It grows stronger every day. Somewhere, there is a child of té Ortyn blood approaching maturity.”
Brak’s eyes narrowed. The child of the girl in the cave? No. It was too soon. Harshini did not reach maturity until they were well into their third decade. On the other hand, a half-human child might mature earlier than a full-blood. He had come into his own power in his teens.
“If Lord Dranymire can feel the child, why doesn’t he seek it out?” It was a bitter irony, Brak thought, that he had killed his king to save a human woman, just so that nearly twenty years later he could hunt her child down.
“The child is living with humans, Brakandaran. Which is why I must call on you.”
“I am surprised the gods have let it live this long.”
Korandellen shrugged. “The gods have their own agenda. The thought of this child does not seem to concern them, only that it will do what they ask of it.”
Brak frowned. “And what is that, exactly?”
“They have not chosen to share that with me. I only know that they want the child found.”
Brak sighed. A human child of té Ortyn blood was a very dangerous being. The humans who worshipped the gods called such a being the demon child. And the gods, who had placed the prohibition on such a child ever existing, wanted this child for something. The gods, they ask too much of me , the king had said. For the first time in twenty years, Brak thought he understood what Lorandranek meant.
“Where is the child?” he asked, cursing the gods and their interference.
Korandellen hesitated. “The Citadel,” he said finally. “The demons say the child is at the Citadel.”
CHAPTER 8
“You’re awake.”
Joyhinia stood over her, her arms crossed, her expression annoyed. It took a moment or two for R’shiel to realise she was in the Infirmary.
“Mother.”
“You at least could have had the decency to announce the onset of your womanhood in a less public place,” she scolded. “I suppose I should be grateful that it was Tarja who found you, although why he insisted on running through the Citadel, yelling like a fishwife, instead of dealing with the matter discretely, is beyond me.”
“I think I fainted.” R’shiel wished she had never left the peaceful serenity of unconsciousness. Any hopeful thought she might have had about sympathy from her mother was dispelled in an instant.
“Sister Gwenell says you lost a great deal of blood,” Joyhinia continued impatiently. “I expect you to follow her instructions to the letter and ensure that you recover as soon as possible. It’s not as if you’re the first woman to haemorrhage on her first bleeding.”
“I’ll try to do better next time.”
“If you eat properly, there won’t be a next time,” Joyhinia told her, ignoring the edge in her voice. “I don’t know what you think you hope to gain by starving yourself, my girl, but I have given orders that you are to be force fed, if you continue to refuse meals.”
Who had she been talking to? R’shiel wondered. Junee? Kilene? Some of the other Probates? But thank the Founders, her headache was gone. Even the dull throbbing at the back of her eyes had miraculously vanished. The pain had been such a constant companion lately, she almost felt empty without it.
“I’ll do as Sister Gwenell orders.”
“Good,” Joyhinia announced, as if that was the end of the matter. “Gwenell says you’ll need some time to recuperate, once she has discharged you. I suppose you’ll have to come back to the apartment until Founders’ Day. After that, I expect you to return to your studies and I’ll hear no more about this.”
The discussion at an end, Joyhinia turned on her heel and strode out of the Infirmary, past the long lines of perfectly made-up beds, which for the most part were empty. R’shiel watched her go, wondering what it would take to make Joyhinia happy. For five years Joyhinia had been angry with her for not reaching her menses. Now that she finally
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