Page 4 of The Arrow and the Alder

S eph was in no mood to see her sister Linnea right now, but she couldn’t smother her curiosity either. Had Linnea learned anything about the kith’s sudden arrival in little Harran?

“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.

“ There you 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 actually looked like 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 if someone ratted 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.”

Rainwater plinked .

“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 words were for her sister, who took them with ire. “I didn’t. Lord Bracey said he’s come on account of our welfare. To see if we have need.”

Seph couldn’t help it. She laughed.

Linnea glared. “You are so set on making them the villain, Sephie, when they’ve done nothing but offer help. If it weren’t for them, the depraved would’ve flooded our kingdom by now, and we’d all be dead!”

Seph should have let it go. “How generous of them.”

“Sephie, please !” Linnea pleaded. “For once in your life, be reasonable!”

Her plea only incensed Seph more. “I’m being perfectly reasonable. They created the problem; it’s only right they fix it.”

“Sephie…” Mama said, weary.

“ And they are ,” Linnea cut back. “They are doing everything in their power to end the war.”

“Lin…” Mama tried again.

Seph stood. She’d opened the door to this conversation, and there was no closing it now. “You mean we.”

Linnea blinked. “Sorry?”

“You mean we are doing everything in our power to end this. Rys and Levi and Papa and… Elias . You, me, and Mama. Nora. We sacrifice everything for their problem while your Lord Bracey plays with darts and brings you roses.”

Linnea took an impassioned step forward. “It is horrible what happened to Elias—do not think for a moment that I’ve forgotten—but it doesn’t change the fact that the depraved are still our problem, Sephie…when are you going to understand that? Those monsters would’ve devastated all of Kestwich had it not been for the kith. They’ve stopped this war at the Rift, thank the saints, and we’re fortunate to have their eloit on our side?—”

“ Eloit , need I remind you, that created those monsters in the first place.”

“No, a Fate created those monsters?—”

“As punishment for the atrocities they committed against us! Saints, Linnie! And now those same damnable kith are using our men and our resources to fight.” Seph glared at her sister, heaving, and then she held up a finger as if struck by a thought. “Wait. Not all of our men. Just the ones who don’t have enough coin to purchase their way out of service.”

Like the baron and his son Bracey.

Mama gave Seph a desperate and imploring look, while Linnea’s cheeks splotched pink and her warm brown eyes sparked with indignation. “You’re not being fair, Josephine. Someone has to protect Harran.”

Seph trusted her archer’s hands more than she would ever trust Lord Bracey’s “skills” as a swordsman, but she kept this to herself. There was no debating a woman blinded by love. Instead, Seph strode to the workbench where she’d left the pelts. She needed to take her anger elsewhere before it got the best of her.

“And anyway,” Linnea continued, a little breathless, “I daresay you’ll be grateful for that protection when our family is apportioned a greater share of rations.”

Mama gasped and raised a dramatic hand to her chest. “Has he proposed, my Linnie?”

Sometimes Seph really wanted to shake Mama.

“Not yet,” Linnea replied, “but he has shared his intentions, and he has promised that all of us will be well cared for. Especially you, Seph.”

Seph stopped, pelt in hand. “All of Harran?”

Linnea tsked. “Don’t be foolish. There’s not nearly enough to increase rations for everyone, or he’d be doing that already.”

“But what about all of the other families?”

“They’re not really my concern right now. You are. And Nora. She needs this.”

“Don’t you dare pretend you’re doing this for Nora.”

“Don’t you dare pretend your little woodland escapades are strictly for her either.”

Mama slammed her fist upon the workbench, which made the sisters flinch. “That’s quite enough, you two! There’s fighting aplenty with the depraved, and I’ll have no more of it here!”

Seph and Linnea glanced apart: Linnea folded her arms and glared at the shutters, while Seph turned back to the pelts.

Plink .

Plink - plink .

Mama broke the silence. “Sephie, you mentioned High Lord Massie is searching for someone…?”

“I did,” Seph replied after a moment.

“I thought you said you didn’t speak with them,” Linnea accused.

“I didn’t,” Seph replied, her tone clipped. “I overheard them.”

Quiet.

“Do you know who he is searching for?” Mama asked, impatient.

Seph held up the largest pelt and examined the quality. It would do nicely for Nora’s feet. “Some…Alder, I think.”

Linnea’s eyes widened, and she looked to their mama. “That’s the name Bracey mentioned last week!” Her voice was eager and conspiratorial, as if adding more intelligence to a conversation shared privately between them.

But Seph focused more on Linnea’s intimate use of his name. “ Bracey …?”

Linnea made a face at her.

“And who is this Alder again?” Mama asked, struggling to follow and looking as though she might be suffering from the beginnings of a migraine.

“The Weald Prince. The one who deserted his regiment and joined forces with the depraved.”

Ah, that was why Seph had heard the name: Alder was the prince of the Weald Court. A kith, said to be handsome with unparalleled charm—and power—but used these to deceive, manipulate, and exploit, much to the chagrin of his people.

And his regiment, apparently.

But Seph couldn’t wrap her mind around the second part of Linnea’s answer. “Wait, they’re saying he’s helping the depraved…?”

Linnea cast her a look that very much said, What rock have you been hiding under?

To which Seph returned with one that said, I don’t have time for town gossip, since I’m too busy making sure you all don’t starve to death.

“ Yes ,” Linnea said. “That’s what everyone is saying. Reports from the Rift say the depraved are more numerous than ever, and they have a leader?—”

“A leader ?” Seph cut in, both brows raised. “The depraved lack both acumen and autonomy?—”

“Not anymore, they don’t. The depraved have evolved, somehow. They can talk , and their master—whoever it is—has been leading them in organized attacks at the Rift, making things very difficult for our fighters.”

Well, this was shocking, indeed! Everyone understood that the depraved were not the usual sort of enemy. Of course they weren’t; they’d been created specifically by a Fate as punishment. The depraved didn’t know reason or remorse, they killed because they were designed to kill. They were unnatural weapons with singular purpose. Oftentimes they killed each other while fighting over a body—living or dead—and they answered to no one except their own lust for blood and flesh and bone. The worst of it was that a person need only be infected with a drop of depraved saliva before falling victim to the same horrible corruption.

Which was why the depraved were so damned impossible to get rid of. They multiplied too easily.

But what Linnea had just claimed…

“If the Weald Prince is truly working with the depraved,” Mama said, as if wanting to push the conversation along, because this disturbing revelation was clearly old news, “why in the devil would they be searching for him here ? In little Harran?”

Linnea unfolded her arms, and her forehead wrinkled.

Seph looked pointedly at her sister. “It seems our esteemed Lord Bracey has not been entirely honest with you.”

Linnea bristled. “He told me everything he knew. The baron was still talking with the kith when I left. It’s possible they hadn’t discussed that yet, but I trust Lord Bracey.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

“I certainly don’t trust a man who bargains with kith and profits off of everyone else’s sacrifice,” Seph shot back. “Has he even visited the Rift lately? Our brothers are there, remember…? And Papa…? Do you even care?”

Linnea winced as though pierced by one of Seph’s arrows, and Seph knew she’d crossed a fragile line.

“How dare you.” Linnea’s words fell quiet and trembling, and her eyes glistened. “Just because I’m not angry and bitter all the time like you…it doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Seph set down the pelts, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Mama called after her.

“To split more wood,” Seph snapped, striding through the door and slamming it closed behind her.

Just because I’m not angry and bitter all the time like you…

They were words, not arrows. Empty accusations from a weak mind, and yet memory mocked Seph’s resolve. Images flashed in her mind, fast and relentless, of a young and radiant Seph, abounding in joy, running wild and free, without a care in the world. Dancing and laughing and stealing kisses with Elias before the veil opened, before the kith came, before the baron began to take.

And take.

And take .

Seph didn’t feel the rain as she stormed to the old stable in back. It used to hold a beautiful storm-gray Andalusian, but as they’d been forced to give that to the war too, it now held their firewood. Normally, this stack was as tall as Rys, but they’d been burning a hot fire at all hours for Nora’s sake, and their current stores were half of what they needed for the inevitable winter.

Seph cupped her hands over her nose, closed her eyes, and breathed deep, only she could not catch a full breath. Loneliness and despair were like a vise around her chest, squeezing out every last droplet of hope. The weight of it all felt suddenly too much, all the tasks once shared by her papa and brothers that now fell upon her wiry shoulders because Mama was too weary, Linnea too fragile, and Nora too sick.

“ Get it together, ” she hissed at herself. Her eyes burned, and she wiped her cheeks, dropped her hands, and picked up the ax. She lifted a log off of the stack, set it on the stump, and swung the ax around.

Thunk — crack .

The log split, and she did it again, and again. Grabbing new logs and wiping the rain from her hands, her brow. Channeling her anger and sorrow into each slab of wood, letting them absorb each fervid blow.

Fire wasn’t the only way wood warmed a person.

Seph could have split that entire pile, such was her anguish, but she stopped once she’d split enough for the next few days. She set back the ax, and she was just gathering her split logs when she sensed another presence.