Daughter of Mystery (Revised version)

Chapter One: Yavenna

Was it true, or wasn't it?

Yavenna paused to glance out of the window as she stomped down the stairs, trying to think about anything else at all other than that awful, tormenting question. The plain, blue coach from Tarhasta was still there, just visible in the darkness of the castle courtyard. Staring at it, she felt beetles crawl on her scalp. The last memory she had of Tarhasta was the conversation she'd had with her father's Chief Minister. She rubbed her head and made herself huff out a deep, slow breath, neither of which made her feel any calmer.

It's alright, Yavenna, she consoled herself, the quicker you get there, the quicker you can come back. She saw the gleam of a cat's eyes as it scampered across to the stables and she remembered how only that morning she'd watched King Mal of Arvad walk to his horse, the sun glinting on the gold crown in his dark hair. Of course, the coach hadn't been there then. How would he feel when he found out she'd gone? Tomorrow they were meant to be setting a date for their wedding. Her stomach tingled as she thought of the kisses they'd shared last night, then it clenched painfully as she thought about what might lie at the end of her journey.

Because just an hour after she'd seen Mal this morning, everything had changed. Torun the wolf had come to find her. He'd dropped a slobber-covered scroll at her feet with an urgent message inside from her father, King Yeroz of Tarhasta, telling her she had to return to Tarhasta. Even now, she could see the words her father had written, as if they were carved onto her hand:

Yavenna,

I am deeply concerned by the news that King Ulric has been deposed and a village boy has taken the throne. Even worse, it has been suggested to me that you, thinking you still have to marry the King of Arvad, might marry this boy instead.

Under no circumstances should you do this. It would greatly anger the all-powerful King of Menendreth who was a great friend of the late King Ulric. It would be an extremely dangerous thing to do. In these uncertain times the threat of war is ever present, and we cannot risk conflict when the plague might befall us at any time. It is essential that Tarhasta remains allied with Menendreth.

For your own safety, and because you are my heir, born to one day reign after me, I command you to return to Tarhasta immediately. There are many things we must discuss Yavenna.

She'd wanted to burn the message; in fact, the scroll now lay on top of a pile of logs in the fireplace in her room, just waiting for a spark to set it aflame. But burning the scroll wouldn't solve the problem. And it wouldn't answer the question either. Did she have Ithrim blood, or didn't she? And how dangerous would it be for her to return to Tarhasta?

Her fingers brushed the skin at the back of her neck, just below her hairline, feeling for the slightly raised patch that marked the edge of her birthmark. The birthmark her mother had made her swear never to show anyone. And she still hadn't; her Ithrim friend Channa had only glimpsed the very edge of it. Yavenna had refused to show her any more of it, especially after the horrible Dryad in Thringevelt Forest had said Yavenna was an Ithrim. Trying to forget what he said hadn't worked. But time was passing and if there was any chance it could be true she really couldn't ignore the possibility for much longer.

The softly spoken rumours about her shocking strength - how she'd single-handedly killed King Ulric's troll bodyguard and helped destroy Ulric's evil mage - were already winding their way around the inns and restaurants of Gelenburg. Who knows, they may have already begun to meander across the undulating grasslands of the rest of the country. What would happen if the rumours managed the difficult journey across the mountains that marked the border with Tarhasta?