Free Six Heirs by Pierre Grimbert Page B

Your Excellence. I just need some time to think. This strategy will force me to leave Ith, won’t it?”
    “Unfortunately, for some time. Your salvation depends on it.”
    “My salvation.”
    Lana stood up and admired the landscape from her window with new eyes. It seemed to her already that it was the last time she would enjoy it.
    “Because it is necessary, I will abandon everything I have. Everything that makes up my life. May Eurydis give me strength.”
    “Wise words,” concluded the relieved Emaz, standing up. “It would hurt me immeasurably to lose you. We will figure out the details later; until then, I will make the arrangements I must for...for what we have decided.”
    He took his leave, briefly embracing her again.
    Alone again, Lana argued with her conscience. She had lied to an Emaz. Blatantly. She knew why the Züu were looking for her. At least, she knew the basic cause.
    Her ancestor Maz Achem, and his mysterious voyage to a small Lorelien island. The Island of Ji.
    The Züu had only started her on a journey she had been planning for years.
    But the Grand Temple couldn’t know anything about that.

    Yan slowly emerged from darkness, struggling with the throbbing pain in the back of his skull that was trying to drag him back down. He was lying on his back, and opening his eyes, all he could see was pale morning sky through the branches hanging above.
    “He’s waking up,” announced a quavering voice. Yan’s heart leaped in his chest: it was Léti’s, unmistakably. He sat up too abruptly, bringing back the pain, and immediately passed out again.
    When he came to, the sun was higher in the sky; it must have been the start of the third deciday. Yan propped himself up on his elbows, cautiously this time.
    To his relief, he realized that he was not mistaken: Léti was sitting nearby, and she appeared to be in good health, with the exception of her eyes, reddened with tears. Her aunt was there too and stared at him disapprovingly. There was also a stranger dressed in black, facing him with an openly hostile expression on his face.
    Even though he hadn’t met many, Yan was almost certain that the stranger was a native of the Lower Kingdoms. He was rather short—shorter than him, at least—but the first adjective that came to mind looking at him was “imposing.”
    The second, definitely, was “dangerous.”
    He must have been in his forties, at least. That’s what his appearance suggested: his leathery skin, already full of small wrinkles, his profound, somber gaze, and the gray strands among his dark head of hair. A thick mustache and an ugly scar drew crisscrossing lines on his face. He was quite obviously dressed for battle: pieces of leather solidly attached toone another, with flashes of metal here and there, from head to toe. This handmade outfit wasn’t brand new anymore; it was worn at the joints, scuffed everywhere, and patched up in some places. The man carried, rather comfortably, a bare curved blade and a dagger at his waist. Yan thought to himself that he must handle those weapons just as naturally as he slipped on his tunic in the morning. And this imposing and dangerous man was staring right at him with a fiery look.
    “You were told to stay in your village? Were you not?” he scolded.
    His strong accent was typical of the Lower Kingdoms.
    Still in shock, Yan looked at Léti and her aunt with the hope of finding some support. But Léti was sobbing, her face buried in her palms, while her aunt seemed to be in agreement with the stranger. His head felt heavy. He worried that he might faint again.
    “Who are you?” he managed. His throat was dry and his own speech sounded strange to his ears.
    “This is Grigán,” Corenn answered for the man in black. “He’s...a cousin of mine. A very distant cousin.”
    Yan looked back at the strange man, who was nervously pacing as he stroked his mustache. This man was related to Léti?
    “If it weren’t for him, we would be dead by now,”