Priestess

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“But why would someone attack you?” Cashelle asked with wide eyes.

Myrel came to stand by Ara’s side. “She’s a pretty girl.”

“Then why attack her in a busy inn, surrounded by people?” another man asked.

Already, Ara could see the answer in some of the villager’s expressions: because she’s one of them, one of the Gifted. Deep lines of pity etched their faces.

Ara ducked her head as shame washed over her. Where is Tenan when I need him most?

Myrel put her arm protectively around Ara’s shoulder. “I knew something about him was wrong. I should’ve listened to myself.”

Ara shuddered to think what would have happened if Cashelle hadn’t stepped between them. All her life, she had lived in fear of the Assassins. Now she’d come face to face with one. And she’d survived. Barely.

She desperately wanted to be home. Away from the loaded glances and whispered comments. “I ought to get back. Mother will be worried.”

Questions were already forming on Myrel’s lips.

Ara bolted before the woman got a chance to voice them.

Myrel shadowed her every step. “Let Layward take you home. Or one of the other men. Perhaps a few would be best? Just let them get their horses.”

If Ara went back with her own personal army, her parents would send her away for certain. The ranch was barely surviving as it was. Ara untied Talbot’s reins and broke into a jog, leaving Myrel behind. Looping Talbot’s halter over her shoulder, she shoved her hair back under her stuffy cap, vowing never to let it loose again.

Spread out the tiniest amount of her Gift, she focusing on any dark patches in her sweeps as she searched for the man. He had disappeared. “I hope this isn’t the beginning of a pattern,” she muttered to herself. But as she moved, she couldn’t deny that something felt wrong—evil even.

She didn’t settle down until she saw the comforting outline of her home against the aspens that skirted the base of the mountains. Living away from main roads used to make her feel safe, but now she saw how terribly alone they were. And how trapped.

Qessa looked up when Ara came in. “You’re back early. I didn’t expect you till supper?”

Ara shrugged. “Myrel said to come see her soon. Where’s Father?”

Ara could tell from the way her mother eyed her that she was considering pressing the matter. But to her relief, she let it drop. “Still cutting hay.”

Ara nodded and went about her chores. And then, just before supper, she heard the distant pounding of hooves. Her heart sagging, she rushed out from behind the house. Her mother shaded her eyes to better see.

Ara spread out some of her soul. Four men. One of them smelled of Myrel’s cider and fresh bread. Layward. Her shoulders lowered a bit. “Settle down,” she muttered to herself.

But then she realized that her mother was about to find out about everything. And worse, that Ara had withheld the encounter from her. She barely held her groan.

The men pulled their horses to a halt. Layward was the only one who managed to look at her. The others stared at the trees, the house, the horizon, everywhere but at Ara and her mother.

So, someone had guessed why a man would risk attacking a girl in the midst of a crowded inn.

At least Layward looked more concerned than pitying. “Just wanted to see that you made it home safe and tell you the man is long gone. Our boys followed him, but he rode like a man possessed. They couldn’t catch him.” He leaned forward, his saddle groaning beneath him. “You sure you’ve never seen him before?”