I step through the door leading from the yard to the kitchen and pause. For the second time this day, Golmarr’s family is gathered in the great kitchen, minus the children. This time, I am met by heavy silence and worried glances.
King Marrkul sits at the head of the table. On his right is Nayadi. Her eyes are closed, she is swaying from side to side, and her lips are moving. Evay is there as well, seated on one of the benches lining the wall with several other people I have never seen before. Yerengul sits beside her, but she hardly takes notice, instead watching as Golmarr and I cross the room to two empty chairs at the great wooden table.
Golmarr must notice who has caught my attention, because he whispers, “Evay leads our archers when we go to battle.”
I look at him. “We are going to battle?”
He presses a finger to his lips. “We are about to find out.” He speaks no louder than an exhaled breath. “When Nayadi is seeing visions, we have to remain silent unless she addresses us. Otherwise we might interfere with what she is seeing.” He pulls a chair out for me.
The exact second I lower myself into the chair, Nayadi’s milky eyes pop open and stare right at me. I press my spine against the chair back in an effort to get as far away from her as possible.
She points at me, and the sleeve of her tattered brown tunic conforms around an arm as thin as bare bones. “You are bringing darkness to us,” Nayadi hisses. Every person in the room looks at me, and I can feel the weight of their eyes as if it were a physical burden.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I say.
“You lie. You know!” she says. “I can see his aura all over you! Because of you, they are all waking up again!”
The room suddenly feels too warm, and while my fingers continue to be plagued with cold, the rest of my body overheats. Sweat breaks out along my hairline and between my shoulder blades. I wait for Golmarr to say something, or for King Marrkul to explain why his witch is verbally attacking me, but everyone sits still and silent, watching, waiting. “Who is waking up again?” I finally ask.
Nayadi thumps her frail hands on the table, and I jump. “You already know.” She leans closer and swings her hand in front of my chest, pulling my air toward her.
“Enough,” Golmarr says, standing and glaring at the hag. There is a collective gasp.
“You are not to interrupt!” Nayadi growls. “You will stifle my sight if you do!”
Golmarr visibly bristles, but he balls his hands into fists and sits back down. “What vision have you seen?” he asks.
Nayadi grins, and her bald gums gleam with saliva. “They are coming for the northern princess.” She swipes at the air around me again and sucks it in through her nostrils. The room remains tensely silent as everyone stares at the old hag, waiting for her to elaborate. People begin shifting in their chairs and looking at King Marrkul, but no one utters a word.
“They are coming, and they’re going to get you,” Nayadi says, and grins. She is binging on the emotional suspense filling the room. It is filling her up. She takes a deep breath of air and starts laughing.
There is a loud thunk, and Nayadi’s laughter stops abruptly. A black stone knife is embedded in the headrest of her chair, pinning a lock of her greasy hair to the wood beside her ear. “Tell Princess Sorrowlynn who is coming, when, where, and why, you filthy old witch, or my next knife will find your heart,” Enzio says. He is holding another black stone blade in his hand, and his gaze is riveted on Nayadi’s chest.
Nayadi smacks her lips closed over her gums and slouches in her chair. “You Satari have always been prejudiced against the wielding of magic,” she grumbles. “So now you spoil my fun?” She yanks the knife from her chair, and a tuft of severed yellow hair falls to her shoulder. Quick as the blink of an eye, Nayadi throws the knife at Enzio. It thunks into the headrest of his chair, right beside his ear. “An army comes. From the Glass Forest. Mercenaries and Trevonan renegades. The largest army that has ever come from that forest.”
King Marrkul scratches his chin through his beard. “Why are they coming? How many men strong?”
Nayadi waves a dismissive hand at me. “Smaller than your army. They have been sent to kill her.”
“Sent by whom?” Golmarr asks.
Nayadi huffs. “How should I know? You interrupted me while I was receiving my vision. But they will reach Kreeose shortly before sunset tomorrow.” Nayadi stands, and Ingvar hops to his feet, pulling the crone’s chair out. “Hopefully I have seen enough to spare this people from slaughter.” She steps from the table and shuffles away, leaving the kitchen without a backward glance.