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“The dart could not have been handled by anyone else, Your Majesty,” Aruna said. “She was the only one who touched it before it was used on your father.”
Our eyes met. Aruna’s gaze was steady, but pleading. By the way they widened and the way her lashes fluttered, she wanted me to be quiet. To listen. So, I turned to the witch, no longer questioning the Seers. I had to trust someone. I had to trust the Coven, for who else was on my side at that moment? I could not be sure. At least, Aruna and her Seers had been there since I was young. They were my father’s counsel even before I was born. That should count for something these days. After all, Arrowspear had never been a land for intrigue. It had always been straightforward – until now.
“So, what is your name, witch?”
“Rowan,” she said.
Her name made my heart pound. My temples throbbed. Her name was too close to Rowali’s own. I racked my brain for the reason behind Rowali’s name, and all I could remember was that my mother named her. It must be a common Rama name.
“Who are your kin, Rowan?”
“I do not know. I am a foundling.”
Her eyes had a faraway look that told me she was telling the truth. Her mind was reminiscing, trying to grasp an unpleasant past, and yet, she also wanted to hold on to it. I did not know why I had that wave of understanding simply by looking at her.
“Who sent you?”
“Sent me to do what? Are you still accusing me of killing King Doro?”
“Did you kill my father?”
“I had no reason to kill your father.”
“Do you have reason to kill me, then?”
“Why would I want to kill you?” she asked, seemingly genuinely surprised. She had looked me up and down, appearing to be confused.
Or was she a better liar than her face could ever reveal? Somehow, a part of me believed this girl.
“I am a fire stealer, one you say you hate,” I said, my eyes not leaving her face.
She laughed then. Hysterically. Her face again transformed into something older, more wicked. Then, she closed her mouth and did not say anything else.
“Did you try to kill me and manage to kill my father instead?”
She could not be turned, like a stone line. Stone lines kept the water in one place, preventing the land from eroding. She was like that for whoever her master was. Unyielding. Loyal.
Or was she?
Rowan looked at me, her face open. The light streaming through the windows fell on her face directly as if it had been planned all along. Dust particles danced in the light, some so close to her face.
“I was paid to hold the dart,” she finally said, her head bowed in resignation. She was too young for this huge task. “I was paid in silver. But yes, I do hate fire stealers, too. I was told that by casting a spell on the dart, I was helping the cause.”
“What cause is that?” Aruna demanded, rising from her chair and briskly walking towards the young witch.
“There is a growing movement rising from the Touch. The coven had been divided. One is trying to do away with all demigods. Someone – a leader – has risen and has started to spread the word that fire stealers have made Ninurta rise.”
“That is simply not true!” I exclaimed, exasperated. “I have been minding my business with the farms.”
“Are you the prince, now king, who had to go to marry a foreign witch princess?” Rowan asked. Her eyes were wide, but I could not read them all that well. They looked too innocent. She looked so young. She looked like Rowali that it ached inside.
“What if I am?”
“You would not have married your bride if not for the Ninurta. Would you have not wished the drought to happen to Mogochislenia all along?”
“I did not even know my wife then. It was not a love match, witch,” I insisted. I felt grateful that Luella was not there. I remembered how hurt she was when I emphasized the truth behind our arrangement. It was merely necessary. There was no courtship.
But could this young witch be telling the truth? Could there be a division in the Touch, a part of which was bent on killing me? Was she innocent?
