Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
HAVEN
Kneel. The voice—a woman’s—echoed through the cavern.
Nope, not happening. Defying the voice wasn’t smart. I didn’t care. “What do you want with me?”
The soft light in the pool brightened.
Kneel.
Against my will, my legs bent. I fought the compulsion but landed on my knees.
That’s better. There are things you must know.
“And I couldn’t listen while standing?”
Laughter, like wind chimes, tinkled through the cavern. A disembodied voice was laughing at me. Perfect.
I shifted my weight, hoping to ease the sharp pain of the tiles boring into my flesh.
You are Destiny’s champion.
That sounded horrifically awful. “You’ve got the wrong woman.”
Haven Ford, daughter of Hope Ford, granddaughter of Valera Ford, I see you. I see your choices, and I see what you will become. You must follow a path filled with pain and suffering and death—
“Sounds super fun, but I’ll pass.” Destiny couldn’t rule my life. It couldn’t. There had to be choices. There had to be free will. If there wasn’t, what was the point of living?
Again, the laughter echoed, sharp and musical. It echoed, making my shoulders bunch around my ears. No one can reject their fate. You may choose only the path that leads to your destiny.
There it was again, the path. And according to the voice, mine was filled with pain and suffering and death.
I rolled my eyes, then turned and searched for the basajaun.
Maybe, if I asked nicely, he’d take me back to the guards.
Perhaps, if I got lucky, he’d eat me. Anything was better than listening to what the fates had planned for me.
You have chosen your path.
“Nope. I didn’t choose this path. The guard took me. They chose for me.”
You could have fought.
“And let the girls pay the price? Don’t be ridiculous.”
When your choice was taken away, you resisted those in power.
“That nearly got me killed.” My back throbbed with remembered pain.
Yet you saved the men responsible for your misery.
“That makes me an idiot, not Destiny’s champion.”
The voice sighed deeply. My rejection was a sore disappointment. You like choices? Fine, I’ll give you one. You can follow the path—
“The path filled with pain and death?”
That’s the one, and don’t forget the suffering. The voice had a sense of humor. You can follow that path, and at the end, there’s a chance the world will survive. Or you can run away.
“Those are the only choices? No third option?”
What would Valera do?
“I’m not my grandmother.”
You’re more powerful than she is. She instilled in you an appreciation of right and wrong, as well as your sense of honor. She helped form your character, but your powers come from above. You’ve been chosen.
“By whom?”
The Fates, the gods, Destiny—it doesn’t matter.
“Oh, it matters. I want to know who or what to blame for screwing up my life.”
Destiny or a coward’s exit? What is your choice?
“You haven’t given me a choice.”
I most certainly did. The voice sounded offended.
“You tell me that I’ve been chosen to save the world. If I don’t agree, I’ll have to live with my cowardice.” Although, if the world ended, I might not have to live with that shame for long. “In what world is that a choice?”
Pain, suffering, and death. There are plenty who’d choose to walk away. Which do you choose?
“Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
What?
“You sound impatient, and I’m wondering what your hurry is. Do I have to make this major, life-altering decision this minute?”
Yes!
“Again, what’s your hurry? I mean, I’ve been around for twenty-five years, and saving the world was never a priority.”
The king is hatching plans.
“What kind of plans?”
The kind that will see every woman with power conscripted or killed.
Starting with the poorer neighborhoods like Grimswood.
The kind that mean girls who haven’t come into their powers yet, like those who live with your grandmother, will end up on their backs with their legs spread for any man who wants them.
“Pain, suffering, and death.” My response was immediate. I needed my head examined.
Grimswood will be ash. Every woman who shows a hint of power will be collared and bred like livestock. Libraries will burn. Temples will be destroyed. And undeclared magic will become a crime punishable by death.
“I get the picture.” The very grim picture.
No, you don’t. But you will. Touch the water.
“Pardon?”
Touch the water.
“Not a handshake?”
Touch the damn water, Haven.
Pleased to annoy Destiny’s messenger (it was the little things), I hesitated. “What’s your name?”
Gladys, she deadpanned.
“Well, Gladys, why should I touch the strange glowing water with the scary runes floating in it?”
Trust me.
I laughed. “Trust a voice—a being—that withholds her real name? I think not.”
Then trust this.
Grandmother rose from the water. Well, not grandmother herself, but Grandmother shaped by steam.
“Haven.” Relief flooded Grandmother’s face, but as she studied me—filthy, exhausted, wan with hunger—her expression shifted to concern. “I’ve been sick with worry. Are you hurt?”
“Not hurt, just tired and starving.” My voice cracked. “Grandmother, I’ve missed you so much.”
“And I you. But listen to Gladys. This is important.”
“You’re not real.” Seeing her, even as a vapor, made my heart ache. But it wasn’t her. My real grandmother would scold me for my dirty face and tangled hair. My real grandmother’s voice never cracked. This was Gladys pretending to be Grandmother. “It’s not you.”
“My physical body is at home in Grimswood, but my spirit is with you.”
“Prove it.”
“Prove I am who I say I am? Khouri is settling in. Tatiana has started reading Elody her bedtime story, but Elody misses you. She says you put more life into the characters. Flora cut her hair.”
My heart lurched in my chest. I should be there. At home with Grandmother and the girls, not following some grisly, Destiny-mandated path. “I’m not convinced.”
“Your powers arrived on your twelfth birthday.”
“That seems like the kind of thing Gladys would know.”
She pursed her lips and said, “Grim is the wood.”
I swallowed hard. “But strong are the roots.”
It was Grandmother. No one, not even Gladys, could replicate that no-nonsense tone.
And no one but us knew those phrases. “What is happening right now?” I was deeply confused and felt betrayed.
Had she kept this a secret from me for my whole life?
Because being “Destiny’s champion” was a big fucking secret.
Had she lied to me? My heart clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me? ” The hurt in my voice was raw.
Grandmother’s expression crumpled. “Haven, I tried to protect you. To give you a normal childhood.”
“I haven’t been a child in a long time.”
Her vapor managed to flush.
“I’ve been kidnapped, tortured, and nearly died. Multiple times.” My voice rose with each word. “You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted. The only one who never lied to me. Or so I thought.”
Grandmother flinched. “Haven—”
“No. Don’t ‘Haven’ me. How many times did I ask you about my powers? About why I was different? And you just … what? Smiled and changed the subject?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Did you know? About this champion thing?”
Champion thing? Gladys sounded appalled.
Grandmother’s expression softened, and she shook her head. “I knew your destiny was important. But this? No, I didn’t know.”
I stared at her, my chest tight with conflicting emotions.
Part of me wanted to believe her—she was my grandmother, the woman who’d raised me, loved me, guided me.
But another, more cynical part wondered what else she’d hidden from me.
If she’d kept this secret, what others were there?
“All those tutors you hired? The language lessons, weapons training, history, politics, etiquette—you were preparing me for this, weren’t you? ”
She winced.
Something inside me shattered. “You knew. How could you do this?”
She’s not the sharpest arrow in the quiver, is she?
Grandmother’s lips thinned. “You’ll catch more flies with honey, Gladys. And my granddaughter is brilliant. Please, Haven, we don’t have time for this. Touch the water. It will show you things you need to see.”
“If I don’t?”
You can’t change your fate. We’re only trying to prepare you.
I’d never had a choice. Not about anything.
The thought sat in my chest like a stone. Every decision I thought I’d made—learning from my tutors, saving Khouri, leaving with the guards—had been guided by fate. Had any part of my life truly been mine?
I stared at the glowing water, feeling hollow. What was the point of touching it? Of seeing these “possible futures” when apparently I had no say in which one came to pass?
“Haven?” Grandmother’s voice was gentle, worried.
With a resigned sigh, I held out my hand, allowing my fingers to brush the pool’s surface.
A thousand images bombarded my mind. Impossible images.
There was pain. There was suffering. There was death.
But threading through it all was a strange kind of …
agency. In every vision, I was making a choice.
Fighting. Leading. Loving. In every moment, I was acting, not just reacting.
Maybe that was what they meant about choosing the path to my destiny. Not whether I’d walk it, but how.
I yanked my hand out of the water. “What was that?”
Possible futures.
I hid my hand behind my back. “There’s no way what I just saw will happen.”
What did you see, Haven? Gladys’s amused tone made me wish she had a face for me to slap. She deserved it.
“I saw a crown.”
Did you? Gladys sniggered.
“I saw—” No. I couldn’t bring myself to speak of it.
Your grandmother and I have seen where the path will take you.
Grandmother had seen all that? The battles, the fires, the crown—all that I could handle. But me with … my cheeks burned. “I sincerely hope you’re lying.”