ESSA #2
“Braimar?”
He gave another small bow and smiled, then glanced back at the line of people waiting to address me.
“Listen, I know a lot of people are vying for your attention, and I’m probably the last one you wish to speak with.
But I wanted to apologize to you. When Zaman lost one of his heads…
I truly went mad for a while. I’m myself again now, and when I think back on some of the things I said and did… they were inexcusable. I’m sorry.”
I eyed him, letting the silence be my answer. But I saw no trickery, no smugness in his face.
At last, I said, “You’re right. The way you treated me was inexcusable. But your apology is noted.” I softened a little. “And appreciated.”
“I am your servant, Essa. Always have been,” he said softly. “Always will be.”
He bowed again, then turned and departed.
He left a swirl of complicated emotions in his wake. Seeing him like that, I couldn’t help but remember our time together as teenagers. He was my first love, my first kiss, my first heartbreak—my first everything.
I had loved him—and I had hated him. When we were first together, he had stood by my side, making me feel, perhaps for the first time in my life, that I wasn’t alone.
But I’d soon learned he was having the same effect on a few other girls around the court, as well.
When I confronted him, he’d been dismissive, haughty, and dishonest. His behavior after Zaman lost one of his heads—that was unforgivable.
Still, in the Torzame of the court, he was perhaps an ally. And I had precious few of those.
“Hello, Essa.”
I blinked, called out of my reverie to find another familiar face before me.
“Auntie Dreya!” I exclaimed. My excitement and relief at seeing her filled me with elation—for half a moment. Until I remembered that I had been forced to kill her daughter, my cousin. Auntie probably hated me. She might well be hiding a dagger behind her back, ready to stab me.
But her expression bore no rancor, just a sad smile. “Hello, Essa. I would love to speak with you alone later, if you’d be willing,” she said.
Did that mean she’d forgiven me? Or was it merely a ploy to get close to me, so she could get her revenge? Dreya was formidable. She’d taught me everything I knew about fighting, after all. But dangerous or no, I couldn’t bear to be apart from her.
“Of course,” I said. “Tonight, after the feast ends, come to my chambers.”
She nodded and stepped aside for the next person in line to take her place.
By the time my line of callers dwindled, the candles on the dining tables were burning low. It was late, and I felt utterly sapped from all the social engagement. But when I arrived at my chambers, I found Auntie Dreya already there waiting for me in the hallway.
“Oh, Essa,” she said, sweeping me into a hug.
Part of me wanted to dismiss her. If she wanted to fight me, I was in no state to do so tonight. But a quick glance at her simple, sheer dress told me it concealed no weapons, and so with a sigh, I led her inside.
Maryn was lighting candles and stoking the fire, and I thought, fleetingly, of how much more effort it took to create light and warmth here than it did across the sea.
My visit to Admar had been brief, but I had to admit, some of their necromancer conveniences, like electric lights, had their appeal.
When Maryn was done, I dismissed her.
I sat on the bed, and Auntie stood before me, her hands knit together before her.
Looking at her now, in the candlelight, I was reminded of my mother.
Dreya was the younger sister, a few inches shorter than Mother had been, with auburn hair compared to Mother’s hair of raven black.
Her features were gentler, somehow, than Mother’s had been.
Still, she was a formidable woman, a ferocious fighter, and an exacting teacher.
Aside from a few tricks Charlie had imparted, she had, quite literally, taught me everything I knew.
She’d been more a mother to me than my own mother had been.
And in exchange, what had I done? I’d killed her only daughter.
“About Laynine—” I began, but she put up a hand.
“You did what duty demanded.”
“Yes…” I said. “Still… I’m sorry. I wish…”
For a flash, I saw my cousin’s face before me again, as she took a final breath then crumpled, slain by my hand.
We’d never been terribly close. But she’d been a mighty warrior and an incredible rider.
Despite our rivalry, I could have used her now—another strong Skrathan with the blood of queens in her veins.
“She would have done the same to you, if your roles had been reversed. Don’t doubt it,” Auntie said. “Let’s not speak of her anymore.”
I nodded, grateful for the reprieve, and changed the subject. “I’m so glad to find you alive. When I didn’t see you after Issastar fell, I thought perhaps you were lost.”