A jolt of white-hot anger surged through Sábria, igniting a fire she had to firmly tamp down. This was the most talking Maida had done since she’d arrived, and Sábria didn’t want to shut her down by rising up in righteous indignation. Her hands had clenched into fists, and without drawing attention to the fact, she waggled her fingers slightly to relax them. But by the Goddess, Cladine was in for a rude awakening. She didn’t know it yet, but her days in the Hunters were numbered. It turned out to be the right decision not to give voice to her anger because Maida wasn’t finished with what she had to say.

  Maida had unconsciously copied Sábria’s pose and sat resting with her forearms on her knees. Tears dripped off her cheeks into the leaves, and she used her sleeve to wipe them away. “Xyda found me, and when she dragged me out of the water, I tried to slice her throat because I wanted to stay there and die. I wanted her to leave me and let me die.”

  The Hunter surprised her by placing her hand over the top of Sábria’s and pulling it into her lap. “I don’t really know how to say this, but I’m going to try anyway. All those times I was getting beaten, kicked, or spat on, it was only about me. I was only thinking about what was happening to me. Sure, when the other Hunters were getting hurt, I was there trying to protect them. I did care about them. I mean, I do care about them, or most of them anyway, but when it was happening to me it was only about me. Does that make sense?”

  Still not wanting to stop the flow of words, Sábria simply nodded and turned her hand so they were palm to palm. She slipped her fingers between Maida’s and squeezed.

  After thinking about how to say the rest, Maida pulled in a breath and continued. “But now I see that just like I care about the Hunters, you care about your eight thousand Blades, and you’re responsible for those eight thousand. It’s like it’s never just about you, the way I thought it was just about me. I know you have people who care about you and who look after you, but I want you to know that I’m one of them, and I won’t add to your problems by running. Maybe, if you’ll still let me, I guess I’d like to be one of your Blades again, My Lady. I don’t think I want to be a Hunter anymore, but if I could stay with you in Sarlogne like you said, then maybe I could be one of the ones who care about you, too.”

  The smile that lit Sábria’s face at the relief surging through her chest felt like a star that had finally fought its way through a cloud-covered night sky, releasing much of the tension that had been building inside her the last few days. Using their joined hands, Sábria pulled Maida into an embrace. “We’ve always cared about one another, Maida. I felt an instant connection between us the first day a cheeky youngster stood before my desk asking if she could become a Daughter of Elyon. You don’t know how sick I felt when you told me you were no longer one of my Blades.” She leaned back and rested her hand on the younger woman’s cheek. “You may be a handful, but you’re my handful. And yes, I want you as one of my Blades here in Sarlogne. We take only the best of the best here, and that’s you.”

  Maida tried to hide her smile, but it broke through anyway, and she looked away. She knew she needed help, knew her emotions were twisted and out of control, and although she wouldn’t admit it openly, this was where she belonged. It was where she wanted to be, and after all that had happened, she hadn’t dared to hope she’d be allowed to return.

  Sábria stood and pulled her to her feet. “Now, Hunter, do you think you could find that noblemen’s camp without running into any bandits?”

  “Just try to keep up with me, My Lady.”

  Sábria glanced over Maida’s shoulder and saw someone watching them from up in the canopy. She could only see a single eye, with the rest of the face and body concealed behind the trunk and branches, but she recognized the thick black hair framing the exposed side of the face. So, Shirin had told Geller to keep an eye on them.

  Without looking back, Maida chuckled ruefully. “I know. She’s been there since we’ve been talking, My Lady. I guess not everybody feels the same as you do about me.”

  She should have known a watcher wouldn’t go unnoticed by a seasoned Hunter. They rose, and as they turned to walk further into the forest, Sábria placed a hand on Maida’s back. “Commander Shirin has many responsibilities, but the one she takes most seriously is her duty to protect me. It’s not just you, Maida. Her over-protective tendencies can be galling at times, but she means well and has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

  “So, if all three of us are going to visit the noble’s camp, and we’re on guard duty, then who’s watching our camp?”

  “I told the Commander we’d be gone for a short time because I haven’t spoken to Lord Ashden for a long time. He’s a trusted ally and often hears things I don’t. Shirin adjusted the watch accordingly.” What she’d also mentioned to Shirin but didn’t tell Maida was her need to evaluate the Hunter’s mental stability. The best way she could do that was to spend time alone with her where they could talk without Maida realizing Sábria was assessing how far her emotional balance had shifted.

  “If she’s so protective, why would she trust you with me without more bodyguards than Prime Geller? And why do you need to know about the nobles? I’m pretty sure they’re just out here relaxing and hunting.”

  “To answer your first question, she wasn’t happy about not coming along herself, but there are times we need to split up, and this is one of them. We argued, and I won.” She grinned at Maida, who chuckled at that. The two women were known for their disagreements, and most people pretended to be busy with something else when they happened. “Anyway, she acknowledged that between you, me, and Prime Geller, there are very few swordsmen who could best us.”

  Sábria swatted a mosquito that had landed on her neck. “I hate these little beasts. The answer to your second question is straightforward as well. I’m not only the head of the Daughters of Elyon. I’m also co-ruler of Cibía, and I find it’s important to keep my thumb on the pulse of the Empire, especially where the nobility is concerned. Unfortunately, I’ve had to stick close to Sarlogne the past several turns, but since the majority of the nobility live in or around the capital city or at least come to visit every so often, I try to visit with them whenever I get the opportunity.”

  That made sense to Maida, and she said as much. “Because if anybody’s going to try to seize power by destabilizing the Empire, it would most probably be a noble and not a merchant and definitely not the peasants. They’re too busy surviving to organize a rebellion.”

  Sábria blinked several times, only now remembering that Maida was the daughter of two scholars who’d supported their daughter’s interest in all things military. They’d encouraged her to read both sides of history and as a result, she’d developed a remarkably shrewd, tactical mind not normally seen in the Blades.

  It was one of the traits that had made her an obvious candidate for the Hunters when she’d first applied several turns earlier. “Most likely. Not that these particular nobles will be actively involved in bringing down the Empire.” Relieved to hear Maida’s quiet chuckle at the idea that they’d just happened upon a nobleman actively involved in a rebellion, Sábria smiled and allowed herself to companionably bump into her Blade’s shoulder. “Even so, when I’m talking to them, I want you to see if you can chat up some of the guards and servants. Use that incredibly agile mind of yours to my advantage.”

  The way Sábria was treating her like a normal Blade worried Maida. She wasn’t who Sábria remembered, and she shouldn’t rely on her to be the person she used to be. “I think living alone for so long and…maybe the beatings, too, have done something, like I said before. Up here.” She pointed to her head. “It scares me sometimes like maybe I won’t ever be okay again, you know? I’m not okay, and you shouldn’t think I’m the person who rode away from the Temple to join the Hunters. I’m just not, and if you’re relying on me, well, you shouldn’t.”

  Maida’s brokenness had been abundantly obvious when they’d been up in the tree and she’d fallen apart in Sábria’s arms. Sábria had learned from many, many late-night talks with Haria, who was a skilled mind healer in addition to her devotion to the physical aspects of healing, that it was essential to establish a base point from where a person in crisis could stop their downward spiral and begin moving forward toward healing. That’s what she was trying to accomplish with Maida. It was never too early to offer herself as the bedrock where an emotionally wounded Blade felt steady enough, supported enough, to begin the healing process.

  As they walked companionably through the underforest, Sábria asked, “Maida, have you ever been to a spot where a fire has ravaged a forest? I don’t mean immediately after. I mean, a turn or two after the flames burnt the trees to the ground?”

  Not understanding where Sábria was going with her question, Maida shrugged, “Of course. Sometimes, all you see are sharp spikes that used to be majestic trees sticking up all over the place.”

  “What else do you see?”

  Still unsure what Sábria was getting at, Maida knew her well enough to know they’d eventually get to the point. She thought about the times she’d walked for days across desolate hilltops and over charred ridges and valleys. “By that time, you said a turn or two after the fire, mostly, the ash has either blown away, or it’s been plowed under by herds of elk or deer moving through the area on their way to meadows the fire didn’t reach.”

  “And?”

  About five full moons earlier, a fire had blown through one of Maida’s favorite forests. It had cleaned out the underbrush and some of the smaller, weaker trees, but the bigger ones remained. She stopped and closed her eyes, bringing to mind everything she’d noticed as she’d roamed about trying to recognize some of the trees that had been home over the turns.

  Some were made for drowsing in their boughs, and she’d often enjoyed a deep, restorative sleep when the trees cradled her body so completely among their branches and leaves. Those trees were special to her and she’d been comforted knowing most had survived the flames.

  But that wasn’t what Sábria was asking, and she appreciated her giving her time to work out the answer. Quite often, when she wanted to remember details, she pictured herself in the setting, and as she did so now, she remembered nearly stepping on a sapling barely reaching the top of her ankle.

  Understanding dawned, and when she opened her eyes, she found those familiar blue eyes studying her with the intensity she remembered so very well. That, combined with the knowledge of what Sábria was telling her, had her swallowing back her tears. Lately, it seemed her emotions lay just below the surface, waiting like sharp-toothed piranhas ready to leap up and devour anything that dared come close—good or bad.

  Once she’d pushed the tears down where they belonged, she gave the answer in a blank, emotionless recitation. “Well, you see blackened and charred acorns lying everywhere, but every now and then, the seed inside surprises you by taking root and growing despite the blistering nightmare they’ve been through.” Once again, the proud look in Sábria’s eyes at her ability to work through problems melted away some of the ice around Maida’s heart.

  “You were always quick, sometimes too quick, but your nimble mind definitely kept me on my toes while you were with us in Sarlogne.” Pulling in the scent of several campfires, Sábria pointed to their right. “Are those fires from the bandits or the noblemen?”

  “The noblemen. The bandits are that way.” She indicated a northerly direction with a lift of her chin.

  As Sábria slowly headed toward the smoke from the campfires, she continued with the lesson she needed to impart to her damaged Blade. “You’ve been burned in the flames, Maida, and, to extend the metaphor of the forest fire, I can and will provide the life-giving water—the love, encouragement, and shelter against the gale-strength forces you might face—but you’re the one who’s going to have to decide to shed the bitter, burnt-out kernel of darkness that’s grown in your heart and walk toward the light of a brighter future. Turning away from the anger and hatred you’ve faced and will probably face in the near future won’t be easy. I’m going to need your help ferreting out the ones responsible for what’s happened, and you’ll face backlash and even hatred until the truth comes out.”

  She glanced at Maida as they walked side by side. “I promise I’ll shelter you as much as I can, but the cruelness, the emotional cruelty won’t go away overnight, and you’ll have to be strong enough, like those saplings who overcame huge obstacles, to rise above it.”

  Maida shook her head. “You don’t have to shelter me, My Lady. You have enough to worry about without thinking I’ll crumble at the slightest insult. As long as I know you’re there for me, I’ll be fine. I’m strong, it’s just, I don’t know….” Once again, she tapped her temple, indicating things might not be right with her thinking process.

  Sábria thought back to when she’d been overwhelmed by events in her life. People had been there for her: Shirin, Isobel, Rúsola, and Gwe, to name only a few. Knowing how blessed she’d been to have their support only underscored what Maida and the rest of the Hunters had been going through alone. “Hunters were never meant to live isolated lives away from the Temples. All of you have rooms within their walls for just that reason, so you don’t become separate from the Blades. You don’t become ‘other.’”

  “We aren’t welcome inside the Temples anymore.”

  “I know. Have you heard of the term, divide and conquer?”

  “Of course.”

  Sábria remained silent, letting her words sink in. She could supply the correlation, but felt it was more important for Maida to feel as though she’d worked it out on her own, that her mind was still as keen in certain areas as it ever was. She kept walking when Maida pulled up short and stared after her.

  What Sábria was implying was impossible, and Maida hurried to catch up. “You think forcing the Hunters away from the Blades is an intentional tactic? By whom and to what end?”

  “I don’t know yet, but whenever the concept of power is involved, there will always be those who want it above all else. They’ll do anything, step on anyone, and destroy something that’s good in order to get it.”

  Maida whistled softly. “I’ve been looking at this just from my experiences, and that’s blinded me to the bigger picture. Why the Hunters?” Her mind worked overtime as she sifted through what she knew so far. “Because we’re a small subset of the Blades. So, taken separately, the Hunters mean nothing to whoever’s doing this. We’re simply a starting point, a place where a poisonous seed can be planted that will eventually infect all of the Daughters of Elyon.”

  Trying to teach shivs the realities of politics, power struggles, and diplomacy was something Sábria wholeheartedly enjoyed, but working with mature, fully-trained Blades who’d experienced the harsh realities of their Empire was a refreshing change. “That’s the hypothesis I’m working with at the moment. And Maida—” She stopped yet again, needing to have the young woman’s full attention. “You’re still as quick-witted as you ever were. As far as I can tell, and we’ll get Master Healer Haria to confirm it, there’s nothing physically wrong with your head.”

  “But I just go off sometimes for no reason. Like I did when I tried to slash Xyda’s throat. I intended to kill her so she’d leave me there to die. What person in their right mind does that?”

  The worry Sábria saw in those haunted eyes broke her heart. She hoped they’d be able to bring back the irrepressible, happy-go-lucky Blade she’d once been. “Physical injuries or brain damage, which is what I think you’re referring to when you tap your temple and tell me something is wrong, are vastly different from emotional trauma.” When Maida looked away, Sábria put a gentle finger to her chin and brought it back around so they were looking each other in the eyes again. “The good news is I’m very good at healing emotional trauma if you’re willing to trust me and give yourself enough time to heal.”

  “Well, at least I told you, and now you know. What you do with it’s up to you. And I do trust you, it’s me I worry about, not you.”

  “Good, then let me do the worrying, and you work on the healing, yes?” When Maida’s lips twitched in an almost smile, Sábria thought now might be a good time to glean some more information from her Blade. “Along the lines of the times you were beaten or when you were guarding and rescuing other Hunters, did you recognize any of the people doing the beatings?” She deliberately stopped short of using the term ‘Blades,’ intentionally using the more generic term of ‘people’ to include the civilians Xyda had said were in on the beatings.

  With most standing armies, an unwritten rule existed where warriors handled their own problems within the ranks. If a soldier didn’t want to be beaten, killed, or abandoned in battle, they never spoke badly of someone to a superior officer.

  When Sábria had become Arch Priestess, that philosophy had existed to some extent among the Blades. She quickly put an end to that by demanding people answer every question she put to them, regardless of whether it meant turning on a fellow Blade. After a while, the practice trickled down through the ranks, and everyone understood when another Blade answered an honest question put to them by one of their superiors, even if it meant they’d face the consequences for breaking the Temple rules.

  Maida had been away long enough that she hesitated, not because she didn’t want to out the people responsible, but because she’d harbored a need for revenge for so long, she didn’t want to give up the chance to retaliate. She’d done it on a couple of occasions, but truth be told, she hadn’t enjoyed walking away from a Blade she’d just battered into the ground. “Well, there are two that I know were involved, that I…talked to…who haven’t repeated their mistake after we had a…conversation. I’d rather think they learned their lesson and leave it at that.”