“Aye.” Vrell couldn’t imagine a soul in Er’Rets who did not. Though she despised Prince Gidon she wouldn’t wish that kind of sorrow on anyone. Vrell herself had lost one parent, but to lose both at such a young age, without having known either…so sad. Even more so to be raised by such a horrible man. It explained a great deal about Prince Gidon’s callous reputation. Having those two in charge did not bode well for the future of Er’Rets.
“Lord Nathak depends upon my gift to look over the prince,” Master Hadar said. “It helps to have another set of eyes when rumors of assassination blow like the wind.”
If the prince wanted fewer enemies, he should try being more kind. Once he took the throne, the attempts on his life would no doubt increase. With a scepter in his hand, Prince Gidon would dole out one horrifying order after another. Vrell hoped to be safe at home by then.
Master Hadar nudged her shoulder and held out the cabochon. “Take it.”
Vrell opened her hand, and her master dropped the heavy, smooth stone. She fingered it. It was lovely. An oval ruby set in engraved gold. So much artistry and money to hold up the prince’s trousers. What a waste.
“Seek him.”
Vrell’s jaw dropped. She looked up at her master with wide eyes. “Seek the prince’s mind? Surely that cannot be acceptable?”
“For a prince to be truly protected, much privacy is sacrificed. Trust me, this man cares not what anyone thinks of his actions. He won’t feel violated. He won’t even know. Besides, you might fail. This is a difficult task, seeking one you’ve never met. Concentrate.”
Vrell swallowed the truth, hoping it did not show on her face. She had met the prince before, more times than she liked. She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes.
She sought his narrow face, his dark hair…and something rattled. A heaviness closed in on her mind. Grass, horses, and the faint smell of lavender gripped her senses. A purring rose around her, spasmodic — snoring. A light breeze rippled red curtains around the sleeping prince. Muted voices…laughter…the clomping of hooves along dirt.
Like a feather caught in a gust of wind, Vrell whipped out of the curtains and floated into a soldier’s mind. Everyone around this young man rode a horse, yet he trudged along on foot in a cloud of dust, caked from head to toe. His cape was tossed up over his shoulders, covering his nose and mouth to keep from breathing the filthy air. His cheap boots hurt his feet. His heart overflowed with grief. He did not want to be here. He hated Prince Gidon.
What is your name? Vrell asked him.
The soldier tensed and drew up his walls, spitting Vrell out.
She flew into the air and into a black cloud. Her head nodded forward with a jerk, and she opened her eyes. She gasped, shocked at the fatigue gripping her bones. She looked up to find Master Hadar looking down on her hungrily.
“Well?”
“He travels, asleep in his litter.” She held the stone out to her master, anxious to be rid of this draining connection with Prince Gidon and his soldier.
Master Hadar’s jowls gathered into a devious smile as he accepted the stone. “Excellent! How quickly you succeeded. Delightful, the vigor of youth.” He reached under his stool and pulled out a straw basket filled with small items. He tossed the cabochon in as if it were a mere pebble. “You’ll practice with these. Try another. Tell me what you see. Take your time. We have all day.”
Wary of taxing herself further, Vrell accepted the basket and studied the objects inside, careful not to touch any. There were dozens of swatches of cloth, a few ribbons, a turquoise bracelet, several brooches. Had these things all been pilfered from their owners? Would she have to resort to thievery to become proficient in bloodvoicing? And what about her energy? How would she last all day if one look at Prince Gidon drained her so? Or had it been his soldier who had drained her?
A lock of auburn hair in the basket caught her eye. She dug it out from under a swatch of leather, consumed by the color and curl. She lifted it to her nose, but it only smelled of the straw and metal surrounding it.
“A romantic, are you?” Master Hadar raised the skin above his eye where an eyebrow should be. “Go on then.”
Vrell closed her eyes, gripped the silky hair, and thought of its russet color.
A familiar laugh grew in her mind. The subtle scent of grape blossoms brought a gasp to her lips. It was Mother!
A warm breeze flittered across her mother’s face, blowing her auburn hair about. Honeybees buzzed around her. Someone held her arm. A friend.
It’s been a warm spring, Mother said. We’ve had an incredible crop. Lost nothing so far. But once the grapes set, we’ll have to put out bird nets.
Lady Coraline’s voice came loud, as though spoken in Vrell’s ear. Bird nets?
To keep them from eating the grapes, Mother said. Orioles and cardinals are the worst. I cannot blame them — the grapes are very sweet. Everything will have to be netted.
Is that difficult?
Yes. It takes the workers several weeks to cover all the crops.
The smell is enchanting. All these years, and I still haven’t gotten used to the fishy smell of—
The sun blazed overhead. Vrell was not with her mother anymore. She was back with Prince Gidon’s caravan. And the young soldier. He tossed his cape up over his shoulders again to let his skin breathe. He wore far too many layers for such a journey on foot. His linen shirt clung to his chest with sweat.
Why had he pulled her away from Mother? What do you want? she asked the him.
The soldier tensed, but this time he spoke back. What do I want? It’s you who are in my head. I didn’t invite you.
Yes, you did. Stop pulling me here.
Vrell tried to leave, to focus again on Mother and Lady Coraline, but she hit something hard. Her eyes flashed open and she wheezed.
She found herself lying on her back on the cold floor of the chamber. She tried to lift her head but couldn’t. She opened her hand, and the lock of hair fell to the floor. Good. She still had some control of her limbs.
Master Hadar peered down from his stool, the golden glow of the lantern casting black fissures over his lumpy skin. “What did you see?”
Vrell closed her eyes and tried not to show her alarm. Why did Master Hadar have a lock of her mother’s hair? Was he spying on her? And why hadn’t she tried to communicate to Mother when she’d had the chance? She breathed deeply until the pressure faded from her mind. When she opened her eyes again, she met her master’s hollowed eye sockets. They were wide, watching.
“I couldn’t see…” She took a deep breath, half exhausted, half exaggerating her state. “Why does this weaken me so?”
“Perhaps you’ve not practiced enough. There are ways to get stronger. I’ll teach you everything in good time. Let us stop for breakfast. Food gives strength as well, and you’ve not eaten, have you?”
Vrell shook her head.
Master Hadar rose and swept to the door. “Breakfast then.” He left her lying on the floor.
She stared at the timber ceiling and shivered.
How dangerous this bloodvoicing business was. Not only did it weaken her, she had almost given away her identity. Master Hadar could not sense her thoughts, but she supposed he might be able to jump through her to Mother. Maybe it was best that she hadn’t had time to try to send her a message.
And what of that soldier? Who was he? How could he pull her mind into his without meaning to? Clearly he knew nothing of his own power. Could he be the one called Achan, whom Master Hadar thought was a boy? Surely one so powerful wouldn’t be relegated to walking in the dust while so many horses and wagons were available with the prince’s entourage.