His sister blinked in surprise. “You’re back already?”
“It’s a long story. Where’s Annwyl?”
“Well—”
“Why are you here?” Briec asked as he came around the corner of a building, with Éibhear and Gwenvael a few hundred feet behind him.
“And good tidings to you as well, cousin.”
“I asked you a question.”
“Oh, back off, Briec,” Brannie snapped. “We don’t report to you.”
Focusing on his sister, Celyn asked her, “Annwyl? Where is she?”
“Haven’t seen her this morning. Problems at that death tower she’s building. But she’s probably at the training field by now. You know how cranky she gets when she doesn’t get in some kind of workout. Why do you ask?”
“Because we need to track her down before she sees Elina. Maybe we could all split up and look for her.”
Brannie frowned in confusion as Briec stiffened. “Why? Celyn, what’s going on?”
Celyn sighed. “Like I said . . . it’s a long story.”
Kachka found her sister standing next to a large table in the middle of a big hall. She had her hands against the wood and was leaning on it.
“You need to get some sleep,” she told Elina in their own language, now that they were alone.
“I’m fine.”
“After what that old witch did to us? And you’re still healing. You need to rest.”
“Stop babying me, Kachka.”
“Caring for you is babying you? And have you not done the same for me when I was wounded? Why should you be so different?” Her sister didn’t answer, so Kachka put her arm around Elina’s shoulders and leaned in close. “What is it, Elina? You weren’t this worried when we were back at the old hag’s cave. But now—”
Before Elina could answer—and it did seem she was about to—a voice coming from the back of the hall boomed, “Elina! You’ve returned! And so quickly!”
The sisters turned and Kachka watched a woman walk toward them. She was tall like Kachka and wore a sleeveless chain-mail shirt that revealed big shoulders, lots of scars, and strange markings etched into the skin of her forearms. A warrior, but the likes of which Kachka had never seen before. Perhaps another Cadwaladr like Celyn.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” the woman went on, her gaze focused on a leather thong she was attempting to tie around her wrist with only one hand. “How did it go with . . . ?”
The woman’s words trailed off and her footsteps slowed when she saw Elina’s bandaged face.
“My gods, what happened?”
“Queen Ann—”
“Don’t call me queen.” The woman took a breath. “I don’t need titles. Just tell me what happened.”
“I have failed you,” Elina said flatly.
“Elina—” Kachka started to step in, to protect her as she’d always tried to do, but Elina wouldn’t have it.
Elina slashed her hand through the air. “No, Kachka. Let me do this.” She faced the woman who, Kachka now realized, was the infamous Annwyl the Bloody. “I have failed you,” Elina said again. “I did not get to see the Anne Atli. Glebovicha stopped me.”
“Is this bandage because of her?” the royal asked, reaching out to touch the cloth wrapped around Elina’s head, but Elina jerked back. When she got like this, she didn’t like to be touched by anyone.
“She did do this to you,” the queen quickly surmised.
“There was a fight,” Kachka explained for her sister. “And Glebovicha took her eye.”
The queen lowered her hand and blinked several times. “She . . . she took Elina’s eye? Because Elina wanted to talk to Anne Atli?”
“The ways of our people,” Kachka tried to explain to the Southland leader, “are complicated.”
“Well, what about your people? Did they not try to protect her?”
Kachka shrugged. “Some might have wanted to, but . . . well . . . no one gets between mother and daughter in the Outerplains.”
The queen’s body jerked as if she’d been struck. “Mo . . . mother? Glebovicha is your mother, Elina?”
Elina nodded.
“If you will let me explain—” Kachka began.
“No,” the queen said quickly. “I can’t. I have to . . .” She pointed, but Kachka felt the gesture was meaningless. “To go. I have to go.”
Then the queen stalked off.
Elina’s head dropped forward and she again faced the table. “I am pathetic,” she snarled in their language.
“Stop it, Elina.”
“Did you see her face? I failed her. I failed them all. Me with my grand promises, and instead I come back even more useless than when I left.”
“Stop it.”
A tear rolled down Elina’s face from the one eye she had left. “Our mother was right. She’s always been right about me.”
Arms crossed over her chest, Kachka turned away from her sister, resting her butt against the table. She hated when Elina got like this. Insisting on believing the lies their mother had told them all these years. But Kachka also knew there was no point arguing with her until Elina had gotten it out of her system.
A tall, silver-haired male ran into the hall from the courtyard steps. He stopped, turned in a circle, then looked at Kachka. She assumed he was looking for the queen, so she motioned to the stairs leading up to another floor with a tilt of her chin. He ran off, and Kachka continued to hear her sister going on and on about how pathetic and weak she was and how she’d failed the great Queen Annwyl.
“It’s a long story. Where’s Annwyl?”
“Well—”
“Why are you here?” Briec asked as he came around the corner of a building, with Éibhear and Gwenvael a few hundred feet behind him.
“And good tidings to you as well, cousin.”
“I asked you a question.”
“Oh, back off, Briec,” Brannie snapped. “We don’t report to you.”
Focusing on his sister, Celyn asked her, “Annwyl? Where is she?”
“Haven’t seen her this morning. Problems at that death tower she’s building. But she’s probably at the training field by now. You know how cranky she gets when she doesn’t get in some kind of workout. Why do you ask?”
“Because we need to track her down before she sees Elina. Maybe we could all split up and look for her.”
Brannie frowned in confusion as Briec stiffened. “Why? Celyn, what’s going on?”
Celyn sighed. “Like I said . . . it’s a long story.”
Kachka found her sister standing next to a large table in the middle of a big hall. She had her hands against the wood and was leaning on it.
“You need to get some sleep,” she told Elina in their own language, now that they were alone.
“I’m fine.”
“After what that old witch did to us? And you’re still healing. You need to rest.”
“Stop babying me, Kachka.”
“Caring for you is babying you? And have you not done the same for me when I was wounded? Why should you be so different?” Her sister didn’t answer, so Kachka put her arm around Elina’s shoulders and leaned in close. “What is it, Elina? You weren’t this worried when we were back at the old hag’s cave. But now—”
Before Elina could answer—and it did seem she was about to—a voice coming from the back of the hall boomed, “Elina! You’ve returned! And so quickly!”
The sisters turned and Kachka watched a woman walk toward them. She was tall like Kachka and wore a sleeveless chain-mail shirt that revealed big shoulders, lots of scars, and strange markings etched into the skin of her forearms. A warrior, but the likes of which Kachka had never seen before. Perhaps another Cadwaladr like Celyn.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” the woman went on, her gaze focused on a leather thong she was attempting to tie around her wrist with only one hand. “How did it go with . . . ?”
The woman’s words trailed off and her footsteps slowed when she saw Elina’s bandaged face.
“My gods, what happened?”
“Queen Ann—”
“Don’t call me queen.” The woman took a breath. “I don’t need titles. Just tell me what happened.”
“I have failed you,” Elina said flatly.
“Elina—” Kachka started to step in, to protect her as she’d always tried to do, but Elina wouldn’t have it.
Elina slashed her hand through the air. “No, Kachka. Let me do this.” She faced the woman who, Kachka now realized, was the infamous Annwyl the Bloody. “I have failed you,” Elina said again. “I did not get to see the Anne Atli. Glebovicha stopped me.”
“Is this bandage because of her?” the royal asked, reaching out to touch the cloth wrapped around Elina’s head, but Elina jerked back. When she got like this, she didn’t like to be touched by anyone.
“She did do this to you,” the queen quickly surmised.
“There was a fight,” Kachka explained for her sister. “And Glebovicha took her eye.”
The queen lowered her hand and blinked several times. “She . . . she took Elina’s eye? Because Elina wanted to talk to Anne Atli?”
“The ways of our people,” Kachka tried to explain to the Southland leader, “are complicated.”
“Well, what about your people? Did they not try to protect her?”
Kachka shrugged. “Some might have wanted to, but . . . well . . . no one gets between mother and daughter in the Outerplains.”
The queen’s body jerked as if she’d been struck. “Mo . . . mother? Glebovicha is your mother, Elina?”
Elina nodded.
“If you will let me explain—” Kachka began.
“No,” the queen said quickly. “I can’t. I have to . . .” She pointed, but Kachka felt the gesture was meaningless. “To go. I have to go.”
Then the queen stalked off.
Elina’s head dropped forward and she again faced the table. “I am pathetic,” she snarled in their language.
“Stop it, Elina.”
“Did you see her face? I failed her. I failed them all. Me with my grand promises, and instead I come back even more useless than when I left.”
“Stop it.”
A tear rolled down Elina’s face from the one eye she had left. “Our mother was right. She’s always been right about me.”
Arms crossed over her chest, Kachka turned away from her sister, resting her butt against the table. She hated when Elina got like this. Insisting on believing the lies their mother had told them all these years. But Kachka also knew there was no point arguing with her until Elina had gotten it out of her system.
A tall, silver-haired male ran into the hall from the courtyard steps. He stopped, turned in a circle, then looked at Kachka. She assumed he was looking for the queen, so she motioned to the stairs leading up to another floor with a tilt of her chin. He ran off, and Kachka continued to hear her sister going on and on about how pathetic and weak she was and how she’d failed the great Queen Annwyl.
