Isa had packed seven trunks. One of them contained clothing. She had stayed up late into the night, even after entertaining their guests with her mother, organizing tools and implements from her father’s study into the other six trunks. She did not want to be caught unprepared if Floutast’s scrolls needed extra care for travel.
“And how many trunks are you bringing?” she asked through gritted teeth. “Since you are such an experienced traveler, I am sure I could learn a thing or two from you.”
His grin spread. “I am only bringing a modest five.” His shoulders puffed out. “And I would be happy to share my knowledge of traveling with you anytime.”
“Is that five trunks of clothing, or did you also see fit to bring softened leather for protecting the scrolls and extra linens for the packaging?”
“Of course not, my silly girl. We are merely fetching the Floutast, not rebinding the spare library.”
Isa had the uncomfortable impression that he was about to reach out and pat her on the head as though she were a child to even have suggested such a thing. He had never been that forward, but just to be on the safe side, she crossed the courtyard to join her mother.
She forced a gracious smile on her face as she approached the two councilors who had been guests at the villa for the night.
They bowed slightly at her approach.
“It is most admirable of you to take this responsibility upon your shoulders in place of your father,” Lord Sanclim said.
“I speak for the whole of the council when I say that we are most grateful to you for getting this information to us in as timely a manner as possible,” Lord Ivin added.
“Of course,” Isa replied, “I am honored to undertake this service.” Her mind was still ruminating on the not-so-admirable threats they used to ensure their request was heeded.
“We have not been able to locate any other copy of Floutast’s works,” Lord Sanclim said.
Macklin stepped to her side, having followed her across the courtyard.
Lord Sanclim continued speaking, directing his words at Macklin. “Please ensure that they are not damaged in any way during their travel. The examiners must be able to study every single word.”
“But of course, my lord,” Macklin responded, his expression grave.
Isa lifted her shoulders to make her presence larger. Apparently, Macklin was not the only one who thought she was only going on this trip for the thrill of it. “Iwill personally ensure that Floutast’s work is bound and packaged with utmost care.”
Lord Sanclim turned back toward her, his smile indulgent. “Thank you.” He turned back to Macklin, and his eyes ran up and down the younger man’s body as though sizing him up with new respect. “I almost envy you this little adventure in the mountains,” he said.
Isa cut in before Macklin could inhale any more air. His puffed chest was already in danger of exploding. “The sun is up,” she said. “We really must get going if we are to reach the inn by nightfall.”
She dipped her head to the councilors and strode back to the carriage. Her mother followed her, wrapping her in a warm embrace.
“It takes a true strength to withhold one’s anger,” she whispered to her daughter. “Be safe, my dear one.”
“I will.” Isa squeezed her back. “Get Papa well. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Chapter 8
Aden slipped deeper into the trees as light spilled over the horizon.
Despite the exhaustion in his limbs and his mind, he felt a glimmer of hope as he watched the sunrise. A newer part of his sight was returning. Since he had not ventured outside his room—and the windows had been kept completely covered for his privacy and safety—he had not discovered until he snuck out of the castle in the dead of night that his sight was almost perfect if he was looking at the horizon. He could make things out quite clearly if they were distant, but the closer objects were, the more blurred they became.
As delightful as it was to feel less blind, that minor victory was completely overshadowed by the anguish brought on by Munney’s revelation.
The rage that had overtaken his entire body clouded his mind... He would have strangled the Majis if his family had not torn the man from his grasp.
His family. His family had witnessed his momentary loss of sanity.
A petal had fallen from the living rose shortly after the meeting had ended, as though signifying the very humanity that was slipping through his grasp.
He could not stay in Iseldis. He would not let them witness another such outburst. Nor could he imagine the outcome of that unconstrained rage against any of his family members.
He would not die when the rose dropped its last petal, but the rose itself would die, taking his humanity with it.
