Fate Defied: The Silent Tempest, Book 3 by E. J. Godwin Page B

quiet the tremors. “Help me up.”
    Tenlar wrapped his arm around to lift her. The fire had burned low, so she sat in her blankets again while he added more fuel. Slink nuzzled his head onto her lap, but Telai could only stare into the flames. Eventually he gave it up and curled beside her.
    Telai struggled to find her voice. “How long before daylight?”
    Tenlar poked the fire with a stick. “It’s so dark around here it’s hard to say. An hour or two, maybe.” He glanced at her. “Your voice is a little hoarse. Some hot broth will do you some good.”
    Telai nodded, her stare still fixed, desperate for anything to rid the lingering images from her mind. Tenlar hung a pot of snow over the fire, then sat beside her again.
    “Perhaps if you started at the beginning,” he said after a few minutes.
    “Not now. I’ll tell you in the morning.”
    Once the snow melted, Tenlar threw in a packet of bullion. Telai sipped the broth as soon as it was ready. It strengthened her, and she smiled at herself, noticing that his attentive ways didn’t seem to bother her anymore. She nearly asked him to stay by the fire, but there was no need: he reached in his coat, pulled out a whet stone, and started sharpening his Fetra—his refuge during those awkward gaps in their conversation. She doubted a sharper blade existed in all of Ada.
    Yet what could even a Master Raén’s sword do against the power she had witnessed? Now she understood the nature of the evil that had taken root, long before Urman and his followers set sail on that fateful journey. Now she understood the depth of Heradnora’s madness.
    She shuddered. The hollow scrape of stone against steel was the most helpless sound she had ever heard.

8
    Bitter News
    What we learn from history says more about us
    than it does our ancestors.
    - Telai, 13 th Grand Loremaster of Ada
    TELAI WATCHED the fading fire as if deciphering hidden messages from the coals. Though the morning gloom still held sway beneath the towering trees, they had already packed, ready to resume their journey to whatever fate lay in store. Tenlar sat near, the occasional fidget or shuffling of feet betraying his impatience.
    “I want you to promise me something,” she asked.
    “Anything.”
    “I never want to hear you say that name again.”
    “You mean Hend—”
    “Yes!” she snapped, cutting him off. Then she frowned and squeezed his arm in apology.
    “I’ll do my best,” he said. “But it would be easier if I knew why.”
    “Don’t be too sure of that. I always suspected a few things about Ada’s past—little discrepancies that would end my career if I brought them to light. Never this .”
    “You’re a little dazed, that’s all. Give yourself time.”
    “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I did.”
    “Well, if it’s that important, shouldn’t you tell your people?”
    An eruption of bitterness fueled her limbs, and she jumped to her feet. She circled the fire, kicking dirt to quench the flames, then stood fast as the smoldering mix fought for survival.
    “How can they believe what they refuse to hear?” she muttered.
    Tenlar rose, keeping a discreet distance. “Can you at least tell me ?”
    She shot a quick glare at him. “You think you’re any different?”
    “Don’t you? ”
    “I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He stepped closer, but she held out her hand to stop him, and turned away.
    “If it’s so terrible, just blurt it out! Otherwise it’ll keep eating at you.”
    Telai clasped her hair as if to tear the words out of her head. She had spent all her life seeking the truth, digging further and further into the past. Not once had she ever questioned the wisdom of it.
    “Telai, what’s wrong?”
    She lowered her arms and faced him. “Our traditions and beliefs, even the oldest of our legends—they’re nothing but a lie, Tenlar.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Heradnora! She fell from the sky in a ship, just like