the sound of this. Deborah's breathing was raspy, and she sounded worried. I thought she had seen everything, knew everything, in this world and the next, and that nothing could frighten her. She came close so she could whisper, so the other priestesses would not hear.
She has to let him live.
Penthe was waiting for me in the snow. Her fingers and face were turning blue from the cold and there was snow in her hair. She was pacing back and forth, desperate. I gave her the packet of herbs and followed her as she rushed to my mother's chamber.
The best blankets were on the floor, made of red thread and white horsehide. There was a fire to keep the cave warm. The Queen was shivering, her eyes closed. Her dark skin looked ashy. When she opened her eyes I wasn't sure she recognized Penthe.
Your daughter brought something to save you,
Penthe said.
My daughter?
The Queen's voice sounded far away, as though it had been carried by the wind.
She's not yet born.
Penthe turned to me.
She doesn't know what she's saying. Don't listen to her.
I understood why my mother loved Penthe then. Penthe's heart was unlike any other; it was large enough to include even me.
Penthe made a tea of the herbs. I sat beside the Queen; she was sweating as though it were still summer. I reached and touched my mother's face, something I'd never done before. Her flesh burned me.
That feels so good,
the Queen murmured.
Like rain
.
Help me lift her head,
Penthe said. Together we did so and my mother drank the herbs through her parched lips.
Penthe and I watched as my mother tossed and turned, then fell asleep.
She'll be all right now,
Penthe said.
Strong again.
But Penthe's face wasn't as sure as her words. The henna tattoos of snakes seemed to move in the firelight.
She will be,
I agreed, and Penthe looked at me with gratitude.
In return she gave me something I had never expected. She took my hands in hers.
It's not that she doesn't want you to be the Queen. It's that you don't want it.
I didn't say anything to that. I felt as though I'd been slapped. How could my mother know what I wanted when I didn't know myself?
That night when I went to check on the horses, I told Io to stay behind. It was too cold for her. In the sky, the great bear's tail was to the north. Everything seemed far away and cold. I had not told Penthe the priestess's message, and my mother was too ill to hear. But I was born with the taste of prophecy in my mouth, the bitter taste of the laurel, and I knew what was to come. I sank to my knees and asked Usha's spirit for guidance, but all I heard was the silence of the snow and the horses coming toward me, invisible with all the white flakes that covered them until they were upon me, my sisters, each and every one.
Io came for me when I was out with the horses, spreading out what was left of the hay. I knew the time was near. Io's eyes were bright with tears. She didn't have to say the Queen was worsening. I ran back following in Io's footsteps. I was shaking when I went to see my mother. For a little while the tea the priestess had sent had helped her; she had drank some mares’ milk and the sweat had disappeared from her face. But that relief hadn't losted. Now she was worse, stone cold, wrapped in blankets. She could barely sit up. Leaning against the wall was her painted wooden quiver, marked from battle, marked by her strength. But she was weaker than ever. She was fading in front of us.
I knelt beside her and it took a while for the Queen's eyes to find me. She recognized me right away.
Did the priestess have any message for me?
the Queen asked.
I had never seen her this way. It was fear I saw inside her. I thought about the girl she had been when the fifty had attacked her. I thought she must have looked like this, different from the woman she'd become. For an instant, I felt I knew her. I wanted to protect her, just this once.
The priestess said nothing,
I told her.
Only that you should rest and be well.
The
She has to let him live.
Penthe was waiting for me in the snow. Her fingers and face were turning blue from the cold and there was snow in her hair. She was pacing back and forth, desperate. I gave her the packet of herbs and followed her as she rushed to my mother's chamber.
The best blankets were on the floor, made of red thread and white horsehide. There was a fire to keep the cave warm. The Queen was shivering, her eyes closed. Her dark skin looked ashy. When she opened her eyes I wasn't sure she recognized Penthe.
Your daughter brought something to save you,
Penthe said.
My daughter?
The Queen's voice sounded far away, as though it had been carried by the wind.
She's not yet born.
Penthe turned to me.
She doesn't know what she's saying. Don't listen to her.
I understood why my mother loved Penthe then. Penthe's heart was unlike any other; it was large enough to include even me.
Penthe made a tea of the herbs. I sat beside the Queen; she was sweating as though it were still summer. I reached and touched my mother's face, something I'd never done before. Her flesh burned me.
That feels so good,
the Queen murmured.
Like rain
.
Help me lift her head,
Penthe said. Together we did so and my mother drank the herbs through her parched lips.
Penthe and I watched as my mother tossed and turned, then fell asleep.
She'll be all right now,
Penthe said.
Strong again.
But Penthe's face wasn't as sure as her words. The henna tattoos of snakes seemed to move in the firelight.
She will be,
I agreed, and Penthe looked at me with gratitude.
In return she gave me something I had never expected. She took my hands in hers.
It's not that she doesn't want you to be the Queen. It's that you don't want it.
I didn't say anything to that. I felt as though I'd been slapped. How could my mother know what I wanted when I didn't know myself?
That night when I went to check on the horses, I told Io to stay behind. It was too cold for her. In the sky, the great bear's tail was to the north. Everything seemed far away and cold. I had not told Penthe the priestess's message, and my mother was too ill to hear. But I was born with the taste of prophecy in my mouth, the bitter taste of the laurel, and I knew what was to come. I sank to my knees and asked Usha's spirit for guidance, but all I heard was the silence of the snow and the horses coming toward me, invisible with all the white flakes that covered them until they were upon me, my sisters, each and every one.
Io came for me when I was out with the horses, spreading out what was left of the hay. I knew the time was near. Io's eyes were bright with tears. She didn't have to say the Queen was worsening. I ran back following in Io's footsteps. I was shaking when I went to see my mother. For a little while the tea the priestess had sent had helped her; she had drank some mares’ milk and the sweat had disappeared from her face. But that relief hadn't losted. Now she was worse, stone cold, wrapped in blankets. She could barely sit up. Leaning against the wall was her painted wooden quiver, marked from battle, marked by her strength. But she was weaker than ever. She was fading in front of us.
I knelt beside her and it took a while for the Queen's eyes to find me. She recognized me right away.
Did the priestess have any message for me?
the Queen asked.
I had never seen her this way. It was fear I saw inside her. I thought about the girl she had been when the fifty had attacked her. I thought she must have looked like this, different from the woman she'd become. For an instant, I felt I knew her. I wanted to protect her, just this once.
The priestess said nothing,
I told her.
Only that you should rest and be well.
The
Similar Books
Pirate's Price
Aubrey Ross
Significance
Shelly Crane
A Summer to Remember
Mary Balogh
In Every Clime and Place
Patrick LeClerc
Animal 2
K'wan
The Door
Magda Szabó
When Wishes Collide
Barbara Freethy
Bare In Bermuda
Livia Ellis
The Specter Key
Kaleb Nation
Backwoods
Jill Sorenson