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“Nothing like that, no.”
When nothing more was forthcoming from the captain, my father dropped his shoulders in resignation and met my eyes. “Well, then. Since we only have a few hours left, let’s make the best of them, Sierra. Go find your watcher, let her know the change in plans. Then meet your mother and I in the library.”
“Yes, Father,” I said, my voice thick with the beginning of tears. I would be leaving them sooner than I thought. Was I ready?
A part of me felt relief at the thought of leaving early. I wanted to start my new life right away, get the anxiety and fear of the unknown over with. But another part was panicking, as if I had been told I would be trapped in a dark, empty closet for several days and had only moments to prepare myself.
For some reason, my gaze went to Jon, who gave me a small, reassuring smile, almost as if telling me I could do this, that he understood. There was sympathy there but also encouragement, something I didn’t expect to find from an Ongahri warrior, of all people.
I smiled back and took a deep breath, which in turn brought attention to the Ongahri choker around my neck, tightening the bare skin. I could still hear the echo of that clasp clicking into place, the sound heralding the beginning of this new life. I should have felt excited. Grateful. Honored. Instead, now, I only felt owned.
“Oh, miss, but there’s no time! Leave today?” Lucinda said, practically squeaking as her voice rose with each word.
I had just changed into traveling clothes—a practical day dress, pelisse, boots—and sat on the bed, my mind running through a checklist of everything I had packed. Thankfully, my mother had arranged everything for our journey days ago, and the only thing left to do was to alert the kitchen to our change in plans. The Ongahri would hunt for fresh food each night while we traveled, I was told, but Mother insisted on supplying us with bread, jams, cheeses, and such. We’d never starve, at least.
“Yes, the captain was adamant,” I said, distracted.
I reached over to my bedside table and removed the book of Ongahri poems, then added it to my small cache case which was filled with a few other books and some coal sticks and paper—in case I wanted to sketch during our breaks from the coach. I might be able to fit in another book or two, I thought, frowning, afraid I’d run out of books. I planned on reading to pass the time while we journeyed. I doubted Lucinda would be talkative on our way to Goth Mor Helle.
She sighed loudly. “Well, then. Everything should be ready. I’ll go speak with Cook and Helena, then get ready. Are you all right, my lady? How did it go?”
“It went well. Very business-like. Father and Mother have asked me to meet them in the library. To say goodbye.” My voice wobbled, and I felt Lucinda’s hand on my back, which she rubbed in light circles.
“It will be hard, I know. But you will write. Your father is giving us three of his best carrier pigeons to take with us. And hopefully you will be able to visit in the spring. I am very proud of you, you know. You have truly grown into the woman your mother and I always saw in you.”
I looked into her brown eyes and smiled. “Took me long enough, right?”
“Oh, you weren’t that bad, child. Your nature is passionate, is all, and sometimes your stubbornness gets the best of you. Your heart will always lead you, and it is good and kind.”
“You really mean that?” I asked, touched.
“I do. It has been a pleasure being your watcher.”
Was this goodbye, too? Had Lucinda made up her mind, then, to move on once we arrived at the Mor? I was too afraid to hear her answer, so instead of asking, I changed the subject.
“Make sure you have enough yarn and such, Watcher. And thread for your embroidery, for the trip.” Lucinda, like my mother, considered tedious needlework a pleasurable pastime. While I read, she’d sew, or try to if the roads were smooth.
“Yes, miss. I will see you soon.” She smiled knowingly and kissed me on the head, her nerves forgotten as she embraced her more comfortable role as watcher.
When she left, I looked around my bedroom, knowing it would be for the last time. Who knew when I’d see it again? And would my husband be by my side when—if—we visited? If we did, I’d be staying in one of the guest rooms, like any other married woman. Imagining it was difficult.
I suddenly felt like a child. Husbands, sharing a bed, having a baby? It was so beyond how I saw myself. I eyed my vanity, my wardrobe, the rug. All my life, these had been my things. But now it was time to say goodbye to the child Sierra and become the woman.
I stood, grabbed my cache case, and went to the door. Beside it and tucked in the corner, stood my floor-length mirror. I took in my appearance and saw a young woman dressed smartly and ready for traveling. My hair was pulled back in a braid, my cheeks were rosy, eyes clear, expression calm. Around my neck was the Ongahri choker.
Earlier, when I had changed out of my gown, I got my first look at the gift Fadon had given me to wear. The five, thin chains were a white silver, and the stone in the middle was garnet, its facets highlighting a deep crimson so dark the jewel looked black. It was devastating in its starkness against my pale skin. I eyed it now, watching how it breathed along with me.
Without thinking too much about what I now faced, I left the room, softly closing the door on my old life.
Chapter 11
Sierra
I thought I had known what exhaustion was, but I was wrong. So wrong. It turned out that sitting in a coach for hours on end was not only the most boring occupation, but also physically excruciating. My bottom was relentlessly numb. My legs ached like I had the ague. My bones, having been rattled from never-ending bumps on the road, continued to rattle even when I slept.
But more than anything, I hated being confined. We had now been on the road for four days and five nights. With only a few stops during the day, for lunch and short breaks, ones I soaked up like a sponge in a mop bucket, I was ready to jump out of my skin by the time we camped for the night.
“Miss? Your meal is ready,” Lucinda called from a few yards away.
