CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

At dawn I wake with a start, feeling much as I had the previous morning. I know I have dreamed something terrible, yet I can’t remember any part of it. As I wipe the dampness from my brow, I can hear two voices approaching. One is high and fluttering like birdsong, which can only be Lily. The other is smoother and steady: Piper. They enter my room with smiles and early greetings.

“Here, just as we promised!” Lily grins, extending her arms laden in clothes toward me.

“They should fit you just fine,” Piper adds. Her long brown hair has been tied back in a braid that is draped over her shoulder.

I slide my sheets back and lean forward to pick up the first article of clothing, which is a fresh cloth dress the color of the morning sky. My own robes once a crisp white, have been stained along the hem a yellowish green by the grass. The rest is darkened from dirt.

“We had the weavers dye them light blue,” Lily points out.

I nod in awe at the beautiful hue and the smell of ripe berries that the material still retains. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Nah, they were itching to show off their craftsmanship,” Piper assures me.

“Well, thank you very much.” I reach out to grab the second piece of clothing, which is a long dark cloak, similar to Finley’s, yet sewn to my size.

Piper and Lily exit the room for a moment as I slip into the clean clothing. It’s a heavier material than my old robes, but I feel like these suit me better. I call for Piper and Lily to return.

“It fits perfectly!” Lily remarks, walking through the doorway.

“I wonder if they could make one in green …” Piper thinks out loud to herself.

“How do they turn clothing this color?” I ask while smoothing away any creases along the skirt.

“Oh berries and such things,” Piper explains. “It’s funny to think they have time for that sort of thing. It wasn’t long ago that we were all struggling just to survive.”

“It seems like you’ve come a long way putting a place like this together, it must have taken a lot of work. Are there many newcomers still?”

“Very few. Dangerous times are approaching, and we wouldn’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” Piper replies. “Our time to rest is just the lull before the storm. If their plans carry through, that would mean the release of everyone under Odon’s control.”

“Which is hard to say will actually work,” Lily sighs. “Finley even says he wants to break away from the Oak, but that would be a major setback.”

Piper gives her an uneasy look, but agrees. “Tor needs him; he’s one of the few who is familiar with the University and the guards’ movements.”

“So why would he leave?” I can’t fathom why he wouldn’t want to end Odon’s reign for good.

“I’ve never known him and Tor to get along very well,” Lily replies. “On top of that, we don’t get the impression that he actually thinks it will work.”

I realize my muscles have tensed, and I relax them as I breathe out. I had never imagined this would be so complicated. Who’s to say that Finley doesn’t have a legitimate reason for not helping? Maybe Dorian really can’t defeat Odon, and if that happens, how many lives will be lost? If only I could understand the reasoning behind these plans, then I could decide for myself who is worth believing in.

“Do you know what the plans are?” I venture the question.

They both shake their heads. “We aren’t meant to be there or participate, only a select few, mostly the older part-bloods,” Piper supplies.

I nod. At least I’m not the only one who is in the dark. Still, I can’t help wanting the whole truth, and my mind touches upon my meeting with Falda today. I will have many questions for her.

“Well, we should be leaving to help the others. They’re out getting supplies, and it couldn’t hurt to pick some berries and fruit for the cooks.”

After a quick meal, I follow them down from the Great Oak and to the large field I saw yesterday. Others from the community have already begun harvesting herbs and what other goods are needed back home. We walk past them into the surrounding forest where a row of berry bushes are thickly ornamented with blue ripened fruit. I select a plant that sits nearest to the edge so that when I’m seated in front of it, the warmth of the sun is not blocked by the tall trees.

Piper hands me a basket that she has retrieved from a group of children seated in a circle. They are weaving more with thin strips of bark. At the center sit more of the finished products. They laugh and talk as their fingers deftly work. Piper takes one basket for herself and Lily from the growing pile before finding her own place beside the bushes.

Laughter and shouts coming from the field cause me to look over my shoulder. Some of the others have begun some kind of game with a stuffed cloth ball. Part-bloods large and small run after one another, trying to steal the ball from the opposite team. I watch the game in fascination, noticing that Toby is one of the children taking part. He looks happier than I have ever seen him.

I turn back to fill my basket with more berries and notice a shadow cross the top of my arms. I look toward the sky, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun to get a good look. There is something flying at a far height, higher than a normal bird. As I study the sky further, I notice that there are others.

“Piper …” I call, still staring at the figures.

She looks at me and follows my gaze. In an instant she is on her feet, pressing her fingers to her lips and giving an ear-piercing whistle. I watch as the children stop their game immediately. Piper’s whistle is taken up by the others around her, and youths from all across the field run for cover.

Finley appears beside me, takes me roughly by the arm, and forces me into the forest foliage and to a kneeling position behind the line of bushes. Once the last part-blood escapes the field, the group is completely silent. Piper and Lily have taken shelter beside me, and we all try to slow our heavy breathing. After what seems like an hour, an unusual birdcall is heard from the forest at the opposite end of the field. Piper imitates the call, slowly rising from the ground and heading toward the field.

Once her call is answered, Piper turns. “Okay I think it’s safe, but no more games, everyone should be working and watching the skies. There’s no telling if they’ll return.”

A few of the younger children groan or kick the dirt but comply as they walk back into the field. Others inch out slowly, glancing upward every few seconds.

I stand addressing Finley and Lily in confusion. “What exactly did I see up there?”

“They’re members of Odon’s army,” Lily states as if the answer is obvious and without need of explanation.

“Army? I didn’t know—” I begin.

Finley speaks gravely. “The real question is why they were passing over now. They’ve changed their flight pattern, which is not a good sign.”

“It could mean anything.” Tor appears standing behind Finley. He winks at me from over his shoulder.

Finley shakes his head. “You know as well as I do that Odon rules in orders, and the only way those brainwashed followers will stay loyal is if he’s consistent. He doesn’t take risks easily.”

“Warning taken.” Tor puts his hand up in defense. “But I doubt that Odon will be taking much of anything after long.”

At this Finley rolls his eyes and strides heavily away. I can’t help but worry that Finley’s words might have some truth to them.

Tor watches him leave and runs his hand through the curls of his hair. Finally he turns to me. “Oriana, I came for you. My mother is ready to meet with you now.”

I nod expectantly. I’m hoping many of my questions are about to be answered.

I follow Tor back to the Great Oak, where the long ladder is waiting for us. Each climb becomes less terrifying. In fact, as I step higher up, I venture a glance below me and gasp at the height. I can see the tops of many of the other trees which have sprouted in the shadow of the Great Oak. It truly is an ancient and magnificent tree.

Once we’ve cleared the first platform, Tor brings me up successive ladders to the uppermost level. There are small cabins here as well, home to the Oak’s many residents. I follow him to the very end of the platform where a cottage sits slightly set back from the others. Its windows have been propped open to let in the sun. Tor reaches the entrance and knocks upon the shelter’s front wall. A soft voice from within calls, “Come in.”

Tor looks over his shoulder at me. “You may enter; don’t be shy. She’s the only other pureblood you’ll meet in the Great Oak.”

My eyes widen, and I find my feet propelling me forward. “But you said I was the only pureblood,” I whisper as if I ought to hide the conversation from the woman inside.

“I said Winglet …” Tor gives a wink and then heads away, leaving me to face the doorway alone and wonder what the difference is.

I take a deep breath and duck inside. The room is dark but cool, smelling sweetly of fresh flowers that I notice are set in vases upon every surface. There are different projects set in every corner. A partially complete, intricately woven basket lies upon a set of shelves. Another area holds cloth supplies and the workings of various dresses, one dyed the color of lavender. Next to it is a beautiful wreath made of dried flowers and leaves. Amid it all sits Falda.

Her impressively long hair is a bright white and has been crafted into braids of all sizes; one wraps around her head like a crown. Her eyes, which must once have been a sparkling blue, have been drained of some of their color, but still retain a youthful shine. As she smiles, her age is further shown by the fan of creases streaking from the corners of her eyes. The two dimples that form at her cheeks are an immediate giveaway that she is Tor’s mother.

It causes me to smile in return and I give a respectful bow with my head.

“What a charming young girl,” Falda exclaims. She rocks back in her chair which is constructed of smooth wood and a basket weave seat and back. The legs of it are unusually long and curved which allow Falda to glide forward and backward in place. “And that color suits you nicely,” she winks, reminding me again of Tor.

“Thank you,” I reply, fumbling with the skirts absentmindedly.

“Please take a seat. I’m sure you have many questions, and my story is a long one. In my old age I’m afraid I might not have the energy to tell it all at once.” She smiles regretfully.

I find a nearby wooden chair. It doesn’t move like Falda’s, yet is still comfortable. “I’m grateful for whatever time you may give me.”

At this, Falda laughs. “I can tell you are hungry for answers. You will not settle for less than everything I can tell you.”

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I look away having been read very accurately. It’s true. My expectations are already set at having all my questions answered.

“Don’t worry, curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of. I will tell you all I can, if you have the patience to wait for an old woman.”

“That I can promise you. I’ve learned patience well.”

Falda chuckles and nods. “I am sure you have. Now—” She pulls at a large blanket that has been draped over the back of the chair and over her shoulders, adjusting it so that it better covers her. “I believe the best place to start is at the beginning, or at least the beginning as far as I’m concerned. I’d like to explain to you who we really are. The Winglets, the Finlets, and eventually everyone in between, but in the beginning, only the former two existed.” Falda is about to continue but stops herself. “First things first …” She grasps at the sides of the blanket hiding her small form and begins to slowly pull them aside. The blanket falls to the floor behind her, revealing two arcs of feathery white wings.