“What exactly?” Jeren growled, her voice low and dangerous.
To his surprise, the Ariah didn’t turn her attention to him but to Fethan. “Our Seers have been teaching you, and not in a manner which our gods would find seemly. It became... an opportunity for vengeance. We agreed to help you in a moment of anger. We should not be here. We are not wanted here. We have no place amongst your Holters, Jeren, and they do not want us.”
Jeren bowed her head. Her hands had tightened into fists, which she kept clamped at her sides. Shan wasn’t fooled. She might pretend to acquiesce, but Jeren would never give in that easily. Once she had been the obedient daughter of a Holtlord. No more. That didn’t mean she couldn’t play it. This new Jeren was dangerous. “I understand. But I still need you. All of you.”
The Ariah gave no answer and the silence stretched out painfully.
“If I may?” Indarin interrupted. Lara jerked her head around to look at him, her eyes blazing. She gave a curt not and dug her fingernails into the arms of the chair. “The Shistra-Phail would beg leave to stay.”
Her jaw dropped. “You—you would what?”
“I would stay, Ariah.” He didn’t make eye contact, not with anyone. “I believe Jeren is right. She needs us.”
“That isn’t your decision, Indarin.”
“Actually, it is,” Shan interrupted. “We have no Sect Mother since Ylandra was lost, no one to lead the warriors. Indarin is still our Shaman, no matter what he thinks. We have no one else, Ariah. No one but you.”
“And I have already spoken, Shanith Al-Fallion.” Her glare seemed to say more, something like “I haven’t even started with you yet, Shan”.
He swallowed hard. “But your duty is to the Feyna as a whole and often the Shistra-Phail must perforce operate outside that law. My brother is the wisest voice here, Ariah. You must admit that. Though he has no magic left, he still has wisdom and knowledge. We need that. And your people will follow his word as if it was your own.”
Lara’s throat worked rapidly and Jeren’s nails scraped against Shan’s skin as she tried to take hold of his hand too quickly.
And then, to his amazement the Ariah relented. “Very well, if that is the wish of the Shistra-Phail. But they must decide, Indarin, not you.”
They would. Indarin would never have spoken if he was not certain that the Shistra-Phail felt as he did.
The Ariah rose from her chair, still stately, still in command, her demeanour unshaken. “That is everything. You’re dismissed.”
Most of those present moved away, but Indarin didn’t. Jeren took a step forward, her voice quiet now, gently controlled.
“What’s wrong, Lara?”
To Shan’s surprise, a flash of jealousy lanced through Lara’s eyes. “I said you’re dismissed. I have much to do, Jeren, to get those of my people still following me on the road north.”
“But why?”
Lara stiffened, holding her back too straight. “So no more of my people head down dark paths. So no one else attempts to kill or corrupt you. So I still have a people left to lead.”
“But we do need you.”
“You need my warriors. Well, there, you have them. They’ve chosen you. Congratulations.”
Jeren glanced at Indarin, and Shan was certain his brother winced. Whatever he had said to Lara, it had not gone well. Not well at all.
“What happened, brother?”
“I never got a chance to speak my mind.” He folded his arms across his chest. “The Ariah had already made her decision and I was informed of it just before you were. Fethan stepped too far. On that we all agree.”
Overhearing their quiet exchange, Lara turned on him. “And yet you will not help me. You will not come with me. I must take the Seers in hand and make them what they once were, and you choose this moment to abandon me for another.”
Indarin’s jaw dropped. He stared at her while she spat out her words. Shan suppressed a groan. What had Indarin told her? How had he said it? For all his wisdom, when it came to their Ariah, his brother was an idiot.
“I’m no use to you in this, Lara. I’ve no magic left. I can’t be of any help.”
Something like that, probably. All duty and honour and what he had lost when she had asked for help, for a friend, for someone to back her up in probably the hardest task she would ever have to undertake. Had Indarin even been listening to him earlier?
Jeren rolled her eyes to heaven. “You know he’s most likely right, Lara. When a man is lost in this sort of self-pity he’s pretty much completely useless.”
They both glared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice their rising anger. Or perhaps, Shan realised with growing pride, she did. She was counting on it, goading them to indignation.
“Jeren is wise in such matters,” he chimed in. Jeren started, giving him a long hard look, and then a smile ghosted on her lips. “She’s already been through this with him, Lara, and the suggestion of another teacher was less than ideal.”
“I never suggested Fethan,” Indarin protested.
“You didn’t argue,” Jeren replied. “You let him take over. I think you were relieved to be rid of me.” Not all play, this. She cut perilously close to the bone. Rage flashed in Indarin’s silver eyes.
“Stop this.” The Ariah’s voice cut through them all. “It’s—it’s nobody’s fault. It’s just how things are. I have to go. He wants to stay with you instead of me. There’s an end to it. But knowing that, I—I have to go.”
But it wasn’t the Ariah’s voice, though the magic of her position coiled around it. The words, the loss, the pain, that was all Lara.
Shan’s heart ached for her. Jeren took half a step forward, her hands raised to comfort her friend, but stopped when Indarin spoke in halting tones.
“I would give my life to go with you, Lara.” It was no more than a whisper, as if he admitted something shameful. “I would do anything you asked of me. I thought you knew that.”
She stared at him, her eyes liquid, her mouth trembling. No sacred leader of the Feyna race. No being imbued with divine magic. Just a young woman, who so wanted what she thought she heard to be true, but couldn’t quite believe it, or trust it enough to risk having her heart shattered if it was a lie.
“Yet you stay.”
“I must. Duty demands it. Honour demands it.” He raised his arms and indicated the Holters camped to either side of them. “I made a promise, Lara. I swore I would help Jeren. I can’t—”
“I release you from that promise, Indarin.” Jeren stepped back, reaching out blindly for Shan, terribly afraid yet determined. “I’d never hold you to that if it separates the two of you.”
Jeren’s hand found Shan’s. She was shaking like a leaf in a gale. He’d taught her far too much about separation and she had taken that lesson to her own broken heart. He hated himself for that.
But Indarin shook his head. “I can’t, Jeren. And Lara knows it, in her heart.”
Lara bowed her head, her long hair covering her face from view. “Of course I do. But I thought...” Her fingers worried together in front of her.
Indarin swept to her, catching her hands in his, pulling her gently against him. With one finger, he lifted her chin so she had to look him in the face. “I never realised how I felt about you until you were out of my reach. I have no magic. I’m no fit match for you, not anymore. Even if I—”
“You’re such an idiot, Indarin.” Lara rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I’ve waited for too long for you to realise and you just make more excuses.” She smiled, a frail, wavering smile. But so beautiful. It was as if spring had returned to grace them all after a terrible winter.