Sins of Calate: BOOK II OF THE FOUR REALMS SERIES

Part XXII | Fara

'Fara of Calate.'

The girl spoke her name like a curse she was afraid to utter. She was dressed in a lush purple gown with red outer sleeves and bodice. Garish for this close to moonalven in Calate perhaps. More suited to Sunalven in Azura.

'Please do not be alarmed, I am not truly returned from the dead.' Fara chanced a gentle smile. The girl's eyes did not soften.

In fact they hardened, darkened. No warmth came from her at all. And as she bore no food or basin and she appeared frightened half out of her wits. Not a maid then.

'Did my brother send you?' Fara asked.

It was as though she had not spoken, or as though perhaps she did not speak Fara's tongue. Peeling herself from the door, the girl took a small step into the room towards her, almost entranced.

'You are as beautiful as they told me you were. It is not hard to see why he chose you,' the girl said, sadly. She studied her now, with all the boldness of a fabrician fitting her for a gown.

Fara frowned, confused. 'Who chose me?'

'Galyn.'

The name spoken in her small girlish voice awakened the realisation of who this girl was. Fara's mouth fell open slightly as she looked at her anew. 'You are Dura of Zybar.'

This, in turn, appeared to awaken the girl from her trance. She stopped staring and straightened. 'I was,' she said. 'Though mayhaps you have not heard? I am your brother's wife avowed and bedded. Calate is my home now.'

Fara wanted to tell her that this was not how such a thing worked. For her home would still live inside her. She still felt the blood of Calate run through her though she had been vowed and bedded by Galyn. Azura too: like the sun at her back, the memory of its lush vineyards and exotic scents warmed and comforted her like a homely hearth. And there in the quietest most hopeful parts of her, Leoth. Where her heart had found its home. Where it ran wild and powerful and free. Theodan; the forest-like scent of him, the hard power of his touch, the fervency of his promise wrapped around her.

'Then I hope you find happiness here,' Fara replied. 'I have no doubt that Calate will open its heart to you as my brother's wife.'

'As it's queen,' Dura corrected.

Fara only smiled, though this, it seemed angered Dura.

'I wished for your death many times,' she said then, her pale cheeks flushing hotly. 'But of course, the Gods did not hear me.'

Fara blinked slightly at the admission. Then she told her something she had never told another soul. 'I've wished for my own death many times. They did not hear me either.'

This time Dura of Zybar's eyes widened with surprise.

Fara took a moment then to study her. Valdr's new wife. She was no more than a girl, younger than Fara by a few years. Smooth skin like a child's yet untouched by the sun. Hair of whitened gold which hung thick and heavy as rope in a single thick braid. She looked little like her father. Torrik's cruel eyes and rough mouth were nowhere to be found on this daughter of his who was small and weak-looking. Like a tiny bird. Absently, she glanced down at the smooth unmarred skin of her wrists.