Page 63 of To Touch A Silent Fury
“You must leave here,” Yvon said.
“Are the Sons there?”
“Do not speak of them. Never,” Yvon replied, still keeping her words as clipped as possible, her face white. “Not safe for you. You will not be free.”
That was an understatement. It was a death sentence; everyone knew the stories. These Sons must be connected with the barbaric practice, for Yvon to be so concerned. But I could protect myself, and they might be my only route to the egg. “You said once they led the pilgrimage for Vellintris’ last egg. Is that what they prepare for now?”
Something in Yvon’s expression changed. She looked at me differently, the anger faltering. “Why do you seek the dragon?”
“I have to, it is the only way,” I said. Ersimmon’s words flitted back into my head. I could hardly remember his voice now, butthe words were etched like upon a headstone.Become something he needs, the bride he cannot refuse.
Yvon’s eyes went wide. “You aren’t Broken. Your Fate still calls you, brings you here.”
I swallowed. Then I nodded.
Yvon’s hand clapped over her own mouth this time. She muttered against it, something I had no chance of hearing. Her body shook.
I edged towards her. “Yvon—”
She skittered three steps back, looking at me as if she’d never seen me before.
“I’m sorry I lied,” I said. “But I must find the dragon if I am to complete my Fate.”
She was silent for a long time, her body quaking. Then she made a sign I’d never seen before.
“What?”
She repeated it. It was a two-handed sign, the fingertips of each hand meeting before her body. “Fate.”
“Yes,” I said, confused.
Yvon nodded and then took another step back. “If this is your Fate, you must claim it, I measure. She has landed, and they will lead you to her. Stay out of sight.”
I sucked in a breath. Vellintris was already down? “Come with me?”
Yvon shook her head, still looking at me as if I was a stranger. “I cannot. It is…forbiddenfor me. I should never have trained you as I did. I should—Forgive me.”
I studied her quizzically even as she backed away even more. “You did more than I could have ever asked for. You kept me alive, Yvon.”
She only pulled up her faceguard and repeated her words. But this time she added two signs at the end. ‘Amune. Mother.’
I knew Yvon would run now, as she always had when I pushed her too far. But there was another question I had to ask. “Your Sollie,” I asked, and saw the ripple of hurt cross Yvon’s face. I swallowed. “Is she…?”
I paused, my hands before me, caught between two signs.
Yvon flicked her hands, her voice accompanying it. “Alive. But I do not see her much.”
Alive. Sollie was alive? By Amune, they had escaped that night. “Where is she?”
‘Alone.’ I could tell the word—signalled with one pointer finger circling the other—pained her. I waited, and she expanded, which was rare enough that I felt a strange surge of belonging. “When she was young, her eyes were bright. Like you.” She signed‘Fate’again. “But her hair is sable, and her eyes grey, not your white. She hears too much, and it causes her fits. It was worse on your island.”
Scary Sollie, chained to the wall in her room. She was a child, maybe four years younger than me and looking forward to her eighth year. I remembered her uncertain smile, and how she told me that she didn’t like the boys because they all smelled bad. And then, only a few short weeks later, Skirmtold destroyed the West Wing.
They had come back here. She was a grown woman. An adult. I couldn’t picture her, I found. I could only see the girl, her face strained as she tried to escape from an unknown horror.
“I remember,” I whispered.
“She lives alone. It is easier.”
