about Nephili. He says we’re not ageless, but he thinks we may live longer than usual.” Melaia smiled and stared at the moon.
Trevin studied her perfect profile. “Melaia, about your vow last night, you should know I feel the same about you. I’ll gladly be your servant the rest of my life. But if there’s a chance I could be more—”
Melaia looked down. “I’m Dreia’s daughter, Trevin.”
“That’s no barrier for me.” He bent his head to the top of hers and inhaled her lavender scent.
“It’s a barrier for me. I can’t marry anyone. I must restore the Tree.”
“You lied about the vow?”
“I didn’t lie.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “I vowed that
if
I married, I would marry you.”
“If?”
“I don’t know what the future holds. I have to find the kyparis harps and unite them, and what then?”
“The Wisdom Tree will be restored, the angels will have their stairway to heaven, and your task will be finished.”
“But a debt must be paid, and somehow I’m part of the price. I don’t know what that means. It would be unfair for me to pledge myself to you. I would be playing with your heart.”
Trevin paced to the hearth, where a brass lamp burned in place of a winter fire. Her vow to marry only him might be meaningless despite her destined task. If someone didn’t discredit the Dregmoorian prince within a season, it wouldn’t matter whom she vowed to marry. She would belong to Varic.
Melaia plopped two cushions on the floor near the hearth and sat cross-legged on one of them. As Trevin settled himself on the other, she said, “I have a plan. I’ve arranged for you to leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I want Lord Beker’s counsel before I ride out.”
She leaned closer, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “You don’t need his counsel. I’m going with you. But tell no one. Not even Serai.”
“I thought you meant to tell your father about Hesel’s gash business tomorrow.”
“True. I must do that.” Melaia toyed with her braid. “I’ll meet with my father first thing in the morning. Then as soon as I can, I’ll sneak out by the Door of the Dead. I’ve done it before. We’ll work out a signal—”
“Melaia!” Trevin huffed. “First you vow to marry no one but me. Then you tell me you can’t pledge yourself to me. Now you want to leave with me. I don’t follow your reasoning.”
“I have to find the harps, Trevin.” Her eyes pleaded with him.
He sighed. “I would love to spirit you away, never to return, but I can’t. Your father barely trusts me as it is. I’m a new, untested comain. If you disappear the day I leave, he’ll know you’re with me. He’ll accuse me of stealing you.”
“You’re right. You leave first. Wait for me with the sylvans in the Durenwoods. I’ll follow in a few days.”
“Think, Melaia. Your father would send a search party, and Varic and his curs would join them. And who would be in trouble? Me first—that’s certain—but they would also believe Serai was involved. What about Jarrod? Dwin? The sylvans? Even Hanni and the priestesses would be suspect. Believe me, Melaia, they won’t stop looking until they find you, wherever you are. The rest of us will be hanging from the parapets.”
Melaia stared at Trevin, her brown eyes wide. He ached to take her in his arms. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest. Why did she have to be the princess?
Tears welled in her eyes. She rose and crossed the room to where her old blue priestess’s cloak hung on a peg. “You don’t know how awful it feels to be confined this way. Father knows I’m gifted like Mother was, but he thinks the harps, the Tree, and the stairway are only fragments of an ancient tale. Sometimes I question the tale myself.” She fingered the cloak. “If only I could look for the harps … but Father won’t let me leave the palace. He says my mother abused such freedom and he’ll not take that chance with me. He’s training me to
Trevin studied her perfect profile. “Melaia, about your vow last night, you should know I feel the same about you. I’ll gladly be your servant the rest of my life. But if there’s a chance I could be more—”
Melaia looked down. “I’m Dreia’s daughter, Trevin.”
“That’s no barrier for me.” He bent his head to the top of hers and inhaled her lavender scent.
“It’s a barrier for me. I can’t marry anyone. I must restore the Tree.”
“You lied about the vow?”
“I didn’t lie.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “I vowed that
if
I married, I would marry you.”
“If?”
“I don’t know what the future holds. I have to find the kyparis harps and unite them, and what then?”
“The Wisdom Tree will be restored, the angels will have their stairway to heaven, and your task will be finished.”
“But a debt must be paid, and somehow I’m part of the price. I don’t know what that means. It would be unfair for me to pledge myself to you. I would be playing with your heart.”
Trevin paced to the hearth, where a brass lamp burned in place of a winter fire. Her vow to marry only him might be meaningless despite her destined task. If someone didn’t discredit the Dregmoorian prince within a season, it wouldn’t matter whom she vowed to marry. She would belong to Varic.
Melaia plopped two cushions on the floor near the hearth and sat cross-legged on one of them. As Trevin settled himself on the other, she said, “I have a plan. I’ve arranged for you to leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I want Lord Beker’s counsel before I ride out.”
She leaned closer, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “You don’t need his counsel. I’m going with you. But tell no one. Not even Serai.”
“I thought you meant to tell your father about Hesel’s gash business tomorrow.”
“True. I must do that.” Melaia toyed with her braid. “I’ll meet with my father first thing in the morning. Then as soon as I can, I’ll sneak out by the Door of the Dead. I’ve done it before. We’ll work out a signal—”
“Melaia!” Trevin huffed. “First you vow to marry no one but me. Then you tell me you can’t pledge yourself to me. Now you want to leave with me. I don’t follow your reasoning.”
“I have to find the harps, Trevin.” Her eyes pleaded with him.
He sighed. “I would love to spirit you away, never to return, but I can’t. Your father barely trusts me as it is. I’m a new, untested comain. If you disappear the day I leave, he’ll know you’re with me. He’ll accuse me of stealing you.”
“You’re right. You leave first. Wait for me with the sylvans in the Durenwoods. I’ll follow in a few days.”
“Think, Melaia. Your father would send a search party, and Varic and his curs would join them. And who would be in trouble? Me first—that’s certain—but they would also believe Serai was involved. What about Jarrod? Dwin? The sylvans? Even Hanni and the priestesses would be suspect. Believe me, Melaia, they won’t stop looking until they find you, wherever you are. The rest of us will be hanging from the parapets.”
Melaia stared at Trevin, her brown eyes wide. He ached to take her in his arms. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest. Why did she have to be the princess?
Tears welled in her eyes. She rose and crossed the room to where her old blue priestess’s cloak hung on a peg. “You don’t know how awful it feels to be confined this way. Father knows I’m gifted like Mother was, but he thinks the harps, the Tree, and the stairway are only fragments of an ancient tale. Sometimes I question the tale myself.” She fingered the cloak. “If only I could look for the harps … but Father won’t let me leave the palace. He says my mother abused such freedom and he’ll not take that chance with me. He’s training me to
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