Page 71 of The Arrow and the Alder

She should hate him.

But hate, Seph began to realize, was such a complicated emotion, because it sprouted from something quite opposite. And finally, after Alder’s third trip to the surface—three weeks later—Seph had the opportunity to deal with it directly.

She’d been chatting with Abecka, explaining that she felt ready to join the others upon the surface, when she spotted Alder through a cheering crowd. Whatever reserve Alder’s kin had held for him these past few years was quickly dissolving in the vast waters of his present righteousness. The people loved their prince—nay, their prospective king, for he was next in line should they accept him, and theydid. He was hope and he was light in this dark and dismal world.

It was how they were gazing at him now—even Celia de’Lana—as Alder escorted five kith that Massie had captured, bringing them into the heart of Velentis, to freedom. Celia de’Lana pushed through the crowd for the Weald Prince with a rare smile upon her face.

Seph couldn’t fault her. She couldn’t fault any of them. Alder made a captivating figure, embellished further by the swell of honor and victory surrounding him, as if it seeped into his very being and glory shone out of his pores.

He looked out across the expanse, past Celia and all his admirers, and caught Seph’s gaze, and in that moment, it was as though time stopped and the crowd parted. That it was just the two of them, trapped at the center of a world spinning out of control, with their brief past knotted like a fraying thread between them. She felt that all-too-familiar draw toward him, like everyone else felt, she was certain, but for her, it was a tie she should not feel—did not want to feel, not after how he’d used Rys.

“I’ll find him later,” Seph said to Abecka, and though Abecka gave her a curious look, she didn’t stop Seph as she left the cheering crowds for the training yard. Better to keep busy than let her warring emotions make her lose sight of her purpose.

They had a world to save, and she was going to join Alder on his next trip to the surface no matter how hard it was for her to be around him.

Of course, she’d only taken one shot when she spotted Rasia seated upon the observation deck above. Thankfully, the training yard was otherwise empty.

“Why did you leave the bridge?” Rasia asked as Seph readied her next shot.

Seph didn’t like this line of questioning, especially from someone who saw so much. “I need to practice,” Seph said simply.

Thwick—thwick—thwick.

She struck three targets in quick succession.

“And you have been practicing.”

“One can never practice enough.”

“One should also celebrate victories to knowwhyone practices.”

Thwick—spin—thwick.

“Do you not like Prince Alder?” Rasia asked.

“My opinion of Prince Alder is inconsequential.”

“Mm.”

Seph didn’t like the sound of thatMm, but she focused on hereloit—that spark of warmth within her which became easier and easier to recognize—while she anticipated the next orb.

“Do you dislike him because he is a prince or because he is Alder?”

Seph frowned. “They are the same.”

“One is a title and one is a person, and I wondered which one it is that you dislike so.”

Seph looked at the child, who possessed an understanding that went far beyond any mortal lifespan. It was disconcerting at times, being seen so clearly and not having anywhere to hide.

Rasia’s legs dangled over the edge of the deck. Her elbows rested upon her knees, and she set her chin in her hands. The effect was incongruously youthful when compared to her age-old words.

“That is difficult to answer, Rasia,” Seph replied at last, “because I didn’t get to know the person of Alder. The one I knew called himself Marks.”

Rasia looked confused for a moment, and then her mouth opened. “Oh, right!Marks. I almost forgot!” She tipped her head to the side and absently kicked her heels together like any child with restless energy. “Did he ever tell you how he earned the nickname?”

“No…?” Seph assumed he’d made it up.

Rasia dropped her hands and sat up straight. “His full name is Alder Marcus Tiridium Vetiver, you know, but when he was very young and it became quite apparent that he was uniquely gifted with archery, they started calling him Marks for short because?—”

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