Queen of Jastain (20 page)

Big flakes floated to the ground, draping everything in a priestly mantle of white. Abby held out her hand to catch one that melted against her skin. Catching snow was as elusive as finding a home. A chill hovered in the air, but the wind wasn’t bitter. Avant loaded the horses, insisting they get an early start.

Petra hugged her tightly. “Abby, take care not to fall off the mountain.” His hand pressed her head to his chest. “And come back so I can even the score of our chess matches.”

She hugged him around the waist and kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, honey. Take care of yourself. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” A knot caught in her throat, and she didn’t know if she could go.

“I am not certain when we shall return but certainly not before a month’s time. You have all you need for the fief. I know it will be in the best hands.” Avant placed his hand on Petra’s shoulder.

“A month? You'll be fortunate if you come back and I haven’t taken over as Lord.” Petra smiled and hugged him briskly.

Petra stood silently in the door of the stables as they mounted the horses and rode away.

Heavy wool clothes fur coat insulated them from the elements. She wasn’t sure what kind of fur it was, but her body warmed as if she snuggled near the fireplace in the parlor.

They followed the road through the northern part of the valley and across the Itehris River at the northern bridge. The winter wonderland was a spectacle to see. Cardinals sat on leafless branches and snow carpeted the meadows leaving only a path for the stream.

She'd never been this way. All the settlement and activity seemed to be south. There were a few farms scattered about but after that, only rolling hills Avant called the Fiat Foothills.

Avant pointed at the trail ahead. “There's a small village on the edge of the settlements that we can reach by nightfall. Tonight we'll stay at the local inn.”

By Abby’s internal calendar, it was early March, but spring hadn't come to the Freelands. Avant thought the weather would be mild, but apparently his idea of mild was different from hers. She let her gaze linger on him as she did sometimes when he couldn't see her. Being around him every day had given her even more insight. Though she knew him intimately, his persistence and work ethic astonished her. His straight back and squared shoulders said he was ready for the journey, but there was urgency in his manner that compelled him forward.

It chaffed her a little that he didn't seem the mildest bit concerned about the sacrifice she was making. Who knew what this journey would bring? He wished nothing more than to plunge headlong into the task regardless of what it cost.

Three nights ago when she dreamt of the lights, she knew her life would change. On this path, the fear of the unfamiliar engulfed her. Something in her heart shifted, as if a rope of destiny pulled her toward whatever loomed at the end of the road. Her life depended on the success of this trip, and what she found would change her forever.

“Avant, after Aesdil tried to kill you, and you knew your life was lost, how did you find the will to make a new life?”

“Hossa and Annova. They took me in and healed my wounds. Annova spoke to my heart when darkness threatened to overtake me. Had it not been for her, I would have abandoned all that was good.”

“Is that why you’re helping me, because you understand how it feels to lose your life?”

 “I'm helping you because I know you are the Chosen, The Seed of Light.”

“You didn’t have to help me, Avant. You could've dumped me on any doorstep in the village, but you brought me to your home.” Her heart twisted in a knot and pain shot through her chest. She’d deceived herself into believing Avant was helping her because he cared about her, not because she was the Chosen.

“I'd waited more than twenty years for justice and restoration. I knew you were the One who could finally help me. You needed to be trained. I was the only one who could do that.”

An avalanche of grief fell, and she couldn’t breathe. She'd refused to consider he was only helping her to get what he wanted most…his wife. She'd been such a fool. He’d told her of his intent on the day of the Implanting, but she hadn't listened. Devoted to his wife, he bridled to be reunited with her. Abby’s love for him had blinded her. He felt something for her. She was sure, but it wasn’t enough. Only enough to retreat from his feelings so as not to hurt her. Only enough to give her sympathy. Not enough to give his heart. The story of her life.

In the daily routine of the fief, she'd thought he'd eventually realize his feelings for her, but now she recognized the error in her logic. He had held her at bay so he could reunite with his wife, not because he couldn't accept his feelings.

She stifled a sob, staring blankly at the reigns in her hands. “I hope I don’t let you down.”

“We'll succeed in this, Abigail, or we'll die trying.”

A pain ripped through her heart. He was willing to die to get Sentieve back, and apparently, he was willing for her to die, too. Alone as she'd ever been, she'd been lying to herself with ideas of family and love. Annova was right. The fief wasn't her home. Nowhere was.

In the dark cave-in of her heart, she struggled to hold back the depression and hopelessness.

They rode the rest of the day in silence and came to the inn before dusk. She said an early goodnight to Avant, telling him she was tired from riding all day and wanted to get some sleep, which was true enough.

Riding out before dawn, they traveled the mountain pass toward the lower ranges. They journeyed the next two days through the hills, edging closer to the heights of the great mountains. The snow had stopped, but the wind picked up. The ride became miserable.

The desire to quit and run back to the fief consumed her. But even if Avant would've let her go, it would never be the same again. He seemed so driven, as if he could see his long awaited desire and rushed toward it. How could she blame him? He’d waited so long and suffered so much. Her heavy heart burdened Imperial, and the mare lagged under the weight.

On the fourth day, they stopped for the evening in a shelter of thick trees with an overhang of rock. Avant coaxed a fire. She unpacked the supplies and unsaddled the horses. Using her Gift, she spoke to Imperial, telling her not to run off but to graze in the field until their return. The farmer of the land agreed to watch over the horses and shelter them until their return.

She and Avant had barely spoken. Both were absorbed in their thoughts. Abby, burdened by the fear of the unknown, nursed her wounded heart. They ate a quiet dinner.

Avant studied her, his eyes full of concern. “Abigail, you've been much in thought the last few days. Rarely have I seen you so quiet, but you've gotten so skilled with your Gift I scarcely know what you're thinking anymore. Is anything wrong?”

Not meeting his gaze, she shook her head. “I’m worried about finding this man. Who is he anyway?”

The weight of his stare fell on her. “His name is Naphen. Do you not have memories of him from me?”

“I think I do.” She searched and found a hazy recollection of a man in the mountains.

“He was the high priest before my father. He is a great man who sees clearly the workings of the Light. I came to him many years ago after my life was stolen. He helped me. He told me how my father was murdered, and he gave me these.” Avant unsheathed his sword and handed the hilt to her. She fingered the beautiful cabochon stones. “They'd been entrusted to him by his son Jo-Naphen. They are the sapphires from the Crown of Light. He held them for me.”

“Because you're the rightful king of Jastain?” A vision dawned in her mind. For a brief moment, she saw Avant, not as he was, but as he would be. Regardless of what he believed, this journey wasn’t about Sentieve, it was about him becoming who he was born to be.

And as quickly as it came, the vision vanished.

“My Gift has told me that I am to be king. There are many who believe that I am, but no one knows for certain. Jo-Naphen took the final prophecy, which named the new king. Without that prophecy, we may never know who the rightful ruler of Jastain is.”

Clarity of vision came to her and understanding flooded her mind. Her throat tightened. Chills spread across her body as tiny hairs stood on end. Her voice broke as she spoke, “Jo-Naphen was the scribe who took the Crown from the king and Naphen is his father?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes.

She gasped for a breath and remained quiet a long time. Softly, she asked, “My father’s name was Jonathan, did you know that? In my dream, the voice said I needed to seek the way in the house of my father’s father.”

Avant looked blankly at her as if he didn’t understand what she meant.

“You don’t think…I could be related to this man, do you?”

Avant’s voice was quiet and filled with wonder. “Abigail, the voice of the Light is truth…. Yes, I believe you could be.”

Could her dad really be the scribe who escaped with the Crown and prophecy? Was it possible that this land was her rightful heritage? Her destination suddenly seemed more urgent.

* * * *

Avant lay awake, staring through the trees at the frosty night sky. The clouds had cleared, and the stars shown like beacons to far-off places with horseless carriages. Although he loved sleeping outdoors, the conversation with Abigail had unsettled him. Truth be told, her demeanor unsettled him. Something was wrong. Her heart grieved in loss. Initially, he assumed it was leaving the fief, but now it seemed like more. The sly twinkle in her eye was replaced with a burden she seemed too weary to carry alone, but as of yet, had refused to share.

Reaching to his ear, he twisted the stud that pierced the lobe. How the Stone of Light could come to such a young woman had puzzled him. He smiled ruefully. Could she be the granddaughter of Naphen? It certainly explained many things about her circumstances…and her personality. Remembering her distain for the philosophical, he laughed out loud and quickly glanced over to make certain he hadn’t woken her. Yes. It made sense.

He'd come to care for this young woman, and prayed the Light would watch over her during what was certain to be a long and arduous journey. She'd trained as well as any soldier in his company, and although he never told her, he was proud of her. Her Gift and conditioning was without equal of any woman he'd known. Aye, and most men, too. Though she fought him stubbornly, she was as prepared as she could be, and he took solace in that.

At the end of this journey waited the Crown of Light. The task of restoring the kingdom fell to him and Abigail, but ruling would be his alone and much needed to be done.  Sentieve would have to decide if she wished to remain queen. He blew out a heavy breath and the mist of it lingered in the air above him.

His wife had not dominated his thoughts. It had been months since he dreamt of her, although his dreams were far from empty. He gazed at the beauty sleeping near him. Her golden hair spilled across the fur of her covers. He fisted his hands in his own fur, and a pain stabbed his heart.

Near enough to touch, but too far to hold.

* * * *

Her dad sat in the darkened study. The light on his desk illuminated the room in a golden glow. A young Abby entered, though she wasn’t supposed to disturb him. Frightened he would scold her, she ducked her head. But when he saw her, his face lit with joy, and he held his arms open wide. She ran to him, and he picked her up, setting her in his lap.

“My Angel, I've missed you. Have I told you how proud of you I am? I know this has been hard, but you're Chosen. Everything you need you will find here, Abigail, but you must guard your heart. I love you.” His voice remained strong, but the vision faded.

“I love you, too. I love you, Daddy.” The sound of her own voice woke her. Crying quietly in her blanket, she wished she could talk to Petra. He always knew what to say.

After the dream, she couldn’t go back to sleep. Her mind flashed with too many thoughts. Rising before dawn, she quietly started packing then stopped to gaze at Avant's peaceful face. Her heart beat unevenly with an ache. She walked to the stream, deciding to wake him after she returned.

Leaning over to splash her face with water, she startled at the sight of the familiar sparkling skin.

“Hello, Abby,” the lovely voice chimed. “It has been a while since last we met.”

Looking up into the face of the strange creature, she hadn’t remembered how charming it was until now. “How do you know my name, Seppitent?”

“I know a great many things about you, Abby.” It smiled. “We're alike, you and I. We can survive in different worlds and find the treasures in each.”

She said nothing but looked at him with distrust.

He gazed back with hypnotic eyes and pleasantly sang, “You can talk to me, Abby. I'm a friend. It pains me at how your companion uses you, stringing you along to get what he wants. The queen’s true love treats you so cruelly.”

A thorn pierced her heart, and the creature gave a sad sympathetic sound like a lover’s lament. His voice lilted, “You don’t have to complete this task, Abby. It will only mean ruin for you. Turn back, and everything will be as it was.”

That was a lie! Nothing was the same, and it would never be again. She knew that as surely as she knew her own heart. A light amassed around her, illuminating his deception. She immediately saw the creature for what he truly was—a hideous thing, full of loathing, despicable and vile.

It was about to say something when the light grew in Abby’s heart. She found the strength to lift a large rock with her mind and hurl it toward him. The stone struck the creature in the head and shattered to dust. Through the noise, she couldn’t hear his poisoned words.

In her mind and with her voice, as loud as she could thunder, she yelled,
“You're a liar, Seppitent, and you must begone!”

He laughed harsh hideously, the sound scrapping her soul. He vanished.

She'd been an idiot to speak to him! He almost had her bound in his spell. The tentacles of melody he'd wrapped in her mind still had her dazed. After splashing water on her face, she turned to find Avant behind her, his sword drawn.