Page 70 of The Arrow and the Alder

Seph’s fingers flexed around the grip, eyes blind, which heightened all her other senses. She could hear her heart beating in her ears, hear the whispers up above.

Hear Alder’s steady breaths behind her.

See with youreloit.

Seph felt the slightest pressure in her mind, a tug forward this time and a little to the right. As she focused her attention on that sensation, it grew stronger and stronger.

Closer, and clearer.

In one swift motion, she raised her bow—her cheek pressed to her wrist—and fired with a decisivethwick.

This time, there was no sound. Seph lowered her bow and ripped off the blind just in time to see the fading remnants of the orb as her arrow clattered to the ground.

Seph looked back.

The platform above stood silent. Those gathered cast hopeful glances amidst each other, and a slow smile stretched across Rian’s face. And then her gaze landed on Alder.

Those steely grays studied her without expression. “Better,” he said and he walked away.

Seph didn’t speak to Alder after that morning in the training yard. He was preoccupied as a revolutionary, from what Abecka told her, and he was using the intelligence brought to him by the kith child, Rasia. Apparently the girl was a scryer—someone who could see into the plane of the present, across the span of current events as they unfolded—which was how the fugitives of Asra Domm had been found in the first place.

And how the residents of Velentis had slowly been acquiring more knowledge, right beneath Massie’s treacherous nose.

While Rasia could not specifically scry Massie or his witch, she was able to see Massie’s orders through his guards and their movements. She then directed the Weald Prince to where Massie would next strike. The intelligence allowed Alder, Evora, and a handful of his kin to sneak about the surface, lying in wait for Massie’s guarded transports. From there, they rescued captives and brought them to Velentis, where, out of the high lord’s reach, they could enjoy some semblance of freedom.

Seph wanted to go—so badly—she wanted to join them on their ventures, but she wasn’t ready. No one said so, but Seph knew. It was obvious when other kith joined her in the training yard. While she might be a fantastic shot, her infantile connection to hereloitmade her weak compared to her counterparts, and so she trained.

Relentlessly.

She was the first one there in the morning and the last to leave, breaking only to eat, or when Abecka wanted her to try something related to the coat (none of which worked). Rian visited her often, offering bits of advice or encouraging words, and sometimes, when he looked at her, she imagined he was remembering another time––one when he’d stood beside her grandfather instead.

Rasia joined her nearly every afternoon, just to watch, and Seph felt a nostalgic sort of comfort in her presence. It was almost like having one of her sisters around, before the war complicated everything, and she appreciated that Rasia always shared news of Seph’s actual sisters. Rasia had a sweet disposition, if not a little odd, but Seph didn’t know how one could see all the world at once, and all the horrible schemes of man, and not be adversely affected by it. It was a wonder Rasia wasn’t affected more.

“Who is that man with golden hair and pretty clothes who is following your sister like a pup?” Rasia asked one such afternoon.

“Ah. That would be Lord Bracey.” And as Seph thought about it, he probably wasn’t just “lord” anymore. He might be Harran’s new baron, since the former’s head had been ripped off by a depraved. Seph felt a swell of guilt again that she’d left Linnea with such a mess.

“Hmm,” Rasia said, and her expression turned reflective. “He appears to have a possessive fondness for your sister, but I do not think your sister cares very much for him.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She cries into her pillow every night. That is not the mark of a woman in love.” Rasia observed Seph as she loaded her next arrow and furiously fired through her next round. “You feel responsible for this?”

There was no hiding from Rasia. “Iamresponsible for it.” Because while Linnea’s entertainment of Lord Bracey’s affections had been a choice before, Seph’s treason had stolen that choice.

Rasia watched as Seph gathered her arrows. “Do you honestly believe your decisions nullify the Fates’ will?”

Seph stood, arrows in hand, and frowned.

“Josephine, the Fates have allowed this,” Rasia continued. “All of this. And if Demas and Ava intended to let it persist, they never would have sent us the coat. They never would have sent usyou. But they have, and it is in their time and in their way that you must trust. Each of us have a role to play, and you cannot take everyone else’s roles upon your shoulders. That is the work of gods, and it will kill you if you try to carry their load.”

Seph did not have an answer for that, but she suspected Rasia was right.

Still, as the days blurred, as Seph trained with hereloitand her bow, Alder haunted her thoughts, though she tried so hard to forget him. She kept replaying each interchange, every conversation, every fleeting glance, and the more she thought on him, the angrier she became. Not just at him, but at herself. That she hadn’t seen through his deception. That she’d let down her guard.

That she couldn’t shake his tenderness with her hand, or the security and comfort she’d felt sleeping beside him.

Seph would catch glimpses of Alder when he’d return from his exploits, though he never came near. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding her, which hurt more than she wanted it to. She didn’t want to care. She shouldn’t care.

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