Arrow’s Flight Read Online Free Page B

world settled, and normality returned with an almost audible snap; the wind died away to nothing, sound returned, the disorientation vanished, ail in the space of a single heartbeat.
    Talia opened her eyes, unaware until that moment that she’d been clenching both eyes and jaw so tightly her face ached. Less than five feet away stood Elspeth, between the supporting shoulders of two Companions. The one on her left was Rolan, and he was back id Talia’s awareness again—tired, though; very tired, but strangely contented.
    Talia staggered to her feet; the gray light of the setting moon was lightening the sky, and by it, she Could make out the girl’s features. Elspeth seemed dazed, and if the contrast between the dark mass of her hair and the paleness of her skin meant any-thing, she was drained as white as paper.
    Talia stumbled the few steps between them, grabbed her shoulders and shook her; until that moment the girl didn’t seem to realize she was there.
    “Elspeth—” was all she managed to choke out around her own nerveless shivering.
    “Talia?” The girl blinked once, then dumbfounded her mentor by seeming to snap into total wakefulness, smiling and throwing her arms around Talia’s shoulders. “Talia—I—” she laughed, almost hysterical with joy, and for one brief moment Talia feared she’d lost her mind.
    Then she let go of the Herald and threw both of her arms around the neck of the Companion to her right. “Talia, Talia, it happened! Gwena Chose me! She called me when I was asleep, and I came, and she Chose me!”
    Gwena?
    Talia knew every Companion in residence, having spent nearly as much time with them as Keren, and having helped to midwife many of the foals. That name didn’t belong to any of them.
    And that could only mean one thing; Gwena, like Rolan—and unlike any other Companion currently alive—was Grove-born. But why? For centuries only Monarch’s Own Companions had appeared in the Grove like Companions of old.
    Talia started to say something—and abruptly felt Rolan’s presence overwhelming her mind, tinged with a feeling of gentle regret.
    Talia shook her head, bewildered by the sensation that she’d forgotten something, then dismissed the feeling. Elspeth had been Chosen; that was what mattered. She remembered the mare vaguely now. Gwena had always been one of the shyer Companions, staying well away from visitors. All her shyness seemed gone, as she nuzzled Elspeth’s hair with possessive pride. Rolan, who had been supporting Elspeth on the left, now paced forward in time to give Talia a shoulder to lean on, for her own knees were going weak with reaction, and she felt as drained as if she’d had a three-candlemark workout with Alberich. Birds were breaking into morning-song all around them, and jhe first light of true dawn streaked the sky to the east with festive ribbons of brightness among the clouds.
    “Oh, catling!” Talia released her hold on Rolan’s mane and flung both her arms around Elspeth, nearly Hi tears with joy.
    It did not occur to either of them to wonder why no one else had been mustered out of bed by that imperative calling both of them had answered—and why no one else had noticed anything at all out of the ordinary even yet.
    Talia managed to convince Elspeth—not to go back to her bed, because that was an impossibility—but to settle with Gwena in a sheltered little hollow, with a blanket purloined from the stable around her shoulders. Talia hoped that when her excitement faded the child would doze off again; the gods knew she’d be safe enough in the Field with her own Companion standing protective guard over her. She wished devoutly that she could have done the same, but there were far too many things she had to attend to.
    The first—and most important—was to inform the Queen. Even at this early hour Selenay would be awake and working, and likely with one or more Councilors. That meant a formal announcement, and not what Talia really wanted to