Page 55 of The Arrow and the Alder

“What is it, Nistarra?” Abecka asked.

“Apologies, Enchantress; word of the Weald Prince’s arrival is spreading rather quickly, and there are many of Weald who are eager to see him. I have asked them to wait, but I am afraid they won’t be kept any longer.”

Abecka drew upright with a deep breath and studied Alder. “It is a better reception than you deserve, to be sure, though your people always did have a soft spot where you were concerned.”

Alder’s eyes flashed with something Seph could not read. “Perhaps that’s because you do not see everything, Enchantress.”

Seph sensed there was more to Alder’s slight than their present circumstances.

“Careful, young prince without a throne,” Abecka warned. “Your people may have a softness for you, but I do not, and it is inmyhome that you have found refuge.”

Alder’s eyes narrowed. He tipped his head a second later.

Abecka’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she said, “We will continue this conversation in the morning.” She turned toward the priestess. “Nistarra, see that Jakobián’s heir is bathed and fed, and have rooms prepared for her in the upper sanctuary.”

Jakobián’s heir.

The implications of this title slowly dawned, but the enchantress had turned away, as if to physically block Seph from voicing any objections.

“It will be done.” Nistarra stood tall and turned slightly, waiting for Seph to join her at the door.

Seph’s feet wouldn’t move. Her heart raced and her palms sweated, and she was very aware of Alder watching her as she said, “I have family in Harran.”

The enchantress stopped. She didn’t turn, but Seph pressed on anyway, before the bars of her fate could be sealed. “They depend upon me for survival, especially with my papa and brother gone fighting inyourwar. I’ve already lost one brother to it, and I have a sister who is grievously ill, so if claiming me as Jakobián’s heir puts their lives at any risk, then I would prefer you forget that I was ever here. In fact, I would ask instead that you help me find a way to return to them—if not for me, then at least help me on account of your son.”

A brittle silence punctuated Seph’s words.

At last, Abecka glanced back, though her face held no discernible emotion. “You can’t return, Josephine. I understand your family needs you, but the Rift has become too dangerous, the depraved too numerous, and I will not risk any ofmypeople for a mission that will end only in death. Isuggestyou make peace with your situation and get some rest. Goodnight.”

Alder gazed out of his window, if one could call it a window. It was a narrow slit in the rock. Just enough to give him a partial glimpse of a natural stone bridge, where two kith wearing the moonlight robes of Light walked in close communion.

Dragging his hand over his face, Alder was momentarily surprised when he touched skin. He’d grown the beard for nearly two years; without it, his face felt oddly…small.

After visiting his kin last night, Serinbor had been tasked with escorting him to the hot springs, where Alder had washed and properly shaved. Serinbor hadn’t been happy about this task, and Alder even less so. The two men had a long and very complicated history, and being around Serinbor only reminded Alder of all the poor decisions he had made, all he’d forfeited in the height of his pride.

Especially with Serinbor. Someone who had, at one time, been like his own flesh and blood. Serinbor had humored Alder’s escalating indulgences until Serinbor’s own sister had grown affection for Alder, affection that Alder had not returned. It didn’t deter him, selfish ass that he was. He’d broken Genava’s heart; he knew he would. But it was the final blow to an increasingly fragile brotherhood, and Serinbor had never forgiven him.

Alder touched his nose. It was still tender where Serinbor had struck him, the pitiless bastard. Still, Serinbor’s reaction forced Alder to confront the terms in which he’d left Weald: a spoiled, indulged, and arrogant prick, even by kith standards.Especiallyby kith standards.

Alder’s unparalleled skills as an archer, his charm, and his shrewdness—especially when it came to dealings with the other Courts—were the only things that’d kept the people of Weald from turning on him completely. But he’d been gone for two years. That was a lot of time to build a narrative, to let it fester. He’d seen it in the kin he’d met last night, the way they’d stood back from him, the way they’d looked to each other. His people were glad to see him, but they were also leery, though Evora stood unflinchingly beside him, as always, and probably to her detriment.

Yet despite their misgivings, he also spied hope, and that was what Alder clung to as he’d spoken with them, as they’d filled him in on all that Massie had done. Despair over Alder’s mother had tilled the soil of any past condemnation, leaving it fertile for Alder’s planting. But he still wanted to tell them that he wasn’t the man they thought he was.

He was worse. Much worse.

But if he told the entire truth, they would hang him on that statue right beside his family.

Alder would deserve it, but he had a certain high lord to kill first.

So Alder shared very little with his kin, and mostly asked questions, instead. He didn’t let Sienne, one of Abecka’s elders and a renowned healer, anywhere near him, though she tried to get to his nose, at Abecka’s behest. He’d told her that he wanted to heal naturally from the injury Serinbor inflicted—that he wanted to feel every consequence from the sins of his past, and while this was true, his primary reason was not nearly so noble.

Any healer worth their weight would immediately detect his other affliction. The one that was slowly consuming his soul—the one that damned him. Not even Sienne could heal this.

Only a god could.

It was this that left Alder in a quandary, for how did he tell the full story before Abecka, the elders, and what remained of Weald? He’d be called to do so tomorrow, but how could he without confessing this part? They would never trust him if he did, and if he were a proper noble prince, he’d have exiled himself for everyone’s safety.

Unfortunately for everyone, Alder was not that noble.

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