Division of the Marked (The Marked Series) (39 page)

“I think he’s coming to,” Peer said.

Relief surged through Bray as she saw Yarrow’s eyelids flutter and open.

Adearre and Peer had carried him up to his bed and he had remained unconscious, though he jerked and sweated as if having a terrible fever dream. It had been nearly two hours since he collapsed in the common room, and Bray had begun to panic.
 

“Yarrow?” she asked, trying to keep her voice soft and soothing.

Yarrow’s eyes searched and found her own, and she gave a second sigh when she found them calm and sane. He reached up and massaged his head with his fingers and let out a small moan of pain.

“The doctor is downstairs,” Adearre said. “I will get him.”
 

“What happened?” Bray asked.

Yarrow pulled himself up into a sitting position, three small creases still prominent between his brows.

“It worked,” Yarrow said, his voice hoarse.

“Are you saying you love me so much you had a fit?” Peer said. “That’s sweet, but—”

“Not just you.” Yarrow took a sip of water from the glass at his bedside. “Everyone—everyone I’ve ever met. All at once.”

Bray shivered. That sounded horrible. She marveled at his retained sanity.

“And now?” Bray asked.

“They’re all still there, but I’ve sorted it out. Silenced them—I’ll have to work harder to keep my mind to myself from now on.”

“So what about Vendra?” Peer asked.
 

Yarrow closed his eyes for a long moment. Bray imagined him sifting through some kind of file cabinet in his mind, searching for the V’s.
 

“She’s…” Yarrow’s face hardened. “She isn’t afraid or in trouble. She’s kind of…jubilant. Her emotions are so harsh…”

He opened his eyes, his mouth twisted with disgust.

“So we go to Easterly Point.” Bray sat down at the foot of Yarrow’s bed.
 

The door opened and the doctor stepped in, followed by Adearre.
 

“Awake at last,” he said, opening his bag and making a shooing gesture at Bray. He inspected Yarrow and pronounced him in sound health. “Try to take it easy for a few days,” he advised. Yarrow assured him that he would. The doctor turned to leave.

“Wait,” Peer said. “You should have a look at Adearre’s gunshot wound. Make sure it’s healing properly.”

Adearre rolled his eyes at his friend. “It is fine, Peer.”

“Still, I might as well have a look,” the doctor said, clearly interested. Bray suspected bullet wounds weren’t terribly common, even in the capital. Adearre sighed in resignation and led the doctor to his own room for privacy.

“Should we wait a few days before we start out then?” Peer asked, after the door had shut.

“No,” Yarrow said, “I’m fine. We should set out tomorrow—I want to get to the bottom of all of this.”
 

He stood up and stretched. “Vendra must be involved.”
 

Bray had already come to this conclusion, but hadn’t wanted to throw it in his face.

“She must have wanted to send us off course,” Peer said.

“Or,” Yarrow said, his tone darkening by the word, “there was something unpleasant waiting for us at that warehouse outside Che Mire.”

Bray thought this likely too, but again she held her tongue.

“Where’s Ko-Jin?” Yarrow asked, looking around as he noticed his friend’s absence.

“He went to see Arlow after we went to the post office,” Bray said.
 

Yarrow closed his eyes and a small smile crossed his face.

“What?” Peer asked.

“Oh nothing,” Yarrow said. “That just explains why he feels so annoyed.” He pulled his robes straight and tucked several loose hairs behind his ear. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” he said, striding for the door, “but I could use a drink.”
 

“You’re up awfully early.” Yarrow handed his trunk to a stableboy. Their carriage trundled up the drive, harnessed and ready to depart. The morning sunlight washed over them, watery and insubstantial. Peer, Adearre, Bray, and Ko-Jin directed the servants with their luggage.
 

“What?” Arlow asked. “You thought I wouldn’t send you off?”

“I didn’t send you off when you left,” Yarrow pointed out.

“For which I will never forgive you.”

Yarrow laughed and placed his top hat firmly on his head. “How is the wound?”

“Healing admirably, I thank you.” Arlow darted a look at the Chiona. “Can I have a word…in private?”

Yarrow nodded; he led the way around the side of the inn, to the small gap of browning grass that served as a yard.

“Ko-Jin apprised me of everything yesterday, but it would seem you’ve had a change in plans. He said you might be going to Adourra but now you’re heading to…”

“Easterly Point,” Yarrow supplied.

Arlow’s dark brow furrowed. “Why the change of course?”

“We received a tip.”

Arlow began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. “But you also had a clue that your culprits were in Che Mire, yes? And I thought you were concerned for Vendra. So why go to Easterly Point?”

Yarrow rubbed the corner of his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “It would seem that Vendra is not entirely honest.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Her feelings betray her.”
 

A slow smile spread across Arlow’s face. “I didn’t realize you liked her so much,” he said, elbowing Yarrow significantly. “Does our Bray have competition after all?”

Yarrow didn’t want to explain what had really happened—how his mind had opened. It was too strange and too recent. “I’m sorry if it comes as a shock. Her dishonesty, I mean. I saw you two talking at the ball. It seemed as if you liked her.”

“Well, yes,” Arlow said dismissively. “She’s an attractive woman. I like them by course. But I’m worried about you, Yarrow. If she’s involved there may be other Chisanta as well. You aren’t the best fighter. I’d hate to see you get hurt, or worse. Is there anything I can say to persuade you to just go home? Go back to your library. You aren’t gifted in any way that makes you a threat.”

Yarrow might have been ruffled by this slight had he not felt his friend’s genuine concern. “I have to see this through, Arlow,” Yarrow said. “I’m too involved now to go back to my library, as you put it. But don’t worry, I’m traveling with some thoroughly threatening companions.”

Arlow frowned, clearly dissatisfied. “Very well. Keep your head down, mate.”
 

Arlow embraced him, patting him on the back. Yarrow said goodbye and headed back to the carriage. Ko-Jin, Peer, and Adearre had already climbed inside. Bray sat perched upon the driver’s seat, looking luminous in the warm morning light.

“Yarrow, would you drive with me?” she asked. He barely contained the smile that tried to spring to his lips. This was a much better start than their previous departures.

“I would be glad to,” Yarrow said.
 

He ascended to the front seat, took a deep breath, and immediately regretted it. Accord, even in the rich district, smelt foul and stale. He could barely wait to get back into the country. There would certainly be plenty of nature and fresh air to absorb along the way. The trip would take more than a week.

Yarrow looked over his shoulder, to where Arlow leaned against the gate to the inn. He offered his friend a parting wave and a smile.

“We will see each other soon,” he said, when he saw how dismal Arlow looked.

“I imagine we will,” Arlow said. He waved back as Bray flicked the reins and the horses sprang into motion.

Four days of rain and hard travel passed in damp, dreary succession, but Bray’s spirits remained unaffected. In moments of idleness—which, while traveling, were most moments—her lips would curve into a betraying smile, her mind linger deliciously on fancies that made her sincerely glad Yarrow Lamhart could read only feelings and not thoughts.
 

She glanced sideways at Peer in the driver’s seat beside her. He scowled up at the drizzling sky and, when he felt her gaze, turned that scowl upon her. From within the carriage, Adearre’s musical voice said something indiscernible and Yarrow and Ko-Jin laughed. The lines of displeasure on Peer’s face deepened.
 

“What’s with you?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He twitched the reins with unnecessary force. “You know I’ve no love for the rain.”
 

She’d never known him to be so irritable, especially over anything as inconsequential as the weather. Of their usual party of three, Peer was always the most stalwart, the most easygoing.
 

“You’ve been in a mood of late, and it has nothing to do with the weather.”

She watched the muscle in his jaw twitch. He glared out into the swirling gray mist and did not respond.

She crossed her arms before her. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but stop glaring at me like that. I’m allowed to be happy.”
 

He leveled a black look at her. “Aye, we’ve all got the right to be happy. So, should I be wishing you joy then?”
 

“Of course not. Nothing’s happened yet, Peer. Nothing has changed.”
 

He snorted, a cold derisive sound. “Nothing’s happened. Isn’t that always the case? Three fearsomest words in the Dalish language—‘I love you.’”
 

The light, misting rain left a sheen upon Bray’s cheeks and nose and slowly dampened her coat. She barely noticed; her mind was too occupied in its attempt to unravel Peer’s meaning.
 

“Are you saying I’m a coward?” she asked.
 

His brows drew together and his mouth turned down. “Not talking ’bout you.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” He pulled up sharply on the reins. “We’ve arrived.”
 

So they had.

Before her stretched the Painted Mere. It was, without doubt, the most beautiful place Bray had ever seen; a massive lake with water as clear as glass, its bed comprising hundreds of thousands of colored pebbles and stones, ranging in hue from yellow to blue to red—spreading like a jumbled rainbow for leagues and leagues. A half-moon of green mountains, bruised purple by patches of heather, bordered the north side of the lake. She, Peer, and Adearre had been there many times during their travels, but the sight never ceased to inspire awe.

Peer guided the horses to a spot near the shore, far enough away to still be firm and dry—or as firm and dry as any ground was like to be after so many days of deluge.
 

Bray tried to engage Peer in further conversation, but he hopped down from the seat and turned his broad back to her. She let out a frustrated sigh and walked towards the lake as the others filed out of the carriage. Yarrow joined her at the water’s edge.
 

He let out a long, slow whistle. “I’ve read about this place. The words didn’t do it justice.”

Bray opened her mouth to respond but was cut off. “Sight-seeing can wait till we’ve set up camp,” Peer said, his tone sharp.

Yarrow’s dark brows rose, but he shrugged and helped unload the trunks.
 

An hour later, with their camp attended to and several trout sizzling over the fire—courtesy of Ko-Jin’s unexpected fishing skills—Bray watched the sun set over the lake and praised the Spirits for the reprieve from the rain. It had left the ground soggy and the fire had been decidedly difficult to light, but the quiet, now that the pattering of raindrops had ceased, was like magic to her ears.
 

“What shall we work on this evening?” Yarrow asked.

“Your
Tearre
,” Bray said definitively.

“Oh, and why not your
Ada Chae
?” he asked, a teasing smile crossing his lips.

“Because your
Tearre
is much worse than my
Ada Chae
,” Bray said.

“And what qualifies you to judge the quality of an
Ada Chae
?”
 

“You haven’t gotten to the
Aeght a Seve
. I have, if you recall.”

He offered her a suggestive smile. “I recall.”

Bray flushed and stood. “Come on then, up!”