“What about those?” she asked.
I looked to where she pointed. Lying neatly side by side on my bed were the books I had stolen from the Royal Scholar. I hadn’t placed them there. I whirled, looking around the room for an intruder. There was no one. Who would enter my room and lay them out like that?
“Aster,” I said sternly, “are you playing games with me? Did you put them there before we left?”
But with one look at her anxious expression, I knew it wasn’t her. I shook my head so she wouldn’t worry. “Never mind. I forgot that I left them there. Come on,” I said as I gathered the books up and set them on the chest. “Let’s get ready for bed.”
She had brought nothing but the clothes on her back, so I dug around for another of Kaden’s warm shirts. It fell to her ankles, and she hugged the soft fabric to her skin. When I brushed my hair, I saw her rub her short scruff dreamily as if imagining it long.
“All that hair must keep your neck and shoulders nice and warm,” she said.
“I suppose it does, but I have something far prettier that might keep you warm. Would you like to see it?”
She nodded enthusiastically, and I pulled the blue scarf Reena had given me from my saddlebag. I shook out the folds, and the silver beads jingled. I placed it over her head and wrapped the ends around her neck. “There,” I said, “a beautiful vagabond princess. It’s yours, Aster.”
“Mine?” She reached up and felt the fabric, touching the beads, her mouth open in wonder, and I felt a stab that such a small gesture meant so much to her. She deserved far more than what I could give her.
We snuggled on my bed, and I recounted stories found in the Morrighan Holy Text, tales of how the Lesser Kingdoms grew from the chosen one, tales of love and sacrifice, honor and truth, all the stories that made me long for home. The candle burned low, and when I heard Aster’s soft restful snores, I whispered Reena’s prayer. “May the gods grant you a still heart, heavy eyes, and angels guarding your door.”
And Harik, true and faithful,
Brought Aldrid to Morrighan,
A husband worthy in the sight of the gods,
And the Remnant rejoiced.
—Morrighan Book of Holy Text, Vol. III
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
It was already quite late, but while Aster slept with her scarf clutched in her hand, I sat down on the fur rug in the center of the room and looked at the books that had appeared on my bed. Somehow they had been laid in plain sight for me to find, as if I had forgotten them hidden beneath my mattress. In truth, I was so consumed with the business of staying alive, I almost had forgotten them. I had translated all of the Song of Venda on my way across the Cam Lanteux, but I’d had time to translate only one brief passage of Ve Feray Daclara au Gaudrel.
I pulled the small book from its sleeve and touched the embossed leather, fingering the burned corner. It had survived the centuries, a harrowing trip across the continent, and someone’s attempt to destroy it. Gaudrel. I wondered who she was, besides a storyteller from a group of wanderers.
The first passage had seemed to be a fanciful tale told to a child to distract her from her hunger, but even as I had translated it, I knew it had to be more. The Royal Scholar had hidden it away and even sent a bounty hunter to get it back.
I grabbed the vagabond primer from my saddlebag to help me translate, then settled in, puzzling it out word by word, line by line, beginning with the first passage again. Once upon a time, my child, there was a princess no bigger than you. It was a story of a journey, hope, and a girl who commanded the sun, moon, and stars. When I went on to the next passage, it was again a child asking for a story, but this time for one about a great storm. It was strangely reminiscent of the Morrighan Holy Text.
It was a storm, that’s all I remember,
A storm that wouldn’t end.
A great storm, she prompts.
I sigh, Yes, and pull her to my lap.
Once upon a time, child,
Long, long ago,
Seven stars were flung from the sky.
One to shake the mountains,
One to churn the seas,
One to choke the air,