Daughter of the Sword

9 || A Woman

MY FATHER NEARLY HAS me whipped for attending the seer without his permission. He grabs me by the front of my dress and yanks me toward him, his face inches from mine.

"How dare you discuss your powers beyond my presence?" he sneers. "You could be plotting to keep them, to sabotage your brother, the rightful heir—"

The shock from his action keeps my powers at bay, too surprised to react. He has never laid a hand on me beyond the household. But here he is, his grip straining my gown until it pinches me, squeezing out my breath. I keep my head down, tears burning my eyes. His words echo back to us in the stone of the temple's entrance, circling me with wrath. He has not even the decency to leave its premises before shouting, I think, before chastising myself, shrinking back against his red face. How dare I think with such impotence?

He lifts his head, not loosening his grip on me. "Who speaks for the traitor?"

Beckett jogs in out of the sunshine, his back straight and his chin up. "I do, General."

"Lieutenant," he sneers. "Filling her head with the follies of combat. Under whose permission did you bring her?"

"Mine," a voice says.

The General whirls around. When he speaks, his voice is freezing. "Alderon." His words hang in the air, kept aloft with every thought left unsaid.

"The feeling is mutual," Alderon says cooly, ignoring the rage pinning him down in my father's stare. "But when the seer makes a summons, it is not our place to delay. You know this well."

I watch the rage roil beneath my father's skin like something alive, puffing up his cheeks like an allergic reaction as his capillaries swell and his mouth twitches. He releases me. I fight the urge to scramble out of his reach, but thankfully, Beckett steps up behind me, offering his arm. I take it.

"From now on," my father says, turning his back on Alderon as he faces down Beckett. To his credit, Beckett betrays no sign of intimidation. "From now on, you will not go to him for clearance with the seer. You will come to me." He calls back to Alderon, not even deigning to face him, "If you have an issue with this, bring it up with His Highness. This woman is my property."

When Beckett finally escorts me out of the temple and into the carriage, my pulse thrums against my throat so hard it's difficult to breathe. As he helps me up into the seat, Alderon calls him over.

"I'll only be a moment," he says, stepping away. He closes the door, cutting me off from the rest of the world.

The silence rings with the General's voice, echoing in my head as I watch him storm out of the temple. He does not even glance my way. Beyond him looms a wall of trees, unravelling into the hill and beckoning, just for a moment, with freedom.

I could run. Slip out of my carriage and go; no one would pay me much mind. Of course, I have no idea what lurks beyond the point where the trunks fade to darkness, so thick with wood and foliage that only my imagination can pass. Somewhere beyond, I know, lies the desert. I realize that I have never looked at a map before, not with any intention. I know our enemy is spread out across the sea. I know their southernmost tip, the beaches, has been taken by us—by the king's armies. But that I know only from words intended for Luke. I frown.

The click of the carriage door startles me from my thoughts, and Beckett climbs back in. "I have good news, Mera."

Despite using it for weeks, the familiar use of my first name, and the intimacy it implies, still tingles in my fingers.

"You will not be returning to your cell. Alderon has arranged a room for you."

Only my etiquette training keeps my composure as my jaw threatens to drop. "Pardon?"