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“Oh!” I exclaimed involuntarily. “Who—?”
“It’s the Blind Crone,” Jalli whispered to me. “She roams around the palace all day and night. The Drakes all respect her because she has The Sight.”
“The Sight? What’s that?” I whispered back.
“Come closer, my girl, and you shall learn what it is,” the old woman told me in a cracked voice. “I heard you were the L’lorna to our Alpha-to-be and so I came to see you.”
“Um, nice to meet you,” I said uncertainly, hanging back and offering her a single hand to shake.
The old woman batted my offered hand away impatiently.
“No, no, girl—I need to see you.”
“She wants you to let her read your face,” Jalli explained in a low voice. “Don’t worry,” she added. “She won’t hurt you.”
It wasn’t that I was afraid the old lady would hurt me—I just really didn’t like the idea of anyone feeling all over my face and touching my scars. It had been hard enough to stand still while Ari’s mother just patted my scarred left cheek. I didn’t want some woman I didn’t know running her fingers all over my disfigurement.
Still, the way Jalli was looking at me made it clear I was expected to allow this “Blind Crone” as she was called, to do exactly that. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t want to cause more trouble for myself either. Reluctantly, I leaned forward, putting my face closer to her seeking hands.
“Ah, there you are,” she exclaimed, smiling as her fingers finally found me. Her fingertips were soft as a baby’s—worn smooth by extreme age so that she didn’t even seem to have fingerprints.
“Yes, here I am,” I mumbled, trying to keep my lips shut so she didn’t stick her fingers in my mouth.
“Hush, girl and let me read you,” she commanded in a bossy tone I didn’t like one bit. I decided I would only stay a moment longer before pulling away. Surely I had been as polite as was necessary already by letting her feel my face in the first place.
The soft old fingers ran over my face and lingered on my scarred left side. I thought the Blind Crone would say something about how it was “bad luck” to have such scars but she didn’t say a word for the longest time—just kept running her hands over my scars in a way that was strangely soothing.
“Marked,” she whispered at last, her old, cracked voice vibrating on the word. “Marked by The Fire.”
I could hear the capitals in her voice—she said “The Fire” the same way I did—using it as a proper noun. Talking about it like it was a living entity that had a will of its own.
“Yes,” I whispered, forgetting my irritation with her. “Yes, I was. The Fire took my home and my parents. It took everything from me.”
“Not everything, child,” she chided me gently. “You have friends who love you back home. And you have the love of a good male and the prospect of more—much more. The Fire gave that to you, though it took much in return. The Fire never gives without taking—that’s its nature.”
I didn’t know what to say to that so I stayed silent.
The old lady felt my face a while longer and then said one more thing.
“Beware, child—The Fire is not done with you yet.”
“What?” I exclaimed, yanking away from her. The scars on my back were suddenly itching like crazy and I felt like my whole body was covered in chill bumps. “What did you say?”
But she didn’t explain. She only felt for her stick and went on her way, tapping her path down the long marble hall and muttering to herself as she went.
“What did she mean?” I asked, turning to Jalli. My heart was still pounding and the scars on my back were still burning and itching. It seemed like a strange and unsettling ending after the old woman had appeared so unexpectedly and demanded to “see” me.
“I don’t know. I thought she would at least say a prophecy about you.” Jalli looked disappointed. “Something like—‘You shall be the greatest Queen ever to rule the Sky lands!’ That would have been really good, because everybody always believes the Blind Crone’s prophesies and it might have helped the people like you better.” She sighed. “Well, whatever. C’mon, let’s go watch Mr. Seahorse toast some more bugs.”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me away, slapping the door shut all in one gesture. But though I allowed myself to be dragged back to the open window and the colorful garden below, I couldn’t get the old woman’s words out of my head.
“The Fire never gives without taking—that’s its nature,” she’d said. And “The Fire is not done with you yet.” What had she meant by that?
I had no idea but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to find out.
