"When she's ready?" Ayla tried next.
"Make her ready," Zasen told her. "You owe her that, Ayla. It's a way of taking care of her, because hiding the hard truths will only cause her to be blindsided when they come." He quickly licked his lips, that dark tongue hard to miss. "And you're the only one she will believe."
The breath rushed from Ayla's lungs. "Oh."
"I know you want to protect her," I said, liking where Zasen was going with this, "but preparing her will. This is the only way you can keep her safe, even if it won't be easy. She'll trust you."
"Okay," she breathed. "I'll do it, and maybe Callah told her something, because she said she got my message."
"What message?" Zasen asked.
A tiny little smile touched Ayla's lips. "I promised to send back something yellow. I didn't think about it, but my arrows are yellow - and Callah is a healer. She saw them, so she knows I'm alive. That's why she sent Meri. Meri just didn't seemto know the message was an arrow. I don't think Callah told her, which is why I wasn't sure I should."
"You should," I promised.
"And you have to find out what Callah said," Zasen added. "We're fighting blind, Ayla, and your friends might just be the answer we've been waiting for."
Eight
Callah
Ipushed the drab food around my plate, trying to convince myself I should eat it. I'd never realized it before, but it had been easier when talking to someone. A bite between words and before I knew it, the meal was gone. Now, all I had to think about was the paltry amount of food on my plate and how my stomach would barely notice it when I was done.
The last two hunts had been hard. More women than ever were wearing black. The widows had taken to dining together, flashing half-smiles at each other while keeping their voices low and their heads down. The men didn't notice them, thankfully.
Granted, that was the purpose of the black cloth. A woman in mourning was supposed to be invisible. Her grief, movements, and adjustment to life as a widow were often ugly, and men didn't care to see those things. Their lives may have shifted from their marriage suites to the widow's hall, but we all shared the same dining space.
I glanced over, trying to count how many women were at that table when a plate clattered down across from me. I jumped, my eyes jerking to the one who'd dropped it - and froze. Tobias stood there, waiting to be noticed.
"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the bench before him.
"It's an open table," I assured him.
"But do you mind?" he pressed.
"No, sir," I breathed, ducking my head to hide my confusion.
So he sat, and when someone his size did that, it rattled the entire table. Further down, a man looked over. At first, I thought he was annoyed, but then he saw who was causing the commotion and smiled. Why? That made me think something was going on, but what?
"How has your day been, Miss Atwood?" Tobias asked.
I glanced up at him, my eyes narrowing. "It has been a pleasant day," I replied properly. "And you, Mr. Warren?"
He bent to shove a forkful of vegetables into his mouth. "Good," he mumbled around it. After he swallowed, he glanced down the table, then leaned in some more and lowered his voice. "I asked permission to court you."
"Asked who?" Because children from quarantine weren't allowed to marry - or so I thought.
"The council."
"Why?" I whispered, completely confused.
He looked up and smiled at me. The man's eyes were hazel. They weren't blue like I always expected. They were almost golden in the center, shifting to dark grey around the outer edge. The combined effect made them look almost olive from a distance, but this close, I could see the different colors merging. After a pause, his gaze jumped from one of my eyes to the other, then he bent for another bite.
"You turn twenty soon," he finally answered.
"But your mother was in quarantine," I breathed. "We can't..."
"We can if it's approved," he corrected. "It's been approved, Callah. I should be on your list soon." He paused again, his eyes jumping over as the man at the end of the table stood.