Page 4 of Between Wrath and Mercy

I wondered how things might have been different if I had listened to him then—when he might have been able to help me. I fell asleep, remembering green eyes flecked with gold.

Chapter 2

Thenextmorning,Istruggled to roll out of bed when Faxon lightly pushed on my shoulder as he got up to relieve himself. I’d gotten little sleep; vipers made of shadows and the sounds of endless screaming plagued my subconscious. I woke up in a hot sweat a few times, gasping for breath. Faxon rarely woke during my nightmares, and last night was no different, for which I was thankful. My nightmares had grown rare in recent years, only making an appearance when I felt particularly stressed. On the rare occasion I’d wake him, he’d just grumble and go back to sleep.

When he came out of the bathroom, he was already dressed and ready for the day. Reaching for the glass of water by my bed, I nodded to him, and he gave me a small smile as he walked out the bedroom door. Though I felt no love for him, in recent years we’d fallen into a sort of friendship. I didn’t mind his company when he was sober. He could be quite funny, and he loved Elora. As much of a pain in the ass he was for me, Faxon had never been anything less than a dutiful father to her. I gulped down some water and laid back, pressing my hand to my eyes. After saying goodbye to Elora and Faxon, I’d need to head straight to the meeting with Lord Kennon.

Groaning internally, I forced myself to sit back up and reach for my hairbrush on the nightstand. As I pulled it forcefully through my tangles, I reminded myself, not for the first time, that I should braid it before going to bed. In sleep, the long, golden-brown hair turned into a rat’s nest. Looking at my brush, full of errant strands, I was cursing my forgetfulness. I went to the bathroom, filling my hands with water from the ewer, and ran my fingers through my waves, smoothing the unruly frizz which plagued me regularly. Looking in the mirror while braiding my hair, I noticed one side of my face was a bright, rosy pink from laying on it, explaining the heat I felt radiating from my cheek. I leaned forward toward the mirror, noticing the crease between my brows, and began to rub at it in a misguided attempt to smooth it. Mother had always told me if I didn’t stop scowling, it would become permanent. It pained me to know she was right. Walking back into the cramped bedroom, skirting past the wardrobe which sat at the foot of the bed, I slouched my nightgown off into a puddle on the floor. After my dream of Lucia the night before, I wondered if she and I would still look similar. We’d always been the same exact height and build, though that last year, I’d started to gain more muscle. We’d never been slim, but I wondered if comfortable palace life would have made her more plump. Would she have any children now? Would we have complained about the changes our bodies went through together? Would she have slathered lotion all over our growing bellies? The line of thought pained me.

Throwing open my wardrobe, I dressed for cold weather. I’d be traveling, so the dark brown breeches would keep me warm, and I chose a long-sleeved, button-down shirt. I debated skipping the bodice but knew I’d be better served to wear it and skip the lecture, considering this one didn’t have boning and was rather comfortable. He’d only just stopped harassing me about wearing pants instead of a dress. After finishing the ensemble with socks and boots, I headed towards the stairs, prepared to wake Elora on my way, but her door was open and the room empty. She must have risen before the sun.

“Mama! We’re about to leave, hurry up!” She shouted up the stairs in her singsong voice she always used when she was in a wonderful mood. I could practically hear her vibrating with excitement as I made my way down the steps.

“You may want to tone it down, little miss. Your father isn’t used to your morning exuberance, especially before his coffee.” Elora was sitting in an armchair, completely dressed and beaming. Either she or Faxon had set a kettle to boil in the kitchen and pulled out the cheesecloth and coffee grounds. Watching her, I smiled. Even though I was nervous, seeing Elora this happy made my heart soar. Theo, our neighbor who helped us from time to time, had asked to go as well, and Faxon had agreed after endless needling from Elora. Theo was a couple of years older than her, and I’d known him since before he reached my hip. He’d always cared for her like one of his siblings, and I felt a little less nervous knowing he’d be there too.

“Mama, Theo says I look stupid with this big, heavy, winter cloak. Do we have anything lighter?” Elora was looking out the window at the boy in question and picking at her hood—dark grey with a lining of rabbit fur on the inside.

“Elora Mae, I packed an extra cloak in your bag, but have you even looked outside? It has done nothing but rain, and it's cold. If you want to freeze because you can’t handle Theo’s teasing, be my guest.” Raising a single eyebrow, I stared at Elora, waiting for the challenge. She whipped her head over her shoulder and glowered at me. I chuckled, knowing every bit of her attitude came from me.

“Alright, you two.” Faxon walked back inside and interrupted the staring match. He reached for the coffee I’d poured for him, eyeing the two of us with caution, before he drank it all down fast. He belched and rubbed at his protruding belly, and I swallowed my distaste. “Elora, it’s time to go. Tell your Mama goodbye.”

Elora jumped up from the armchair, the hood of her cloak already on and ready. Running over to me, she slammed into my arms for a quick hug, and I gave her a peck on the forehead.

“Please be safe, sweet love of mine. Listen to your father.” I could feel the excitement racing through her veins as she kissed me on the cheek and started for the door, her frantic heartbeat pushing against my senses.

“Love you too, Mama, I will!” And she was out of the house before she finished speaking.

“Someone is excited,” I muttered, a smile still on my lips. I knew this meant the world to Elora, and I was glad for it. She deserved to do things normal children did. She didn’t even know about the prophecy, let alone that she was the Beloved. I’d never told her. She knew we lived in hiding because she had the same rare abilities that caused her aunt’s murder, but nothing more. I had never told her the Myriad would consider her to be Aonara’s favored, blessed with abilities only the Goddess of Light could bestow. I never saw it as a blessing but rather a curse.

We were so far away from the major cities she had never even seen a member of the Myriad, only having walked past the temple in Mira. It was easy to keep the secret from her, the true magnitude of what it meant. Faxon and I had argued about it on more than one occasion. He had no intentions of ever telling her she was the Beloved, but I knew we needed to eventually. She had a right to know about the prophecy. Watching her sprint out the door, I made up my mind. I’d tell her when they got home, Faxon be damned.

“Try not to worry. I’ll keep her safe.” As he passed me to get his hat off the coat rack, Faxon put his hand on the small of my back and leaned in, kissing me on the cheek. “Goodbye, my love.” When he turned to walk out the door, all I could do was stare. He rarely showed affection, probably because I never returned it. I watched him pull on his cloak and leave the house, glancing over his shoulder at me with a strange look on his face. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but the interaction left me feeling uncomfortable.

I pulled on my cloak, a deep, rich blue—almost black—with pale yellow flowers I’d embroidered on the hood. Following my family outside, I stood on the porch and waved. Faxon led the way with Theo and Elora behind, giggling with each other. I couldn’t stop myself and smiled wide. It was comforting to see my daughter do normal things like flirt with the neighbor boy when so much of her life hadn’t been what I’d wanted for her. Her hood fell back, and I saw she had done what I asked and darkened her hair. It was still lighter than mine, but the brun root had darkened it enough to look natural. It would suffice, as long as she kept her hood up. I called out to remind her, and she waved an annoyed hand at me and pulled it back up.

“Love you to the moon!” I shouted, attempting to annoy her further. She turned, shooting a glare at me before smiling over her shoulder as their horses disappeared around a bend in the path.

I walked out to the stable to ready Bree for the trip to meet with Lord Kennon. While Faxon and Elora were going directly south, I’d go southeast to the meadow where we met every month. It was a long ride but an easy one. As I walked into the stable, I heard Bree softly nicker at me from her stall.

“Hush girl, I’ll be there in a minute.” Muttering, I pulled out my quiver and bow from the empty stall at the end of the stable. The yew bow was a gift from Faxon a few years ago, and I cared for it tenderly. Once Elora was a bit older, I had started leaving her with Faxon, and I would lose myself in the woods, hunting. My father was as generous as he could be with his stipend, however supplementing it with any meat I could find helped us live more comfortably. I glanced at the short sword leaning against the back corner and grimaced. That was not how you cared for a weapon. It had been a few weeks since I’d last sparred with Theo. He’d grown busy preparing for winter: adding compost to their garden, clearing all the brush from the trees he and Faxon had trimmed over the summer, and making all of the necessary repairs around their property. I knew he was occupied, and for good reason, but it meant I hadn’t sparred with anyone in a long while. I supposed I should have pushed Elora to learn, but it was next to impossible to pry her books out of her hands, let alone get her to do any chores around the house. She would much rather read or practice using her abilities. It was another thing she had in common with Lucia—neither cared about weapons in the slightest. Sometimes I wondered if I was only as keen as I was in order to feel useful, to have a skill uniquely my own.

Why would I ever need to arm myself? I have you and Rainier to protect me.

The memory was a slap, and it was one that came to haunt me regularly. Oh, how wrong she was. I could hear the trill of her voice, much higher than mine. She’d been teasing at the time, as she had been more powerful than me, but it turned out to be a crueler joke than she could have imagined. I tried to ignore the pang in my heart. They were more rare as time had passed, but certain things could trigger a memory when I least expected it—I’d be in tears if I thought of them for too long. I shook my head to focus and walked over to the stall housing my headstrong, stubborn, and temperamental mare. Bree let out a great sigh to let me know she was glad for my attention.

“Good morning, Bree.” I rubbed my hand along her muzzle. She was a beautiful bay horse with a red body and black mane and tail, and she gave the false impression of approachability. Giving her a quick brush, I began to prepare her for the ride.

“Did you see Theo this morning? Of course, Faxon didn’t tell him to get you ready too, huh,” I cooed at Bree. Maybe if I kept talking to her, one day she’d answer. Leading Bree outside, I realized I was running late. I ran back into the house to get my bag and attached my dagger to my thigh. I always left armed for these meetings. I’d be coming back with enough money to entice thieves, even if I’d never once run into one.

Pullingouttheoldpocket watch he’d gifted me as a child, I confirmed that Lord Kennon Highclere was late. It was two hours past noon, and Bree and I had made up for our late start, and still beat him to our meeting point. The meadow where we met sat near the banks of a stream leading all the way east to the Tuaman Cliffs. The rolling field of grass and wildflowers had been a destination of peace for me and my sister. It was only a two hours’ ride from Ravemont, so when Lucia began to feel the stresses of what it meant to be betrothed to the Crown Prince of Vesta on top of being the Beloved, we would often ride out here. We also took the prince and princess with us quite a few times when they came to stay at Crown Cottage, one of the royal residences this side of the Alsor Mountains. There were days we’d all ride out in the morning and sleep in the grass, warm from the sun and the Nythyrian wine in our blood. That last summer we spent a lot of time outside, either in the meadow or the olive grove. During a particularly stressful time when the Myriad Masters came to see a show of Lucia’s talents, she disappeared with Princess Lavenia and Rainier’s best friend Dewalt, leaving the prince and I to make excuses. She’d been sheepish and apologetic when they returned. Lucia had slipped the guard who was assigned to accompany her that day, and he was beaten for it. She was so angry that she convinced our father and the Crown to let Prince Rainier and Dewalt be her personal guard. They were just as well trained, and both were more powerful than any of the guards, Rainier especially. After that day, we spent even more time in the meadow, the five of us, and it turned into our own personal haven. The meadow was one of the only places near Crown Cottage and Ravemont that didn’t bring back cruel memories for me.

I left an apple for the trip back, but the rest of my food did not stand a chance. I hadn’t eaten anything since the coffee that morning, and I chuckled to myself, imagining my grumbling stomach would alert predators on the path. When I finished, and there was still no sign of Lord Kennon, I began to worry as I pressed my healing hands against Bree’s joints, keeping her comfortable. The man was getting older, and though his path to the meadow from Ravemont was much easier than mine, he was mortal and aging, more fragile than he’d like to let anyone believe. I started to ready Bree, about to continue the ride to the estate when I saw him on the horizon. Instead of meeting him halfway, I waited. He’d be insulted if he thought I doubted his abilities.

“Emmeline.” Lord Kennon uttered my name as a particularly disappointing fact. He looked the same as I’d seen him last month. His stomach and shoulders had grown rounder with age, and his beard and hair were going white. His skin was a bit more sallow and pale than the last I’d seen him. Considering the ride, I was impressed by his perfect tidiness. Ever the lord, he wouldn’t tolerate a single hair out of place or garment looking unkempt.

“Father.” I attempted to match his contempt and immediately regretted it. I loved him so much. But the tragedies he faced—we faced—had made him a shell of who he used to be. When Lucia died, all three of us were husks. Mother passed not long after. She was a healer like me, and I didn’t have nearly enough time to learn everything I could from her. Although she was a conduit without a bonded lifespan, like I was now, she was still considered rather young when she died. I believed it to be from a broken heart. She’d always favored Lucia, and somehow, she managed to take it harder than Father and I. She’d been quick to pawn me off on Faxon and usher me into a different wing of the estate after the wedding. I think seeing my face, Lucia’s face, was too much for her. It was too much for me too. It was quite a long time before I stopped avoiding mirrors. After Elora was born, I thought Mother was relieved. She orchestrated the move to Brambleton, set up the stipend, and ensured Father, and only Father, would deliver it to me this way. It hurt a bit, knowing she’d rather not see me. I knew just seeing my face brought untold agony to her. But I understood. I understood it better than anyone. I didn’t see my mother again before her death, and I missed the burial. Since Father hadn’t sent a messenger when she passed, I found out here in the meadow after it was all said and done. Part of me would never forgive him.

“Where is Elora?” He glanced around in confusion, drawing me out of my thoughts.

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