Free Surrender by Rhiannon Paille Page B

“Come sit. I’ll have Melianna bring some tea.” She went to gesture to her servant, who was nowhere near them, but Desaunius held up a hand.
    “I won’t sit,” she said, her voice so thin and papery it almost cracked. “And you will understand me.” Despite Atara’s station on Avristar, Desaunius was older and wiser. She was vexed by Atara’s dreamy presence. Atara was smarter than she acted; her lack of seriousness bothered her.
    Atara grasped her elbow with one hand and narrowed her eyes. “Speak, and I will tell you what I see.” On top of her sovereignty, Atara had always been a gifted seer and healer. Her adepts in the Lands of Men always benefited from her guidance and foresight.
    Desaunius took in a breath and closed her eyes for a moment, the heady scent of dragon’s blood wafting through the room. “My apprentice Kaliel has recently been to the Great Oak.”
    Atara let her arms drop to her sides. “And this is why you did not send a messenger?”
    Desaunius pulled her jaw taut. She squeezed her fist, and lifted her chin so she could see Atara better. She was finished with toying with the Lady of the Land. If she needed to be startled then she would be. “A seed to bloom knows not if it will be, a flower or a weed, and cannot change its form once matured. Bloom the weed of temptation and expire the great garden of life. Bloom the flower of sacrifice and sustain the great garden in strife.” Her words bounced off the walls in the vast chamber.
    Atara’s eyes widened. She backed up and slumped into a heap of pillows, her lips mouthing words, but no sound came out.
    “You tell me what you think it means,” Desaunius said evenly as she crossed her arms.
    “A catalyst,” Atara replied, her voice low. She glanced at Desaunius, her eyes full of sorrow. “Your apprentice will play a great part in a war.” She whispered the last word, as though she was afraid to say it.
    “My apprentice is only a child.”
    “She won’t be one forever. We can’t be sure where—”
    “Obviously in the Lands of Men.” She didn’t want to entertain the thought of Avristar under attack.
    Atara dully nodded. She pushed herself out of the pillows and began pacing the floor. “Yes, of course, the Lands of Men, but the parable, it means a great deal more.” Her lips curled around her fist as she closed her eyes, appearing deep in thought.
    Desaunius frowned then smiled with amusement. “You would revel in the glory, wouldn’t you?” She snorted and crossed her arms. “This isn’t about glory or champions of Avristar. Kaliel is …” She was unsure how to explain it. The girl was shy, clumsy and mischievous. She didn’t have any of the qualities of a warrior much less a champion. It was hard to see her as anything but fragile and naïve.
    “It doesn’t matter. The Great Oak is never wrong,” Atara said.
    “Do you think it believes what you do about the girl?”
    Atara’s eyes widened then settled into apparent denial. “That she’s a Flame? No, and it’s nearly impossible.”
    Desaunius gulped. “Yes, with there being only nine of them in all the lands.”
    Atara let out a breath. “I didn’t mean that. Yes, the odds are slim, but why would we need one? We have the armies, the Valtanyana are locked away.”
    Desaunius glanced at the incense on the bureau, the chalky ash tumbling onto polished mahogany. She didn’t want to follow Atara’s train of thought at all. “The Flames have only been used in great wars.”
    “And Avristar has not seen war in thousands of years. Which is why she couldn’t possibly be a Flame,” Desaunius said. “The idea is ridiculous.”
    Atara straightened her back and stopped pacing; she made eye contact with Desaunius, her mouth set in a straight line. “Either way, she is a catalyst, someone who will make a difference. I think it best that she comes to me, trains here in Orlondir. Evennses is a place for children and she won’t be a child when she leaves