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He stood and dipped his chin as a show of respect, but unlike Sofia, there was no smile on his face. “She’s trying to write a tale for the Golden King, Princess.”
“It’s written.” Sofia let out a squeal. “The answer, Saga. It’s here, it’s beautiful.” Fat tears lined her bright eyes, alive for the first time since Bracken’s death. Sofia wrapped her arms around me, squeezing. “I knew we’d find a way to bring him back.”
“Bring Ari back? She found a way?”
“I suppose he’ll be part of it,” Sofia said, “but I’m speaking of Bracken. The king will return. I’ll have him again.”
Over Sofia’s head, I caught Stefan’s eye. His mouth was taut. Something had him discomfited.
With care, I unraveled from Sofia’s arms. “I’m going to speak with Calista.”
Inside the cottage, quaint furnishings made from black cherrywood filled the corners. A woven rug of blue and yellow covered the thick floorboards, and on the stone stove was a hissing clay water pot, ready to pour over tea leaves.
On the narrow bed, Calista hummed in the back of her throat as she frantically wrote on her wrinkled parchment. Sometimes the storyteller would pause, then scribble out a line and add another. Her braids were half wrapped in leather bands, half out, and wild over her shoulders.
“You have a story?”
Calista startled. “It’s not ready.”
She didn’t turn to face me, merely went back to writing as though I did not exist.
“Sofia said you had a tale where Ari returns. Where . . . Bracken might live.”
Calista’s shoulders stiffened beneath her ears. She shook her head and scribbled out a line on her parchment. “She’s wrong.”
Perhaps I didn’t know her well, but I knew enough to hear the trepidation, thick and heavy, in her tone. She didn’t want to speak about something. I scanned the bed beside her and took note of the parchment, rolled and tied like a scroll.
“You’ve written something.” Two paces and I was at the bed, reaching for the scroll.
“No!” Calista tried to grab the parchment, but I snatched it away. “Don’t. It’s a rubbish tale. Dangerous, and it’s not the way, Raven Queen. It’s not. Please.”
I ignored her and unwrapped the scroll. Sofia entered the cottage, still beaming, Stefan a pace behind her.
“Saga,” Calista whispered. She never said my name, and it brought me to pause. “This is not the way.”
“You wrote it.”
“Yes, and sometimes more than one path comes to me. This is a last resort. I feel it here—” With a fist Calista pressed against her chest. “We must keep fighting. There are more secrets to discover. This is a back door, one that leads to pain and jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff. There is no telling what will truly happen should you burn that scroll.”
I hesitated, then slowly read the words.
Erase the song of love and sacrifice.
Back to where dark love dims the light.
Return to anguish by sun of the morrow.
Never a word uttered, no end to sorrow.
What once was done, is now undone.
The victory earned, is no longer won.
Joy stolen while golden love goes on.
Live forever with a broken heart’s song.
I liftedmy gaze to Calista. The glisten of tears lined her eyes. She shook her head, a silent plea.
