The Healing Wars: Book II: Blue Fire Page 23
She’d done what I couldn’t do. I hated it, but Aylin saw things I didn’t. She figured people out better than me. She often just knew the right thing to do, no matter how complicated it all seemed.
“Yes, just one room,” I said, wanting to smile but unable to. Not yet.
Aylin did it for me, her relief as bright as her smile. “Okay. I’ll get a good view, too. Best on the floor, don’t you worry.” She dashed the rest of the way up, and I heard doors opening and closing.
“She knew you’d be mad, but she did it anyway,” Jeatar said, more than a touch of awe in his voice. “I’m glad she did. I don’t think anyone else could have stopped you.”
“No, probably not.” I could have convinced Danello to let me go if it had been just him. Not that he would have attempted it in the first place. Odds were he’d have tried to talk me into leaving, then stayed with me when I didn’t. I’d have gotten us both killed. “Aylin’s right more times than not.”
He nodded, still looking sad. “I wish I could have done more.”
“A helping hand is never wasted.”
He chuckled wryly. “Saint Nya, Sister of Optimism.”
Me? A Saint? Hardly.
The wind blew the curtain, sending a sunbeam across his eyes. He squinted, annoyance wrinkling his face. For a heartbeat he looked like the Duke. He even had the same eyes.
Siekte’s voice echoed in my mind. Who cares about legitimate heirs? There’s no one from that side of the family left.
And Jeatar’s quiet whisper. Three. There were three brothers.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one with a Baseeri uncle.
“You’re—” I bit my tongue, silenced my question. It was crazy to even think it. Crazier than the idea of me being a Saint.
“I’m what?”
“You’re wealthier than I thought,” I said instead. “This farm. The villa.” That was a guess, but he’d called it his house, and even though Onderaan had appeared to be in charge, he’d deferred to Jeatar, protected him, defended him.
They defied the Duke, forced his hand. All they had to do was turn over—
Turn over what? Or more likely, who? Jeatar’s father? Jeatar had barely escaped Sorille when the Duke burned it. The Duke went after Sorille because his rival was there.
Jeatar had money, power even, though he was obviously hiding it. He cared about what happened to people and tried to make their lives better, when he clearly could hide on this farm forever and ignore it all. But he didn’t. He fought for something he believed in, no matter what the cost.
What if that cost is Tali?
I wouldn’t let that happen. Onderaan was connected to Jeatar, Grandpapa was connected to Sorille. My family was connected to his family, and though I didn’t know how, I knew why. We all wanted to stop the Duke. We were all willing to make sacrifices to do it.
“It’s family money,” he said, and the sadness was back again. “Not much left.”
“Oh.” Because he spent it to stop the Duke? Helped fund the Underground, kept them fed and armed and safe as possible?
“Come on, let’s get you some food,” he said. “I know you’re hungry.”
“I always am.” I followed him into the kitchen, sunny and bright like the rest of the farm.
My brain whirled. No, it had to be a coincidence, a trick of the light. If Jeatar was the legitimate heir, Onderaan would have known. He would have told people, used Jeatar to rally both the Underground and those who secretly opposed the Duke. He would have presented him to the High Courts and exposed the Duke’s crimes.
Unless Onderaan didn’t know.
Jeatar might be hiding from all of us. Trying to do in secret what the rest of his family couldn’t—stop the Duke, restore independence to the Three Territories, and end the wars. Hiding was smart since the Duke would certainly kill him if he discovered he was still alive.
But hiding wasn’t going to work. The Duke wasn’t going to stop, and if by a Saint’s luck he had died in the flash, the wrong people would try for the throne and nothing would change but the owner of the boot against our necks.
None of us would be safe. Not me, not Tali. No one.
Jeatar handed me a plate of sliced fruit. “You have that look again,” he said as if that worried him.
Maybe it should. “I was just thinking.”
He nodded, compassion in his eyes. “We’ll go back and find Tali when it’s safe, I promise.”
“I know. I was thinking about something else.”
His eyebrows rose. “Really?”
I nodded. “Really.”
Like a future where we wouldn’t have to hide, where we could march right into Baseer, into the camps and free Tali and every Taker the Duke ever kidnapped. Where the Undying would be disbanded, and no one would ever experiment on Takers again. Where the people of Geveg and Verlatta and even Baseer could work and play and live in safety.
A future with Jeatar on the throne.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I can honestly say this book wouldn’t be what it is today if not for the help of quite a few folks. It was one of those stories that fought me the whole way through, and the extra hands (and eyes) played a huge role in whipping this sucker into shape. I-can’t-believe-you-didn’t-divorce-me thanks go to my husband, Tom, who took care of all the things I couldn’t while on deadline and losing my mind. Big grateful thanks to Donna, who never made me feel rushed even though I was well past deadline. For her keen eye and wonderful advice when I knew the story wasn’t yet there and I needed direction. I-so-needed-that thanks go to Kristin, who kept reminding me that second books are often a disaster and I wasn’t alone in my struggle. Much love and hugs to Ann, who dutifully read almost every version, even the really bad ones. And another heap to Juliette, who cut through the bad to point out the good and kept me focused on the heart and soul of the tale. Big thanks to Bonnie and Birgitte, who always see things I don’t and make me look at what I’ve written with their eyes. Three cheers to the Bloodies, Dario, Aliette, Doug, Keyan, Genevieve, and Traci, who did just what I asked and pointed out everything they thought was wrong with it. Extra thanks to Ruta and Julie, for keeping me updated on so many things and making the process go so smoothly. Special technical thanks go to Phil, who helped me understand smelting and how I could do terrible things with it. And last but not least, thanks to all the unnamed folks who worked so diligently to bring my little novel to the shelves who I’ve never even met.
Every last one of you rocks.
About the Author
JANICE HARDY is the author of THE HEALING WARS: BOOK I: THE SHIFTER. She is currently hard at work on book three, thinking up terrible things to do to imaginary people. She lives in Georgia with her husband, three cats, and one very nervous freshwater eel. You can visit her online at www.janicehardy.com.
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Also by Janice Hardy:
THE HEALING WARS: BOOK I
The Shifter
Credits
Jacket art © 2010 by Brandon Dorman
Jacket design by Holden Designs and Jennifer Rozbruch
Copyright
THE HEALING WARS, BOOK II: BLUE FIRE. Copyright © 2010 by Janice Hardy. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hardy, Janice.
Blue fire / Janice Hardy.—1st ed.
p. cm.—(The healing wars; bk. 2)
Summary: While trying to
lead the Takers out of Geveg, fifteen-year-old Nya is captured by bounty hunters and taken to Baseer, where she escapes and soon finds herself helping the Baseeri.
ISBN 978-0-06-174741-0 (trade bdg.: alk. paper)
[1. Fantasy. 2. Healers—Fiction. 3. Fugitives from justice—Fiction. 4. Sisters—Fiction. 5. Orphans—Fiction. 6. War—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H22142Blu 2009 2009053446
[Fic]—dc22 CIP
AC
FIRST EDITION
EPub Edition © August 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-201270-8
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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