Chapter 9
The sound of a woman singing softly made Anelize’s eyes flutter open, finding that she was laying on the cold hard ground in the parlor of a small home she did not recognize.
A fire crackling in the hearth to her left made her flinch, glancing toward it where there was something bubbling within a black metal pot hung in the center of the hearth.
A chair before it rocked back and forth where a woman with long black hair was seated, her hands knitting thread as she sang, the words difficult to make out as Anelize lifted her head. Her body felt cold, heavy. Worn out like a rag used one too many times.
The woman kept rocking in her chair, her bare feet pushing her back and forth, back and forth. When she spoke, her words were a sharp rasp. A deep contrast to the lovely voice she’d used to sing, “You’ve let yourself grow weak. Pathetic, child. It’s a wonder you’re not dead.”
The fire in the hearth casted a silhouette around her as she turned to glance at Anelize, the shadows making it difficult to distinguish her face. Leaving only the bright blue eyes that were almost luminescent, as if made from pure moonlight.
“Who are you?” Anelize murmured, but her voice sounded different. Young and old all at once as it echoed around her.
The woman stopped her knitting, stopped rocking before she rose from her chair. Smoothing out the skirts of her white dress, the woman straightened to her full height. Long shadows danced across the room as she padded toward Anelize.
Looming over her, she leaned down to peer at her through the thick strands of her hair. The woman’s face gaunt, her cold eyes shimmering as she reached her long spindly fingers toward her face, “I am you, as you are me, Anelize Yarrow. And I have been expecting you for far too long.”
Anelize startled awake with a gasp, the world clearing from the haze in her sleep-addled mind. Her breaths came out in pants as she laid in what felt like a bed, her hands clutching the soft covers around her.
A dream. She’d had a dream, that was all.
Her relief was short-lived when Anelize realized she was staring up at a dark ceiling.
She jolted up right, heart in her throat, she placed a hand over her chest as she frantically looked around, realizing she was in a surprisingly large bedroom.
Across from her was an oak mantel above a fireplace with intricate carvings, the warm glow of the fire illuminated the welcoming shades of the olive-colored carpet on the floor woven with beautiful patterns of ivory branches and ravens.
Rich wooden panels lined the room, and two long curtains had been drawn closed, save for a sliver of light that allowed her a glimpse of what laid beyond the lattice windows.
Anelize pushed aside the covers that had been pulled over her, seeing she had been changed out of her clothes. A white nightgown with long billowing sleeves replacing her blood-stained dress from before.
Her bare feet padded across the room toward the windows.
She brushed aside the curtains, recognizing the street below.
She was still in the port district, somewhere near the square.
The world seemingly abed as night had fallen and a blanket of stars shimmered faintly in the sky.
When she caught sight of Watchmen patrolling below, she quickly stepped away.
The sound of a door opening behind her made her tense until she heard a familiar, lovely voice breathe out in sheer relief.
“Oh, thank the saints. You’re awake.” A short, beautiful older woman with dark brown hair and tawny skin wearing an evergreen dress quickly closed the door behind her as she crossed the room and enveloped Anelize into a bone crunching embrace.
“I was afraid you’d never wake. You’ve been asleep for two days. ”
“Zara?” Anelize murmured, her voice thick from misuse. Two days? No…it couldn’t be. “Enid…”
Wellyn’s mother tightened her hold for a few more seconds before releasing her, brushing away the strands of her hair away from her face. “Come, take a seat. Let me get a look at you. With so many in need of mending, I hardly had time to properly tend to you.”
Hundreds of questions flooded her mind as she mindlessly allowed herself to be led back to the bed. Questions that she was too afraid to hear the answers to.
Enid, Enid, Enid. Where was Enid?
Anelize knew better than to fight the woman as she fussed over her the moment she sat on the edge of the bed.
Zara Dobrin had always been affectionate with her and Enid since they were children.
It was an inherent part of what made the woman so lovely, though Anelize never could grow used to the overflowing affection she granted her the times they’d crossed paths.
Something that had grown less and less frequent after her father died, and their aunt forbade them from seeing the Dobrins.
Now more than ever Anelize was relieved for the fact that they had never told Magda that the Dobrins were all Vedrans.
Their father having been specific in never letting their secret slip.
Now she knew why, and she hated her aunt for stooping so low. Betraying her and Enid all for the sake of bloody ruens.
Anelize and Enid held power, just as their father had, but Magda had never come into a power of her own.
That alone could explain why she loathed them.
For possessing that which would never come to her, no matter how many times she waited for the call.
Evidently, there was absolutely no love lost between them for it hadn’t been there to begin with.
But had Magda truly hated them enough to send the king’s men upon them like rabid dogs?
“Look what they did to you.” Zara clicked her tongue as she tilted Anelize’s head up, granting her a clear view of her cheek and neck. “May I?”
When she waved her hand in front of her, Anelize nodded.
Zara reached into the pocket of the apron tied around her waist before retrieving a small silver pin.
Unclasping the needle, she brought it to her thumb and pricked her skin.
A small bead of blood rushed to the surface before she waved a hand over Anelize’s neck without touching her.
Almost instantly she felt a slight sting around the cut on her neck before it slowly eased, the feel of skin stitching itself back together never a feeling she particularly liked.
When she was done, Anelize placed her hand over the spot where the Watchman had nicked her and found only a small line that could have been nothing more than a scratch.
Vedrans tended to heal faster than those without a drop of power in their blood, yet it didn’t hurt to have one heal them every now and then. Especially when it came at the hand of such a skilled healer, such as Zara. An avit, as they call themselves.
Zara wiped her hand with the corner of her apron.
“I hope you don’t mind me changing you out of those clothes, but they were covered in blood and dirt.
When you were brought to us, I was almost certain you were dead.
I will have one of the boys fetch you fresh clothes to wear, but in the meantime, you can wear one of my old dresses. ”
She watched as the woman walked over to the armoire to the right of the bed and pulled the doors open. Zara retrieved a thick wool dress from a hanger as she turned and brought it over to her.
“It used to be mine, when I was near your age. I hope it will be to your liking for now.” Anelize eyed the cobalt blue fabric. Buttons in the center of the torso running down to the waist. The sleeves embroidered with delicate stitching.
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” she murmured. Dropping her hand, she looked up at Zara, unable to stop herself from saying and hating the words as they came all the same. “Enid was taken.”
Zara nodded slowly, her brows knitting. “I know, sweet girl. We all know.”
Anelize swallowed nervously. “Have you…heard anything?”
The mere thought of her sister being brought to a pyre, engulfed in roaring flames all while she’d been asleep for days, was enough to make her sick. Her hands trembling on her lap as she tried and failed to push the thought away.
Which is why tears sprang unbidden in her eyes as Zara said, “She, along with other Vedrans, were all taken, kept to be locked away in the dungeons within Castle Rime. There have been no burnings, not yet anyway.”
Placing a hand over her stomach, she released a shaky breath.
A deep, wrenching sound wishing to escape from her lips, but she refused to allow it.
Refused to sink deeper into the memory of burning flesh as she stood on that snow laden field.
Watching her very world come to an end. She would rather die than live in a world where that happened to Enid.
Zara’s arms came around her at once, holding her to her chest much how she imagined a mother would comfort her child. Only she had no mother. Hadn’t for a very long time. Anelize gently pushed her away and quickly wiped at her cheek when a tear escaped.
“Wellyn?”
Zara paused, her face falling at the mention of her son. “Last we heard, he was also taken. He tried to stop them, the Watchmen, and they beat him near to death for it. My only hope is that they are both together now. It is the only solace I can grant myself.”
Dread filled Anelize and she dropped her gaze. They’d both been taken. So easily and ruthlessly. And she hadn’t done a single thing to stop it. Once again.
Because you’ve allowed yourself to grow weak, that snide voice in her mind said. Both hers and not at all.
“Oh, Anya. I’m so sorry,” Zara’s fingers curled under her chin, making her look up into her shining eyes.
Anelize shook her head. “This was all Magda’s doing. I should have been there—”