Heart of Ash (The Dark Arcane Series: Book 1)

Chapter Thirty Three

That evening, once Nala had ceased listing facts about mountainscreechers to a grumbling Conan, they all realised a hidden reason why Yeona wasn't moving her hundred soldiers until after two days.

"What are they preparing for?" the Ender asked Wres as the tall guard escorted them to their rooms—or rather their holding cells, Ashyn amended.

They looked at the people pinning up swathes of red cloth across the ceiling and one person carrying a large basket of fruit as they passed by.

"It's the Celebration of the Ancestors," the guard's tone was polite but reserved. He didn't like them but could remain courteous. "We pay our respects and homage to the spirits of those who came before us. It keeps the vaetterre in the world flowing strong, because if the spirits are happy, they will continue to lend their strength to our world."

At their silence, he deadpanned, "Vaetterre literally means spirits in the ancient tongue."

"We don't have anything even remotely close to an event like that in the capital," Kade commented. His words sounded interested but his tone was slightly flat and he was looking in completely the wrong direction, at the sights out of the window.

"Vaetterre isn't as welcomed there as it is here," Ashyn commented snidely. To Wres she said, "The vaetterre in the world may flow for considerably longer if you could convince your king of the urgency of our matter."

"Her honourable highness is as stubborn as they come. Nothing even I can say will sway her mind, particularly not when her reasoning is to protect her people. And even more so when dealing with people as untrustworthy as you." Not even his tone showed the slightest hint of malice. Simply facts.

She bristled regardless, narrowing her eyes at the back of the guard's head. What would the repercussions be if she tripped him up?

The Ender interrupted anything she was about to snap. "If there is anything we can do to increase that trust, let us know."

Wres stopped and gestured to a door beside them, opening it up.

"All you can do now is wait, observe and perhaps learn a thing or two about northern culture. For one thing—"he turned to Nala—"we do not steal from our hosts."

Sheepishly, she removed a small gold plate from her jacket. At another flat glare from the guard, she removed from her hair what could have been—and had been—mistaken for a hairpin. It was just a thin shiny ornament that she now placed back into a nearby vase.

As he left them alone, Nala blurted, "I am literally from the north. They do know that, right?"

A ridiculous question. Despite her lack of pigmentation, anyone a league away could notice her northern features, from the slope of her eyes to the ridge of her cheeks.

"Well, you haven't actually been here since you were nine, Nala, perhaps they revoked your rights to claim that." Kade was turned away from them, but he was definitely smiling.

"Learn our culture," Nala imitated Wres' flat tone. "Ratshit. They want to keep us hidden during the celebration; I remember they always had the best food served tonight."

"Speaking of, where do you reckon we can find some good grub around here? I'm starved," Conan complained, slumping into a seat.

Conan had been suspiciously relaxed the last couple of days and for a while she couldn't figure out why but last night she caught him stealing glances at Ender when he thought no one was looking. She couldn't help it but she lost some of her respect for him after that; how weak to fall in love, to surrender the most vulnerable parts of yourself. She'd never seen such lack of self-preservation.