AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I looked over at her. Thankfully, she seemed much better, and all traces of tears had disappeared. I was proud of her for it. She knew her duty, that appearances mattered outside of the three of us.
With my stomach feeling like a living thing trying to crawl out of me, I turned my gaze to the entrance of the room just as a man in snow-white robes came striding in.
Tall, with short-cropped blond hair, the Servant was much younger than any representative of the Owl I’d ever seen. Most Servants were at least past the age of fifty-five years. This man looked to be in his early thirties. I noticed his eyes. They were like twin blue crystals, piercing and stunning. I immediately dropped my gaze, then winced at the stupid feathered skirt of my bird dress.
I never cared much of what others thought of my looks, my gowns, or the fashions, but I did regret then and there that of all the choices in my wardrobe, I had chosen this ridiculous garment to greet someone so important as the man who stood in front of me.
He bowed his head in greeting. “Constant Linden, Lady Linden, and I presume Miss Sierra? I am Servant Demos.” The man’s voice was low, formal, and quite intimidating in its softness, a voice which one had no choice but to pay close attention to.
My brow grew hot, and I shifted on my feet but raised my eyes again, letting Father introduce us.
“Servant Demos, welcome to our home. Yes, this is our daughter, Sierra. Please, have a seat.” Father gestured to the settee, then lifted his hand to signal Gretta to bring refreshments. “I hope your journey was pleasant, Servant?”
We sat back down, me at my mother’s side on the divan, Father seated in his chair once more, with the Servant sitting alone. Mother patted my knee in comfort, and I eased out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding in.
“It was, thank you, Constant Linden.”
The Servant’s presence filled the room completely, the way a lantern lit a dark cave. I was so enthralled by his being there that I missed everything that was said, barely even noticing when Mother rubbed my arm, startling me.
“Dearest,” Mother whispered in my ear. “It is late. Let’s get you to bed.”
I nodded like a simpleton and stood unsteadily to my feet. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”
“Excuse us,” Mother announced, standing to take me by the arm, “I believe my daughter and I will retire now.”
Servant Demos and Father stood as well.
“Actually, I think I shall do the same,” our guest said. “Constant, we will speak in the morning. Ladies.” He inclined his head.
Father and the Servant spoke a few more words, before Gretta came in and offered to show Servant Demos to his quarters. Father and Mother walked me to my room.
When we arrived at my chamber, Father kissed my forehead like he had so many times since I could remember. But this time it felt as if it meant something more, a benediction or a seal upon my fate.
“We are so very proud of you, Daughter,” he said warmly. “All will work out, I promise you.”
I nodded, said my goodnights, and went inside my room, where I readied for bed, lost in a daze from all that had come to pass. It had been quite an eventful day, going from trying to catch a willful lambskin to being told my whole world was about to change.
A sense of displacement colored everything as I looked at my bed, my room, all of my belongings. I would be leaving my home in a few weeks. A part of me was excited. I had never really felt at home here, had always had the sense that I didn’t belong. Maybe Goth Mor Helle, among the Ongahri, was where my soul’s home was. Or was that just a fantasy in an overactive imagination?
Now, lying in bed, I surrendered to my body, who’d had enough of my mind being in charge, and drowsiness swept over me, making me feel heavy. The assurance that sleep would come to take me away was as comforting as a warm blanket.
But my mind wouldn’t surrender that easily. Somewhere deep inside me, the doors of Goth Mor Helle opened, beckoning me like they had so many times in my dreams.
Chapter 4
Sierra
“Do they even wear clothes?” Lucinda asked, putting the last dress—the bird dress was staying here, where hopefully it would be eaten by moths—into the only trunk left yet to pack.
I rolled my eyes heavenward and set down my brush. It was almost time for bed, and still there was so much more to do before I’d be leaving with the Ongahri in a matter of days. “Yes, I’m sure they still wear clothing, Lucinda, for the love of the gods.”
“Don’t be getting snippy with me now, miss.”
Hands on her hips, hair in disarray, my watcher looked downright frazzled. And exhausted. All of this was hard on Lucinda, and I felt some sympathy toward her. Even though she was knowledgeable about history, the subject of the Ongahri was a small niche, adding more to the mystery surrounding their kind. Any information to be had came from historians. Luckily, my father’s library had the means to satisfy my curiosity, but not enough to answer all the questions I had.
I walked over to her and rubbed her arm. “Go to bed, Watcher. We’ll get the rest of my things tomorrow.”
She sighed, then sat down on my bed with a plop. “Just tell me about them again, all that you know.”
