Page 111 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
And apparently, she was banned indefinitely from seeing either of them again.
…
Of course, Harrow was far too stubborn to accept her fate and Darya’s dismissal that readily. As soon as she regained her strength and fulfilled her promise to Malaikah to rest—briefly—she went right back to the scrying bowl and dove into another vision.
This time, she was after a different Queen.
With the combined power of Nashira’s Ether magic, Harrow found herself back in the sorceress’s airy chambers in the sky. Nashira sat beside the towering windows, playing the harp and singing softly. The ethereal music blended with Nashira’s hauntingly beautiful voice to create a magic of its own. Her strange crystal ball sat on a cushion on the table beside her.
The Ether Queen stopped playing abruptly. “You’re here. Later than I expected. You rested first? That’s good. No, I can’t help you today, tomorrow, or yesterday. My sincerest apologies.” She turned back to her harp.
“You didn’t even let me explain.”
Nashira looked back again. “No need. I know everything, remember?” She chuckled to herself, but Harrow couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
“Why doesn’t he want to see me?” Harrow found herself asking, though she didn’t understand why she sought answers from this bizarre, infuriating woman. She supposed it was because a part of her recognized there was wisdom in the Ether Queen, even if it was buried beneath so much outward strangeness.
“Oh, he does. He longs for it as much as you do.”
Harrow gaped at her. “But Darya said—”
“A promise given is a promise kept.”
“But why—”
“Guilt is a weight to be carried by the bearer alone. The forgiveness must first start within before it can be accepted from without. But how to share a burden we can’t release?”
“But if—”
“And what a burden to carry alone, only to discover it was weightless all along. When the fingers are pried loose, it drifts up to the clouds like a wayward feather. Free at last!”
“Why can’t you say anything plainly!” Harrow cried, patience finally at its end.
Nashira just smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll understand soon enough.”
“When?”
But the Ether Queen had turned back to her harp, strumming it lovingly and humming softly. Harrow ground her teeth, swearing she wasn’t leaving until she heard something remotely useful, which didn’t include more wistful philosophical ramblings or—
“So lovely to see you again, dear. Do pay us a visit when you pass through. Oh, and congratulations!”
“On what?”
But she never got a chance to find out. The next instant, Harrow was jerking back from her scrying bowl, back in her caravan, yet again ejected from her own vision by another bloody Queen and her bloody magic. And this time, she was finally starting to realize there might truly be nothing she could do but wait.
But she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to keep trying anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Six months later…
Harrow adjusted the covering over her mouth and nose and wiped the sandy grit from her eyes, the only part of her exposed to the merciless sun. Ahead of her, Fiona trudged wearily forward at a snail’s pace, not that Harrow blamed her. Her gentle horse had once been unaccustomed to such harsh weather conditions.
Needless to say, after six months, she was now.
Still, no matter how acclimated one became to the Southern climate, it never ceased being a formidable foe. Only the foolhardiest of travelers dared journey through the heat of the day—those unfamiliar with the severe conditions, and those in a great hurry to reach some destination.
Harrow fell into the latter category.
