‘Well, you’re Finnikin’s sister now, so I suppose that does make you Jasmina’s aunt,’ Isaboe said.
‘Can I look after her, then, Isaboe?’
Isaboe nodded. ‘Always, precious.’
‘I’ll take her to the valley to meet my new friend.’
Beatriss grimaced. ‘I said no more talk of that, Vestie.’
Isaboe could see Beatriss was still shaken by the incident. Isaboe had heard about it from the Guard that morning and it frightened her to think of how they almost lost Vestie.
‘Do you think Millie will cheer Jasmina up?’ Vestie asked, referring to her doll.
‘She cheers everyone up. Go get her,’ Beatriss said, and Vestie skipped away as Jasmina lifted her head to peer towards where her older friend had gone.
‘Are we sure she wasn’t taken from her bed?’ Isaboe asked quietly.
Beatriss shook her head. ‘Vestie went down the mountain on her own. She claimed … she claimed to have walked the sleep of the girl.’
Isaboe felt both women’s eyes on her.
‘Do you think she’s walking the sleep on her own?’ Beatriss asked.
Isaboe had no idea how to answer that. Not after the strangeness of her sleep. ‘What does Tesadora say?’
Beatriss seemed uncomfortable. ‘Not much really. She was very strange. Almost … bewitched, if one could ever imagine Tesadora bewitched.’
‘Tell us about this mad girl, Beatriss,’ Abian said.
‘She was so strange,’ Beatriss said with a shudder. ‘Tesadora was wonderful with her. She managed to disarm her. The poor girl is obviously hiding from the Charynites and Tesadora has taken it upon herself to take care of her.’
‘She’s seen her again?’ Isaboe asked.
‘As I was leaving the mountain, Tesadora was setting out for our side of the valley,’ Beatriss said.
Isaboe was disturbed to hear the news. She had sent message after message to Tesadora, asking her to visit. She had excused everyone’s mood after Phaedra of Alonso’s death, but to hear that Tesadora was back in the valley seemed wrong. Isaboe’s bond with Tesadora was strong. It had grown since Isaboe first walked the sleep with Vestie and the Other while in exile. The Other had been Tesadora, their protector and the person partly responsible for breaking the curse her mother had placed on the land. Tesadora and Beatriss had once been strangers to each other, but had worked tirelessly together to protect those trapped inside the kingdom. Through the benevolence of the Goddess they had found a way to lead Isaboe home. It had been Tesadora who had nursed her back to health after Trevanion and the Guard reclaimed Lumatere.
Vestie returned with her rag doll and Jasmina was happy to see it.
‘You’re a kind friend to this stranger, Vestie,’ Isaboe said, gathering the little girl towards her. Vestie placed her lips beside Isaboe’s ear and growled in a strange, savage way. She giggled.
‘Are you a little wolf, Vestie?’ Isaboe asked, bemused.
‘That’s what she sounds like,’ Vestie explained. ‘When I walk the sleep.’
Jasmina began to squirm and Isaboe placed her back on the ground, her attention on Vestie.
‘Tell me more about her,’ Isaboe said calmly, despite the fact that her heart was pounding. She remembered the feeling night after night of waking from the sleep.
Vestie shook her head.
‘Can we guess?’ Beatriss said. ‘Vestie so enjoys guessing games with her father.’
Vestie liked the idea and nodded emphatically. ‘Father guesses every time. He knows everything.’
‘Oh, wonderful,’ Isaboe said, winking at Beatriss. ‘Another besotted child of Trevanion’s.’
‘You’ll have to give us a clue,’ Abian said.
Vestie hesitated and then she took Jasmina’s hand and swung it. ‘She’s just like Jasmina.’
‘She’s pretty?’ Beatriss said.
‘She’s bossy?’ Abian said.
‘She’s incorrigible?’ Isaboe said.
Vestie giggled. ‘I don’t know what that means.’
Isaboe looked at her daughter, who loved nothing more than hearing her name. ‘Aren’t you incorrigible, beloved?’
Jasmina thought about it a moment and nodded emphatically, liking the word.
‘What else are you, Jasmina?’ Vestie asked, excited.
Jasmina thought another moment and everyone laughed to see her pensive face.
‘Pwincess.’
The others laughed again at the joy of hearing her speak and Vestie clapped with glee.
‘Yes. Yes.’
Isaboe froze, the hair on her arms standing tall.
‘Your friend in the valley is a princess?’
Vestie put a finger to her lips to silence herself, but nodded, giggling.
‘And does this princess have a name?’ Isaboe asked.
Beatriss shook her head at the same time as Vestie’s nod. Beatriss stared at her daughter, surprised.
‘You’ve not mentioned a name, Vestie,’ she said, worry in her voice. ‘You said she didn’t have one.’
‘It’s a secret.’
‘Whose secret?’ Beatriss asked, alarmed. ‘Who said it’s a secret?’
‘She did. And so did Tesadora when I told her. Tesadora said that the Charynites have the biggest ears in the whole world and even if I told someone my secret in Lumatere, they’d hear it.’
Isaboe, Abian and Beatriss exchanged looks.
‘All these secrets,’ Isaboe tried to jest. ‘Who said there were any secrets from me in Lumatere, Vestie?’
Isaboe bent down to her.
‘You can whisper it to me. The Charynites will never hear. I’ll make sure of that.’
Vestie took the time to think and then leant forward.
‘It’s a strange name, Isaboe. I can hardly say it.’
‘I’ll help you, my sweet.’
Vestie placed her lips against Isaboe’s ears.
‘Her name is … Kintana. Kintana of Charyn.’
Chapter 7
Arjuro insisted on escorting Froi for at least part of his journey. Their exit was through the cottage of a draper wed to one of the Priests. It lay on the northern outskirts of Sebastabol and as they crept out of the cellar into the early-morning blustery wind, Froi smelt a difference in the air, one that seemed foreign, yet still strangely familiar.
‘The ocean,’ Arjuro said. ‘We’re not even a half day’s walk from it to the east.’
The map Arjuro had drawn for Froi would take him across the centre of the kingdom to Charyn’s border with Osteria. Froi knew they would pass Abroi in the morning and Serker later that afternoon. He thought of Finnikin and Lucian and the pride they felt having come from the Rock and Mountain. Froi felt no such pride in the homes of his ancestors.
‘Stop thinking about it,’ Arjuro said, when Froi looked back over and over again after they passed north of Abroi.
‘How do you know what I’m thinking?’
‘I just know,’ Arjuro said. ‘Shit to the south and killing fields ahead. You want neither in your life.’
The terrain south of Serker was a slush of melted snow and dirt, and above them was a whirl of filthy clouds that lay low all the day long. A wind whistled an eerie tune and even the horses responded to the misery, tearing
