Elyon's Regret, page 12
part #1 of The Daughters of Elyon Series
“I think that although she never wanted to see the child, there is no way such a warm, genuinely caring woman would ever have wanted her sold into slavery. My guess is she’s gone to make sure the child, or woman now since this happened some thirty-two turns ago, is still safely living in Cibía. If that’s the case, then this woman here is clearly not the daughter she gave up when Sábria was nothing more than a frightened, grieving, fifteen-turn child.”
Shirin nodded, “I agree. What town or city do they live in?”
“When Elyon chose Sábria as the next Arch Priestess, I retrieved those records and kept them locked away in my safe, believing it was no one’s business but my own and Sábria’s. If you’ll return with me to my quarters, I’ll get the information for you.”
They rose, and Shirin turned to Isobel, “I’d like you to stay here. I know you were planning to leave in the morning, but please stay until I return with Sábria. Since she’s no longer in the Temple feel free to leave your room, but…” she glanced over her shoulder at Ty, “I think it’s best if Ty doesn’t go out.”
Isobel blew out a long breath, “I wish I’d never brought her here.”
Jestína put a hand on Isobel’s arm, “Sábria would never have wanted you to leave her there as a slave. As difficult as this is for all of us, Isobel, you did the right thing.” With those parting words, Jestína led Shirin back to her quarters to retrieve the adoptive parent’s information.
CHAPTER 11
The full moon lighting Ailith’s way gave off more than enough light to see by. Having to stop at every crossroad and offshoot to see whether Sábria had turned off slowed Ailith and Ghost down, but eventually, they came to a small footpath leading east toward the foothills of a craggy mountain range. Turning Adaeyfur onto the track, she could tell by the way the distance between the bay’s hoofprints shortened that Sábria had pulled Shadowfoot to a fast-paced walk.
Ailith heard Sábria shouting before she spotted her, and she knew she’d broken so many rules coming after her that she’d need to approach the situation carefully. She’d had her Arch Priestess mad at her on enough occasions that if she could avoid having her know she was there, she would.
Tying Adaeyfur to a small tree, she motioned for Ghost to stay with the horse, and when the skelli nodded, Ailith moved forward alone. Crouching below the tall grass allowed her to crawl close enough to hear what was being said. She raised her eyes just above the seedhead on the tops of the stalks, and the full moon illuminated a clearly agitated Sábria pacing back and forth in front of a worried looking late middle-aged couple. The way they were clinging to one another made her think they were husband and wife.
The country house behind them was one of several scattered about the far-flung outskirts of a nice-sized town whose lights were barely discernable in the distance. The house itself was big enough to have two or three bedrooms, a living room, possibly a library or sitting room, and a kitchen. It wasn’t a peasant’s home by any means.
Ailith guessed the man with his arm around the shaking woman was a merchant or prosperous farmer of some kind since peasants rarely had the same rolls of belly fat hanging over their belts as he did. With that thought in mind, she belatedly realized the hills behind the cottage were lined with the stakes and wires of a working vineyard, and there was an enormous barn partially hidden behind the home.
An older woman with a grey braid coiled around her head stood off to the side. She was watching Sábria’s angry questioning with a strange combination of amusement and disgust flitting across her wrinkled, foxy face. Her stylish, full-length aubergine dress stretched tightly across a pair of ample breasts, but there was nothing else even remotely substantial about the rest of her. Loose skin hung from her upper arms and throat, giving her a turtle-like appearance, which wasn’t helped by the slight hump in her shoulders and back.
Sábria stopped in front of the couple and, with her hands on her hips, continued her questioning. “Where is she then? You adopted her from the Temple, said you’d love her, and keep her safe. Where is she? Where can I find her?”
The man, who’d had to bend slightly to keep his arm around his wife’s shaking body, straightened, leaving only his hand touching the woman’s shoulders. “She left a while ago, My Lady. As soon as she came of age, she left.” His furtive glances at the granny, coupled with the slight tremor in his voice, told Ailith he had something to hide. Who in their right mind lies to the Arch Priestess when everyone knows one of the Goddess’s gifts to her is the ability to know when someone is lying?
Ailith wondered who the “she” they were talking about could possibly be. Why was Sábria so upset that she wasn’t here with these people? Whoever she was, she’d been adopted as a child and was now an adult whom the Arch Priestess had known or known about at some time in the past. Ailith stayed quiet and continued to listen, hoping to gleam a bit more information that might give her a clue as to what she should do.
Normally, Sábria would call out a liar with a quiet yet stern response. She shocked Ailith when she stepped up and jabbed the sweating man in the chest with stiff fingers. Her voice rose several octaves, and there was a dangerous snarl behind her words. “If you lie to me again, I swear by my Goddess it will be the last words you ever utter. Now, I’ll ask again, where is she?”
Instead of the man answering, the older woman crossed her arms and, with a scornful sniff, asked, “And what do you care, Sábria? You gave her up over thirty turns ago, and suddenly, her whereabouts are of concern to you? You have no right to come here asking rude questions about my son’s child.”
Ailith’s skin prickled at the same haughty, judgmental tone that she’d come to hate while she’d ridden with Lady Isobel. The Lady had been strict, but she’d treated her with respect and kindness, while the nobles they’d visited had spoken to her as though she were one of Isobel’s trained dogs.
Sábria stormed over to where the old woman stood sneering at her. “I was a child! You, of all people, should know the story, Peyta! My parents were dead. Murdered. You said all three of you would raise her as your own!”
Peyta scoffed and raised her chin with a haughty pride. Ailith recognized the cruel glint in those narrowed eyes and wasn’t sure what would happen if the lady pushed Sábria too far. Ailith moved forward while they talked, staying low to the ground to keep from being seen.
The old woman closed the gap between herself and Sábria and rested her hands on her hips. “All right then, yes, we lied when we took her off your hands. We weren’t prosperous farmers like I told your predecessor. We barely scraped a living together working this land. Do you think we could afford to keep the bawling whelp? Yes, we sold her, and good riddance. That little rat wouldn’t stop wailing day and night, spit up what we managed to shove down her scrawny throat, and had the runniest messes in her nappies I’ve ever seen.”
Sábria’s tone changed to one of disgust, “You certainly learned to mimic the speech patterns of the wealthy over the turns, didn’t you?”
The woman reared back and sneered down her nose at Sábria. “I am wealthy, thanks to your little bastard.” She looked with disgust at the man and woman huddled nearby. “And those two telling me we should have kept her. She’d be a good worker, they said, when she grew. But we needed the money more than we needed eight or nine turns of feeding and clothing that useless skag whose only contribution was the worthless pittance the Arch Priestess deigned to bestow upon us every turn. As if she didn’t have the funds to pay us more.” She scoffed and lifted her chin, which had dropped slightly during her speech. “So yes, we sold her to the slavers for the gold pieces that helped us build this vineyard and our home.”
The instant Ailith saw Sábria go for her sword, she knew she needed to act. She didn’t know much, but there was no way Sábria was in her right mind if she intended to kill an unarmed woman. Sábria’s howl of enraged anguish as she pulled her sword propelled Ailith up and forward. She barely managed to draw her own sword in time to block Sábria’s downward swing that would have surely taken the woman’s head from those stooped shoulders.
The meeting of sword against sword jarred Ailith’s body, reminding her just how incredibly powerful the Arch Priestess really was. Ailith immediately lowered her sword, hoping Sábria wouldn’t swing again while she stood between her and the old woman. “Milady, no! Ya can’t kill a woman what can’t defend herself.” Fear raced through her at the utter rage she saw in those icy blue eyes. Rage and recognition, thank the blessed Goddess.
Sábria grabbed her by the front of her tunic with one hand, spun, and threw her over her hip to get her out of the way. The growl that erupted from Sábria’s throat when she sent her flying was guttural and full of anguished, aching grief. When Sábria turned back to the woman who stood rooted in place, eyes wide and disbelieving, Ailith once more flung herself between them, barely managing to meet the sharpened edge of Sábria’s sword with her own.
“Get away!” Sábria snarled and reached for Ailith again, but this time, Ailith batted her hand away to keep her from throwing her down again.
Ailith couldn’t turn away when she heard the sound of a horse galloping toward them. To her great relief, from the corner of her eye, she recognized the Commander’s uniform as she leapt from her lathered horse before the beast slowed to a trot. The poor beast’s sides heaved, and in the time it took for Shirin to reach them, Ailith’s quick mind worked out the fact that while she and Ghost had the luxury of a slower pace as they’d followed Sábria through the forest, the Commander had pushed her gelding in an all-out gallop to make up for lost time.
When Shirin grabbed Sábria from the back, wrapping her arms around her chest to pull her away, Sábria roared with all the anger and frustration she’d kept pent up throughout the night. “Let me go! Let go of me!” She kicked her feet in the air, trying to loosen Shirin’s hold, but the Commander was as strong if not stronger than her Arch Priestess.
Shirin had to yell above the outraged curses pouring out of her friend. “Sábria. You have to stop. Please, stop.” Tears streamed down Shirin’s face as she wrestled her friend toward the front door. She braced herself and reared back onto one foot. The latch hadn’t properly engaged and the wooden door crashed against the wall when she used her powerful leg to kick it open and drag Sábria inside.
Ailith stood rooted to the spot, breathing heavily and barely registering the old woman’s frightened exclamations or the soft crying of the other woman clinging to her husband. Her mind was racing, and panic set in when she realized she’d raised her sword to the Arch Priestess of the Daughters of Elyon. And not only that, the emotions she’d seen reflected in Sábria’s eyes, rage, grief, sadness, and so much more had shaken her to the core.
She didn’t see Geller hurrying toward her, but when the Prime took her by the arm to pull her away from the small family, Ailith turned frightened eyes on her. “What happened? What th’ fowk just happened? I couldn’t help it, Prime. I had to stop her, and I didn’t mean to swing me sword at her blade, but I had to stop her from—”
“Oi, Shiv. Shut it.” Geller shook her and pulled her around so they were facing one another.
The matter-of-fact way the Prime growled the order helped bring a bit of sanity back to Ailith’s overcharged brain. It didn’t help slow down her mouth, though. “Yes, Prime. Shut it. I got it. Keep me mouth shut, okay. I’m—” Geller’s fingers digging into her upper arm was what finally brought her tongue to a stuttering halt. She closed her mouth and blinked into the Prime’s steadying gaze. When Geller raised her brows, Ailith made a concerted effort to slow down and relax. After a few moments, she nodded to let her know she was back under control.
The Prime released her grip and patted Ailith on the shoulder. “Good Lass. Yer instincts were right.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Terro and Ghost were rounding up the horses. “Though yer gonna have to answer to one pissed off Senior Guardian fer leavin’ Sarlogne without permission and takin’ her Ghost with ya.”
Ailith’s shoulders drooped. “Aye.” She shook her head and looked into Geller’s eyes. “Why is it always me what gets into things, eh?” She was surprised to see Killian and Emlyn walking their horses toward them. Besides her own grey, Emlyn was also leading the black gelding Ailith had stolen. “Why can’t it be Emlyn what gets into trouble? Oh,” she sheepishly scratched the side of her head, “I kinda maybe stole that horse, too.”
Geller’s jaw hardened as it moved to the side in the characteristic way it did when the Prime was angry but was working to hold that anger in check. She blew out a breath and shook her head. Without saying anything about horse thieves, she pointed toward the couple and the old woman, “Round ‘em up and keep ‘em in one place until they come out.”
Relieved to have something to do, Ailith straightened and moved to bring her fist to her chest, only to realize at the last moment she was rattled enough to still be holding her sword.
When Ailith inadvertently swung the sword toward her, Geller grabbed her wrist, disarmed her, and jammed the sword back into the scabbard. She grabbed Ailith by the back of the neck and pulled her close. “Get it together, Shiv.”
Ailith, who’d gone pale at what she’d just done, blew out a breath. “Oh fowk, Prime.” She shook her head, “Just…fowk.”
There was a hint of amusement in the Prime’s eyes when she said, “Aye. Now get movin’.”
Geller released her and then turned to give orders to Killian, Emlyn, and Terro. “Killian, you help Ailith keep them over there. Terro, you, Emlyn, and Ghost unsaddle th’ horses, walk ‘em dry, and then picket ‘em.” As soon as everyone left to do as she’d ordered, Geller strode to the door Shirin and Sábria had gone through. She took up a guard position in front of it. Not that there was anyone to guard it from, but she took it up all the same.
CHAPTER 12
Shirin dragged an enraged Sábria into the house and kicked the door shut behind them. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her and had locked her fists together in front of Sábria’s stomach. Holding anyone in this position was difficult enough, but a struggling, snarling Arch Priestess who was just as strong and just as skilled in hand-to-hand combat as Shirin was proving to be a challenge. Sábria’s angry bellows of “Let go of me” fell on deaf ears, though, because Shirin knew she wouldn’t be able to contain her like this again.
The rage that had been sustaining Sábria ever since she’d seen the slave woman suddenly drained from her, and she dropped her sword and leaned back into Shirin’s chest.
Sábria’s anguished sobs rent Shirin’s heart in two. She loosened her grip just enough to turn her friend so they faced one another and pulled her into a firm embrace. A sofa was pushed against the wall, and when Sábria’s knees gave way, Shirin slowly lowered them both down until they were seated side-by-side with Sábria’s face pressed hard into her chest.
“I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. Always safe with me.” Shirin stroked her hair and held her, wanting to allow Sábria to talk or not about her daughter and the betrayal she must be feeling.
Without lifting her head, Sábria ran her hand around Shirin’s back and pulled her even closer. All the turns of guilt and worry and wonder came flooding to the fore, and Sábria’s whole body shook with the release of the long pent-up emotions. After a while, the tears stopped, and when Sábria spoke, it was barely above a whisper, “I’ve never told you, but when I was a child, just under fifteen turns, some men killed my parents and—” Her hands spasmed on Shirin’s back, and the words were choked off as though she couldn’t push them past her constricted throat.
In the silence that followed, Shirin continued to stroke her hair and repeated, “You’re safe, Sábria. I’m here, and you can tell me what you need to and leave out what you can’t say.” She felt it was more important for Sábria to say something—anything—than it was for her to force the whole story out.
Apparently, Sábria felt the same because she pulled in a breath and nodded against Shirin’s chest. “I gave birth to a baby, and I asked Lady Sandrin to find it…her…a loving home. I wrote to the people who adopted her several times, asking if there was anything they needed. They told me she was a beautiful little girl, and then later, they said she was at the top of her class at the academy. Goddess help me, I believed them. All this time, I believed she was here, and I prayed she was happy and healthy and thriving.” She pushed back then and glared into Shirin’s eyes. “I prayed, Shirin. To Elyon, and she betrayed me.”
Shirin’s face paled as she realized the entirety of the situation was much, much worse than she’d believed. If the Arch Priestess lost her faith in her Goddess, the entire Temple would suffer. “Haven’t you told me that Elyon always answers your prayers? Maybe her answer was ‘no.’”
Sábria’s laugh was bitter and harsh. “I’ve given my life to Elyon, sacrificed everything for her, and—” She sat back and rested her head against the back of the sofa. With her eyes closed, she forced down her emotions and continued, “I couldn’t keep her. I knew that every time I looked into her eyes, I’d see the eyes of one of those men. I’d hate my own daughter, and I couldn’t do that to a child.”
“She has your eyes, Sábria. Bright blue, intelligent, exactly like yours. In fact, there’s nothing of the man in her. Going just by her looks, it’s obvious she’s your daughter, and there’s none of him in her.”
“They sold her. I should have kept her and raised her, but instead, I told Sandrin to take her away. I never even held her.”
“You were a fifteen-turn child who’d just witnessed the murder of your parents. There was no way you could have kept her.”
Sábria opened her eyes and glared at Shirin. “Do you know what they do to slaves in Dreyutha?”
Shirin did, and she cast around for a response that would bring comfort to her friend. “I met her. Well, I saw her, anyway, and she didn’t seem broken to me. In fact, when she looked into my eyes, I saw real strength there.”
