He said, “I didn’t know where else to go.”
She took one of his hands and led him inside, closing the door behind them.
Daylight poured in through small, square windows, and the fire was low in the hearth. Brona wore a plain blouse and striped skirt, with a bodice loosely holding it all together, tied with violet ribbons. Her feet were bare.She put him at the long table near the fire, on a bench, and silently set about making a plate of food. Kayo slouched wearily, staring at her, feeling dull and undone.
But his pulse had slowed, and gradually his breath evened.
Brona gave him a small crescent pie stuffed with turnips, onions, and savory gravy and set a jug of ale between them, along with two cups. She poured, and they drank.
Kayo ate the pie carefully, letting the simple flavors ground him, and watched Brona’s face. She remained as beautiful as she had been six years ago: dark hair unbound around her tan, freckled face; soft everywhere but the corners of her eyes and the sharp slash of her black brows. Her mouth was too plump not to think of ripe figs.
He’d not tasted a fig since leaving the Third Kingdom.
A shudder passed through Kayo and he finished his food, licking the last crumbs from his thumb. He reached for the ale and drank. All while the witch studied him.
She poured a second helping of ale and said, “I have heard Regan’s wedding was beautiful, though they infuriated the king by sharing a bowl of rootwater.”
“They did, and it did,” he said slowly, suspecting the trees themselves must have whispered the news to her, for no human messenger could have beaten him to her door.
The witch slid his cup nearer to him and cradled her own. “I am here, Kay Oak.”
“I… don’t know what to do,” he said. “Tell me what my sister would wish me to do. All is falling to pieces, and I don’t know that I’ve done any good here.” His own voice was unrecognizable to him, tight with desperation. He hid his face in his hands. Both his elder nieces were married now, to enemies that would tear apart this island—and he couldn’t see how to stop them. Particularly that slick son of salt, Tear Connley. Kayo slammed his hands flat on the table. “And by my sister’s word, I cannot tell Regan why it is so wrong that she married Connley!”
“I know,” Brona murmured. She put her hands atop his. “I know, Kay. And Regan would not listen, if you could.”
He dragged in a deep breath. “My land is dying. And the lands around mine, too. The shepherds must take their flock higher and higher, farther inland toward this forest, because even the moors do not make thick enough blankets of food. The past two years my cows have birthed fewer and fewer calves. The trees blossom only half the time, depending on how far they live from the heart of Innis Lear.”
The witch nodded. “The island pulls inward, to consolidate its power since our king closed the navels and ended all the root blessings.”
“What is to be done? I feel this island in my bones, Brona. I feel the promise I made to Dalat, and I despair.”
“As do I, Kayo.”
“Brona…”
“Wait, and be strong. It will be the right time, when Elia is older.”
His pulse gasped. “Elia! Elia is a shadow of herself, and untouchable. I should take her, spirit her away to the home of our mothers, and save her, if that is the only possible thing.”
“What would she be in the land of your mothers?” Brona asked.
“A granddaughter of the empress, beloved at least, and encouraged to thrive. Her father, stars protect him, strangles her with his devotion.”
“But what would her potential be?”
“Whatever she wished. You cannot know what it is like in the Third Kingdom. Women are… you are the strength and hearts of the world. You rule it and we know why, there deep in the desert.”
Brona smiled a little.
Kayo pushed on, “Her people are there, too. Elia would be among her own. Less rare, but less burdened, too.”
“Does she want to leave?”
“No.” Frustrated, he made his hands into fists. “But she can’t know what it would be like. She’s never known anything but Innis Lear. She’s only fifteen, and you haven’t seen her of late, Brona.” He leveled his eyes on hers. “Her heart broke when Errigal and Lear took your boy away from her. They loved each other, with nothing to gain from the loving but love itself. Have you ever loved that way? I do not know how. Lear does not. There are too many layers of loyalty and lies and half-truths for adults to love so. But Elia had it, and might have carried it into adulthood if not for breaking them apart. And now there is a deep mistrust inside her, worse than her sisters’ fury or her father’s fanaticism.” Kayo snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes against a wail. He could not speak of this with his brother Lear; the king refused all mention of Ban’s name in his presence, and even more so the suggestion Elia had beeninfluencedby a bastard with terrible stars.
The Oak Earl looked again at Brona. “Don’t you see? I must act.”
“I do see,” she murmured, standing. She moved away, and Kayo felt the loss of it, though she only went to a box tucked to a corner shelf beside the hearth and brought it back.
