reign.”
“Which proves he’s a fair man.” Trevin joined her and leaned against the wall. “How many kings would choose a daughter as their heir?”
“Don’t you see what that means? He expects me to be here. In Redcliff. Now and forever. But the harps are far more important than a word from the Oracle. Or allies from Eldarra. Or knowing the whereabouts of missing comains. You once told me that a slave and a priestess had something in common: neither was free. Nor is a princess.”
Trevin wished he knew what to say, but he had no idea.
“You know where I tasted freedom?” she continued. “In the Durenwoods with the Angelaeon. Traveling to Qanreef with you. I knew I was Dreia’s daughter. I knew I had her task to complete. But I was free. Was I wrong to acknowledge the king as my father?”
“You saved his life.”
“I try to save his life every day. He’s either on the mountaintop or in the depths of the gorge. There’s no in-between. He wants me to understand and learn, but he won’t listen to what I know. He doesn’t think I have anything worthwhile to add to the conversation.”
“He loves you. He wants to protect you. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Of course it does. And I love him. But I know now why my mother spent so much time away. I’m imprisoned here.”
Trevin sat on a trunk and watched lamplight dance with shadows across the walls. Life was a dance. Light with darkness. Known with unknown. The possible with the impossible.
“If your mother had been patient,” he said, “if she had stayed with the king, think of the strength of the kingdom. Your father never would have had a reason to doubt her faithfulness. You would have been born and raised here, and who knows—”
“She might be alive today.”
He nodded, but his gut twisted.
“I know what you’re saying.” Melaia sat on the trunk beside him. “I don’t want to make the same mistake my mother made, but I need the harps.”
“Then I’ll look for them. But I won’t know where I’m going until I speak to Lord Beker.”
She touched his knee. “Go tomorrow. I want you back as soon as possible.”
Trevin took her hand and stroked her elegant fingers. “You want me back, or you want the harps back?”
“I should want the harps above all, but”—she blushed and squeezed his hand—“I do want
you
back. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll return.”
“But tomorrow? I’m lost if I have no counsel on where to go. I know only that I’m headed north toward the Oracle.”
Melaia brightened. “I made a plan for our journey.”
“
My
journey.”
“Your journey then.” Melaia sighed. “Wait here.”
As she left the room, Serai and Jarrod strolled in.
“The night is still warm,” Serai said with an enviable lilt of joy. “I’ll fetch something cool to drink.”
Jarrod settled himself on a bench by the hearth and leaned back against the wall.
“While I’m gone, keep an eye on Melaia,” said Trevin. “She’s restless.”
“I’ve noticed, but what woman wouldn’t be restless with that prince around? I’m on edge too.”
“Aren’t you always on edge?” Melaia teased Jarrod as she returned. She held out a book to Trevin.
“Isn’t this your mother’s book?” Trevin took it reverently. “I thought you kept it under lock and key.”
“It may help our search,” said Melaia.
Trevin ran his fingers over the sign of the Tree carved in the wooden cover.
“Kyparis wood. From the Wisdom Tree.” Melaia motioned for Jarrod to look too. “Open it to the page marked by the white feather.”
Trevin found the feather and eased open the book. He read aloud.
Three from one and one from three
.
Music of the living tree
.
One sleeps in stone, one touches skies
,
One in the hands of mortals lies
.
One shall wake, one shall shake
.
Three shall light the way
.
Trevin frowned at the page. “How does a riddle help?”
“It’s
“Which proves he’s a fair man.” Trevin joined her and leaned against the wall. “How many kings would choose a daughter as their heir?”
“Don’t you see what that means? He expects me to be here. In Redcliff. Now and forever. But the harps are far more important than a word from the Oracle. Or allies from Eldarra. Or knowing the whereabouts of missing comains. You once told me that a slave and a priestess had something in common: neither was free. Nor is a princess.”
Trevin wished he knew what to say, but he had no idea.
“You know where I tasted freedom?” she continued. “In the Durenwoods with the Angelaeon. Traveling to Qanreef with you. I knew I was Dreia’s daughter. I knew I had her task to complete. But I was free. Was I wrong to acknowledge the king as my father?”
“You saved his life.”
“I try to save his life every day. He’s either on the mountaintop or in the depths of the gorge. There’s no in-between. He wants me to understand and learn, but he won’t listen to what I know. He doesn’t think I have anything worthwhile to add to the conversation.”
“He loves you. He wants to protect you. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Of course it does. And I love him. But I know now why my mother spent so much time away. I’m imprisoned here.”
Trevin sat on a trunk and watched lamplight dance with shadows across the walls. Life was a dance. Light with darkness. Known with unknown. The possible with the impossible.
“If your mother had been patient,” he said, “if she had stayed with the king, think of the strength of the kingdom. Your father never would have had a reason to doubt her faithfulness. You would have been born and raised here, and who knows—”
“She might be alive today.”
He nodded, but his gut twisted.
“I know what you’re saying.” Melaia sat on the trunk beside him. “I don’t want to make the same mistake my mother made, but I need the harps.”
“Then I’ll look for them. But I won’t know where I’m going until I speak to Lord Beker.”
She touched his knee. “Go tomorrow. I want you back as soon as possible.”
Trevin took her hand and stroked her elegant fingers. “You want me back, or you want the harps back?”
“I should want the harps above all, but”—she blushed and squeezed his hand—“I do want
you
back. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll return.”
“But tomorrow? I’m lost if I have no counsel on where to go. I know only that I’m headed north toward the Oracle.”
Melaia brightened. “I made a plan for our journey.”
“
My
journey.”
“Your journey then.” Melaia sighed. “Wait here.”
As she left the room, Serai and Jarrod strolled in.
“The night is still warm,” Serai said with an enviable lilt of joy. “I’ll fetch something cool to drink.”
Jarrod settled himself on a bench by the hearth and leaned back against the wall.
“While I’m gone, keep an eye on Melaia,” said Trevin. “She’s restless.”
“I’ve noticed, but what woman wouldn’t be restless with that prince around? I’m on edge too.”
“Aren’t you always on edge?” Melaia teased Jarrod as she returned. She held out a book to Trevin.
“Isn’t this your mother’s book?” Trevin took it reverently. “I thought you kept it under lock and key.”
“It may help our search,” said Melaia.
Trevin ran his fingers over the sign of the Tree carved in the wooden cover.
“Kyparis wood. From the Wisdom Tree.” Melaia motioned for Jarrod to look too. “Open it to the page marked by the white feather.”
Trevin found the feather and eased open the book. He read aloud.
Three from one and one from three
.
Music of the living tree
.
One sleeps in stone, one touches skies
,
One in the hands of mortals lies
.
One shall wake, one shall shake
.
Three shall light the way
.
Trevin frowned at the page. “How does a riddle help?”
“It’s
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