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I sat down next to her and hugged her. “Well, we’ll be extra careful, keep our eyes open. If it’s a storm, we’ll seek safety. If it’s food that might make us all sick, then we’ll be smart and cautious about what we consume. I’m marrying their prince, and no doubt we will be more than protected from any threats. Only fools would threaten the Ongahri.”
She nodded. “Yes. And perhaps I just need sleep, my lady.” Patting my knee, she stood up, the small book held tightly in her hand. “I will read. A little.”
I laughed. “Goodnight, Watcher.”
“Goodnight, miss.” She kissed my cheek and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Not long after, I laid in my bed, one lone candle on my bedside table dancing slowly for the shadows. I regretted now that I had given her the book, for I had nothing to read but my own thoughts.
For the past few weeks, I had been keeping myself busy enough to not allow too much thinking about what the immediate future held. My feelings were just too many to absorb. There was fear, of course. Mostly of the unknown. Oddly enough, it wasn’t my betrothed that I thought of with trepidation. It was the Ongahri as a whole, living up on that cold mountain, far away from everything familiar and… warm.
Would they accept me? Would I be welcomed into their fold? Would I grow bored? Would I find a friend?
The rest of me was terribly excited. Not being a great lover of routine and the mundane, I looked forward to all the new things I’d see and hear. Not to mention feel.
The Ongahri. Me, a nobody, chosen as the Fealty Bride! I still couldn’t wrap my head around it all.
And then there was the apprehension of becoming a wife. Being Constant Linden’s daughter didn’t allow for dalliances or stolen kisses behind the fountain in the gardens—not that I had ever been interested enough to even notice young men; my head was always in the clouds. I was fully a maiden. Untouched. Untried.
I wasn’t ignorant, however. My knowledge of the marital bed came from books—Father would be appalled as to what I’ve read in his vast library—and observation from the villagers. But that knowledge wasn’t experiential. I hadn’t even been kissed! Knowing that, soon, I’d be in a man’s bed, naked, taken, was enough to make me burn like a thousand suns.
I wondered what he looked like. Was he handsome? Kind? Strong and tall?
Tossing in my bed, I turned onto my side, kicking the blanket off my confined feet.
And was he a reader like I was? Did he like philosophy, the arts? Or was he stodgy and only discussed hunting or ale? Wait. Did the Ongahri speak another language? Oh, gods. How would we communicate? Did they even have books?
I flipped over onto my back again.
What if he were old and sickly? No. The Owl Servant wouldn’t have lied when he said their prince was a man in his prime. But he said nothing of my betrothed’s character or pursuits.
And that begged the next question: Why hadn’t the Ongahri prince arranged to come in person? Why send an envoy and a proxy?
I had wanted to ask the Servant this, but the man was far too unapproachable. Every time I did have an opportunity to speak to him on the matter, he would just stare at me with bright blue eyes and what seemed like a secret smile. After a few days of meetings alone with my father, Servant Demos had left to return to the Basilica, only to return to Providence a few days ago. He was currently in one of the guest rooms on the other side of the house.
I sat up and fluffed my pillow, feeling agitated, then laid down again on my side.
Yesterday, Servant Demos had asked to speak with me privately. Father had given his permission, and Demos suggested a walk along the grounds.
By that time, I had already quieted my fear of the Owl and its Servants—or, at least, this new one. I had never liked their sanctimonious ways, even though my parents and the majority of our village followed their creed. Ever since that horrible occurrence, years ago, with Servant Tibius, where he had cornered me in the hall before dinner, grabbing my chin, his dark blue beady eyes boring into me, searching for gods knew what, I had been almost terrified of the robed Order.
Shuddering, I focused instead on yesterday morning with Demos.
The walk had started peacefully, and then, as his questions became odder still, and the further we strolled the gardens, I grew uncomfortable. There was something about the questions that emanated a warning inside me. Even now, lying here in my bed, I couldn’t identify it. Nothing nefarious, nothing ominous. Just different.
Being in Demos’ presence was akin to standing outside before a torrential rain threatened to fall, where the sound of thunder rumbled under your feet, and the distant lightning charged the air enough to raise the hairs on your arms.
Whether it was because I found him intriguing, like observing a dangerous but beautiful insect, or that I was always wary of anything having to do with The Owl and the Basilica, I couldn’t say. But he definitely unnerved me, as if he could see into my head, could listen to all my secret thoughts.
Kicking the rest of the sheet off and shoving it with my feet to the end of the bed, I sighed, pushing Demos out of my head.
Two days. I had two days until they arrived. The Ongahri. The autumn festival started tomorrow, both to celebrate the end of a year and my nuptials. Then I’d say goodbye to my family, to Providence.
It took a good while but, finally, I fell asleep to thoughts of golden leaves, fiddles, and the taste of honey cakes on my tongue. Somewhere far away, I heard the sound of thunder.
Chapter 5
Sierra
