Page 43 of The Arrow and the Alder

S eph shut her eyes and used her eloit to sense the target moving along its trajectory.

Thwick .

Draw, pull, thwick .

And again.

“You are getting quite good at that,” Rasia said from where she perched upon the ledge.

Seph opened her eyes and started after the arrows she’d shot. “Not good enough.”

“It’s futile to compare yourself to Prince Alder, Your Highness,” Rasia said with that wisdom Seph still found disconcerting. “He’s the best there is. No matter how much you practice, you can’t possibly be better than Prince Alder.”

Seph glanced sideways at Rasia. “Thank you, Rasia.”

Rasia smiled, all teeth and innocence.

“Anyway, I am not trying to be better than Alder,” Seph said. “I’m just trying to stay alive.”

The injury in her shoulder was a constant sore, and while it’d healed beautifully—thanks to Sienna’s ability as a healer—it was still tender. Alder had told her to rest, and Seph knew she was pushing her limits by spending so much time at the training yard, but she couldn’t allow her muscles to grow soft.

Also, the training yard was empty in the mornings, and Seph relished that solitude, short though it was. She hardly got any time alone anymore, trapped underground, working closely with the elders as she pored over Alder’s translations. What little spare time she was granted, Seph spent with the people of Light. Getting to know them. Eating in the hall, hearing their stories while sharing her own. They were all very eager to know about her grandfather and the mortal life he’d been granted. His memory was like a thread connecting Seph to the kith around her, weaving their fates together.

In fact, the people of Light were swiftly growing on her—especially Rasia—but these past few weeks, Seph had been in communion with people more than she’d ever been in all her life, and she felt thoroughly depleted. But rest would have to come later. After they defeated the curse or won the war—whichever came first.

Because according to Abecka’s vision, they now had only one month left.

Seph picked up the black arrows and shoved them back into her quiver. She’d lost the pearlescent bow that Alder had given her at Callant, but thankfully, Evora had given her another. This one was black and probably a little too large for her tiny frame, but it had a nice long range, so Seph adapted her style to accommodate. Which also meant she needed to practice since her injury made it difficult.

“Any luck with the enchantments?” Rasia asked, kicking her heels.

Seph had been ripping her brain apart these past three weeks, trying to find the answers to the mystery of the coat. She’d toiled over the papers Alder left, trying to see if there was something they’d all overlooked. Some pattern they’d missed. She couldn’t help but notice that every word her grandfather had scribbled was listed amidst Alder’s translations, and in the order her grandfather had written.

Heart of a star.

Salt of sorrow.

Endure the fire.

Surrender light borrowed.

As Seph strode back to the line, she relayed her suspicions to Rasia: that she believed there was some significance to her grandfather’s riddle with regards to the coat.

“It is a good thought,” Rasia said after a moment, still kicking her heels. “Salt of sorrow. That one is obviously tears, but the rest…Hmm.”

Seph knew all about the kith and their riddles, but she also knew how easy it was to see a riddle when there was none.

“It could be related to the coat,” Rasia said at last. “Or it could be nothing at all and you’ve wasted a lot of time running down the wrong path. And if it did mean something, don’t you think Abecka would have known?”

Seph knew Rasia was right.

“I don’t suppose you’ve scried anything that might be able to help,” Seph said.

Rasia shook her head, and as if the saints were conspiring to punctuate Seph’s present futility, a great boom shook the cavern. Both Seph and Rasia glanced up to see a black cloud of smoke billowing from the veranda where the elders worked. Explosions had become a common occurrence as the elders tried different methods to extract the light from the coat.

“I suppose we should all be thankful they haven’t collapsed Velentis with those blasts,” Rasia mused.

Seph sighed. “Can you scry Alder?” It was a question she’d asked Rasia often these past three weeks, but Rasia never complained.

The girl stopped kicking her ankles and those unique lavender eyes rolled back to whites. Her head tipped to the side very much like a bird, and then the lavender reappeared. A small smile touched her lips. “He is working with some of Lord Hammerfell’s warriors in a training yard.”

From Rasia, they had learned that Alder’s mission had been fruitful and that Lord Hammerfell agreed to join forces with them and bring down Massie and his witch once and for all. But Alder hadn’t been able to come back to Velentis—not yet. There remained a few powerful kith Lord Hammerfell wished to recruit.

Still, Seph wished she could borrow Rasia’s ability right then—just to see Alder.

“Do you know,” Rasia continued thoughtfully, “I think I might understand why you look at him the way that you do. He is very striking, even for a kith. He is not wearing a tunic right now, and with his height, he looks a bit like a god walking amongst his creation.”

Seph couldn’t help but smile, and she felt a sharp pang in her heart because she missed him. Dreadfully. It was alarming, really, the extent to which she craved his company. Even his arrogance. Especially his arrogance.

“He wears the necklace you gave him, by the way, and he writes to you almost every night,” Rasia said suddenly.

Seph had just set another arrow, but at this unexpected proclamation, glanced back at Rasia. “He’s writing…letters?”

“He can’t send them, of course,” Rasia replied. “But it is how he talks to you in your absence. I do believe he is storing them up to give to you when he returns.”

Seph was still affected by the letter he’d given her, and she’d worn its creases soft with the many times she’d read it. To think that he was writing more…

“Can you read what they say?” Seph asked, unable to help herself.

“Let me see…” Rasia’s eyes became whites again as she stared into the space that only she could see. “Ah, there is one upon his desk now.”

“And you’re certain it’s for me?”

“Are you his little arrow ?” Rasia asked.

Seph grinned. “I am.”

Rasia nodded, eyes still white, and Seph imagined her scanning the letter’s contents. “I do not want to spoil the contents entirely, but his letter is very beautiful. He is quite in love with you, princess, and he cannot stop thinking about you and your…oh. Oh, my.” Rasia’s cheeks colored. “He…well.” She coughed, her eyes shuttered lavender again, and she wouldn’t meet Seph’s gaze. “Your prince has quite an imagination.”

Rasia looked so embarrassed, Seph didn’t ask her to elaborate. She’d wait to read his letter in person.

“Yes, the Weald Prince has always possessed a vivid imagination. It’s why he’s never been able to settle down,” Serinbor said suddenly, striding down the steps and into the empty training yard.

Seph drew up straight. “Serinbor,” she said stiffly.

“Princess.” He tipped his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting your arm?” He nodded at the bow in her hands.

Seph did not appreciate being told what to do, especially by Serinbor. He wasn’t as friendly as he’d been initially, and she suspected it had everything to do with her affections for Alder.

Uncharitable, indeed.

And Seph felt a growing defensiveness for Alder with every snide remark Serinbor made in Alder’s absence.

She turned away from him, set her arrow, and made a show of drawing it back. “Is there something you needed, Serinbor?”

The little glowing orb appeared, and she shot it—and the next three—in quick succession. She paid for this little act of rebellion with a sharp pang in her shoulder, though she steeled her expression. She wouldn’t give Serinbor the satisfaction.

“Your elders would like a word,” he said.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the explosion we heard a moment ago…?” She cast a knowing glance at Rasia, who grinned.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Mm.” Seph didn’t want to see the elders. She had nothing new to tell them, and she was exhausted of ideas at present.

But Serinbor was waiting, and she had no good excuse to deny the elders’ request, so she shoved her arrow back in its quiver, and hooked the bow over her shoulders.

“I’ll see you in a bit, Ras,” Seph said, ruffling the top of Rasia’s head. “And thank you.” She winked.

Rasia’s smile stretched. “Of course, Highness.”

Seph promptly followed Serinbor out of the training yard, where Evora joined them.

“How did it go today?” Evora asked as they walked.

“Better. I think,” Seph replied, rolling her shoulder.

“I’d put that bow away so your elders don’t realize what you’ve been doing,” Serinbor suggested .

“I don’t care, and I’m certain they already know.”

Serinbor glared at her, but Seph stared right back, unyielding, very aware of Evora watching them.

“Ah, I see,” Serinbor said at last.

Seph didn’t like his tone. “You see what, exactly?”

“The only thing that has your care is Prince Alder.”

Evora sighed with irritation.

“Do you deny it?” Serinbor asked in Seph’s continued silence.

“No, I do not deny caring about the welfare of Light’s ally as we go to war to save both kith and mortal lands.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Seph stopped in her tracks, forcing Serinbor and Evora to stop too, and she faced Serinbor directly. “Then what is it you mean, Serinbor? Please speak plainly, because I do not have the energy for your verbal theater.”

Unease pulled at Serinbor’s eyes, as well as something else Seph could not name, and when he spoke again, his tone had lost its edge. “I mean that you should watch your heart, princess.”

“Serinbor…” Evora warned.

Seph held up a hand to Evora, though her attention was only on Serinbor. “You know nothing of my heart.”

Serinbor searched her face, his features strained. “No, I do not, but I will share mine. I know Alder. I have known him since we were too little to balance swords. I know you have a fondness for him, as I did, and I worry that affection will impede your judgment, as it did mine. There is nothing more that I want than to see my kingdom restored, but you will have to forgive me if I do not think Alder is the one to do it, and it is from this heart I speak.”

Seph gazed at him for a long moment before answering, “You ask forgiveness when you give none. What a hypocrite you are. No, I was not there to witness all the pains he inflicted, the pains that you hold so tightly, but nor were you there to witness how he’s suffered and how he suffers still. How he grieves a past he can’t change, how he’s tormented by relationships he can’t mend.” Serinbor’s jaw twitched at this. “Thank Ava that the Fates are more merciful than you are, or we’d never have been handed the opportunity to heal this world.”

Seph did not wait for his reply. She turned and walked on, toward the hall. Evora followed a second later, with Serinbor staring after them.

Seph mentioned her suspicions about her grandfather’s riddle to the elders, but they’d responded in the same way as Rasia. They didn’t think it had anything to do with the coat and believed that it was nothing more than the whimsical scribblings of a mischievous prince. While Seph couldn’t deny their impressions of a younger Grandpa Jake, she also couldn’t help thinking they were wrong about him. That they didn’t see the full picture—didn’t know him as she did. Yes, they’d been around a very different version of her grandfather, but it didn’t negate the man she knew. The one who’d sacrificed immortality for love.

Seph thought of Serinbor, and how his feelings toward past Alder blinded him from seeing any other parts. She wished she could better defend Alder to him, but that was something they’d need to sort through themselves.

People were never so simple.

These thoughts haunted her all through the night and even into the next evening, long after she’d retired to her chambers to ruminate over those damnable characters.

Heart of a star.

Salt of sorrow.

Endure the fire.

Surrender light borrowed.

It seemed like nonsense—what was the heart of a star?—and yet despite what the council said, she knew her grandfather. He liked to disguise a lot of things behind a glamour of nonsense, and she could not let this go. The riddle was like a lock, she told herself. She needed only to apply pressure in the right place, and the rest should spring open. There must be something she’d overlooked—something obvious—but try as she might, she couldn’t make sense of it.

She was just about to say to hell with it and go to bed when there was a soft knock upon the door.

Seph frowned, threw her robe over her nightdress, and cracked open her door.

It was Alder, praise be to the saints!

His hair was in total disarray, and he looked like he’d ridden straight from Lord Hammerfell’s to her door.

“Alder!” She leapt at him and threw her arms around his neck.

Thankfully, his strong arms caught her. They wrapped around her tight, squeezing her against his solid body. Seph buried her face into his broad chest and breathed him in, all that wildness and earth. A smell that was so distinctly him. “I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon…oh, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” His face nudged into her hair.

Oh, how her world felt right.

She pulled back and gazed up into his face—a face that had become so dear to her—and placed her palm to his cheek.

He flinched and closed his eyes.

Seph frowned. “What’s the matter?”

He smiled slowly, his eyes opening once more. “Nothing, I…” He placed a hand over hers, but more to stop her than to invite anything more.

He noticed her growing confusion. “Sorry. We’ll have more time later, but right now, I need to show you something.”

“Show me what?”

“It is a surprise,” he said with a wink and a smile that eased her worry and set a new kind of storm in her heart. “But we need to hurry.”

Within five minutes, she was dressed and very bewildered as she skirted Velentis’s dark and empty pathways with Alder. It was soon clear that he did not wish to be seen, and Seph couldn’t fathom what he intended to show her, and at this hour. His letters, perhaps? But his hand was warm and solid, anchoring the storm. She hoped that whatever he needed to show her didn’t take very long, because she wanted later to come quick, and preferably in her room.

It wasn’t until it became obvious that he was leading her up the path that wove out of Velentis that she asked, “Alder, where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said. “It’s just outside.”

Warning prickled at the back of her mind, but this was Alder. Certainly, he wouldn’t lead her into danger. If he needed to show her something now, in secret, she would trust him.

And she did trust him.

As Alder led her through the door, Seph felt the familiar wash of power, and cold night air kissed her face. All was dark, and Seph couldn’t see a thing, but Alder’s hand gripped hers tight.

“Just up here,” he said before she could ask, and he led her steadily up the embankment.

“I have no idea what you could possibly be showing me?—”

A little kithlight sprang to life, and Seph stopped in her tracks.

Massie stood before her, his pale, scarred face like a specter in the night. At least a dozen bone-masked kith flanked him.

“Well, hello, daughter of Light,” Massie drawled. “It is so good to see you again.”

An enchantment whispered over her skin, and Seph’s world went black.