Was telling Brandt wise? She trusted him, but plenty of monks had been looking for ways to negate the cost. It required little stretching of the imagination to understand the terrible consequences of her knowledge falling into the wrong hands.
If anything good had come from this, it was Jace and Ligt learning to tolerate one another. Ligt was Etari, so he knew how to fight, but he lived as a trader. As Alena remained lost in her own thoughts, the other two were forced to interact more. They’d developed something of a master-student relationship. When they stopped for the evenings, Ligt and Jace trained together. Jace showed the trader combative techniques the Etari didn’t use. In exchange, Ligt took over Jace’s instruction in Etari language and customs.
Jace hadn’t been a great student in academy, but Alena now realized it was because he hadn’t found the proper motivation. With no one to speak to but an Etari trader, he picked the language up quickly. Growing up, she’d always prided herself on strong academics, but now she realized that Jace might be just as quick to learn as she was.
We’re here, Jace signed. His movements looked much more relaxed than they had seven days ago.
The motion snapped her to attention. She looked around and saw nothing. Then they crested a small hill. In a shallow valley on the other side, a collection of tents stood. Even from a distance, Alena recognized familiar faces.
Their arrival was noticed, of course. Alena suspected scouts around the camp had actually spotted them a while ago, also explaining why Jace knew they were getting close. She looked higher. Lost in her thoughts, she had little sense of time. It appeared to be late afternoon.
They rode slowly into camp, dismounting their horses and taking care of them. Ligt glanced over at Alena. “She’ll want to see you, soon.”
Alena forced her nerves down. The fact Sooni hadn’t come out to greet her was a message, and one that didn’t necessarily bode well. Alena might be welcome in Etar, but maybe not among her own family. When Alena had last left, she’d been accompanied by Azaleth, one of the few healthy young warriors left after the battle with the Lolani. She returned without him.
Alena finished taking the saddle off her horse.
Ligt reached out and grabbed her wrist, gently.
“I’ll take care of your belongings.”
Alena stepped back. Jace looked to her, concern etched in his expression. “Don’t worry,” she said. “This is something I need to do alone. You’ll meet Sooni before long.”
She turned her horse over to Ligt’s care. Then she made her way to the center of the camp, where Sooni’s tent would be. She passed several of her family on the way. Their gazes assessed her, but they withheld judgment, at least for now.
Were they still her family?
She thought of them that way.
But she hadn’t seen them for years.
Two families in two different lands. One through blood, one through ties that went even deeper.
How did she honor both?
She knew, as those familiar faces watched her, that she had failed again. She had failed her birth family when she’d run away all those years ago. And she’d failed this family, perhaps even worse. She’d led one of their treasured sons to his death. And she hadn’t even returned to them after.
Back in Landow, surrounded by her parents and Jace, her decision had made sense.
Now it seemed wrong.
Alena remembered Sooni’s tent well, for she’d spent no small amount of time within it over the years. She didn’t enter, but instead kneeled in front of the tent. “Sooni.”
She kept her voice soft, just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of camp. Alena heard the matriarch of the family move within the tent. A flap lifted, revealing the woman who had saved Alena’s life on one of her darkest days.
Alena’s emotions were almost as strong as when she’d met her own family back in Landow. Sooni had aged, but if anything, the years had made her stronger. Her sharp eyes took Alena in, and she made the hand sign for entrance.
There were two signs for enter.
One was formal, used when meeting a new family or clan, or used when the status between the two people was unknown. The second was informal, an invitation between friends and family.
Sooni’s was the first.
Alena entered the tent and sat. Sooni sat across from her.
Despite the addition of years, Sooni seemed much the same as when Alena last saw her. The first hints of gray had begun to show in her hair, but her sharp gaze missed nothing.
Alena looked around the tent. Sooni hadn’t carried much back when they’d first met, and little appeared to have changed. But Alena did see a sword resting in the corner, a Lolani design. A piece of the battle that had wreaked havoc on her clan, and a reminder of the last day Alena had spent among her family.
“I’m sorry,” Alena said. The words weren’t sufficient, but they were all she had.
She forced herself to meet Sooni’s stare. At first, it seemed cold, and Alena wondered if she had stepped into a trap.
Then the ice broke and Alena saw the woman’s sorrow.
Alena came up to her knees and shuffled forward quickly, wrapping Sooni in an embrace. It was returned, Sooni’s strength making breathing difficult.
They held each other for several long heartbeats, then broke apart. Alena remained close. The Etari were generally more physical than imperials, with less emphasis on personal space. Alena fell into the rhythms of the life with ease.
“I’m sorry,” Alena repeated. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“As am I,” Sooni said. “Tell me everything.”
And Alena did. She spoke of Azaleth’s final days, of how he had died in a mysterious chamber far below the mountains outside Landow. She spoke of the gates and the power that resided within. And she spoke of her own affinity and the ways in which it grew.
Alena left nothing out. Much of it Sooni already
