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“Me?” squeaked Rowali.
I quickly went to her and put an arm around her for comfort.
“What do you mean by that?”
“It seems we are looking at a Rama witch.”
“Why would a Rama witch want to hurt my father?” Rowali wailed.
“Your Highness, the assassins want your brother dead. Your father was never the target.”
I shook my head at that, feeling a chill that rarely came over me. I also protested how Demetria said it right in front of Rowali. She had more to be anxious about now.
“Why do you think the Touch would want my husband dead, Demetria?”
“Someone claims to hate fire stealers. Are you one, my child?” the crow asked Rowali.
“I do not believe so.”
“They may try something on you, too. If you want to help your brother, you need to find your powers. It is better to be hated for something you do have and can fight with.”
“She is too young, Demetria!” I exclaimed.
“Maybe we should ask Rowali?” suggested Francilia, with an apologetic look on her face.
Fuza stirred, making chewing motions with her mouth. Then, she fell back to sleep, snoring.
“Yes, I want to help. I am tired of waiting anxiously. Metheus is all I have!” Rowali insisted. “I can help, Luella. Yes, I know I have you now, too, but I would die if something happens to Metheus.”
We felt the same way. Perhaps it was time for Rowali to bloom and find out who she was. It seemed that her family’s enemies knew them better than they knew themselves.
