“Along with enough kinai to keep them warm through the long winters.” Stefan smiled.
“That’s why they never troubled you,” Guthrie added. “Why you would often visit the mountains …”
Stefan shrugged.
“What else have you been hiding?” Edwin wore his usual scowl.
Stefan’s eyes became steely pinpoints. “I’m surprised you’re questioning me considering I’ve never led us astray. Trust me; anything I hold from you is for your own good. Why did you mention the Setian?” Stefan asked in Irmina’s direction.
“When last did you hear from them?”
“A few weeks before the Sendethi siege.”
“Then, there’s something you don’t know that you should. They were struggling with attacks of their own,” Irmina said. “Shadeling attacks. Ryne fought the man responsible and failed to defeat him.” She grimaced. “They never had a chance to warn you of the Wraithwoods growing on this side of the Vallum. The Tribunal found out also. One of the places mentioned was here, in Eldanhill. I advise you to gather who you can and leave.”
The members burst out into panicked chatter.
Galiana couldn’t help her smile. Smooth. The way Irmina had drawn out everything wouldn’t point to them having planned the conversation. The rest was up to Stefan now. With this news, what choice was there but to call for an immediate exodus to Torandil?
“Your argument makes sense.” Stefan’s voice was calm, too much so. “However, I promised myself long ago I’d never leave my people in the hands of the shade again. I won’t break my vow now.”
Despite her hopes, Galiana suspected Stefan might still react this way. She resigned herself to their second option, one she wished to avoid despite the threat Jillian said might lurk within the forest. “There is only one way to know whoever stays might be safe. We must scour the Greenleaf, starting at Ancel’s glen.”
“Makes sense,” Stefan said. “I have someone in mind to lead a cohort. Give me a couple weeks to make the necessary arrangements.”
Galiana stood. “Good. Now, if you all will excuse me, I have other business to attend to at the Mystera.” There had to be a book within the libraries with information on Ryne.
Chapter 18
Weeks later, after a particularly grueling day spent training with Ryne, Ancel relaxed at a table in the Whitewater Inn’s common room. Or at least he attempted to. Clean-shaven, wearing a dark gray coat, he nursed a drink. Since Irmina’s appearance, the only times he managed to shake her from his thoughts were when he practiced. He delved into his sword work daily, often from dawn until late evening. When it wasn’t the sword, then he read up on Ostania’s history, or memorized more from the Disciplines. Ryne still hadn’t allowed him to do any Forging beyond touching his Matersense, identifying each essence around him, and discerning ways in which they interacted with his Etchings. Whenever he asked to do more, Ryne told him that he wanted to ensure his connection to Mater became as smooth as the natural flow of his sword Stances.
Accompanied by Mirza, he made this trip to the inn nightly, often bringing Kachien with him, while Charra either waited outside or found some sport in the Greenleaf. Tonight, Kachien was on the small stage singing an Ostanian song while a musician strummed a takuatin, his fingers gliding across the instrument’s thirty-two strings in an upbeat rhythm. Locals crowded the tables, along with merchants, refugees, as well as a few students in uniform. Spilled beer, wine, food, and sweaty human bodies made for a mesh of odors that some may have found upsetting. For him, it added some sense of normalcy, as did the raucous laughter and chatter within the room. They were a welcome respite to the atmosphere of worry and uncertainty of late.
Although Irmina lived at the inn, it happened to be the one place where he didn’t run into her. When he stayed home, sometimes she’d show up with Galiana to have a meeting with his father. If he trained later than usual at the Mystera, eventually she would come watch him as she often did in the days before she abandoned him. After trying different ways, he discovered the best method to avoid her was to venture to the inn.
Except for tonight. For whatever reason, she chose this night to sit at a table in a secluded area, having a meal. What grated at him was that she acted as if he didn’t exist, not once glancing in his direction. Almost every patron who entered the serving hall acknowledged her with a bow. Out of respect, he’d been forced to do the same. Her presence made him want to get drunk.
“She’s here on purpose,” he grumbled. “Trying to get under my skin.”
“I’d say she’s doing quite the job of it too.” Mirza smiled, his sharp blue shirt and matching jacket enough to put a noble to shame. He downed his drink.
Ancel glared at his friend. “Why’d she have to eat here anyway?”
“Um, she lives here?”
“You know what I mean.”
“To get under your skin?” Mirza shrugged, his eyes now twinkling with mirth.
Ancel growled under his breath.
“You know, for a man who claimed he’s over her, and for one who has that,” Mirza nodded toward Kachien on the stage, “you do seem a bit … bothered. If I were you’ I’d go over and say hello.”
“This coming from my best friend who pushed me toward forgetting about the woman.” Ancel shook his head.
“You remember when I made fun of you about not being able to bed an Ashishin that day we went to the glen?”
Ancel frowned for a moment before nodding.
“Well, you could prove me wrong.”
“Do you think …?” Ancel’s voice trailed off as he took in Mirza’s smug expression.
“And there it is.” Mirza’s teeth showed in a wide grin. “I knew it. Especially after you shaved. For all your supposed anger and annoyance, you do want her back.”
Ancel opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but words failed him.
“Exactly.” Clasping his hands behind his head, Mirza leaned back in his chair.
Although his skin crawled to admit it, he knew Mirza words rang with truth. His friend had a knack for that. The more he saw Irmina, the more he thought of her, the more he wondered what things could have been like between them, or if there could still be a relationship despite their differences. How else to explain why he’d shaved? Her leaving still stung, and her return had opened old wounds, but to be honest, he felt better knowing she was in Eldanhill.
When he searched his feelings, the knowledge that he got to see her face, her dark hair, and those golden-brown eyes of hers made him want to smile. Unbeknownst to anyone, he found time at night to watch her head to the inn from one of her many meetings. Sometimes, he stayed outside peering up at the windows until she put out the lamps and went to bed. Of late, dreams of her were a welcome change to the nightmares about his mother and the black-armored man.
He glanced toward her table again, hoping to catch her eye, and frowned. Mouth open, a slice of bread held at chin level, Irmina was staring in the direction of the stage. At that moment, Ancel noticed the music’s change to a slower pace, bubbling like a spring formed from newly thawed ice. He followed Irmina’s gaze.
Kachien was swaying like a drunkard, her voice growing softer until it faded into nothingness.
No, Ancel thought as he realized what she was doing. Please, no.
But not only didn’t she stop, her movements increased into a full-fledged Temtesa.
As the patrons noticed, conversations dwindled. The room fell into silence broken only by the takuatin’s notes, and the flutter of Kachien’s trousers and shirt with each twirl, stretch of her leg, and flick of her honey-colored hair. Her hips snapped back and forth, and despite her trousers, they radiated seduction. As she always did when she danced the Temtesa, she had eyes only for him. His face grew heated. Riveted where he sat, he drank in every movement.