Free ARC: Sunstone by Freya Robertson Page A

travel bag. She assumed Horada was going to stay with Rosamunda, but…” Her voice trailed off.
    Horada travelled the short distance to stay with her half-sister on a frequent basis. But Orsin knew that was not the case this time.
    “She has gone to Heartwood,” Julen murmured.
    Procella’s cheeks went red as if her head was going to explode.
    “I should have foreseen this,” Julen said through gritted teeth. He was already buckling on his scabbard. “Yesterday she spoke of her frustration. I know how stubborn she is – I should have guessed she would leave on her own.”
    “It is not your fault.” Procella gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles white. “I drove her to it.”
    “It is too late for recriminations. We must go after her.” Orsin beckoned to a nearby page and told him to go and saddle three horses.
    But Julen shook his head. “It is nearly dark and she will not take the main road. She is a good horsewoman and will not fear to travel in the woods. Like me, she has the ability to make herself invisible in the trees. I will follow her – I will be able to travel more quickly on my own and I know the secrets of the shadows whereas you do not.”
    “What can I do?” Procella reached automatically for the sword at her side, only to find it missing where she wore her casual clothes, and she cursed.
    “Go to Heartwood,” Julen said. “Take the main road, and gather men on the way from the Wall. We do not know what form the Incendi invasion will take or when it will occur. Spread the word and garner support. Let it be known that we are not going to be taken down lightly.” He rested his hand on her arm. “And Mother? Take care. You, too, have received the dreams. The Incendi may be after you also.”
    He ruffled the fur on Rua’s head. “You must stay here, old girl.” He bent and kissed her nose. “I do not want you getting into trouble at your age.”
    He turned to his brother and they clasped hands in the age-old gesture of soldier to soldier. “Travel safe,” Julen said. His voice held sincerity, but his eyes were cool. When he turned and walked off without another word, he left Orsin with a vague sense of foreboding and a bitter taste in his mouth, as if he had drunk the oak-leaf tea, acerbitas, reminding him of the bitterness of life without the Arbor’s love.
    II
    Catena hovered in the doorway of the house and leaned against the doorjamb. As always, whenever she visited her childhood home, a sensation of weariness and defeat crept over her, and she had to force a smile onto her face as her mother looked up and saw her.
    “Cat!” Imma pushed herself tiredly to her feet and came over to welcome her daughter, kissing her on the cheek. “It is so good to see you.”
    “And you, Mother.” Catena directed her back to the chair. “Please, sit. Do not tire yourself out.”
    Imma lowered herself back down, already looking worn out by the movement. “It is true, I do feel tired today.”
    You are always tired , Catena thought, although she didn’t voice the words. And no wonder. The noise outside was making her head ache, and she had only been there five minutes. She walked through the small house to the back yard, caught the two boys playing at swords by the scruff of their necks and marched them out of the garden and down to the river. “You can yell all you like down here,” she told her brothers sharply. “Give Mother’s ears a rest.”
    The boys continued their play as if nothing had happened, and she walked back through the yard slowly. The vegetables in their rows needed weeding, and the midden at the bottom should have been cleared days ago, the smell making her nose wrinkle. She entered the dark building, noting the way the rough tapestry on the wall that her mother had been so proud of when they had completed it together had faded and was covered in a fine sheen of metallic dust. Half a dozen of the pots on the shelves had been broken and then mended – badly in most