Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (31 page)

The openness of Hessa’s gaze startled her. She didn’t guard her feelings, and she didn’t try to hide. Dozens of lines crossed out from her pupils, bursting like a star into the brown … and Kyleigh read the anguish in every one.

It was only after Hessa had gone that Kyleigh felt the wetness on her cheeks. She realized that she’d been crying. “Why do I get the feeling that Hessa is no ordinary little girl?” she said, quickly pulling her dress over her head.

Nadine gave her a long look. “You are right — she is far from ordinary. Now come, we have no time to waste.”

She strode across the chamber, pulling on her dress as she went. And Kyleigh followed at a trot. “Where are we going?”

“To check on my goats.” She paused just short of the door, out of the guards’ hearing, and whispered: “I learned long ago to heed Hessa’s nightmares. There is little she dreams that does not come to pass.”

*******

Silas was determined not to let the Grandmot steal another one of his goats, and so he’d appointed himself as their protector. Now he spent his days lounging next to the paddock, watching the farmers carefully whenever they came by to feed or water the herd. He would even get up two or three times a night, just to make sure none of them had
wandered
into the valley.

When Kyleigh and Nadine approached, they found Silas sprawled out on a thick blanket of grass next to the pen. His hands were tucked loosely beneath his head, and he seemed to be enjoying the sunlight immensely.

Kyleigh’s shadow crossed his face, and his eyes snapped open. “Out of my sun, dragoness.”

“We have come to check on the goats,” Nadine said quickly. She stepped past him and leaned against the fence rails. Her fingers flicked over their heads as she counted them.

“They’re all here,” Silas drawled. He rolled, trying to get out of Kyleigh’s shadow, but she moved in his way. “I’m warning you, dragoness — I’ve killed for less annoying things.”

“Nadine’s worried about her animals. And since you’re her great furry goat-tender, I thought you might want to help her.”

The edge in her voice was not lost on Silas. He got to his feet — but took his precious time strolling over to Nadine. “What are you worried about?” he said, leaning in next to her.

“I am not sure. It can be hard to see the meaning hidden in Hessa’s dreams …” A crease formed between her brows, and her eyes were distant. She muttered to herself for a moment, her fingers thrummed against the rails. “The water,” she finally said, spinning around to Kyleigh. “The monster in the river … the danger must be in their water!”

Kyleigh leapt over the fence. The goats scattered, bleating in terror at the smell of her. When she peered into the silver trough, the water sparkled innocently back at her. Nothing seemed amiss.

“Maybe it’s been poisoned.” Now that he thought his goats might be in danger, Silas was suddenly interested. He shoved in next to Kyleigh and scooped a drink to his mouth. He smacked his lips, his eyes closed as he tasted it. Then he shook his head. “No, the water’s good.”

Kyleigh thought for a moment, trying to remember everything she could about Hessa’s dream. Then it struck her. “The monster was in the
shallows
, along the shore …”

She brushed her finger against the floor of the trough and then stuck it to her tongue. Bitterness coated the inside of her mouth. She spat it out quickly.

“The
trough
’s been poisoned?” When Kyleigh nodded, Silas tasted it for himself. His face burned red as he spat. “She tried to poison them! She tried to poison my little —
you
,” he roared at a passing farmer. “My trough’s been poisoned. I demand a new one!”

Before Kyleigh could stop him, he grabbed the end of the trough and hurled it, toppling the whole thing over on its head. Water splashed out everywhere. The trough struck the fence with a loud
clang
, and the farmers dashed off in opposite directions — running as if they thought they might very well get eaten.

While Nadine went to explain to the farmers what had happened, Kyleigh tried to calm Silas. Red crept down his neck and spread across his shoulders. He paced with his fists clenched, glaring furiously at nobody in particular — though Kyleigh knew all of his anger must be focused on the Grandmot.

She decided it would probably be best to try to distract him. “I must admit, I never thought I’d see you care about anything,” she said, leaping back over the fence. “Much less a pack of horned prey.”

Silas looked out at the goats. He tried to mask the softness on his face with a shrug. “I guard them like I would guard any meal. They are nothing but a dinner I haven’t yet eaten.”

Kyleigh wasn’t sure she believed him. Now that she’d left the pen, the goats trotted eagerly up to Silas. Some nudged him with their horns, or stared affectionately through their strange, slitted eyes. One fellow started chewing on the hem of his garment, and he leapt away.

“Shoo!” he said as he retreated to the fence. “Go nibble elsewhere, you smelly little dinners!”

It took some convincing, but Nadine managed to get the farmers to trade her goats’ trough for a new one — on the condition that Silas stand several yards away. Once the new trough had been set up and filled, Silas returned to his post. His glaring gaze was even more watchful, now. The Grandmot’s agents would have a difficult time slipping past him.

The afternoon was growing late, which meant that Nadine only had a few hours left before her watch began. She headed back to her room to get some rest, and Kyleigh followed.

“There’s some Seer in Hessa’s blood, isn’t there?” Kyleigh murmured when they reached the stairs.

She’d sensed there was something odd about the little girl when they’d first met eyes, but it wasn’t until after her dream that Kyleigh put it together. She remembered the peculiar weight of Hessa’s stare; she’d felt it before … but where?

When she forced herself to grasp for it, all she felt was anger. The memory must’ve been a bad one. Perhaps it was better if she didn’t remember.

Nadine slowed her pace. Most of the mots were still going about their chores, so there was no one around to overhear them. “I see no point in hiding it from you any longer. Yes, Hessa is a Seer. But it is far more than that.”

“Tell me, then,” Kyleigh said. “Is that why the Grandmot chose her to be her successor?”

Nadine smirked. “Traditionally, yes — the Grandmots choose their own Dawns. But that was not so with Hessa: she was chosen by Fate. The night she was born, an owl lighted outside her family’s window. We consider owls to be messengers of Fate,” she explained. “That is why the Grandmot adorns her hair with his feathers.”

“Is that what that is? Huh, I thought those might’ve grown in on their own.”

Nadine swatted back at her. “Your teasing will get you into trouble one day, outlander.” Though she smiled as she said it. Then she went back to her tale: “The owl perched on her family’s window, watching with its all-seeing eyes. Her parents took this as a sign, and they sent for the Grandmot immediately. It was only after she declared Hessa her Dawn that the owl returned to the skies. We have never had a Dawn so young,” Nadine said softly. “Our laws say that our Dawn must leave her family, and allow the Grandmot to guide her with motherly wisdom. But Hessa was too young to care for herself, and the Grandmot did not have time to raise an infant. So someone had to be assigned her protector.

“I was only a child — I was just beginning to learn the ways of the spear. But when the Grandmot lined all of the female warriors up, I was among them. She walked past us with Hessa in her arms.
She will know,
the Grandmot said to us.
Hessa will choose for herself
.” By this point, Nadine’s pace had slowed to a stop. They stood outside of her room; she froze at the doorway. Her voice fell quiet: “When Hessa came to me, she broke out in a smile — the most beautiful smile. She raised her arm and held out her hand … and I took it. And so I was chosen.”

She turned around suddenly, and Kyleigh stepped back. “I raised her, I cared for her as a daughter. And that is where I keep her in my heart. Hessa has always known the future — even from the moment she was born. She knew how my life would unfold … that is why she chose me.” Nadine’s gaze returned from the distance, and she batted Kyleigh with the back of her hand. “Now, I have told
you
something, so you will tell
me
something.”

Kyleigh shrugged. “I suppose that’s only fair.” She followed Nadine to the water barrel for a drink. When she reached to retrieve the bowls, she felt Nadine’s hand on the back of her shoulder.

“What is this mark?”

Kyleigh knew this question was coming. She’d known it from the moment she put on her dress and saw which of her shoulders was going to go bare. And even though she didn’t want to talk about it, she felt she ought to give Nadine an answer.

“It’s the dragon of Midlan.”

“Midlan,” Nadine said slowly. “Wait — that is the home of your tyrant, is it not?”

“Yes. Is that what you call him, then? Not
Your Majesty
or
His Royal Rumpness
?” She
tsk
ed in mock disapproval. “Such insolence. I ought to hang you by your toes.”

Nadine snorted. “He is not
my
King.” Kyleigh felt the pressure of her fingers against the dulled, scarred skin on her right shoulder blade; felt her trace the dragon’s neck and follow the curve of its wings. “This is strange, outlander. Why did you do this?”

“I didn’t do it. It was done to me.”

“Why?”

Kyleigh wanted to lie. She’d always lied about it — because the truth stung too bitterly. Though she rolled her eyes at Silas and his proud ways, a small part of her knew how he felt. She’d been a proud creature too, once.

Perhaps she was still a little proud, because even now her fists clenched at the thought of telling the truth. She knew she wasn’t really trapped with Nadine: rules or no, once Jake healed, she would leave. She was strong enough now to do as she wished. But once, not so long ago, she hadn’t been strong enough. Once, she’d almost been doomed to the life of a slave.

She didn’t want to lie to Nadine, not after she’d been so honest. So Kyleigh tried to explain it without having to go too far into the details. “This isn’t my first time being a slave — which is probably why I’m so blasted good at it.” She smiled when Nadine laughed. “I was the King’s slave, once. And he branded my skin with this mark.”

“How did you escape?”

Kyleigh had to steady herself against the memory. It was strange that an act so distant could still cause her throat to tighten — how one deed could bring the entire man into being. “I was bought by a very kind person,” she said roughly. “And he promptly set me free.”

That was how she would always remember Setheran: not as a great warrior or a fearsome knight, but as a kind soul — as a man who loved mercy … and who’d taken pity on her.

Chapter 28

None Other Than Love

At best, Kael hoped that his latest attack might stir up a little mischief. What he got instead was full-fledged chaos.

When they realized that Bobbin had disappeared, the mages flew into a panic: they blasted through every patch of grass and rolled over every stone, scouring the Fields for his body. Guards poured out from the castle to help in the search, led by Dred — who’d acquired a rather nasty-looking black eye. They spent hours tromping every which way, screaming at each other, and generally trying to pin blame anywhere but their own hides.

It was nearly afternoon before anyone thought to let out the slaves.

“Oh, look at them squirm,” Brend said gleefully.

They watched as a cluster of guards inspected a rather large, flat-topped stone. One guard pried it up with the sharp end of his pike while the other two stood with their weapons lowered — as if they expected a troll to leap out at them at any moment.

“I don’t know,” Declan murmured. A shadow crossed his eyes as he watched the guards poke tentatively beneath the rock. “That’s two mages that have gone missing, now. There must be
something
that’s getting them.”

“It’s ole Scalybones!” Brend said, chuckling.

They were supposed to be planting the cabbage. But since the mages were nowhere in sight, they were moving much slower than usual. Brend placed his seeds one at a time, with a good amount of back-straightening and joking in between, while Declan moved distractedly — his planting separated by long moments of staring at the Fields and muttering to himself.

For once, Kael was actually ahead of them. He thought it might be a good idea to keep his head lowered as much as possible. Declan might very well be able to read the whole story on his face, if he thought to look. But fortunately, the giant’s eyes seemed to rove nearly everywhere else.

“You know Scalybones is just a tale —”

“But
they
don’t!”

Declan made a frustrated sound. “Well, if Scaly is a tale and the mages are still disappearing, then it’s got to be something real. And if that’s the case, how long before whatever’s out
there
,” he thrust his scythe at the Fields, “comes after one of us?”

Brend made a face. “It’ll have to climb through spells and locked doors before it can do that. It’s probably only the lions, anyhow — they’re thick this time of year. Any man who wanders out after dark deserves to be eaten. And what are you so grumped about?” He used his scythe to flick a clod of dirt at Declan. “Anything that’s munching on the spellmongers is a friend of mine!”

When a few hours passed and they still hadn’t found any sign of Bobbin, the guards marched back into the castle. One by one, the mages returned to their duties — and it wasn’t long before Finks wandered up to them.

Kael thought they might all be in for a beating. Finks’s skin was red and he had his long teeth clamped tightly on his lower lip. He threw a few halfhearted lashes at them, but mostly spent the day pacing around, scratching worriedly at the top of his head.

Brend couldn’t contain himself. Sparks flickered behind his eyes as he planted, and Kael knew he must’ve been thinking up another wild tale. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Brend began to talk loudly about how Scalybones had it out for the mages.

“Don’t you see? It makes perfect sense!” he argued with Declan. “Ole Scaly must’ve found some holes in his cloak after that last big rain —”

“Why would he care about the rain?”

“Because fresh rainfall burns his bones, you clodder! Everybody knows that,” Brend said impatiently. He caught sight of Finks hovering nearby and lowered his voice. Kael nearly grinned when Finks wandered closer. “The skin of magefolk is extra oily, on account of all the magic in them. So it’d be perfect to keep out the rain.”

“How many do you think he’ll get?” Declan whispered.

Brend shrugged. “Who knows? He’s had naught but giant skin for these last many years, and our hide is far more suited for breeches than anything. He might be weaving himself a whole new cloak, now that he’s got so many nice, oily mages about.” He spun to Kael. “And when the ground starts to harden, you’d better watch yourself: the skin of mountain rat makes for a fine pair of boots, on account of them being so particularly stubborn.”

Kael did his best to look appalled.

Brend’s wild tales grew faster than any weed, sprouting such a terrible fear amongst the mages that they actually began to go mad — and the next week passed by with hardly a dull moment.

It all started on a particularly hot and dusty day, when Churl screamed at the top of his lungs that he’d seen Scalybones hiding in the grass. He whipped his wagon into an all-out sprint for the barns, saw the cloud of dust rising up behind him, and thought the wraith was giving chase.

He leapt from the front of the wagon in a panic — and was promptly crushed to death beneath the wheels.

Without a whip to stop them, the Fallows tore straight through the courtyard and into the cornfields, nearly trampling the poor giants who were trying to weed them. They might’ve gone clear to the Spine, had the pond not gotten in their way.

The Fallows drove straight into the middle of it, and the weight of the barrels sank the wagon, burying it beneath the greenish waters. They managed to escape their harnesses, but made no effort to swim for the shore. For some reason, they didn’t seem to be very fond of the water: they perched atop the sunken cart and flatly refused to budge — swatting angrily at anybody who tried to swim out to them.

Hob finally had to use a spell to pluck them from the pond one at a time. The Fallows grunted and flailed their limbs as he carried them through midair, but the second their feet touched the ground, they went back to drooling contentedly.

Churl’s death finally seemed to convince Gilderick that something needed to be done. He sent the guards to drag the wagon out of the pond, and ordered that a patrol watch the Fields day and night. They set up braziers on either side of the road and hovered constantly around the barns. There were so many torches lit that it was difficult to tell when the sun actually went down.

But for all of their caution, the attacks kept happening — and this time, the mages weren’t the target.

After their first night on patrol, the guards seemed flustered. Kael managed to listen in and learned that a couple of men hadn’t returned after their watch. Then they started patrolling in pairs — and began disappearing in pairs.

Kael’s first thought was that Eveningwing might’ve been responsible. He often left during the night, and hadn’t come out of his hawk form in days. Kael thought he might be hiding something.

“I only ask because I don’t want you to get hurt,” he’d said after dinner one night, while the giants were still eating.

Eveningwing cut his beak abruptly to the side — a gesture Kael figured was as good as a shake of the head.

But he still wasn’t convinced. “I think it’s noble of you to try and help, but we’ve been lucky not to be discovered so far. If guards keep disappearing like this, there’s no telling what Gilderick will do. He might go mad and start killing the slaves off. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

Eveningwing’s head dipped low, and the feathers on the tops of his wings bunched up miserably. Later that night, Kael heard the soft click of his talons as he hopped out onto the roof.

Though he’d adamantly denied that he’d had anything to do with it, after Kael’s talk with Eveningwing, the guards stopped disappearing so rapidly. One or two would go missing every once in awhile, but it was a small enough number that it could be blamed on the lions.

*******

With the mages’ power weakening every day, Kael left his plan to simmer. The rains were coming more often, now. They drifted in from the seas and filled the afternoons with a soft, steady drizzle.

As the clouds swooped in, Kael watched them from a distance. Their gray, feathery tails would flirt with the Red Spine, fluttering halfway to its peaks before stopping suddenly — as if some invisible wall kept them from crossing into the desert. It was strange to think that the Endless Plains might’ve easily shared the barren fate of its neighbor: the Spine seemed to be the only thing keeping this land of plenty from becoming a land of waste.

When the rains began to fall, the giants had no choice but to return to their barns. There were so many eyes watching the Fields now that the giants knew better than to try to drag it out. The guards began closing in with the clouds, waiting for the first drops to fall — and then they’d chase the giants away with the points of their pikes.

Though Kael knew a rainy afternoon would give him more time to think, a large part of him felt as if he ought to be doing something —
anything
. Every moment he sat idle felt like a moment wasted. So while the giants lounged about and chatted, Kael began to pace.

“You won’t get it off that way,” Declan said. He sat with his back against the stall door and Brend sat across from him. They were playing a game that looked a bit like chess — a strategy game that Uncle Martin had taught him over the winter. Though the giants used a circle drawn into the dirt as a board, and pebbles for pieces.

“What are you talking about?” Kael grumbled. He was more frustrated with himself than anything. Gilderick’s castle loomed in the back of his mind like a grinning vulture — circling him, waiting for him to make a mistake.

“Your beard,” Declan said, nodding to him. “You aren’t going to be able to scratch the hair off, so you might as well let it be.”

Kael hadn’t even realized that he’d been picking at his beard. But now that he thought about it, the hair
was
itching him. A thin dusting covered his upper lip, and he knew that bit wouldn’t get any longer. It never did. The hair on his chin and cheeks was what worried him the most: it sprouted in determined patches — growing very thickly where it wanted to, and fading back whenever it pleased.

The result left him looking like a half-plucked chicken.

“Hmm,” Brend said, peering over his shoulder at Kael’s face. “I’ve not seen many, but that’s the worst beard I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, how do you keep yours from growing?”

Kael had noticed right away that none of the giants had a beard. There wasn’t a hair on their faces, even though he never saw them shaving.

“Giant men don’t grow much hair. We’re born with all we’ll ever have — and some of us have less than others.” Brend reached across and tussled the top of Declan’s head. “Look at that! Thin as a summer dew.”

Declan knocked his hand away.

“Our women though, they’ve got mightily long hair. They weave it in thick braids down their backs.” Brend stared at the game for a moment, and a ridiculous smile crossed his face. “The rest of the realm can all keep their frail little lassies — you’ve not seen
true
beauty until you’ve laid eyes on a giantess!”

A rumble of agreement followed his claim, and Kael suddenly realized that the other giants had begun crowding in around them, their separate tasks forgotten. Kael didn’t like the way Brend’s story was headed. He’d sat through his fair share of tales about women: from Jonathan’s bawdy ballads, to the stories Uncle Martin told over dinner.

Try as he might to hide it, they always made him blush uncontrollably — which apparently gave the other men the right to heckle him for hours on end. He was convinced that Jonathan made his tales a little more colorful each time, just to see if he could get Kael to turn a deeper shade of crimson.

So as the story began, he’d prepared himself to be humiliated. But it turned out that that he worried over nothing. In fact, he tried not to laugh as Brend fumbled his way through a tale about a particularly busty giantess:

“And her hair was like — well, it was hair! And it was all clean and shiny, too. Not a touch filthy. Eh … and she didn’t have any warts to speak of. Her smile was nice — but not in the friendly sort of way. It was more like … like … eh …”

“Sultry?” Kael supplied. He had to fight off his grin when Brend hurriedly jabbed a finger at him.

“Oh, yes — that sounds about right. So her smile was sultry, her hair was clean, and … what was the other thing?”

“No warts,” Kael said out the side of his mouth.

“Ah, right! She didn’t have any warts. She might’ve had a mole or two, I don’t know. We’ll figure that out later. So, anyways …”

Brend tried hard to tell a convincing story, but Kael had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep his laughter back. At least he understood the giants’ floundering: they’d been locked up for so long that they were probably the only men in the Kingdom who had less experience than he did.

*******

A few days later, Kael’s simmering plan boiled over.

Things didn’t turn out the way he’d expected them to. Though the mages seemed to grow greener and more fearful with every passing moment, they still didn’t retreat to the castle — which didn’t make any sense.