Destiny's Awakening

6. SIX

SIX

Our excitement fueled us that first day, making it easy to ignore the ache in our backs and legs from hours in the saddle. Though by the time the sun had begun its descent and the village came into view, we were road-weary and bone-tired. All we wanted was a soft bed and a warm bath. Sadly, we came to learn that the village had no inn or boarding house, so neither of those things seemed likely.

At first, I didn't know what we would do. But then I asked the livery owner if we might sleep in his barn. He seemed reluctant, but he'd eventually agreed, even going as far as heaping piles of fresh hay into an empty stall so we'd be more comfortable. After he'd left, Vi groused about our accommodations, but I reminded her we could sleep outside on the hard ground, and she ceased her grumbling.

Then, in an act of unexpected generosity, the livery owner returned a short while later with a bundle of blankets in his arms, and his wife—carrying a tray of steaming bowls of stew. They sat with us while we ate, telling us about the town and answering our questions about how far it was to the next village.

After we'd finished our meals and crafted our makeshift beds, I stared up at the open rafters with a smile. I'd never had a grand adventure before, and realizing that's what the Mothers had given me, had anticipation blooming in my chest.

Beside me, Zinnia dreamily mused, "This is all so exciting. Don't you think?"

Violet propped herself up on an elbow, staring at Zinnia incredulously for a moment before flopping back onto her bed. I couldn't stop laughing at the look on her face. Before long, we were all laughing while the horses huffed in disapproval.

We settled into an easy routine following our first day on the road. We rose with the sun, purchased the provisions we'd need, then rode until the sun reached its peak for a break before setting off again.

During our midday breaks, I'd sneak off to practice wielding the winds and bending them to my will. I came to learn that the winds were fickle, willing to obey easily one day, then fighting against me until I was out of breath and had a pounding headache. They were alive and could not be strong-armed. To coax them to do as I wished, I could not approach them with force but with humility.

When it was time to move on, we rode on until the sun dipped in the sky. Papa had made us each promise we wouldn't camp out in the open, so we had to time our travel to arrive at a village before it got dark and hope it was large enough to have an inn. Though it was growing increasingly difficult to stop each night. The thread connecting me to Lysander grew more tangible with every mile we covered, and the pull grew stronger, demanding I keep going. To move faster.

My sisters, though, were moving slower and their patience had worn thin. By the fifth day on the road, even the smallest offense seemed to set off an argument. So, when we arrived at a village—depressingly similar to the last, and the last before that—shortly after midday, I suggested we stop for the day to rest. Violet and Zinnia agreed enthusiastically.

I'd volunteered to settle the horses in for the evening while my sisters arranged for our lodgings at the quaint inn next door to the livery. My thoughts were wandering, lost in the brush's rasp against my mare's side, when Zinnia asked, "How much longer will it take?"

I jumped, and my mare turned her head to give me a scathing look before returning to her meal. My forehead fell against her shoulder for a moment, then I answered, "I can feel we're getting closer. But I don't know we'll find him tomorrow, or two days from now."

My back protested when I bent to drop the brush into the bucket, then picked it up to return it to the shelves where I'd found it.

"I miss Mama and Papa."

It was so quiet. So sad.

Forgetting the bucket, I pulled her into my arms, holding her as she softly cried against my shoulder.

I'd not expected this quest to end quickly. But I don't think I'd adequately prepared myself for how long this could actually take us. It could take weeks, and that was a disheartening reality to accept.

"If only our parents were horrid. We wouldn't miss them so much."

She sniffled a laugh, pulling away, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves. "But if they were horrid, they wouldn't have allowed us to leave at all."

"We would have snuck out then," Violet declared from the stall door, where she perched atop a stack of hay bales.

I took a moment to study my sisters—the dark circles beneath their eyes, their bedraggled appearance, and the sag of their shoulders.

"Perhaps we'll stay here tomorrow," I offered, retrieving the bucket again as I headed for the tack room. "We can do a little exploring."

"You'll hear no argument from me," Violet called after me.

When I returned, Zinnia was smiling brightly. Or as brightly as she could manage.

"Then it's settled."

I looped my arm with Zinnia's, then Vi's, and pulled them along with me toward the inn as my belly rumbled. "Shall we get some dinner? I'm famished."

Inside the inn, we tucked ourselves into a booth in one corner of the pub that comprised almost the entire ground floor. My stomach growled again when the savory smell of food hit my nose. I took in the decor on the walls—fishing rods, boat oars, nets—all odd, given we weren't anywhere near the coast or a lake. Violet elbowed me, alerting me to the innkeeper who was standing beside our table, giving me a patient smile.

"Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere," I said to the man, my smile apologetic. "What was it you asked?"

His brown eyes were kind and unperturbed. “Nothin’ of import, mind. Just curious where bouts you lot are comin’ from, but never you mind.” He waved a hand in front of him, then hitched his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m sure my wife is scowlin’ daggers at me for talkin’ too much to our guests. Says I’m over friendly.”

We followed the direction of his thumb to the bar where there was indeed a woman frowning in our direction, wiping the same spot on the bar over and over. Zinnia giggled, quickly covering her mouth to hide it, and the old man's eyes sparked with amusement.

“Twen'y years she’s been sayin’, ‘George, don’ pester the guests. They just want their dinner, not yer questions.”

The impression garnered another of Zinnia's giggles, and he smiled even wider.

"Our family has a farm outside Granger Falls," I told him, and he nodded with a purse of his lips. “We’re heading to Leetha; we have an uncle there.”

It was the truth. Well, partially. We had an uncle who lived outside of Leetha, but that's not the direction we were going. Leetha was to the east of here, but the thread connecting me to Lysander tugged to the west. Regardless of how genial and harmless George appeared, it seemed safer to keep the specifics of our travels secret.

George stroked the length of his salt and pepper whiskers, his mouth just beginning to open when his wife cleared her throat loudly. He gave her an abashed grin, then tossed a wink in our direction, promising he'd be back with our dinner. We watched him amble back behind the bar where he leaned in and kissed his wife's cheek. She swatted him away with her rag, but she was smiling as she shook her head.

Once we finished our meal—herb crusted chicken, vegetables, and bread—we moved into the empty sitting room and settled into the sofas clustered before the fireplace. The decor of this space made much more sense with the floral wallpaper, bookshelves, and warm colors. I couldn't help but wonder if George and his wife had compromised on who got to decorate the spaces.

"What does it feel like?" Zinnia asked, holding a pillow on her lap, fingers playing with the fringe along its edge. "The connection?"

Without thinking, my hand went to my chest, just over my heart where the tug began. "Like anticipation. Or the flutter you get when you're excited."

"It's so romantic," Zinnia sighed wistfully. Vi rolled her eyes, a move Zinnia didn't miss.

Our youngest sister crossed her arms and glared. "The Mothers gave Aster a quest to find her soulmate, who she can literally feel a connection with," she snapped. "If that doesn't qualify as romantic, then please enlighten me."

"When you put it that way," I teased, and Zinnia smiled smugly while Violet rolled her eyes once more, but playfully this time.

"But then again, he could smell like onions," I said with a grimace. "Or, worse, no table manners like Vi."

"Ha ha," Violet deadpanned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips all the same.

We lingered there late into the night, enjoying that there was no rush to climb into bed. But once we were in bed—a large, down-filled mattress we shared—sleep quickly filled the room with soft, hushed inhales and exhales. Lysander's face appeared every time I closed my eyes, and I ran a finger along the thread connecting us, wishing I could feel just how far away he was. A pulse of energy traveled away from me along its surface and then, a second later, it rebounded straight into my racing heart.

I smiled into the dark, then closed my eyes to dream of a man I was both excited and terrified to meet.