“Good morning, Father Garius,” I chirped. “Did you sleep well?” I never tired of asking the countless questions that tumbled through my head. Even if I did nothing more than infuriate mute monks, I needed to speak them aloud, free my mind of their constant nagging.
He tapped his foot in response. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. Oliver already sat at the scholar’s desk, writing furiously with his quill. He didn’t spare me a glance as I took my seat next to him.
I picked up my quill and read today’s lesson to myself.
Father Garius moved to stand in front of us. He stood silent sentry throughout our lesson, watching us intently and sending nasty scowls when we turned away from our work.
By the time my morning lesson was finished, my fingers ached from writing, my vision blurred from staring at so many words, and my backside had numbed to the digging curves of the stool.
Father Garius stepped back, a sign that we were allowed a break. I moved at once to the large windows that overlooked the tumbling orchards along the western side. The horizon nestled behind them, obscured by the tips of white-capped mountains and a sun shining its light on every part of Heprin.
Heprin was the eastern most kingdom in the realm. Bordered on two sides by the tamed section of shores of the Crystal Sea and on the other two by the Tellekane Forest, it was the most isolated of the nine kingdoms.
Heprin was populated with peaceful people, strictly dedicated to their worship and farming. The Temple of Eternal Light was just one of the many monasteries dotting this tranquil country.
Which was possibly why this land had never felt like home.
I wasn’t peaceful. And I was hardly religious.
I was bloodthirsty and feral. I itched to shed this youth of mine that held me back from my true destiny. I longed for spilled blood and shrieks of terror. My skin prickled with the hope of death.
The promise of revenge.
“You’re doing it again.”
I whipped my head to the side and glared at Oliver and his whispered admonition. “Doing what?”
His wide mouth tilted into a half-grin. “Plotting.”
I dropped my arms to my sides and forced calm. He was right. Father Garius would never complete my education if I revealed my true intentions. He would never let me free if he glimpsed the darkness inside me.
A tongue clicked behind us and I turned to meet his cloudy gray eyes. Father Garius couldn’t be younger than the beginning of time. His skin was as leathery as a dragon’s and his patience as temperamental. And he appeared in only shades of gray. Gray hair. Gray eyebrows. Gray skin. Gray robe. He was one big splotch of colorlessness.
He had saved my life once, but this was not my home.
And Father Garius knew it.
He flicked his hand toward the window with a clear command. We had been banished from the temple. It was time for our daily meditation in the gardens.
I smiled brightly at Father Garius, a gesture he mildly returned, and left the library with a relieved sigh.
By the time Oliver and I had stepped into the sunlight, I could feel Oliver’s pout infecting the beauty of the outdoors.
“What is it?” I asked as I led us in the exact opposite direction of the gardens.
We moved toward the back of the grounds instead, anxious to reach the river that wound around the stone wall. The wall protected the monastery from whatever threat could find us and separated us from the outside world.
Oliver stooped to pick up a long stick that he used to swat at blades of lush grass and dancing butterflies. “It’s not fair that you’re his favorite when all you do is speak.”
I nearly choked on laughter. “You think you should be his favorite when all you do is… not speak?”
“I have been with him since I was a babe,” Oliver pointed out. “I am practically a son to him. And I do speak, thanks to you. In fact, I’ve been ordered to speak.”
I watched a squirrel run circles around a large red oak. “I recall his poem last Harvest Moon saying that all creatures under the Great Light are his charge. He is brother to those that live and father to those that seek.”
Oliver grunted. “But I am more of a son than most.”
“Jealousy does not suit you,” I scolded. “I like you much better when you’re simply melancholy.”
His foot flipped up behind me, tangling with my own and I stumbled three steps before I caught myself. When I turned, he held up his hands and motioned at his closed mouth.
“What kind of Brother of Silence chooses when to be silent?” I demanded.
He shrugged, letting loose a smile so charming I couldn’t help but forgive him.
We reached the back wall a few moments later. Vines and ivy tangled from base to ledge, allowing us to easily scale the towering boundary.
Water roared in the distance where the winding river dropped into treacherous falls. The water in front of us was no less quiet, rushing by in sparkling rapids. Birds sang in the trees. The thick canopy of green leaves overhead blotted out the sun while the coolness of the Tellekane Forest enveloped us.
We slipped off our shoes and moved toward the muddy riverbank. “I thought my hand would fall off if I had to write one more Barstus platitude. If the people of Barstus had any sense, they would throw their self-righteous ramblings away and begin anew.”
Oliver grinned down at his bare toes while he hopped from rock to rock. “You should take that before their royal court. I’m sure they would appreciate your educated opinion.”
“I might. What is the difference between offering your neighbor your coat and offering him your cloak? Why not just simply say, if your neighbor is cold, give him something so that he may be warm.”
Oliver laughed. “Or instead of listing out all of the ways your Barstus neighbor could get hurt, such as falling down a well or falling off a roof or…”
“Falling off a cliff,” I supplied.
“Yes, that. How about we simply say, should your neighbor fall from any height, great or small, help him.”
I tottered on a small, slick stone, catching my balance at the last second. “Barstus must be the most tedious country in the realm. I cannot imagine how dreadful university would be there.”
“I highly doubt they’re allowed river breaks.”
I looked up at him. “We’re not technically allowed river breaks either. Father Garius thinks we’re meditating.”
Laughter danced in his brown eyes. “At least he blames you for my failing.”
My eyes widened at his nerve. “He blames me because you blamed me! In front of the entire assembly!”
“They wanted to know why I had no discipline! And it truly is your fault! You do not have to live here for the rest of your life, Princess. I do. Of course I blamed you. I still blame you.”
“Oh, you!” I lunged forward, balancing on the tip of a pointed rock and ignored the sharp dig into the ball of my foot. Oliver hadn’t grown into his gangly body yet. Despite his towering height, I had something solid to my body, unlike his scrawny arms that could barely carry a bucket of water from the well to the kitchen. I tried to push him into the river, but he skipped out of reach, laughing.
I hopped to the next rock. We tried to stay near the edge of the riverbank, but somewhere in my pursuit I forgot to be careful. Before I knew it, the current licked my ankles and soaked the hem of my dress. The rocks were covered in slick moss and I could no longer move quickly between them. I needed time to settle on each and catch my balance.