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Heath moved silently through the forest. His parents had been upset by the events of the previous day, the woman he had found in the forest and the fire at the convent. But they weren’t clear as to why. There was something unsettling with his father; he sensed that. He had seen it when his mother had opened the door and found them in an odd embrace. His father—his gruff and serious father—had put his arms around a sister of the Goddess!
He stopped. The woman moved ahead of him, slow and deliberate in her path. He needed to know who this woman was. Despite his brother’s protests, he had followed her through the forest and away from their cottage. She might have been his mother’s age, but she was more agile. She leaned against a tree with her hand at her chest, taking a breath, and he realised that she was still injured, suffering from the smoke and flames that had destroyed her home.
The image of the lifeless child that had fallen from her arms was still all too clear. Heath had seen death before, but there was something far sadder in the child than he had expected, as though he’d never had a chance at life. He was so young, so small, so covered in the soot of the fire. Heath knew he wasn’t the only child to die in that fire, to perish in the flames—others might have been even more terrified.
Had the sister mentioned the king’s soldiers? Could the king be responsible for this? Heath had heard rumours in the local village of the cardinal claiming the God’s will to seek out all witches. An older woman had talked of a time when they’d been part of the fabric of the kingdom, but she had been quickly hushed. What had happened?
The night had closed around them. In the dim light of the moon trying to shine through the canopy, the sister sat by a tree. She looked about, alert as she pulled her cloak around her, and yet she hadn’t sensed him following her. He waited as she pulled the hood lower over her face and leaned forward. He doubted she would sleep. Careful where he placed his feet, he moved towards her between the trees. The still shape of the woman didn’t move.
She didn’t move even as he sat beside her, sure that he made more noise than he had intended, his leather jerkin creaking and brushing against the trunk.
“Did my father really work at Sunsong Castle?” he asked. His father had been unwilling to share any details when Heath had pushed him.
“He watched over the queen,” she whispered. “Although she was a princess then, she carried the heir to the kingdom.”
“He won’t talk about it.”
There was a soft sigh from the woman, and Heath wondered if this stranger would tell him of his father’s past.
“There is good reason,” she returned, and he was even more disappointed. She knew, yet she wasn’t going to tell him. “You knew I wouldn’t tell you.”
He chewed on his lip. He had known that, but he had hoped. In telling his father’s history, she might be putting herself more at risk. “Why can’t you go back?”
She moved then, although he couldn’t see her clearly in the dying light. She was a shadow against the tree, twisting towards him. “Didn’t they tell you?”
He shook his head then, although she wouldn’t have seen it. There were too many secrets in a house where he had thought there were none.
“Where is your brother?”
“He didn’t think I should come.”
“But he followed anyway.”
Heath looked about, but he didn’t think his brother had followed. Frayne had been so angry at the idea that they should help this woman when she had so clearly upset Mama, and she had said it was dangerous to stay. “He doesn’t like to get involved.” Frayne hadn’t even wanted to help them in the woods when he’d first found them, the frightened sister of the Goddess clutching a dead child. “We are not alike.”
“You are twins. Alike or no, you would be inseparable.”
“Would we?” Heath asked seriously. She lowered the hood, the movement startling him as her eyes, bright in the darkness of the forest, seemed to look into his very soul. “We aren’t.”
She raised her hand towards his face. The glare intensified, and then she was turning away. “You look like your father.”
“Do I?” he asked.
“When he was younger.”
“Were you lovers?”
She laughed, a surprisingly pleasant sound that drew him in, and he wondered just who this woman was.
“Not lovers?”
“Who does your brother look like?”
Heath opened his mouth and then closed it. They were similar but not that alike. “My mother’s brother, I think I heard her say to someone once. He died before we were born.”
She was no longer focused on him, and he gave her a nudge. “Would you like to sleep? I can keep watch.”
She nodded slowly.
“I have heard of others born together who don’t look alike,” he said, wondering why it mattered.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I have heard the same.”
He woke to the sound of birds, the air cool around him, and the woman resting on his shoulder. He didn’t want to move, but as he stretched out his legs, she sat up and rubbed a hand against her face, which was lost beneath the hood.
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” she murmured.
“Can I come with you?”
“Would you give me the choice?” she asked, not looking up. “You followed me this far.”
“I was worried,” he said, pulling out his water skin as she coughed. She took it without a word of thanks.
She handed it back and climbed to her feet. “I’ve survived this long. The Goddess must have a plan for me.”
“Did you always believe?”
She looked at him then—she was beautiful, he realised. Even for an older woman, she had worn the years better than his mother had. “She has kept me safe,” she said, then turned and looked through the trees.
“Where are you going?” Heath asked again.
She shook her head once.
“You could cross the sea,” he offered, wondering if that was a good idea. He didn’t even know what was out there, who might live beyond Burasal or where its borders were.
And did he want to go with her? Was he looking for a different life for himself? Not that he didn’t like his life, his family—but there was always the hint of something else missing. Something more than what he had now.
The sound of movement had him on his feet. As he tried to work out who it was and where they were coming from, the sister took off at a run. He was tempted to follow. Although he didn’t want to look like he was chasing her, he wanted to follow this woman.
A man appeared in the clearing, and Heath sighed. Frayne.
“What are you doing?” Heath demanded.
“Saving you from yourself.”
“How did you find me?”
“I might not be as good as you with some things, but I’m a far better tracker.”
Heath sighed again.
“We don’t even know who she is or why she would be running. If she is a sister of the Goddess...”
“Keep your voice down,” Heath hissed as his brother’s voice seemed to echo from the trees. If the woman was being chased as she feared, then he shouldn’t be drawing attention to them.
“There isn’t anyone...” He stopped, holding up his finger and then pulling Heath into a denser group of trees.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“I don’t know, but I thought I heard something—someone.”
Heath waited, looking out in the morning light, wondering if their father had decided to follow along and drag them home or work to save the woman he seemed to know so well. There had been something in his father’s eyes as they had sat in their small cottage and he’d watched her talk. Relief perhaps, that she was there. Again, Heath wondered at their history, for it wasn’t the same for his mother. Kind as she was, she didn’t want the woman there, didn’t want her around their father.
The sound of horses startled him. The rattle of armour was surreal, otherworldly. He wanted to step out from the trees and look in wonder. There was a flash of red amongst the bright silver armour; he wondered then if they should kneel. These were soldiers of the king, not just soldiers of the kingdom, and there was something awe inspiring in their movement. There were other cloaked men amongst them, monks. Despite the sounds of the horses and armour overshadowing anything else in the trees, the men themselves did not speak. They were intent on their hunt. For that was what it looked like.
At the back of the group was a woman—young, pretty, her long blonde hair flowing out behind her. Her hands were tied to the saddle, and her convent uniform—just the same in so many ways as Sister Patience’s, although a lighter shade of grey—flapped behind her.
Heath was overwhelmed by her beauty, and the realisation struck him that they were hunting witches. He hadn’t thought there were any left. Despite being hidden from the group, she looked towards him as though she could see him in the shadows, see him for the man that he was. Before he could wonder what she was thinking, she looked away again and the soldiers were gone.
“We have to go back,” Frayne whispered.
There was no sign of Sister Patience. Despite his heart racing in his chest, Heath ran after the soldiers and monks. He had to find her. He wasn’t sure why, but he had to know if she was safe.
“You know this is insanity,” Frayne taunted once again as they worked their way through the forest.
In many ways, Heath was thankful his brother had come because he was a better tracker. He wondered then who else might be tracking the sister. Frayne stopped, stretched his arms, and then pointed a different way through the trees. She had been running straight. Did she even know where she was going?
“The king’s own soldiers,” Heath repeated. Frayne, his eyes on the forest floor ahead of them, nodded. “Did you see her?”
Frayne stopped and looked back. Something in his gaze searched Heath’s face, as though for understanding perhaps, and he nodded once again.
“If you are that worried, perhaps we should stop looking.”
“There is something about this woman,” Frayne murmured as he turned back to the path. “I don’t know if it is the way Papa looked at her or the way you seem determined she needs help, but whether I think it a good idea or not—and I don’t, by the way—I will help you. And her.”
“Frayne,” Heath said, reaching forward and putting a hand to his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We haven’t managed to catch her up, and I think she is going to cause far more trouble than you think you are saving her from.”
Heath didn’t argue; he’d had the same thought himself. The same concerns. But Frayne, for all his gruffness and apparent lack of empathy for the world, seemed to have a sense for these things. Heath understood to trust that feeling. If Frayne said it wasn’t safe, they didn’t go that way. If he said it was going to be a bad deal, they stayed away from it. Brothers had to work together, after all.
“Do you think Papa wore armour like that?” Heath asked, unsure where the question came from.
“He might have,” Frayne said, looking up through the trees.
Heath could hear something like a village in the distance, only it was different. Frayne turned back and gave him a look as though this was a bad idea. But when Heath started towards the noise, Frayne joined him.
They crept through the trees and tried to remain in the shadows as they looked over a large camp. Horses moved around in a makeshift pen, soldiers moved in numbers between the tents, and a large red tent stood in the middle.
“Who is that?” Heath asked.
Frayne shook his head as he looked over the wonder before them. It was as though they were going to war and this was a front of some kind, ready to defend the kingdom—but from what, he wasn’t sure.
“Are we at war?” Heath asked.
“I think we have been for some time,” Frayne returned softly, pointing across the camp to where the light caught the blonde hair of the woman dressed as a sister. She was tied to a post in the middle of the camp, her arms behind her, and she struggled for a time against it. She said something to a passing soldier, although Heath was too far away to hear what it was. The soldier, his armour as bright as her hair in the light, was an odd contrast. He didn’t hesitate to slap her across the face. She staggered. Heath was tempted to step out, but Frayne’s hand was across his chest.
“She’s a witch,” he murmured.
“I know,” Heath admitted, but she just looked like a girl at that moment. She slumped down, her arms pulling where they were tied directly behind her, and shook her head. When she tried to stand, she staggered again and laughter rang through the camp. Heath wasn’t sure if it was from the soldier standing over her, but before he could hit her again, a man in red appeared.
The flowing red robes made him seem shorter than he might really be. His grey hair was cut short, although he wore a long, neat beard. The soldier drew to attention and then walked away. The man in red leaned in and said something to the girl, who tried to pull away but had nowhere to go. As he turned away, Heath saw the man’s face a little more clearly. Although he didn’t know who this man was, Heath shivered as he too appeared to look directly at them.