“Are you coming?” he called to her, pushing ahead toward the orchard.
Maia nodded and bunched her skirts so she could climb over the broken blocks of cut stone. Whispers flitted through her mind as she followed the kishion. This was the lost abbey, the final bastion of defense against a devastating enemy, an enemy that would destroy every living thing. The rock was blasted and chiseled. Once, there had been markings, which had been destroyed when the abbey fell. Symbols of suns and stars and round windows paned with gold. It was all broken, crushed as if some giant boot had stepped on the mountain. This is the place where death was born.
“My eyes are not deceiving me. Look at this!”
The kishion bounded ahead toward a grove of towering trees. With a coughing chuckle, he reached up and plucked a fleshy apricot from the branch of the nearest tree.
“Do not taste it,” Maia warned. She followed him to the trees, where she found another Leering. This one was smaller, only up to her knees, but the face carved on it was glowing from an inner power, as if fed by magic other than her kystrel.
“Poisoned?” he asked.
“I do not know.”
Maia knelt by the stone and touched it and felt a surge of relief. “No, it is safe to eat. The magic of this place . . . it is frightening. Look, there is another Leering. Over there too. Stones ring this orchard and make the trees flourish.” Maia looked up and saw juice already dribbling down the kishion’s chin.
“Taste it,” he said, running his arm across his mouth. “Not even the Paeizian grow fruit this sweet. I cannot believe it is still ripe.”
Maia took the fruit and bit into it. Flavor rolled across her tongue, jolting her. “I think this is the wrong season,” she said after swallowing. “But you are right, they are ripe. All of them. Pluck some more. We can eat them on the way back.”
Maia and the kishion wandered the orchard, where a variety of trees and a small vegetable garden were hoarded together in one spot.
“This green one is tough and pebbled. Let’s try a knife.” The kishion slit open the fruit, revealing a thick round core the size and shape of a walnut and a greenish fruit inside. He bit into it and spat it out. “I am sure it is ripe, but the texture . . . It is not sweet at all.”
Maia gave it a taste and liked its peculiar consistency. “I like it. Gather more to eat later.”
They sat in the midst of the strange orchard and feasted on their find. Crunchy carrots and heads of cabbage along with the sweetest, tartest apples she had ever tasted. It made her forget for a moment how difficult the journey had been. She looked up at the scar-faced kishion and saw a smirk on his mouth.
“What is amusing you?”
“You have a bit of strawb’ry stuck in your teeth . . . my lady.”
She nudged herself away from him and used her tongue to try and find it. She turned back. “Is it gone?”
He started to chuckle and shook his head.
“Laughing at me does not help,” she said, pretending to scold him. She could not help but smile, though, as she worked at the tooth with her nail.
He stretched back and rested his head on his hands. “You are teasing it out. Almost got it. There you are, lass.”
Maia looked down at the speck of red on her finger. She looked over at the kishion. “I do think this is the first time I have seen you smile.”
He sobered quickly and sat up. Anger stormed across his eyes, and he stood and brushed off his pants. “What are we doing wasting our . . . come on. Let us finish your errand.”
Maia wondered what she had done or said to make him so angry. “You must not have much to smile about. I imagine not.”
He stood with feet apart, arms folded over his chest, and glared at her. “Oh, I find humor enough, Lady Maia. I do not need your pity or your sympathy. Look at you. Daughter of a king who fell in love with his wife’s lady-in-waiting. He disinherited you so that the lady-in-waiting’s brood could rule after him. Fat healthy sons. Fat lazy sons. Yet he chooses you to save his kingdom.” He snorted. “Perhaps he believes you will be killed by the Dochte Mandar in carrying out your errand. Two troubles solved in one. I may be a hireling, Maia, but I am not a fool. Save your sympathy for yourself.”
He walked away, slapping a branch away from his head as he stormed off.
His words stung her more deeply than the knife he had cut her with days ago. It was intentional. Her heart went black with anger and the kystrel flared up. She wanted to use it, to make him feel what she was feeling. Betrayal, hate, jealousy, self-pity, despair. For an instant, it tottered in her control, its power almost slipping free. She closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to keep her feelings in check. A little rumble of thunder came over the orchard.
Why did I ever love you, Father? she whispered in her mind. But there were many reasons she had accepted this path. Trying to please her father was only one of them.
Slowly, she got to her feet and followed the kishion outside the borders of the stones fencing in the lush orchard.