“Maybe it’s just the attacks for her,” my mother says quietly.
My father nods. “Good, then.”
I look past them to Able, asleep in his bed. “What about Able? If it’s getting worse, shouldn’t he stop going to the well?”
“If he stops going to the well, I cannot defend this city,” my fathersnaps. “The wall is too big now. We’ve expanded twice during my rule. I can’t power it without him, just like he won’t be able to do it without his heir.”
The gravity of the situation hits me. Every day at sundown, my father and brother pour their power into the specially treated sunstone that lines the top of the city walls. Able takes the northern half of the city, and my father takes the southern half. It takes tremendous concentration and skill to channel enough holy fire to span the entire length of the wall and burn through the night. If either of them goes too mad to wield their magic, there would be nothing left to prevent the Drained from scaling the city walls. The entire population of Lunameade would be defenseless.
Worse, if the well makes us mad and my brother and father are already in its grips, the rest of us are next.
“Was it always like this? The madness?” I ask.
My father shakes his head. “No. It’s recent. No family records make note of it.”
“Would they?” I ask skeptically.
“There are private family notes that only the heir can access. It would be in there,” he says.
I try to trace back our family history to anything that has changed during my father’s rule, but part of the reason the city still stands is that we follow the rule set out by our ancestors, and we don’t deviate. Any changes that have been made in our history have been through the influence of the Divine. Usually, a Harvain-blessed Seer shares a Divine prophecy, but occasionally one of the Divine appears to someone in our family, like in the story about Alistair Carren.
Strict rules are how we have survived remotely in these woods for so long.
“Is that it?” I ask.
My father nods, and I turn to leave wordlessly. Gaven opens the door for me and follows me back to my room.
He makes to go inside, but I stop him. “I hardly think an assassin is in there waiting for me. Go to bed. We have an early morning.”
He frowns but relents, disappearing into his room across the hall.
I wait for his door to click closed before I close and lock mine. Then, I throw myself on the bed, squeezing my eyes closed. There’s a shift inthe air, and I sit with a start and spin toward my closet, hand brushing the dagger still strapped to my thigh.
But it’s not a villain standing there in the low firelight. It’s Aidia, looking ghostly pale and exhausted.
“Aidy.” I’m so happy to see her, I almost start crying instantly.
She walks toward me but stops just short of the bed.
My eyes burn as I reach for her, but she steps away and holds up her hands as if to brace against me.
“Don’t. I’m afraid I’m not in hugging shape.”
The relief at seeing her turns to rage. “Your ribs again?”
She smiles half-heartedly. “Just bruised this time. Not broken.”
“I could have Henry fix it. He’s a healer.”
Aidia shakes her head, a hint of fear in her eyes. “Low, I am not letting your broody mountain man waste valuable healing on me when you could need it tomorrow. Your trek to Mountain Haven is dangerous. Now lie down. You should be well-rested for the journey.”
I frown. Just once, I wish she wouldn’t be a big sister. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Officially, you never saw me,” Aidia says.
“And unofficially?” I ask.
She smiles sadly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I had to say goodbye even if you’ll be back in two weeks.”
