Chapter Four

The room the novice guided Arianna and her father to, was as richly furnished as the reception hall Sórun had met them in. The boy, who she now noticed was only a few years older than her, stuttered a nervous farewell and left.

Arianna watched as her father circled the room once; running a hand over the surface of the desk, sniffing the delicately scented pale yellow rose which rested in a simple wooden vase on the maple wood end table; twitching aside the lemon-yellow curtains to reveal the closed shutters before circling back to stand behind the chair that was the only seating in the room.

She did not move from the doorway, though her body longed to lower itself to the narrow bed in the corner; not as luxurious as her bed at home, but the many-hued yellow quilt covering it looked warm and comfortable and her exhaustion would have made a stone floor seem cozy.

Silaren cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the buttercup yellow rug on the floor. His daughter watched him as abruptly the pain of it swept through her, making her tremble. She fought the urge to scream at him, at the unfairness of it all, to scream that it wasn’t her fault and ask how he could send her away, and how Ili wasn’t even interested in being a princess but no one sent her away and she hated them all for doing this to her, but she especially hated Ili because she’d get to have their father with her and how could he just leave her! A sob caught in her throat and Silaren looked up meeting her gaze with a pain-filled one of his own.

Arianna crossed the room at a run, flinging herself into his arms, her tears soaking his shoulder as she cried herself dry, not even noticing when he moved to sit on the bed, cradling her on his lap. She sat still for a few minutes after her tears had dried, breathing in the scent of her father; how he always seemed to smell like he’d spent a day in the forest, the subtle aroma of rain-wet wood coating his skin, the security she felt wrapped in his strong arms. Remembering how he could make her giggle just by pulling a face and how his voice would fill with warmth when he told her stories of her mother. Remembering how much he loved her and gathering the strength she needed to say goodbye.

She pulled away slightly, cupping his face in her two small hands, feeling the stubble of his unshaved beard as she looked deep into his eyes, so like her own. When she spoke, her voice echoed with the maturity of a grown woman.

“Daddy, I want you to tell Ili not to be sad. That I won’t be gone forever and that she needs to practice her words so that she can write to me every day. Tell Raney that I’m going to miss her cooking and her mint tea and I’m sorry for when I tried to free the hens and they wouldn’t lay eggs for a week afterwards and you were so cross. And, Daddy…” her voice caught on more tears. “I don’t want you to be sad. It’s not your fault. I love you.”

Silaren gathered her up for a bear hug, and she felt his tears seeping through the material of her shirt as he whispered in her ear, “I am so very proud of you, ki-lán. I always have been. I love you.”

As he tore himself away and left the room, Arianna curled into a ball on the bed, closing her eyes against the terrible knowledge she carried within. The knowledge her Sense gave her. The knowledge that these last few days with her father had been the last she’d ever have with him.