Priestess

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Ara trailed her fingertips along the intricate walls. Many worries entered her mind. How she ached for home and her mother’s softness. For Coen’s arms around her again. For him to claim his love for her instead of his regret. Her father and brother. Jarrer’s stony silence as he led the way.

With a heavy sigh, she stuffed her sadness into a dusty corner of her mind and concentrated on her surroundings.

This path, for it more resembled a path than a hallway, was flanked by identically formed trees that twined together to create a ceiling of rock leaves. The forked roots converged onto the floor. If she closed her eyes, she thought she might hear the forest sounds she knew so well.

With that thought, her worries wiggled out of the dark corner like a termite burrowing through wood. She felt a build up of moisture in her eyes and swallowed in an effort to hold her tears at bay.
            Lodan nudged her back. “I am here,” he offered.

She grunted and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know.”

Finally, the long hall ended at an enormous door. On the other side, there were more books than Ara would have ever guessed existed. Her astonished gaze jumped from floor to ceiling and wall to wall.

“Sit.” Jarrer pointed to the large chair at a table in the center of the room. Taking the opposite chair, he folded his hands on the table. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything.” It appeared he replaced his disdain with an intense need to know.

She sighed and looked away, “I’m afraid there are more questions in the story of my life than answers.” Jarrer made no move. It was hard, so very hard to speak of the secret that she’d kept closely guarded for so long. Especially to someone like Jarrer.

Sighing again, she told him everything. At the end, Jarrer cleared his throat uncomfortably. “May I see this necklace and cloak?”

She hesitated before carefully pulling down her shirtfront. He sagged in his chair. He stared at the necklace and then at her. He stood abruptly and moved closer. “There is a way to find out if it is genuine . . . Do you trust me?”

Ara looked to Lodan. “I don’t. But I suppose I trust Coen’s judgment.”

Lodan’s ears twitched. “We have to trust someone.”

She nodded to Jarrer. “All right.”

Jarrer stepped behind her. Brushing aside her hair, he attempted to undo the clasp. It didn’t budge. Ara gasped and looked away when he jerked his knife through it. “Not so much as a scratch,” he muttered. The necklace settled against her skin. “Now you try,” he said.

Ara fingered the clasp. Instantly, it came free. She reclasped it hurriedly.

Jarrer made his way back to his chair. He sat for long moments, his hand covering his mouth. “Powerful indeed. Ara, only you can remove that necklace.”

“What is it?” She stroked the fickle metal.

He didn’t seem to have heard her. “Where did you get your name?”

The question took her back. Of what importance was her name? “I don’t know.”

“As a child, did you know that you where adopted?”

She shrugged. “I suppose some part of me did, but a larger part didn’t want to know. Jarrer, what of the necklace?”

His shifted in his chair. “Now for the cloak.”