Naomi

Naomi put her things down on the bed in the room she’d been assigned at Guennet’s house, then went right back out the door to peer across the hall at Jason. “So . . . you made a new friend?”

Jason shrugged and didn’t answer.

“She’s cute,” Naomi added.

“Not my type,” Jason said—a little too quickly.

“Oh.”

“What do you want, Naomi?” Jason sighed.

She’d wanted to tease him, to get back at him for making fun of her relationship with Adrin, but more importantly . . . “I just wanted to talk.”

“I don’t feel like talking right now.”

Naomi shrugged. “Fine.” So she’d have to keep carrying the jumble of thoughts around for a while longer. She would have gone to talk to Kelsam, but Esar would be with him, and Naomi wasn’t in the mood to deal with Esar right now.

The person she really needed to talk to was Adrin. Nightfall couldn’t come soon enough. For now, she needed more information. Naomi retraced her steps back to the entrance.

Guennet’s house wasn’t much larger than Kelsam’s family home had been, and the furnishings were simpler, though they didn’t look cheap. Naomi had glimpsed a large parlor from the entryway, big enough for at least twenty people to gather in comfortably, with wooden benches against the walls and a red and yellow rug on the floor. A mural of a wetland scene with herons fishing in the reeds had been painted on the back wall, and it glowed like light passing through a stained-glass window. A prettier view than the Asprai barrier that lay on the other side of it, Naomi supposed.

“They won’t be back for a while yet. You could rest for a while longer.” Guennet had entered the room, carrying a tray loaded with two pitchers and a stack of drinking glasses. Naomi took a step back to get out of her way. She could just hear all that glass crashing on the ground if she so much as brushed against it.

“I’m not tired,” Naomi said.

Guennet put the tray down on a tall end table. “Are you thirsty?”

“A little, thanks.”

Guennet poured Naomi a glass of water, then another for herself. “How did you and Jason come to be traveling with Esar and Kelsam?”

“We’re on our way home. Esar had to go to Thaliron, and we wanted to get back to our families.” Esar would have been proud of how smoothly that answer came out.

“You’re a bit out of your way, aren’t you?” Guennet was smiling, but she was digging for more information, examining Naomi a little too carefully.

Naomi looked down at the floor as she selected her words. “Jason . . . can’t keep pace on foot. He’s Blighted. Esar thought it would be better to hire a boat.”

“So young!” The smile vanished from Guennet’s face. “I am sorry to hear that.”

The sound of footsteps behind Naomi captured both of their attention, and Naomi turned to see Esar approaching with long, quick strides.

“Esar, I just wanted to say—”

But Esar didn’t give Guennet a chance to say what she just wanted to say. “Why would Norsyff Yasoh declare himself king?” he demanded. “It’s a damned idiotic move.”

“Why do you expect me to know?” Guennet said.

“Because you know better than anyone else how overbearing jackasses think.”

Guennet sipped her water. “I see you haven’t lost your charm.”

“Really though, it is strange.” Naomi meant to bring the conversation back to Esar’s original question, but he and Guennet didn’t seem to hear her.

“I’m not interested in rehashing things that happened twenty years ago,” Esar said.

“I agree that there’s nothing to be gained by digging up ancient history. It’s just a shame that you didn’t learn that lesson sooner.”

Esar didn’t have a retort ready, and Naomi jumped into the gap. “Once they get word in Thaliron of what he’s done, they’ll put an end to it, surely.” And Adrin and Zafrys were going to find out what Norsyff had done that very night.

“I suppose he thinks he has nothing to lose,” Guennet said.

“But what does he gain?” Esar said.

Guennet took a moment to think. “My best guess is that he wants revenge on everyone who’s ever wronged him. His lazy, ungrateful son, my sister, the royal family . . .”

Esar shook his head. “Norsyff isn’t the sort of reckless fool who would make a mad grab at power just to stick a thumb in someone’s eye.”

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“He’s getting old, Esar. Like I said, I don’t think he feels he’s got anything left to lose. All he’s got left is that desire to make people hurt. And maybe he sees something we couldn’t see—something we didn’t want to see.” Guennet strolled past them to put her empty glass down on the table, then gazed at her luminescent mural. “There are cracks in the unity of Elorhe that have been spreading for years, and the incident broke them wide open. Perhaps he thinks that the Talmuirs won’t be able to pull it back together. That if he seizes the province now, in their moment of weakness, they won’t have the power or the will to take his little kingdom back from him.”

“That’s not true,” Naomi said. There was no way Adrin would let his homeland become prey for that grasping predator. She looked to Esar to reinforce her, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ve done my best to answer your question, Esar. Will you answer one of mine?” Guennet didn’t wait for a reply. “What did you dream that put you in such a rush to get to Thaliron?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Esar crossed his arms and glared daggers at her.

“Nothing about Norsyff, I’m sure, or you wouldn’t have come this way,” Guennet mused, ambling around the room. “To tell the truth, I believed them when they said you didn’t dream any more. It would have been a mercy, after . . .”

“Don’t you have enough to worry about?!” Naomi burst out. It hurt to listen to Guennet’s needling words poke around under Esar’s skin for some tidbit of information. “There are people who need help. People coming here soon. Leave Esar alone.”

“Naomi.” Esar sounded both stern and a little surprised. Naomi froze and questioned herself. Had she overstepped? Said too much?

But Guennet laughed. “Very well. In any case, your secret is safe with me. And if you wish it, I will see the children safely aboard a ship bound for Bulrisa, so you and Kelsam can take another route that doesn’t pass through this blighted province.”

“I don’t need your assistance," Esar said.

Naomi had a feeling he wasn’t speaking only to Guennet, but that didn't matter. Maybe you don't need my assistance . . . but what if Nalla-Bidharac does?

Tlaya returned to the house a few moments later. “Where are Jason and Uncle Kelsam?” she asked upon entering the meeting room.

“Uncle . . . Kelsam?” Esar repeated.

Tlaya quickly traipsed over to get a glass of water from the tray. The girl was so light on her feet that she reminded Naomi of a fairy fluttering about. Cute, but it was a little much for her to be calling Kelsam “Uncle” Kelsam. Hopefully she wouldn’t start calling Esar “Uncle” Esar, because that—that would be more than Naomi’s imagination could handle.

“How old are you?” Naomi couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Tlaya answered with another question. “How old do you think I am?”

“Fifteen?” Honestly, Naomi thought she was closer to thirteen, but it was usually better to guess too old than too young.

“Yes, I’m fifteen.” Tlaya smiled, but was it a sincere smile? Naomi couldn’t be sure. Tlaya dashed off to fetch Kelsam and Jason, and Naomi was still trying to figure out what to make of her when the others arrived.

Guennet introduced Obrist, Viande, and Netil. They were a little older than Naomi, probably in their twenties. Guennet invited them to sit, and Obrist and Viande complied. They looked weary, but neither had suffered any obvious injuries.

Netil, on the other hand, was obviously worse for wear. His head was bandaged and he walked with an uneven gait that favored his left leg, but his eyes blazed with anger, and he could not bring himself to take a seat.

“You expect me to sit down, at a time like this? You heard the message—they’re coming here. Nothing is sacred to those goons.”

“Sit down,” Obrist said. “You’re still not mended, and you’ll need your strength.” Reluctantly, Netil took a seat beside him, perching on the edge of the bench as if ready to jump up again at any moment. Naomi sat in a wooden chair on the other side of the room, next to Esar.

“Did you hear anything else from the council?” Guennet asked.

“They’re still in their meeting, probably negotiating how much to sell us out for.”

“Netil!” Viande put a hand on his shoulder and looked at Guennet. “I don’t want to put the people of the Sanctuary in any more danger, but most of the villagers are innocent refugees. They had nothing to do with the raid. You have to keep them safe.”

“I’m sure the Devoted will do just that,” Guennet said.

Netil scowled at them both. “So what do you suggest, Viande? We turn ourselves over and get hanged, or whatever barbaric punishment Norsyff wants to bring back along with his undead kingdom? We give up and die nice and quiet?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Is there any way to delay them?” Naomi spoke out.

“More time wouldn’t hurt . . .” Guennet said.

“Time for what?” Obrist asked. “How would it make a difference?”

“If—if someone could come and help—” Naomi fidgeted with the arms of her chair, tracing the carvings that decorated the wood.

Netil laughed. “Someone? Do you have an army hidden away somewhere?”

“I just—it can’t be too long until the royal family—the real royal family—finds out what Norsyff did. And they’ll have to put a stop to it. So if you can just put them off for a little—”

“You think Gerimon and Irezan are going to rush to the rescue? Or Prince Vaclan and his army? Nobody cares what happens to us!”

Naomi was beginning to wish that she hadn’t spoken up, but she couldn’t give up yet. She chose her words carefully, with a sidelong glance at Esar. “But . . . what if that boy, the one from Dhanlir, what if the Ocean did choose him? What if someone from Nalla-Bidharac is the Prince Ethereal right now? Wouldn’t he care?”

Netil snorted. “The dispatch said he was a university student. I know his sort. They leave home without looking back, pretend they can scrub away all the lake mud and forget where they came from. Anyway, he probably died in the Ocean just like the Tresuan’s son did, and good riddance. We can’t expect anyone to come and rescue us. We’re on our own.”

Naomi burned to defend Adrin from Netil’s aspersions, but she clenched the arms of her chair as tightly as possible and clamped her mouth shut.

“If anyone has any more helpful ideas?” Viande said.

Shame and anger roiled beneath Naomi’s skin. Damn it, even if she told Adrin tonight, how long would it take before anyone he sent could even reach them here? There was no way they could buy that much time.

Suddenly Esar grabbed her hand and pulled it away from the chair. “Naomi.”

Naomi’s breath caught in her throat. The arm of the chair had been molded into the shape of the inside of her fist while she’d been clasping it. She lifted her other hand and saw another imprint. “I’m sor—”

“We have to go,” Esar announced. Guennet was looking at the chair’s mangled arms with shock and confusion written on her face, but before Naomi could think of what to say to her, Esar dragged her from the room.