Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

60

Mhera opened the door to a cool, late afternoon day, just before sunset. A misty rain fell, lightly kissing her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of earth and damp. Then she turned her head to look for Matei, but he wasn't there. Two Arcborn guards still stood on either side of the door, but the rebel king was nowhere in sight.

She began to walk around the infirmary to the back. The first thing she saw as she came to the other side of the building was that nothing remained of Aun's herb garden but a sad wreckage. Only a few of the plants were still standing; many had been trampled or twisted, presumably under the boot heels of fighting men and women with more on their minds than the scenery.

Mhera felt a pang of sadness for Aun. She would help her replant, come spring, if she were still here.

Then she noticed Matei. He was sitting on the ground in the shadow at the back of the infirmary. It was a chill day; out of the sun, it was cold. He did not look up as she approached him, but he spoke. "How is he?"

Mhera clenched her fingers around the spine of the book in her hand. "Alive."

"I'm glad of it," said the rebel.

All at once, Mhera forgot why she had come: to confront him about the lies he had given her. She stared at him. He sat with his head hanging down, his disheveled hair falling over his cheek. He had plucked some blades of grass and was listlessly weaving them together.

"How—how dare you." It was all she could think to say.

Matei looked up at her, his dark eyes shadowed with what looked, at first glance, to be grief.

"How can you sit there and pretend to apologize for all you've done? How can you pretend to be glad he's alive? You're glad he's not dead—that's what you're glad of! That you can use him for ransom, or if ... if Uncle doesn't do your bidding, you can kill him as you could not kill me!"

"Mhera—"

"No! Don't speak of it. I do not want your explanations. Uncle will accept him back in ransom, even if he is not whole. You took his arm. Console yourself with that small victory, knowing you have not taken his life. Yet."

Matei's jaw quivered. He looked like he was trying to decide what to say.

Mhera cut him off before he could begin. "I did not come out here to talk of my cousin. I've come to talk about this." She threw the book. It landed on the grass at his side. "Did you think to convince me that your purpose is righteous with horrible mess of lies? Did you think me a fool?"

Matei looked down at the book in surprise. He picked it up. "You read it."

"Parts, yes. A happy fantasy it must be for you all, to imagine you are on the right side of this war."

"It isn't a fantasy, Mhera." Matei turned the book in his hands. "It's the truth."

"No, it isn't. I grew up in the palace, surrounded by this history, Matei. I think I would trust the truth I learned there far better than the version of it that comes from some rebel rat."

Never had she been so cruel to him. But he had been cruel to her, and she was not afraid of him any more. At least not now, now that he was ... diminished. She'd faced much since she first met him and had truly feared him, but somehow, looking at him now, she felt no fear of him at all.

She was angry to see him like this, like a shadow of himself. Where was his pride at his victory? Where was his joy that the Starborn had not triumphed? Why wasn't he acting like she had expected?

Matei was calmly turning the pages in the book, searching for something specific. Then he held the book up to her, the pages spread. "And this?"

It was the illustration of the bloodstone. Mhera looked away from it. "Don't—"