each other that they could not hear the storm, Mirabella knows that she is the interloper in their story.
“Probably not,” Mirabella says equally loudly. “But I am sure that you will find out and tell me.”
The shadows move along, and Bree squeezes Mirabella’s shoulder. It will be a long day inside, after two long days of travel. The jolting carriage from Rolanth made all their stomachs uneasy, particularly the stretch around the mouth of Sand Harbor, which smelled of salt and fish tossed onto a warming beach.
Mirabella peeks out through the tent flap. There are so many people, laughing and working in the sun. She has not seen much of the valley. They kept her hidden in the carriage until her tent was ready and immediately brought her inside. What view she did have was of predawn cliffs and thick, dark trees surrounding the broad clearing.
The priestesses say she ought to feel more like herself here. More like a queen, when she is at the island’s heart and so near to the Goddess’s pulse in the deep, dark chasm of the Breccia Domain. But she does not. Mirabella feels the island hum beneath her feet, and she does not like it at all.
“Where is Luca?” she asks. “I have hardly seen her.”
“She is busy with the search,” Elizabeth says. “I have never seen her so agitated or so angry. She can’t believe your sister could be so defiant.”
But that is Arsinoe. She was always that way, and it seems that growing up in Wolf Spring has only made it worse. Mirabella could see it in her eyes, that day in the forest. She could see it in Joseph’s eyes as well. Wolf Spring raises its children defiant.
“Luca is also busy overseeing whatever they are moving in those crates,” Bree says. “Crates and crates and crates. And no one can say what is in them. Do you know, Elizabeth?”
The priestess shakes her head. That is not surprising. The temple does not trust her anymore, and with only one hand, she would not be of much use loading and unloading.
“Do you think,” Elizabeth asks, “that they will still find her? Could she really have gotten away and survived?”
“No one thinks so,” Bree says gently. “But it is better that she should die this way than any other.”
THE ARRON ENCAMPMENT
The poisoners arrive in the night, their whole clan descending upon the festival grounds like ants. They set their tents by moonlight and only the smallest of lamps, working so quietly that when day breaks upon a dug-in encampment, many of the heavier-sleeping priestesses stare at it with open mouths.
Inside her tent, Katharine paces. Pietyr was to bring her breakfast, but he has been gone for too long. It is not fair that he should be free to wander the meadow while she must stay inside until the Disembarking. Perhaps if she can find Natalia, they might take a walk together.
She steps out of the tent, directly into Bertrand Roman.
“Best to stay inside, my queen,” he says, and places his huge mitts on her shoulders to move her back through the flap.
“Take your hands off her.” Pietyr steps between them and shoves Bertrand away, though the great brute is not shoved far.
“It is for her own safety.”
“I do not care. You are never to touch her that way again.”
He slips his arm about Katharine’s waist and draws her inside.
“I do not like him,” he says.
“I do not like him either. I have not seen him since I was a child and he showed me how to poison with oleander milk,” Katharine says. “I did not think he needed to demonstrate on an entire batch of kittens!”
“Yet who better to lead an armored escort,” Pietyr mutters. “We must not be lax about your safety.”
But there were others who could be just as effective. Choosing brutal Bertrand Roman was Genevieve’s idea. Of that, Katharine has no doubt.
Pietyr climbs onto her makeshift bed and lays out what food he has found. Most of the food is still unpacked or is being carefully hoarded for the feasts. But he has managed some bread and butter, and some hard-cooked eggs.
“Pietyr,” Katharine says. “There is a flower in your hair.”
He reaches up and plucks it from his ear. It is only a daisy, common in the field.
“Where did you get it?”
“Some priestess or another,” he says, and Katharine crosses her arms. “Kat.” He rises and wraps his arms around her. He kisses her face until she giggles. He kisses her