Champion of Fate

"But you, Reed," Ferreh said, "are to guide those heroes who do not return. You are an Aristene of Glorious Death."

"No," she said. "Her lady is me."

Yet sitting in the grass of the meadow with Hestion she could see a different future: a good, long life, without goddesses or an ancient warrior's magic. A good, long life of peace.

"What if l bring him home after the war is over? He may live out his life in our herd at the seat of the Docritae, and I'll surround him with beautiful mares."

She saw the battle clearly and all at once: the sounds of weapons clashing, the movement of wind acros her cheek. She sensed the path of a crossbow bolt as if it was pulled on a string, and she reached out to snatch it from the air, a moment before it would have sunk into Sar's forehead.

He stared at her in awe as she snapped it in her fist.

"I was drawn to you, Reed. Asking for the use of your horse was not the only reason I brought you into the stable."

It took her a moment to understand what he meant. When she did, her surprise came out as laughter. "Most girls don't laugh when I tell them such things," Hestion said. "Or if they do it is laughter of a different kind and more pleasant-sounding."

"I'm sorry," Reed said, still smiling. "I mean no offense. But I am your Aristene; there can be none of that between us."

"Your goddess," King Arik said with a pious nod of his head, "she sees glory for us, then? Victory?"

"Glory," Aster replied. "As for victory, you will have to do that on your own."

"Good," Belden said, and Reed found herself liking him. "I never seek to depend on anyone for too much. Not even a goddess."

"Nor do I" Reed said, "so I had better go find the prince.

Reed stepped through the door, then ducked back inside. "Aster, what would we have done if Belden and the king had ordered us to leave tonight?"

"Then," Aster mumbled, curling into the bed of the future queen as if the hint of glory there were warm as a blanket, "we would have had to get very creative."

She'd felt his eyes on her since she threw the blade, and they burned over every part, so hotly that she'd wanted to throw another knife into his bread to give him something else to look at. But his attention had returned to his brother, and no matter how long she stared, Hestion didn't look at her again.

Reed held her breath. What strange tether had bound them together so long ago? What strings of fate had linked them even as they were children? Whatever string or tether it was, Reed felt it wind through time and tighten. He is mine, she thought. He has been mine since the beginning.

"What is his name?" Ferreh asked.

"Hestion," Reed said. "He is Hestion, of Glaucia."

"We look like initiates, finally," she said. "We look..." In their waxed buns and identical tunics, scrubbed clean and purified, they had never looked more like sisters.