Seph replied. What could this kith want to speak to her about? She glanced about the room, trying to remember her manners, and gestured at the chair. “Would you like to sit?”

“No, that’s all right,” he said, gazing curiously at her before catching himself. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to intrude, Your Highness?—”

“Seph.” When he didn’t seem to understand, she added, “My name is Seph.”

His brow furrowed, and he said, “My name is Rian. I served on Jakobián’s personal guard, and he…he was a good friend of mine.”

His words sobered her at once. He’d known her grandfather.

Rian gave her a wistful smile. “You look so much like Abecka, with the hair and everything.” He gestured grandly about his head in an attempt to outline Seph’s wild mane. She knew he didn’t mean it to be insulting; his comment was more endearing than anything else. “And you have Raquel’s eyes, but your face…it is his.”

Seph didn’t know what to say. The silence stretched between them—the lifetimes stretched between them—but Rian let it sit, as if he sensed she needed a moment.

There probably would never be enough moments for her to sort through all of this…

“I had no idea,” Seph whispered at last. She wasn’t talking about the resemblances anymore.

Rian understood. “How is he?”

“He…” Seph sighed. “He is dying.”

Rian’s gaze fell. He stood quietly, then: “Was he happy with her?”

Seph thought of her grandparents, of the rich love they’d shared that had spilled over onto everyone. “Very.”

This seemed to ease something within Rian. “I’m glad to hear it.”

There was another knock on the door. This time, it was Abecka, and she didn’t wait for admittance. The door opened, and the enchantress strode in, though she stopped when she saw Rian. She didn’t appear alarmed, instead almost comfortable, like seeing Rian conversing privately with a member of her family was something she’d grown accustomed to.

Rian stood up straight, respectfully, and bowed his head. “Enchantress.”

“Rian.”

He glanced at Seph. “I’ll leave you two, though I look forward to more conversation.”

“Likewise,” Seph said sincerely as Rian departed, closing the door softly behind him.

“He used to cover so much for Jakobián,” Abecka said, with an edge of amusement. Her gaze grew distant, as if her mind had gone to the past, but then she gestured at the chair and asked, “May I sit?”

“You hardly need to ask.” Seph tried not to let her anger spill out, but she failed.

Abecka eyed her as she took a seat and stretched her arms along the supports. She gazed about the room, and said, “What do you want, child?”

The question caught Seph off guard. “What do you mean, what do I want?”

“Do you wish to claim your heritage or not?”

“I thought that was already decided for me.”

Abecka studied Seph, and her fingers tapped at empty air. “Your heritage was decided for you the moment you were born. I’m asking whether or not you wish to claim it.”

“But you just announced me to all of Velentis.” Seph gestured at herself, and the dress.

“Yes, but if you’ll recall, the people of Velentis are quite encased from the rest of Canna.”

Seph frowned.

Abecka slid her hands from the armrests, clasped them in her lap, and leaned forward, her gaze fixed on Seph. “As I said before: I cannot help you through the Rift. Not now, anyway. But what I can do is send you with a few of my most trusted warriors to a safe location situated close to the Rift, so that if an opportunity arises where they can escort you safely through, they will do it and see you all the way to Harran. And I will do everything in my power to keep your identity from spreading throughout Canna so that you can eventually return to a normal life.”

Seph stared at the enchantress. Abecka was giving her a way out—an opportunity to walk away from the role her grandfather left behind, and all of the expectations that came with it. And if she did this, if she waited near the front lines, she may even have the opportunity to look for her papa and Levi at Fallows Gorge.

But then what?

Seph remembered Milly’s vision. “What happens if the Rift is never safe, and the war never ends?”

“All wars eventually cease, child. What we don’t know is how long it will last, or where we’ll be standing when it ends.”

This gave Seph an idea. “When I stumbled into Canna…Marks— Alder mentioned I’d walked through a temporary tear in the veil. Could you make another one so that we could bypass the Rift altogether?”

But Abecka was already shaking her head. “That brand of power does not come from Demas; it is not something I can do.”

Seph recalled Serinbor’s accusations to Alder, about his mother tampering in the forbidden arts. While she doubted Alder’s mother was guilty of this charge, she suspected making a tear in the gods’ veil fit into this category.

Seph sighed and started pacing.

“I know it isn’t what you’d hoped,” Abecka continued, “but at least this way, you have a choice as to whether or not you wish to assume your rightful role as Light’s heir. You may stay here as an honored guest as long as you like, or you may leave at first light with three of my best warriors.”

Abecka’s sacrifice and generosity was not lost on Seph, and while Seph felt an immense wave of gratitude, this still didn’t solve her immediate problem. She would be close to the Rift—yes—but she would still be on this side of it. In Canna, waiting and praying to the saints that they’d design an opening safe enough for her to slip through and into mortal lands.

Assuming that opening ever came.

It was highly possible she’d be waiting till the war ended.

“I would prefer to see you stay, as my heir,” Abecka added quietly. “You are light to a people who haven’t dared dream to see their kingdom restored. They look at you and they see a way forward, Josephine. They see hope, though Alder doesn’t agree with me?—”

Seph stopped pacing and looked straight at the enchantress. “Alder wants me to leave ?”

Abecka considered her before continuing. “Alder is the one who insisted that I give you the choice. That it’s unfair to demand this of you.”

Well.

Seph hadn’t expected that, and she did not have a response for it.

Abecka continued, “If you choose to go and wait it out, I will do everything in my power to keep you protected from the rest of Canna. My enchantments will not be perfectly invulnerable, of course, but it will be the best that I can give you.”

Seph studied the enchantress—her great-grandmother. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because Alder is right.” Abecka’s gaze moved over Seph’s face, but Seph suspected she was remembering someone else. “And while I will not force you to stay, please understand that I want you here, with your kin. With me . I believe our people need you and your…humanity.”

Seph did not miss Abecka’s choice of words. It was a lack of humanity that had plunged Canna into despair in the first place.

Seph inhaled deeply and looked to the window, at the waterfall beyond. “And…what happens if I stay here, in Velentis, with you?”

“Well, as I said, you may remain as my honored guest for as long as you like.”

“Which is complicated since everyone here already knows who I am.”

Abecka didn’t deny it. “ Or you claim your rightful position as Jakobián’s heir, learn to connect with and use your eloit to its full potential, and help us fight to end this war.”

Fight to end this war.

Wasn’t that what Seph had wanted? To fight on the front lines with her papa and brothers, and help them put an end to this war once and for all? To put an end to their suffering ? So that men like the baron and Massie could not use it to keep taking?

Seph also hadn’t considered that she might possess eloit. The idea intrigued her. If it were true, she’d have supernatural power to help right the wrongs she’d been powerless to right before.

Seph resumed pacing again.

“I also hear you’re an excellent shot with a bow,” Abecka continued, “and that is no small praise coming from the prince of Weald.”

Seph loathed how Alder’s praise warmed her heart. She stopped pacing and looked to the enchantress. “He said that?”

“He did.” A beat. “He also said you’re a soothsayer.”

Seph’s jaw fell slack. So he did tell them, but he’d waited until she was gone! That selfish piece of?—

“Don’t be alarmed,” Abecka continued. “He told me in complete confidence. No one else knows.”

“It’s still none of his business.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have told him.” There was a knowing look in Abecka’s eyes that Seph decided she didn’t like very much. “Perhaps it might help you to know that the only reason he mentioned it was because I shared with him a dream I keep having.”

These words were water over the coals of Seph’s anger. She held the enchantress’s gaze as she said, with growing apprehension, “Go on.”

Abecka inhaled deeply. “I am standing in the ruins of Süldar’s throne room. Mist crowds the air beyond the crumbling dome, and I am alone. There is a thin layer of white over everything. It floats from the sky, and at first, I think it’s snow, but when I touch it, I realize it’s ash.” She paused here, her forehead creased. “A raven suddenly swoops down through the shattered rooftop and lands upon the seat of a broken throne. It has three eyes. Two are closed but the third is glowing, and as I look, the glowing eye floats out of the raven like a star and comes to me. I grab it in my palm, marveling at the pure light and warmth, and the raven cries three times. After the last cry, the earth trembles and the sky grows dark, and then I wake.”

Seph felt heavier and heavier with each word. It was so similar to Milly’s—too similar. “The ruins are the present, and the ash signifies the end of Light’s people. The raven is Demas’s intervention, and the three eyes portray his three Fates.” Seph stopped to gather her thoughts. To process all Abecka had shared, and what it meant. “The glow is light returned, given back to you by a Fate, and the three cries of the raven signify that you have three months to return light to the land before the curse consumes us all.”

Seph’s profession was met with a profound silence.

Three months. It was like a punch in the gut. Seph had nearly forgotten Milly’s vision, in all that’d happened since, but saints . Even if Seph decided to wait near the Rift, she had only three months before there wouldn’t be a Harran to return to.

“The coat,” Abecka said, standing, as if struck by revelation. “That is what has changed. That is the power I feel radiating from its fibers, protected by enchantments that are not of my making. It is light given back to us.” Abecka spoke faster and faster as if everything was drawing together to form a clear picture. She started pacing and clasped her hands while Seph fought to keep up. “Yes…the day Jakobián sacrificed his life for Raquel, when the Fates sealed the veil…they accepted his sacrifice and restored our light through the coat.”

Seph frowned. “But why put the light in the coat?”

“There is no other medium that could hold it, not on your side, at least…” Still, Abecka paced while Seph followed with her eyes and ears. “Jakobián must have known this, which is why he held on to it all this time. For the right moment and for the right person to give it back to our world.” Abecka stopped and looked straight at Seph. “ That is why Massie wants the coat. To take that power for himself—with it, he would be unstoppable, and the curse would be at his disposal. With it, he would have the power of a god.”

There were many parts to this that Seph didn’t understand, nor could she figure out her role in all of it, but the one question that pushed through all the others was, “If the light is truly in my grandfather’s coat…then how do we get it out?” Because the sooner they got it out, the sooner they could heal the land, stop the war, and Seph could go home.

Abecka stopped. “I don’t know. As far as I can tell, the enchantments—ones I did not place there, mind you—protect the integrity of the coat and the power within it. However, there are several symbols I have never seen before, and if I can unravel their meaning, perhaps they may give us something to go on. Regardless, we need to figure that out before Massie finds us, or before our time is up.” A pause, then, “There is…something else you should know.”

Abecka raised her palm. The skin was angry red and bubbling.

“What—” Seph started.

“The coat.” Abecka turned her palm and gazed over it. “I can’t touch it. None of us can.” Her gaze landed on Seph again. “Except you.”

Seph recalled when Alder—as Marks—had dragged the coat up and out of the pit, and she’d thought she’d heard him hiss. She remembered the gloves he’d discarded—gloves that had probably saved his hands—and he hadn’t touched the coat again after that, Seph realized now. Always keeping it buried at the bottom of his satchel. Even when he’d tossed it before Serinbor, he had tossed the satchel. He hadn’t removed the coat.

“I didn’t want to show you,” Abecka continued. “I didn’t want to put any more pressure on you, but if what you say is true, about my dream, we are quickly running out of time. And the Fates do not do anything by accident, my Josephine. If you are the only one who can touch it, it is by their design, and if Massie ever gets ahold of the real coat, he will start searching for you .”

Seph held Abecka’s gaze, feeling as though the sands in the hourglass of her life were starting to fall. Perhaps they’d been falling all along, but Seph had just pretended not to see them.

“ Stay , Josephine,” Abecka said quietly. “Assume your position as my heir, and learn to connect with your eloit. Perhaps you might even join Prince Alder on the surface as he tries to root out Massie’s intentions—either way, help us find a way to restore the light and end this war once and for all.”

Seph would have been lying if she said most of this did not appeal to her—it did. Completely. To be actively involved in this way, to help cut the head off a snake that had destroyed so many lives was difficult to turn down. What was her other option? To hide near the Rift until it was safe to pass through? To survive?

That’s what she’d always done, and Seph was so weary of just surviving.

She wanted to live .

She wanted her mama and Linnea and little Nora to live too. And Abecka was giving her a chance to make that happen. It was a much better chance than waiting on a hope and a prayer that the battle would clear just enough for her to maybe pass through, but then again she only had three months . And she couldn’t deny Abecka’s other claim: that—for some unfathomable reason—the Fates seemed to have chosen her for this task.

The answer seemed suddenly obvious, but what kept her from saying yes was Alder.

She would be fighting alongside him, and she didn’t know if she could do it, even if they wanted the same things.

Abecka must have sensed the storm within Seph, the one that roared and crashed and cut lightning through her heart, because she took a step closer, and her expression softened just a little. “You are more kith than you realize, Josephine, and your kith side will only strengthen the longer you’re here.”

When Seph didn’t respond, Abecka added, quietly, “I should go. There is much to be done and precious little time. You may give me your answer in the morning.” She started to turn but paused. “Please know that though I am partial to your staying, you have my blessing either way.” Abecka looked as though she wanted to say more but inclined her head instead. “Get some rest, my dear. Good decisions are never made on a lack of sleep.”