Fand awoke in the pre-dawn light. For the third night in a row Zel had slept through. It was a long prayed for miracle. In the crib beside the bed, Zel still slept. Her mouth formed a perfect O. When awake, her eyes were her father’s. There was a bit of a tease about her. She delighted in making her Grandpa Wert laugh. Laughter that had long lay dormant in Uncle Wert seemed to spill out all the time now. He was not the same man he had been a year ago. None of them were the same. Some were no longer even alive. Quickly Fand pushed the thought of Zog and Renate away. It hurt too much to think of them. One day, Zel would learn as she had learned the truth about her parents. Today, however that day was not here. Still, this day had its roots in the past. Petran Schon was coming to live with them. He was finally strong enough to travel. He might arrive today.

Birds began to chatter outside her window. Spring had come. Fand glanced at the pale blue rectangle of glass. She and Zel lived in Pyre’s old room. Baby paraphernalia littered the room obliterating all signs that Pyre had once occupied it. The only thing that remained of him, besides the chest of drawers, was the bed where Fand slept. That first night in the house she had instinctively chosen his bed. She could have just as easily gone to Wendon’s but she hadn’t. Wrapped in quilts that had once hugged his body, with her head upon the pillow that had once cradled his head, Fand had known a sense of peace. It was as if Pyre and his goodness still held her. Even on this morning, they held her. He was the constant behind all her thoughts in a place, not even Zel could reach. She missed him terribly. Every six weeks a letter would come from him. He wrote to his father about the city, his duties, his studies, but he never said anything about himself really. The letters satisfied Zolla. He was well, he was alive that was what mattered. Fand always wondered though if he was happy. She could not ask him, she could not write him. He was an Apprentice and contact of any kind from females was forbidden. She still longed for the hug Council protocol had not allowed her to give him when she left the Council City. To be safe in his arms again, to feel his breath upon her skin… She must not think like this. Anxious to escape such thoughts, Fand got up, quietly washed and put on a fresh blue gown the color of the sky.

From her pallet on the floor, Sassafras watched her. The only reason the goat was allowed to stay in the house was because Rehn had convinced Zolla that Sassafras was a very rare breed of goat. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the fact she was also magic. Perhaps he didn’t know, but Fand had a suspicion that he did. In fact she suspected Rehn Holz, like Pyre, was a much deeper river than anyone gave him credit for. The goat got up and went to the door. Fand opened it and led her down the kitchen stairs. Zolla was already busily preparing breakfast. The oven smelled of fresh baking scones. On the counter two geese lay plucked and stuffed ready to be slow roasted for dinner. Humming to herself, Zolla glanced up. A loving smile creased her face. It was smile Fand once thought she would never receive again. Zolla stopped her humming and said, “Our Zel slept through again.”

“Yes.”

“Good. I pray it becomes a habit.”

“Me too.” Fand gave her a quick hug and went out the back door. The goat scampered down the steps in front of her. She disappeared in the bushes. Fand looked from the bushes to the trees. The first rays of sun peeked through them. A haze of tiny green leaves covered their branches. Winter was behind them. So much was behind them.

From the horse barn, Rufus emerged. Two of the stalls had been converted into a dormitory with bunk beds, three beds high, for the twelve guards who patrolled the property. They were a constant reminder that life was not safe. With all her heart Fand wanted them to go away. She wanted to live and move freely as she had before all hell had broken out around her. The past swirled in her mind like a suffocating blanket. She turned away from the barn. She reminded herself, “The future is coming, I must set my face toward it.” What did the future hold? Peace, please let there be peace.

Sassafras had finished her business and was ready to be milked. Rufus called to Fand, “I’ll do it. You go on. I think I hear a wee cry that will soon be a rage.”

His ears were so good. Though she could not hear Zel, he could. She said, “Thanks Rufus! I appreciate your ears.” He blushed and smiled. Fand feared he had a bit of a crush on her. Swiftly, she made her way back to the house.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

*

It was late afternoon Fand heard the sound of a wagon. Panic took hold of her. She scooped Zel from her crib and peeked through the window. An entire troop of Guards were behind two wagons. Two guards were in one. Rube Johan drove the other. Beside him sat Petran Schon. He had put on weight, but his face was still sallow. His eyes looked up at the window. Fand retreated from his sight. She feared him. He was a ghost come back to life. A deep voice called out, “Halt.” They had arrive. Petran was here. The time had come. Rube called out something Fand could not quite distinguish. Her heart began to race.

Within moments Fand heard the back door open. Zolla said, “I have a room ready for him off the kitchen.” The Guards’ boots clattered on the wood floor. Another door opened. There was more muffled noises.

Finally, the voice Fand had not heard since the moment before she received her wings said, “Thank you Zolla for remembering how much I treasure a view.”

Zolla, with a strange catch in her voice replied, “Thank you for gracing my house with your presence.”

There were the sounds of boxes being brought in and the door slamming and opening. Fand remained rooted where she was. With hard tugs, Zel was pulling Fand’s hair.

After what seemed forever, Zolla called out, “Fand, bring Zel down to meet her Great-uncle Petran.”

No. She did not want to. The desire to run was strong in her. Petran made the past real. He was the past. He was at the heart of all that had gone wrong in her own life. She glanced down at Zel. The baby’s large blue eyes were watching her.

Zolla shouted, “FAND!“

This was a voice Fand had never been able to disobey. Quickly, with Zel in tow, she went downstairs to the kitchen. Four huge Guards filled the place. She eased past them and went into the room she and Zolla had prepared for Petran. It held a bed, a shelf and a chair. Resting in the bed, was Petran. He smiled at her, his smile was so like Zog’s that she felt like she had been physically struck. He held out his large bony hands. Zel reached for Petran. The two came together. The oldest and the youngest. Zel’s chubby fingers grabbed for Petran’s white hair. Deftly, Petran ducked. He turned his eyes to Fand and said, “She is beautiful. Her spirit is strong. She will do much good.”

The panic that had been in Fand and her reluctance swirled together. It took all she had not to pluck the baby from Petran’s arms. His words were not just words they were a prophecy that chilled her soul. She wanted her daughter to have a normal life.

Petran continued, “She is and will be a blessing.” These words were harsh in Fand’s ears. Being a blessing could be a treacherous thing. Zel burped and smiled. Petran laughed at her expression. The laugh sent another chill through Fand. It sounded so like Zog’s laugh, only older. The room felt too small. Petran lift the child up to Fand and said, “I am grateful that you survived my misguided good deed.” Her wings, he knew about her wings. Unsure of what to say, Fand took Zel from him. Petran leaned back on the pillows and said, “If you will excuse me, I find that I am suddenly quite tired.” Still, not speaking, Fand dropped a curtsey and fled the room. Her heart was racing in her throat.

The house was too full of Petran. Restless and uneasy, Fand took Zel outside. Beyond the barn five large canvas tents were being set up. Fand had thought the troop had been sent to escort Petran, had they come to stay? Rube brushed passed her with two buckets of water. She asked him, “Why are they staying?”

Rube spun around so fast water sloshed out of the buckets. His eyes were angry. There was a vindictive edge in his voice when he asked, “Have you had word of Loren?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Loren has become a renegade. He left the Council and no one knows where he is.”

“What?” In his last letter Pyre had not mentioned Loren missing. In fact he had never mentioned Loren at all.

Rube let out a disgusted snort and said, “Loren is gone. The world has become a very dangerous place. And you and that bastard child are at the heart of it all.” The venom in Rube’s voice stung. They had never been friends, but this, this, she felt like he saw her as his enemy.

Very upset, she asked, “What are you talking about?”

His face turned angry red. His eyes became hard. “I have said too much.”

“You have not said enough, tell me what you mean.”

Rube’s eyes raked across the house. In a low voice he told her, “Pyre may be in some kind of danger. He won’t speak of it. He knows something. Gossip is that both the Jerue loyalists, renegade Sonpur and maybe even Commander Rhys are looking for you. Do you know why they would be doing that?”

It could be so many things. She dropped her eyes. The slaughter. She and Zel were not safe, had never really been safe. In that moment she knew that Petran had not come to recuperate, he had come to shelter her and Zel with what magic and strength he possessed.

Rube turned away from her and headed for the tents.