Why him?
That did not matter now. He had fled from fate before and now it had caught him. Now, it again called him forth.
Listen.
His thoughts drifted to the tomes in the bookhold. Scrolls no more than ash upon the storeroom floor. Those accounts… so unlike any he had ever heard. Not even from the eldest sages who he had grown amongst. There were so few druids left, and the world’s memory was dying with them. Their power of preservation distilled to a meager few.
Suppose hewasfar from simple coincidence.
The ability to see the future was a gateway to madness, while the blessing of pastsight was a violent burden.
Never had one been cursed with both.
Until now.
And thus it dawned on him. Woefully. Miserably. That the only way to contend with the first… was to embrace the other. He had to know what happened all those years ago, when those creatures first came and departed. And to do so he would not only have to return to the forest…
But to hear her once and for all.
Yet the problem remained—on his own he had no power.
Thus, his only choice was to convince the Vaich.
He pulled back the blankets, rousing himself out of bed. He had no fresh linens or morning porridge. The curtains were still closed. He frowned. A quiet dread rose in his chest. Where was Halla? Had something happened to her?
In a moment, he was at the door, throwing it wide and—
He froze.
A maiden stared back at him, her brows raised in surprise. Her hair was the color of honeyed wood, her eyes like rich red wine. Her mouth, though small, pressed into a line, but wrinkled with a smile at the sight of him. Only, it wasn’t the sort of grin one usually gave in greeting, but…
“Who are you?” he ventured slowly.
“Ruicá. Of Clan Cearnathán.” She looked him over, brows lifting higher with every inch.
“Where is Halla?”
“The old maid will tend to your chambers,” the woman said, pressing her way through. He had no choice but to step aside. “As Consort, however, you demand a morerefinedattendant. Thus, you have been granted me—Her Majesty’slady-in-waiting.”
Mockery dripped from her words.
“I am not Consort, yet, and I have no need for another attendant, refined or otherwise,” the druid said icily.
Ruicá laughed. “That is for neither of us to decide.”
“Then I will speak with the Vaich.”
“The Vaich? Don’t be silly. You’re barely his wife and already making demands of him? Even as Consort, you won’t be able to do as you please. He has better things to do than bandy about withyou.”
He remained unmoved, though her tone grated his tender nerves. She was a good liar, but they both knew why she wasreallythere, and it had everything to do with his moonlighting in the bookhold.
“It is a matter of the utmost importance,” he said.
“The onlymatteryou need concern yourself with is the wedding. His Majesty has designated its preparation to you.”
The druid worked his jaw. He would get nowhere with this woman, and that seemed entirely on purpose.
“Now,” she continued, “let’s get you dressed. We must begin at once with the arrangements.”
