Promising Hope (2 page)

The male servants’ bathing room was nothing but a
small closet with a drain, a tiny window at eye-level, and just
enough room for Dar and a bucket or two of water. He examined his
stomach; whatever Kris had done had only left a small scar.

The washing was refreshing—nothing like a bath back
at home, but better than anything he’d had since Di’s house in
Aron. He had blood all over him—his own, Leck’s, Arlan’s—as well as
dirt, dead bugs from the jungle, and a thin layer of sweat. He
scrubbed the grime off with the first bucket of water Jon had given
him and rinsed it all away with the second. He felt like the
washing helped clear his mind, too. The others would come for Grace
soon. If they didn’t, he’d have to find a way to get her out. To
get both of them out.

Dar pulled on the brown slacks and white shirt. Jon
was still waiting in the corridor when Dar got out.

“Long washing,” Jon said, “but you were pretty
filthy.”

Dar shrugged. “I haven’t had the best week.”

“What were you convicted for?” Jon asked, leading Dar
back to the room where the other men were.

“Oh, this and that.” The official charges were
helping Sierra and Evan escape from Rahuda and possibly assisting
in the murders of the guards. Addled as Grace was, she still stood
by the fact that nobody kidnapped her and she left of her own
accord.

Jon laughed. “I’ll bet.”

Back in the card playing room, Dar noticed there were
a few other small tables. Jon returned to his game, and Dar sat at
one of the tables, trying to think of a way to convince the prince
and the Protectors to let Grace go. He’d run out of clever ideas
long ago, though. At this point, he may just have to wait to see
what happened. But if he waited, who knew what could happen to
Grace?

The door opened, and a few men in the servants’
uniform trailed in. Dar jumped to his feet when he saw a familiar
face with a scar running down its features. “Vin!”

Vin glanced up, his eyes wide, and a grin broke out
on his face. They closed the distance between them and hugged.
Vin’s shoulders were bony, the excess muscle he usually had nearly
gone. “Oh, it’s good to see you!” Vin clapped his back.

“All right, break it up,” Jon called.

Dar pulled away, blinking away tears. “You’re all
right. Where’s Amina?”

Vin’s smile faded a bit. “With the female servants.
She does laundry and seamstress duties.”

“Is she all right?”

Dar noted the bags under Vin’s eyes, the way his skin
sagged. “I think so,” Vin replied. “I don’t see her much, but from
what I hear, she’s fine.”

Dar winced, running a hand through his hair. Vin and
Amina were here as prisoners because of him and Grace—they’d sought
refuge at their house when running from the Protectors. When they
inevitably showed up and Grace, Dar, and Sierra escaped, they
arrested Vin and Amina and pinned them with the crime of kidnapping
a noble. “Oh, Vin, I’m sorry about what happened.”

Vin shrugged and motioned for Dar to sit down. “I
guess we should have thought it through a little more. What the
hell’s been happening?”

They sat down at the table. Dar could feel the gazes
of the men around them as they watched and listened to their
reunion. He dropped his voice, trying to sound casual at the same
time. “Well, a lot’s been happening…” He trailed off. “We’ve been
traveling all over the damn country, plus Kleisade… Grace and
Sierra… they think they did it.”

Vin didn’t ask what he meant. His face paled, and he
stared at Dar. “What? How?”

“I don’t know, really,” Dar said quietly. “Grace
didn’t tell me all the details.”

Vin covered his mouth with his hands. “How does they
know it worked?”

Dar swallowed, glancing around the small room again.
There were about ten men now, half of them playing cards, the
others talking quietly or half-sleeping at the tables. “I don’t
know, but I think she’s right. I think it worked. She wouldn’t say
it unless it did.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s somewhere here at the palace,” Dar said. As
much as he wanted to be honest with Vin, maybe hiding the truth of
the love potion would protect Grace. Dar wanted the prince to know
about it purely out of selfish reasons, but he hated to think how
William might respond if he truly knew. “She wanted to go
home.”

“What?”

“She helped us, and she said that’s all she could do.
She wanted to be back with her family.” Dar looked across the room
at the door, avoiding Vin’s eyes.

“But I don’t understand…”

“Come on, Vin, don’t you think she’s done enough for
us?” Dar crossed his arms. “Let’s just leave it.”

Vin looked ready to argue, but the door opened, and a
portly man in an apron came in. He held a crate and he dropped it
on the table where Jon sat. The other men got to their feet,
including Vin. “Come on, or you won’t get anything to eat,” Vin
told Dar.

The crate was full of food: chicken bones, rotten
oranges, crusty bread. There was some kind of order to the
grabbing, but Dar couldn’t figure out what it was. Everyone had
food when they went back to their tables, but it was the bigger,
meaner men who had the more edible stuff.

Dar was glad Grace had better accommodations, even
though it was because she’d taken a love potion. The thought made
his stomach twist. He’d never forget the sound of her voice when
she told him she loved him. He only wished they’d said it to each
other earlier.

* * *

Chapter Two

Sierra let her fingers run over the soft parchment of
the scroll she and Grace had read together. This small, fragile
thing had changed everything. The fading ink sprawled across the
papyrus in neat penmanship. Goosebumps spread on her arms as she
remembered the magic flowing through her and Grace, through their
linked hands.

“Sierra?”

She looked up from the long table where she sat. The
elders were gathered around her, carefully sorting through the
scrolls and parchments Sierra had brought back from the jungle in
Nyad. The tall windows on either side of them showed the view of
Nilee and Mort’s private beach on one side and the courtyard of the
castle on the other. The rugs were rich red and gold, and there
were usually more plants than people in this room. Sierra had spent
the most of her waking time here over the last few days; she was
growing tired of it.

Lisbeth motioned to the scroll. “Is that the one you
and Grace read from?”

Right, she’d already asked that question. “Yes.”
Sierra smoothed out the scroll and pointed to the words at the
bottom.

The elders around her crowded closer. Jeshro and
Lisbeth were there, of course, and Nilee and Mort owned the castle.
The last two were Bea and Harver, from Kleisade. Bea was directly
behind her, her black hair brushing against Sierra’s shoulder.

“What language is it?” Bea asked.

“I don’t know,” Sierra said.

“Can you read it for us?” Jeshro asked.

Sierra cleared her throat, her face warming up.
“Sure.” She studied the words. When she and Grace had been in that
cave, terrified and exhausted and desperate, she swore she heard
voices, whispers joining them as they read, perhaps even guiding
them. She cleared her throat again before reading the words. They
came out halting at first, but slowly, her mouth grew used to the
pronunciation, the sounds rolling off her lips. “
Måljivea adëab
fejån ljaun pitu reøs. Måljivea Eloha jidøe adëab ljaun pitu reøs.
Måljivea reøsä ljaune. Måljivea khula bique reø. Måljivea adëab
fejån ljaun pitu reøs
.”

Silence followed her reading. She slowly looked up at
the elders. Every one of them was staring at her.

“What does it mean?” Nilee whispered.

Sierra looked back down at the scroll. She’d been
wondering that same thing herself for the past few days. Since they
arrived the night before last, her mind had been turning over the
events of the cave again and again, wondering what exactly had
happened to her, what exactly she and Grace had done. “Um… well…
it’s hard to describe. I don’t know it word for word, but it’s…”
She rubbed her forehead as she searched for words. “It’s a way of
asking for power to help the shape changers. It’s a way of… taking
control of the magic inside of us to protect you.”

“This is amazing,” Nilee said. She put a hand on
Sierra’s shoulder. The woman just couldn’t stop touching her.

Harver grunted and sat down, grumbling something
under his breath.

“What was that?” Nilee asked, her grip tightening on
Sierra.

Harver glared at Nilee. “I said I will believe it
when I see it for myself.”

Lisbeth straightened, her face glowing with
excitement. “Angela will be here soon.”

Lisbeth hadn’t shut up about Angela since they got
here. She was half-Cosa, half-Zinna, and her powers would help the
elders see what happened in the cave. Grace told her she showed her
Lisbeth’s vision. Sierra wasn’t sure she liked the idea of a Zinna
in her head, but she did want to show the elders, wanted to prove
the curse was broken. Some people believed her, but others regarded
her with skepticism. Obviously, Harver was one of the latter.

“I’m going to continue searching through these,”
Harver said, motioning to the scrolls in front of him.

The elders stepped away from Sierra. Her shoulders
relaxed, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been
holding. She wished Grace were here. Along with wanting Grace and
Dar to be safe, there was a small part of her that just didn’t want
all of the attention. If Grace were here, there’d be two people for
the elders to stare at and fawn over… or, in Harver’s case, to
doubt and scoff at.

“The caravan from Belisha will arrive any minute
now,” Lisbeth said, sitting down next to Sierra.

That meant the Jolenian castle would hold nearly two
dozen people. The six elders, Sierra and the others from the
jungle, Avialies who were in the battle, and other Avialies who
were here for political and tactical reasons. They were planning
something. Probably a war. The thought of it made Sierra tense all
over.

She’d considered asking to leave until Angela
arrived, but the scrolls and parchment in front of her were too
fascinating. They combed through it all carefully and reverently.
Much of it was old stories: legends Natalia used to tell Sierra
before she tucked her into bed; stories Evan and Dar would act out
for Sierra and Sashe in the barn. They spoke of the origin of the
shape changers’ powers—supposedly once they’d been even more
powerful, able to change not only themselves but other people’s
perception of things. The gift of prophecy was more prevalent, too.
The texts spoke of adventures they had and trials and tribulations
they went through.

Sierra pulled a scroll out of the shrinking pile,
expecting another story about the Avialies. It only took her a few
sentences, though, to realize this story wasn’t on the side of the
shape changers.

“
Long before our time, long before Greenwich and
our esteemed King Crupin, there was an island off the coast of what
is now called Jolen and there, the magics ruled. The six families
lived one with the earth, and they were cruel, cold and calculating
as the night. Like a hurricane, they would ravage without thought.
Like a lightning storm, they struck and destroyed before
disappearing again. Like an earthquake, they shook the world and
tore apart its foundations. Like a volcano, their fire and ash
swept away life.

“
Those who were half-blooded were revered for
having more than one magic in them. Those who had the purest blood
ruled the others. Those who didn’t have magic were slaves,
subjected to the whims of the six families.

“
The six families wished to spread their magic and
to conquer other lands aside from their island. They had in their
minds the aim to move to Jolen first then, when they had amassed
enough power, to the uncultivated land beyond it which would one
day become Greenwich. Yet one brave man saw this and wanted to
spare the rest of the world their brutality. This man, Yann,
searched for a way to overcome the magics, although he was only a
nonmagic.

“
Yann and a small group of other men gathered
together to rebel against the magics. They planned to strike the
elders of the six families, those with the most power. Yann and his
rebels had no way of getting into the castle, though, barricaded as
it was by magic.

“
It was as Yann and his rebels searched for a way
into the castle that he noticed a young woman, one he’d never seen
before, sneaking out of the walls. The elders of the families were
treated like royalty, paraded around and worshiped by the others,
but she was unfamiliar to him. She was not a slave, for she was
dressed too lavishly in silks and jewels.

“
The rebels cornered the woman and found her name
to be Kalila. Though she did not admit it at first, she finally
told them she was half-Revealer, half-nonmagic. Her mother, a
daughter of an elder, was raped by a nonmagic, and although Kalila
had the magic of Revealing and Hiding as her mother did, she was
shunned for all seventeen years of her life for having a nonmagic
father.

“
Here, Yann saw his opportunity to get into the
castle. He spoke kindly to Kalila and was gentle towards her,
unlike his rebels. Kalila saw him as a hero, the leader of
barbarians, and she yearned to be away from her family. Over weeks,
she fell in love with him, and Yann moved closer into her heart and
closer to the elders.

“
It was on Kalila’s eighteenth birthday that she
let Yann into the castle, hiding him from the eyes of the elders.
Though Yann asked her to let the rebels in, she refused, saying she
wanted to be alone with him. For she had never loved someone as
much as she loved Yann. She wanted him to be like her, and she
herself wanted to be more powerful, so her people would accept
her.