Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

1

The light had cut through the gloom of Uarria's chamber like an instantly-risen sun, immediate and blinding and hot. In its wake had come a silence that was even more sudden, even more frightening; the hairs on the back of Uarria's neck had stood up.

Now, the little girl sat frozen in her bed, an arm over her eyes, unable to move or even to think for fear. When she blinked, the flash of light reappeared again and again before her, and an acrid scent pervaded the room—something Uarria had never smelled before but which seemed sickeningly familiar.

When Uarria lowered her arm at last, that light-spot still obscuring her vision, Ealin was stepping over the body of a man who was lying on the ground.

When Ouchie's friend had come to stay with her, Uarria had been glad. She liked Ealin. She did not see the woman often, but when she did, Ealin was always kind. Now, though, fear had brought tears to Uarria's eyes and robbed her of her wits. Her fists trembled as she wiped them over her cheeks.

"Shh," Ealin said, giving Uarria a look of such tender sympathy that the Uarria began to cry in earnest. She approached the princess's bed. "Come, sweet; we must go, and quickly."

Uarria could not bring herself to move. When Ealin took hold of her arm and pulled her off of the bed, her legs were weak. Then, all at once, Uarria was in Ealin's arms, and they were darting toward the door. Uarria put her arms around Ealin's neck and looked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of Hastor lying motionless on the tiled floor, smoke rising from his stomach. She could not see him properly as she was jostled in Ealins' arms. In seconds, they were in the hallway, and Hastor was left behind.

"What happened?" Uarria asked.

"He's fallen asleep." Ealin kept running.

Normally, there were guards outside of Uarria's chambers. Arris had accompanied Sorinna, Uarria's nurse, who had gone after a late-night snack. Now, with Hastor suddenly sleeping and Arris nowhere to be found, the hall where Uarria's quarters lay was deserted.

A voice sounded from somewhere up ahead. Ealin ducked into an alcove at once, clapping a hand over Uarria's mouth. With a soft sound of distress, Uarria looked up at Ealin in alarm. She sensed from the woman's posture and her breathless silence that something was terribly wrong.

She curled in to Ealin, closing her eyes.

"Shh," Ealin breathed. She stood where she was, stiff and still, and the moment passed. Then, she peeked around the corner of the alcove, and a second later, they were running again.

"Where are we going?" Uarria whispered. Ealin ducked into another alcove, and before Uarria could place where they were, they were descending a darkened stairway, down into a place she had never been. It was dark and cool. Rather than spirit globes, which were still used in many parts of the upper palace, there were lamps burning at intervals along the walls—lamps illuminated with real fire.

"Be quiet, little one. You must be very quiet." Ealin set her down at the foot of the stair. Then she paused, raking a hand back through her long, dark hair, and in the wake of her slender fingers, the color bled out of her silken tresses. They lengthened, falling over Ealin's shoulder and down past her waist. With every stroke of Ealin's fingers, her hair became paler and longer.

Uarria watched this transformation with a fascination that bordered on horror. She had never seen anything like it before.

Ealin had always worn a lock of her hair braided, just behind her ear, but now she rapidly combed the lengths of her hair with her fingers and parted it, beginning to braid it down over her shoulder. As she did this, she glanced over her shoulder up the stairway whence they had come, her expression taut and watchful.