Page 84 of The Seeker

“I will,” I promised, aching to hug my brother, but he didn’t move to climb off of his horse. Instead, he dug in his heels, twisting to give one last wave before disappearing into a cloud of dust.

My chest ached for a life I no longer lived, but I knew staying here, watching my brother ride off to his nearly perfect and peaceful future, wouldn’t remedy it, and I urged my horse in the opposite direction, toward Signa’s.

It had been more than a season since I’d ridden this way, and it was sad to see the damage war had done to the land. Although Ralheim had never been luscious with vegetation, there was even less now, many of the former patches of grass trampled by boots or squashed by the setup of tents.

Though there were no longer active battles, the people I passed still eyed me warily, often peering out from behind building corners or from between nearly closed window shutters. The bodies had been cleaned from where they’d fallen—and there likely weren’t that many this far from the front lines—but I did come upon the occasional abandoned sword or knife.

There was one in particular that caught my eye, the intricate handle flashing under the midday sun. I passed it at first, but something made me turn around, braving climbing off the horse to collect it.

The moment it was in my palm, I recognized it.

It was the knife Otho gifted me before I’d gone back to Leif. I frowned as I turned it over in my hand before searching the area around me.

It was a barren flatland, though I spotted trees rising in the distance. Still, there was no shelter nearby, and no people currently walking about, giving no explanation as to why it was lying here in the open, a long way from where I’d last seen it.

Unable to abandon it, I tucked it through one of my belt loops before remounting Nala to continue our trek. It had been fortnights since I’d been to see Signa, but the closer I drew, the more the memories came back, of following Friar here before.

I frowned. I didn’t know what to think of Friar anymore.

Forcing the offending thoughts away, I focused instead on the increasing vegetation as we drew closer to Signa’s abode, the sounds of the forest barely brushing my ears.

Finally, the massive gardens surrounding her home came into view, followed by her humble cottage.

And there was a horse tied to the post outside.

I wanted to turn back, not wanting to know who waited at Signa’s for me, but I knew I had to do this. It was this, or stay with Milo and Helene, and that was only a temporary solution.

As quietly as possible, I tied Nala to the post next to the other horse, knowing that Signa would have already foreseen my arrival. Still, I lifted my hand and knocked politely on the door to announce myself.

“Come in,” Signa called from inside.

I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my nerves before pushing open the door, but it was futile.

The interior of the hut was dark, curtains drawn over the windows to block the afternoon sun. Signa lay on the couch, her head propped up by several pillows, with none other than Friar holding her hand.

She glanced at me as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me but said nothing.

Signa’s breathing was labored, and I wondered why she hadn’t asked Friar to call me in.

“She was afraid if you heard my voice, you would bolt,” Friar offered as I picked up a stool from the kitchen, setting it down next to Friar before taking a seat.

I wasn’t close to Signa. I’d only spoken to her two times in real life, and once in the dream world, but that didn’t stop the sadness from coursing through me as I took in her state.

She’d been old the first time I met her, already stooped over by the years gone by. But lying back on the couch, she looked even smaller, the hand that gripped Friar’s barely more than skin and bones, age spots coloring the back like a map of a life well lived.

“She was trying to wait until you came.”

I frowned. I wanted to say that I still wasn’t sure about becoming the coven leader, but I didn’t have the heart to argue with a woman who was in her last moments. Instead, I accepted her hand from Friar when she passed it to me, knowing I could figure out a solution that suited everyone later.

Even if the solution was someone else as a coven leader.

“How did it go with the king?” Friar asked.

I was surprised that she didn’t linger on the former topic, so surprised it took a moment for me to remember that I wasn’t only mad at Otho. “You mean your father?” I asked, my voice laced with venom. “I must say that was a lovely surprise to learn when I was already in the throne room. You and your brother made a fool of me.”

She sighed, her sadness a flicker as it reached me. “Otho was supposed to tell you.”

“Before or after I made a fool of myself in front of the king?” I hissed, careful not to permit my anger to intrude on my ability to have a conversation.