Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

64

Matei led the way to the longhouse. By now, the dead that had lined the road to the meeting house had been cleared away. In the distance, past the field, Mhera could see small figures moving. She wondered how many Starborn lay there ready to be buried, and whether they would lie together in one long grave.

The scent of earth recalled to her a long-ago day when she had stood looking down into the palace gardens. She had seen Kaori that day; back then, he'd had no cares but wrangling his troublesome dogs. The thought of the little grave under the rose bushes put her in mind of the other deaths that had touched her that year. Esaria's ... and Koreti's.

Who had been buried in his the Tomb of the Sovereigns in his stead? Someone slept at Esaria's side. Mhera knew it to be true.

"A basket, please," said Matei. Mhera had followed him into the longhouse without realizing. Macon, the cook to whom Matei spoke, caught her eye, and gave her a smug smile.

There it was: the joy of the victory she had not yet seen in Matei's face. And it was not only in Macon's eyes. The people around her seemed to buzz with a sort of tired energy, mingled grief at what they had lost and fierce gladness at what they had won. They had expected to die and had triumphed instead.

Mhera did not register that they were not staying in the longhouse until Matei touched her elbow and nodded toward the door. She was standing in his way. Confused, she headed in that direction. "Where are we going?"

"To talk," Matei said in a low and toneless voice. "Unless you don't wish to."

Mhera's stomach turned to ice, but she nodded.

Matei moved past her, leading the way.

They walked until they reached the place where she had taken him the day of her vision. It was well away from the encampment—far enough to give them privacy. From the fallen log where they sat, Mhera could more clearly see the folk near the fields. A great part of the meadow that had been lush and green the first day she had seen it was now dark to her eye, lined with mounds of black earth.

"I've bidden them to be respectful," Matei said. "In death, we are all equal, and loyalties matter not."

"That is easy to say, and hard to believe," Mhera said.

He was picking through the basket, taking out rough bread and small pots of milk. He tore the bread in half and offered part to her. Mhera was so hungry, she gave no thought to his dirty fingers. She bit into the bread, and they said nothing while they ate.

She reflected on the last time she had been in this place. She had been terrified to the point of trembling, so afraid that Matei would discover her gift and turn her Sight against the empire. He had promised her he wouldn't. And, more surprising perhaps than that, he had believed her.

But now she knew why.

"You believed my vision because of what happened to your mother," Mhera said, once they had finished their breakfast.

Even after so many years, Matei's face creased with the pain of Esaria's memory. "You Saw what would happen to her," he said. "I didn't believe you then, Mhera. But now I had no choice but to believe what you Saw. And again, you were right."

"I should not have told you. I'll carry the guilt of it to my grave."

"Why, Mhera? You spoke to save the peaceful people here. The children."

"And the deaths of Uncle's men are on my hands. Kaori's ..."

"There would have been deaths on both sides either way."