It took me two beats of my beleaguered heart to respond, but finally I bit out, “You’ve made a mistake. And now you must leave.”
Halvor reeled back as if I’d lashed out with my hands, not just my words.
Mother’s plan of marriage for me had always seemed ludicrous—impossible, even; but suddenly there was a real, live potential suitor standing in our garden. With a remarkably square jaw, and a shadow of stubble, and he was so much taller than me … But all of Sami’s warnings through the years echoed in my heart, beating next to my own memories of the times soldiers or mobs had attempted to break through the hedge, while we huddled together inside the citadel, praying for our captor to also be our protector.
I had to shut away my own hopes in order to protect my sister.
I turned away from Halvor to face Inara, who had cocked her head to the side in that birdlike way of hers, watching him appraisingly. Already her eyes had grown brighter. It was to be one of her shorter episodes then; our time was running out. And I didn’t dare let him see my sister descend back into her other world—the one where no one could reach her.
“Come, Inara, we must go inside. Sami is looking for us.”
“She is?” Inara turned to me, confusion flitting across her face. Was it because of the sudden claim or because I was losing her already?
My belly burned as hot as the fire in her eyes, fueled by frustration at this strange young man for showing up now, the first time I’d had my sister back in a week, stealing my preciously rare time with her.
“Please, forgive me. I am sorry if I’ve offended you somehow. Master Barloc has chastised me endlessly for my overeagerness, but—”
“You haven’t offended me, but we have to go,” I cut him off, without looking back.
“Zuhra … I don’t believe he intends us any harm.” Inara’s voice was quiet, too soft for him to hear.
“He will cause it whether he intends to or not.” All the years living sequestered in the citadel, just the four of us … what would happen now? It had been blessedly peaceful for almost eight years; no soldiers, no attacks on the hedge. But once he spread the word about what he’d seen, the rumors would flare up again, as would the alarm, the hate. Sami had warned me that the different peoples of Vamala believed the Paladin to all be gone from our lands—and they were glad for it. Better that they never learn of Inara’s existence, especially since we couldn’t leave the citadel regardless. Only the villagers of Gateskeep had any idea that there was possibly a half Paladin living at the citadel, and they kept it to themselves (so long as we kept to ourselves), wishing only for peace, according to Sami, and pretending we didn’t exist as much as they were able.
I took Inara’s hand in mine and tugged her away from the strawberries that were now lusciously fat on their branches, hanging low like a woman’s swollen belly just before her time. Like the pregnant queen I’d seen in the book of fairy tales we’d read as children, when she was lucid. Inara resisted, but only a little.
“Good afternoon!”
The pleasant call took us all by surprise and I whirled to see Mother striding toward us, what she clearly intended to be a welcoming smile wreathing her face. I hadn’t seen her smile in … quite some time. It didn’t look right, as if it had been so long since she’d attempted it that she couldn’t remember how to do it properly. Her lips stretched wide over her teeth, and her expression was eager, but her face lacked all the warmth of a true smile.
“Good afternoon, Madam. I apologize for my unannounced arrival, but we believed the citadel to be abandoned. To find it occupied has been a pleasant surprise.” Halvor bent into a bow once more, this time aimed at her. My gaze flashed from Mother, to him, to Inara, and then back again.
“That’s quite all right—we’re always happy to receive guests. Isn’t that right, my dear?” Mother looked to me with another attempt at a smile, but her eyes sparked dangerously. I understood her unspoken warning perfectly: this was my chance.
“Oh … um, yes … of course,” I stammered.
“What has brought you to our gate?” Mother turned back to Halvor. “I don’t recall you from the village.” This was a risk, as she hadn’t been to Gateskeep herself in at least fifteen years. But then again, no villager would have believed the citadel to be abandoned. They knew all too well that we lived here.
“I am a scholar, Madam, apprenticed under Master Barloc—expert on the Paladin.”
He was so eager to share his enthusiasm, he must not have noticed how my mother stiffened, her smile fading the moment he mentioned that forbidden word.
“He has dedicated his life to studying them and their impact on Vamala. Together, we decided to travel here, to visit their—”
“It is unfortunate, but you have made a mistake.” All pretense at welcoming him withered under the ice in Mother’s voice when she cut in.
Halvor stuttered to a stop. “No … I, ah … I’m quite certain this is their—”
“And now you must go.” Mother’s gaze turned flinty when it flashed to meet mine, skipped right over Inara, who had watched the entire exchange silently, to land back on Halvor. She grabbed him by the bicep and using every bit of strength in her tiny body—which I’d learned more than once was surprisingly considerable—began to drag him away from us, back to the courtyard.
“I apologize if I have said or done something to alarm you, but I assure you I mean only to study the Paladin’s citadel. I mean it—and you—no harm!” Halvor protested, even as he allowed himself to be pulled away. Though he did throw a pleading glance over his shoulder.
“No need to apologize. You are leaving. Now.” Mother’s voice carried on the parched breeze as she marched him away from us.
“What’s happening? Who is that?” Inara’s voice was very small, unsure. I was losing her.
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, deliberating my options. I hated to lose any time with Inara, not knowing when I’d get more. But, acting on an impulse I didn’t fully understand and wasn’t sure was wise, I added, “Stay here,” and hurried after them. I’d told him to leave as well, only moments before, but the hint of desperation when he’d said he only wanted to study the citadel had unexpectedly struck a chord deep within me. A scholar who meant us no harm … who also happened to be an expert on the Paladin … and Mother was dragging him out of my life before I’d even realized I didn’t actually want him to go.
Mother didn’t even glance back, practically breaking into a run in her desperation to be rid of him as quickly as possible.
Who was this Halvor Roskery and why had he come in search of the citadel, when nearly all of Vamala had seemingly forgotten what the Paladin had done for them, and over the years had grown to fear them and the power they wielded? Fear, left to fester, turned to hatred, and according to Sami, that certainly was true when it came to the legends of the Paladin.
But not to Halvor. He’d been more than eager to come here. He believed Inara to be a full Paladin and rather than fear or loathing, I’d never seen such excitement on a person’s face before.
For some unfathomable reason, the hedge had allowed him through; Mother had forced me to spend my life preparing for the day this very thing happened. And now she was making him leave?
Heat rose from the baked soil in unbearable waves, the dry earth stirred up into eddies of dust by their unrelenting charge toward the hedge and the gate still visible between the greenery. No matter the weather—drought or floods, heat or cold—the hedge never faltered, never wilted, never grew. The wall of greenery hid thorns as long and sharp as fangs that ran along every inch of the branches and vines beneath the lush leaves. Anyone intending to try and pass through it quickly learned of the threat beneath the beauty. An elegant, deadly prison warden.
The dark iron of the intricately wrought gate was a deep shadow cutting through the blinding glare of the unfaltering afternoon sun. Still visible—still accessible. Mother quickened her pace, and for the first time, I noticed Halvor resist her ever so slightly.
“Please, Madam, if you’ll only allow me to explain—”
His voice carried over his shoulder, a whisper of words that I barely caught as I rushed to reach them before he was gone forever. But she jerked his arm forward, pulling harder than ever.
“Mother, wait!”
She flinched at the sound of my voice, but ignored me, doggedly pressing onward, almost at a run now, as if fearing the hedge would close over at any moment. I broke into a sprint—to do what, I wasn’t sure. I only knew I had to stop her, had to stop him, before he was gone forever. She’d spent years forcing me to sew and prepare and plan for a wedding that I’d believed impossible; and now the first time a boy was allowed past the hedge, she was throwing him out because he’d dared speak of the Paladin, without even giving him a chance. Had it all been a lie, then? A clever ruse intended merely to keep me busy?
How did she intend to force him out, though, I wondered? If she had to drag him all the way to the gate, the hedge would surely block his exit, as it had never allowed her to leave. I could only hope that remained true and then the hedge I’d hated for so long would become my unwitting ally, buying me the time I suddenly wanted.
But they hadn’t come close enough to be the cause when the hedge suddenly moved, rushing to close over the gate, hundreds of leafy, thorn-covered vines spreading across the dark iron like a stain, an otherworldly emerald blood blooming across the only view I’d ever had of the path leading to our home—and the older gentleman charging up it toward us.
“You there! What are you doing with my pupil?”
“Master Barloc! I’m sorry, I had to go ahead—”
The older man—Master Barloc—and Halvor spoke simultaneously, but it was too late. I’d no sooner made out the craggy features of the other man’s face; the squint to his eyes, as if he’d spent too long reading books in low light; the gray-streaked hair he had tied back at the nape of his neck; his surprisingly wide shoulders underneath a dusty traveling cloak; when the hedge closed him out—and all of us back in.
Including Halvor Roskery.