Ella looked at her older brother. His dark eyes regarded her with concern.
Miro had always watched over Ella. He had his own pains though, and behind his confidence was an inner turmoil she thought only she could see. He was tall and lanky, and this morning he’d neglected to brush his unruly black hair.
"Ella, tell me. What is it?" Realisation dawned in his eyes. "Of course — the funeral. I’m sorry, I know you were close, was it sad?"
Ella took a deep breath. She needed to speak to someone. "Yesterday a man from the market told me that Lady Katherine was discovered in her bedclothes. Why would she drown in her bedclothes?"
"They’re just rumours, Ella. You shouldn’t listen to them."
"I went and found the man who discovered her body. Miro, he confirmed it."
Miro frowned. "Why are you asking all these questions?"
Now that she’d started, Ella couldn’t stop talking. "Then I overheard the High Lord speaking with another lord. They said she committed some kind of crime, and that it’s for the best that’s she’s dead." She stopped, out of breath, waiting for Miro’s reaction.
"You were spying on the High Lord? Ella, what were you thinking?"
"It was an accident…" Ella pleaded.
Miro hesitated, before speaking with authority. "Ella, I don’t think you should say anything to anyone. Someone just died — the wife of our High Lord. I think you should leave it."
"Don’t you care what happened to her?"
"Just let it be. Think about what you’re saying. What do you think you’ll find out? It wouldn’t be anything good, would it?" A temple bell sounded in the distance, striking the hour. "I need to get going now."
Miro stood and stretched, and Ella blanched when she saw the black and purple bruises on his back. She was glad he would soon have the armour he needed.
Uncle Brandon came out to the deck wearing his patched overcoat. "Hold on, lad. I’m going to go to the market. I’ll walk with you."
Miro turned and waved as they disappeared into the forest, leaving Ella on the deck, listening to the sounds of the forest. Sighing, she entered the house and cleaned up the breakfast dishes with the last of the water. She took the pail outside to fetch more.
Rogan Jarvish stood at the foot of the steps, looking up at her, his hand on his sword and the grey cloak billowing around his form.
Ella screamed, and the sound of the pail clattering against the steps rang through the morning air.
3
You can learn more about people from their instruments of torture than you can from their works of beauty.
— Louan saying
ELLA spun on her heel and grabbed one of the chairs. She would hurl the chair at the swordsman and dash into the small house, slamming the door shut behind her. In the confusion she would be able to escape through a window.
"Stop, lass." Rogan’s voice sounded like gravel. He was suddenly next to her, he’d moved so quickly she could hardly believe it. He held her by the arm, gently but firmly. The chair fell out of her hand.
"Please, I mean you no harm." He took his hands off her and spread them.
Ella was overwhelmingly conscious of how alone she was. No one would come to investigate her scream.
"Ella, listen to me. I was a friend to Lady Katherine."
She stood, her chest heaving, before turning to face him. He didn’t seem so fearsome all of a sudden, with his arms imploring and his expression earnest. Rogan took two steps back to open some space between them.
"You knew her?"
Rogan chuckled ruefully, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wish I’d killed the Petryan who gave me this scar twice over. Once I was thought handsome. You don’t need to be frightened, lass. You’re a difficult girl to find, did you know that? I was told I could find you at the market, but you weren’t there. And then at the river, I was certain you’d seen me. I don’t know what you think it is I want from you, but it’s nothing sinister, I assure you."
"I was told you were dangerous."
"Only to Altura’s enemies," he said. "My name is Jarvish, Rogan Jarvish. I’m here to deliver a message."
"What message?"
"I can’t tell you that, because I haven’t read it — it’s for you, Ella. I do however have an idea what it says and I have one simple piece of advice. Read it quickly, you don’t have much time, not much at all."
With that he handed her a scroll, sealed with green wax and the imprint of a flower. He nodded to her and met her gaze for a moment, then departed quickly, leaving Ella standing on the steps, her mouth open.
Ella promptly broke the seal and began to read. Something fluttered to the ground, two smaller sheets rolled inside the larger, but Ella ignored them, her pulse racing.
Dear Ella,
I have left this legacy with a friend, to be given to you in the unlikely event of my not being able to give it to you myself.