32. The First Harvest
THE FIRST HARVEST
GAbrIEL
One moment, Wren is swaying beside me. The next, she’s drawing in a deep, gasping breath, jerking her hand out of mine.
“Wren? What’s wrong—”
“What the fuck was that?” She speaks over me, glaring at the seer.
The elderly woman slowly blinks, looking unbothered. “A reading.” She arches a white brow. “A very interesting one.”
“You said as much,” Wren bites out, practically snarling. Rarely have I ever seen her so angry. “You should’ve warned me that it would feel like that.”
Feel like what? What happened?
The seer lifts a shoulder. “You never would’ve agreed.”
“Probably not,” Wren says harshly.
Her tone sets me on edge, and I straighten my shoulders, looking between the women.
“That’s why,” the seer says slowly, calm in the face of my Given’s fury. “This was for the best. It had to be done.”
A growl rumbles through me, and my fingers curl into fists. “What did you do to her?”
Evelyn picks up her cane and rises to unsteady feet. “I performed a reading, Hunter.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Please, save your anger. I am not the one you should be directing it towards.”
The ominous tone of her voice has warning bells ringing in my ears. “Who should I be angry at?”
Because right now, even though Wren doesn’t have any visible injuries, it seems like she’s hurt. I cannot let that stand.
Evelyn’s gaze is unwavering. “You know who,” she says solemnly.
There’s something about the knowing look in the seer’s eyes, and the tone of her voice, that has my stomach sinking. Without a doubt, she knows who I am. Who my father is. More than that, I know she is talking about him.
Once again, everything comes back to the king. Shivers skate across the back of my neck, and I shudder.
After a long moment, Evelyn looks over her shoulder. “Leave us,” she commands the others. Her voice is soft, but there’s no missing the authority in it.
Alaric tenses, his jaw tightening. “Ma’am, are you sure?”
The seer straightens as much as a woman of her age can, and she glares at him. “Are you questioning me, Alaric? Have you forgotten who I am?” Her voice rises. “What I’ve done for our people?”
A beat of silence passes, the air thick with tension, before the captain hangs his head. “Apologies. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, you weren’t. Now, go.” Evelyn waits for them to leave, the door booming shut behind them before she turns to us. “Come with me.”
She’s clearly used to giving orders and being obeyed, but something happened that upset my gods-blessed. I won’t be going anywhere if Wren doesn’t want to.
Drawing Wren close and pressing our foreheads together, I ignore the seer standing a few feet away.
“Do you want to leave?” I whisper, my words for Wren’s ears only. “If you don’t want to stay, I’ll get you out of here.”
I don’t just mean this building. If she is uncomfortable in this place, if the People of the Wilting Roses hurt her, I will take her somewhere else.
It doesn’t matter that I just woke up and that my limbs still ache from disuse, or that we don’t have funds on hand.
Those are all problems that can be taken care of later.
We’ll find somewhere else to go, someone else who can help Wren with her magic.
She inhales sharply, a beat passing before she shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?” I pull back, looking into her eyes. “Because if you don’t want to be here—”
“It’s okay, Gabe.” She puts her hand on top of mine. “We’ve already begun down this path. I want to see it through.”
Suns, this woman. Will she never cease to amaze me? I lean forward, brushing my lips across hers. “You are so brave.”
I stand, extending a hand to Wren. She slides hers into mine, and I help her to her feet. Together, we follow the seer out of the main room and down a small windowless corridor lit by a single torch. A locked wooden door stands at the end.
“This is my personal study,” Evelyn says, fishing a key out of her robes, opening the door and stepping inside. “Please, come in.”
The space is small, but every inch is well used.
Packed bookshelves line three of the four walls, and stacks of books occupy every other available surface.
A red carpet covers the wooden floor, and there’s a two-seater couch and a dark wingback chair.
The fourth wall houses an enormous window, which faces the forest. The windowpane is dark, and it shimmers like the net.
“Shut the door please, Hunter,” the seer says, turning her back on us and making her way to the bookshelves on the far wall. “I do not wish for us to be disturbed.”
I do as she asks, taking note of several items that could be used as weapons should the situation turn on us. The silver letter opener on the desk. A candelabra on the far table. The iron poker to the right of the empty fireplace.
Wren and I take the couch, the seer’s soft murmurs a backdrop as I put my arm around my gods-blessed, tucking her against my side.
“Want to tell me more about the reading, Birdie?” I want to know what had her so riled up. She still seems tense, although less so now that we’re out of the main hall.
She inhales, sidling up closer to me, her side pressing against mine. I’m watching Wren, but her gaze is trained on the seer. From the corner of my eye, I can see the elderly woman has picked up a book and is slowly leafing through the pages.
“It was . . . strange,” Wren murmurs.
“What do you mean?” I brush back a stray curl that has fallen over her forehead, and my fingers graze her Mark. “What happened?”
She frowns. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I was here, right?”
I nod, unsure of where she’s going with this.
“But I wasn’t. I was . . . elsewhere. In a place that didn’t seem to obey the same rules as this one.” She looks up at me, brows furrowed. “Do I sound crazy, Gabriel? Because when I hear my own words, I think I sound fucking insane.”
“No, you don’t.” Even though I don’t fully understand how something like that is possible, I know she’s telling the truth. “You were here, but somewhere else. I believe you.”
Her shoulders relax, and a soft smile spreads across her face. Gods fucking help me, has there ever been as beautiful a sight?
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Can you tell me more about it?” Hearing her voice after being in that dark, nothing place is calming something deep inside me, and I could listen to her speak for hours without tiring of it.
“It’s hard to explain.” She nibbles on her lips. “Things were . . . not normal.”
“What do you mean?”
A frown crosses her lovely face. “I mean . . . Well, how long do you think the reading took?”
That’s an odd question. I shrug. “A couple minutes?”
Five, maybe ten at most.
She shakes her head. “It felt closer to an hour for me.”
“What?” My fingers still, and I glance at Wren.” How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. There was strange magic at play.”
“Strange magic, indeed.” Evelyn drops into the wingback chair, her cane clattering to the ground. I didn’t even see her cross the room. She’s holding a large, leather-bound tome with a thick spine and handsewn binding.
The seer opens the book with care, thumbing through yellowed pages filled with colorful diagrams surrounded by paragraphs of text. She runs her index finger down the page, frowning as she seems to come to some sort of conclusion before shutting the book.
“It is as I suspected.” Evelyn folds her wrinkled hands on top of the tome and leans forward. “It has been over a century since there was a bond like yours in Myreth.”
“A fated one?” Wren asks.
“One between a Blessed and an Inherited, yes.” I open my mouth, but the seer holds up a hand. “Yes, I’m aware that neither of you know the full truth of what those are. You should get comfortable—we’re going to be here for a while.”
“How long is ‘a while’?” Wren asks. “Gabriel just woke up, and he should be resting. Maybe we should come back another day?”
“You could do that,” the seer says slowly. “But I would advise against waiting. There is much you don’t know, and you’ve already lost so much time.”
Because I was asleep and Wren was looking after me. I have already cost Wren potential time to learn this information; I don’t want her to wait any longer.
I squeeze Wren’s shoulder. “I’m fine, Birdie.”
A little tired, but no more than I would be after a long day. Now, more than ever, I am aware of the value of every moment. This world has a finite amount of time, and it seems to be moving faster and faster.
Wren studies me for a long moment before she dips her head. “All right.” She leans forward, placing her hand on my knee while looking at the seer. “Please, go ahead. We’re listening.”
Warmth kindles inside me at Wren’s casual use of we, and I can’t help but smile as Evelyn settles back in her chair, trailing her index finger down the worn spine.
“Wonderful. In order for you to fully understand what’s happening, it’s imperative we return to the beginning.
Back to before Myreth was formed, when life had yet to take root in this land.
” Evelyn arches a brow. “You may think you’re familiar with the story, but I promise you’re not.
Thousands of years ago, when the skies were still dark . . .”
The seer continues speaking. At first, her tale is familiar, comforting, almost, in the way that childhood tales tend to be. Before the suns existed, there was no life. Nothing at all. The gods came together and surveyed everything, seeing it for what it could be.
Deciding it would be good, they conferred with Esyn, the Mother Goddess. The celestial beings decided to bless the land that would become Myreth twice over.
First, with life.
Second, with magic.
From the darkness, the gods drew light. They molded the suns with their hands, setting them in the skies to shine.
The gods formed the land, and Esyn blessed it with life. Plants, animals, and eventually, people. Because of this, we honor the Mother and pray to her since she is the reason we are all here.
The gods saw the life they had created, and they decided it was good.