Chapter 15: Terra

“Alora? Is it really you?” A man steps out from behind an alcove near the main gate. The voice is inexplicably familiar. I turn toward the speaker slowly, my grip on my reins tightening.

He ordered them to let me in—he saved my life. But why? Who is he?

I don’t recognize him—I still have no idea who he is—and yet, somehow I know him and his presence calms my terror.

Deep blue eyes. Dark brown hair, mostly straight, but with a few slight curls around his face. When he smiles, his teeth are flawless and white. But his grin is a little lopsided, and his eyes squint up until I almost can’t see the color of his irises anymore.

“Alora?” His voice is barely a whisper this time, and it’s full of wonder. “We never stopped looking for you.”

He knows who I am. . .does he remember me? He’s so young. Maybe he’s just heard about me. But from whom? “You never stopped? I only found out I still have living family last night.”

He frowns. “Living family?” He swallows, his Adam’s apple shifting slightly. “So Mom’s not. . .”

I flinch. “Mom.” My memories of her have faded so much that it doesn’t hurt as badly as it did anymore, but I hate talking about it. “She Wasted.”

And.

If he’s calling her Mom, that means. . .he’s. . .Martin did say I had a brother. “Are you. . .” I can’t force the words out. They feel too strange.

“I’m Jesse—your older brother. Don’t you remember?” He steps toward me, his black boots shiny, his ice-blue uniform pristine. “Dad’s been worried that Mom might have passed away. The letter she left for him said she’d bring you back when you turned sixteen.”

Clearly that never happened.

“We redoubled our search efforts a year and a half ago, when you never. . .”

I’m not the only one having trouble processing this, at least.

Jesse inhales and exhales. “Dad was worried that Amun had executed you both, but we couldn’t look into it without revealing your existence.” He shakes his head. “You see the conundrum. If we looked too hard, we ruined Mom’s efforts to keep you safe. But we couldn’t know whether you were safe unless we looked.”

I stumble backward, bumping into Wind, whose sides are still heaving slightly from our run. Which reminds me. “There’s an army of the Followers of Amun right behind me.”

As if my words summon them, there’s a banging on the gate right behind us. “Release her.” More banging. “By order of Lord Devlin Rochester.”

Jesse laughs, apparently completely unconcerned by the mob of angry soldiers a few feet away. “As if we’d hand over the Warden now that she’s finally here.” He steps toward me again, and this time I have nowhere left to go. “Welcome home.” He slings an arm around my shoulder. “Gregory, tell the gate guards to fire a few volleys to make them give us some space.”

“You’re not. . .”

“Not what?” He tilts his head.

“I don’t know. Worried about them?” I ask. “Or angry that I led them here?”

“Am I worried about a few dozen Amun soldiers?” He shakes his head. “They’d need a few hundred times that to take Sterling. Clearly they didn’t think you’d reach our gates—or that you’d find shelter when you did.” He squeezes my shoulder with his hand. “It’s unfortunate they saw you enter, because that means they know you’re here, and who you are. With that information confirmed, Rochester may yet raise the kind of force they’ll need, but not in the next day. For now, come with me. I have to be there to see Dad’s face when I tell him you’re home.”

I ought to throw his arm off.

Every bit of my upbringing demands that I shout that he’s a stranger and protect myself accordingly. But my instincts tell me he’s genuine. I may have no memories of a brother, or a father either, but he feels. . .familiar. It’s a stupid thing to think about someone I’ve never before seen, but I can’t shake the feeling.

Even so, when Wind whinnies, I use the excuse to slip out from under his arm and soothe my sweet boy. “It’s alright.” I clear my throat. “Can someone take Wind somewhere he can relax? He’s been traveling hard for a long time. All day, and then all night, and now into another day, in fact.”

Jesse leans in close and whispers to Wind. “You’re a good boy, and we will pamper you. Thank you for bringing Alora here safely.” He kisses my gelding’s nose, and then calls one of the men we pass and asks him to walk Wind to the stable.

It makes me uneasy to watch my horse disappear, but I don’t have much choice. I’m in it now, right up to my neck. As if he can sense my discomfort, Jesse pauses. Men and women walk briskly past us on the busy streets of Sterling, far less concerned by the aggressive Followers of Amun outside than I would expect. Or perhaps they’re rushing around in order to perform tasks to prepare for an assault.

I really don’t know much about citizens or city life.

It does take forever for us to walk through the warren of criss-crossing streets. Sterling is much larger than I realized. It’s far, far larger than Spurlock. Now that the immediate danger is past, my back aches, my hands tremble, my belly rumbles, and my eyes burn. An entire night without sleep and very little the night before is catching up to me. “Is it much farther?”

Jesse stops, his brow furrowing. “You’re exhausted. Of course you are—I’m an idiot. You must’ve ridden all night along with your horse.” He frowns. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve gotten us new horses instead of making you walk. We’re nearly to the castle gate. Can you make it, or would you like to sit down for a bit?”

I shake my head. “I’ll be alright. I was just curious.”

“It’s no more than a mile.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “Actually, I’m just glad you were near the gate, or I’d have had more trouble getting through.” I try not to think what would have happened if I’d been stuck outside.

His eyes widen. “It’s lucky that I pulled perimeter duty.”

“Perimeter duty? What’s that?”

Jesse nods. “I’m in Dad’s Unit—one of the leaders of the military force for the Followers of Isis.” He pauses and looks a little worried. “Do you know anything about how the chain of command works?”

“A little,” I say. “Each Lord among the Followers of Isis has a Unit, which is comprised of the thirteen best Lifters. They lead groupings of men as well—train them, drill them, order them around. The Units comprise the standing army of the Followers of Isis. Right?”

“The Lords do technically preside over the castle, but they aren’t always the head of the Unit. They have to earn that—or be satisfied with an empty title. Still, that’s close enough for now.” A massive stone wall looms up ahead, even larger than the wooden city perimeter wall. Jesse waves at the guards on either side. “Jacob. Lloyd. Is Dad close?”

“He’s waiting just inside,” the man on the left says. “Discussing how to deal with the cavalry.”

Jesse grins conspiratorially at me and whispers, “He doesn’t know you’re here—no one paid much attention to the person those idiots were chasing until Gregory said you were Lifting. It’s lucky I was close.”

I’m breathing a little too fast.

“Hey, are you nervous?” Jesse’s eyes soften. “Trust me, he’s going to be delighted you’re here.”

“And the cavalry at the gate?”

Jesse shakes his head. “The only question there is whether we kill them all so Devlin won’t get confirmation—which would be confirmation in its own way—or whether we let them muck about and return home. Not much difference at the end of the day, honestly. And when Amun does send a huge army, Dad will deal with it, like he always deals with everything.” He touches my arm. “I’m telling you, we’ve been searching for you because he wants you safe. Where were you hiding?”

“With the Healers,” I say.

He chuckles. “We searched among them, but there were so many groups and they’re always moving. It was impossible to ask too many questions or pin them down—without giving away what we were looking for, which we couldn’t risk. Mom’s brilliant.” He freezes. “Was brilliant.” His nostrils flare. Clearly he’s struggling with grieving for her and welcoming me.

Poor Jesse. I gained a brother and a father. . .and he regained his sister. . .and lost his mother at the same time.

After a quick pause, he shakes it off. “It’s a good day, I promise. Let’s go.” The mischievous glint in his eye is so familiar I knew how it would look before I saw it. Which still makes no sense.

I follow him through the gate with my shoulders wide and my head up. Even my confident brother stumbles a bit when we walk through. Thirteen men stand in front of thirteen columns of soldiers, all dressed in sky blue uniforms. Every eye fixes on us as walk through.

“Oh.” Jesse turns toward the man in the center, a man who looks an awful lot like him. A prominent nose, dark hair with silver at the temples, deep blue eyes, and a troubled look on his face.

“What were you doing?” The man in the center addresses Jesse without even so much as glancing at me. “We’re under attack and you’re, what? Strolling through the city, flirting?” He pivots on his heel and turns toward me, his eyes flashing. “And you’ve brought a woman back here—”

“Flirting?” Jesse splutters.

The man freezes in place. Not even his eyes shift in the slightest. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you. I know why Amun was thundering toward us. They were chasing her—your daughter. The Warden.”

The man in the center—my father, presumably—steps toward me. He clears his throat. “Alora.” He inhales deeply. “You look exactly like your mother did. Where is she?”

Oh, Mom. The second I meet my new family, I’m stuck breaking the news of your death.

“We can talk about that later,” Jesse says, “when there aren’t as many soldiers waiting on us.” He glances backward meaningfully.

“Right.” The wrinkles at the corners of the man’s eyes deepen. His unfocused eyes refocus as if he knows what we’ll be discussing and he’s already dragging himself into the present. “Of course, you’re right. Later.”

“Alora Sterling,” Jesse says, “allow me to introduce you to your father, Duncan Sterling, Lord Protector of the Followers of Isis, and the Lord of Sterling Castle.”

Duncan walks toward me, his movements choppy and stiff. I wonder whether his disappointed concern for Mom’s absence has entirely overshadowed any joy he feels at my return. “Alora.”

My fists clench at my side. Every day for eleven years, ever since Mom Wasted, I’ve wished for a family of my own. I’ve dreamed of exactly this scenario hundreds of times, and yet now that it’s here, I feel none of the rightness I felt when I saw Jesse. I have no sense of affection and familiarity, and no instinctual trust swelling in my chest as I look at this man, like when I saw my brother.

No, instead, I’m afraid of Duncan Sterling.

And I kind of hate him on sight.