Prologue

 

 

 It started when rain poured down from black clouds, lightning cracked in the sky like the crack of a whip and wind screeched through the undergrowth. Thunder rolled across the heavens, shouting disapproval with every clap. The pine forest and dense undergrowth swayed in the harsh gale, almost leaning far enough to topple. A small path – quickly turned to mud – was in the middle of the plant life, stringing along until it curved away. Horses clomped on the watery lane, tossing wet manes in displeasure. They churned damp and molding leaves, sending up a foul, sharp odor.

There were four persons riding to the city, all encompassing one task: kidnap the King’s infant daughter. But this is easier said than done. The Good King had an innumerous amount of security of his most loyal and trustworthy. They would lay down their lives to defend the royal family. The four men hoped not to get spotted by any of these ridiculously loyal soldiers, but it was inevitable.

 The entire kingdom was a just and fair one, and so every citizen adored their leaders. This made it harder for any thief or sneaking person to even get to the castle, let alone inside it.

 This did not deter the four thieves, either. They moved with stealth up to the bridge that would lead them into the city. Rain spattered on their heads, dripping onto the steeds as they climbed steadily up the hill to the village wall. Two of the horses grunted in disapproval and pranced back skittishly as they came into the torchlight, but the riders reined them into line with practiced excellence. They had done this sort of wicked job before, and saw no reason to get nervous as the animals did.

Patience and caution kept the men tightly wound and stiff. They waited at the edge of a deep ditch for the bridge to lower. They just had to get past the garrison guarding it.

A shout echoed from the top of the battlement: “Hey! Who are you, now?”

The first man, on a rather calm dark brown horse, came forward. His black cloak concealed his every detail, only shadows under the hood. “We come in peace, friend, and wish only to seek refuge from the storm,” came a rough reply. His voice was gravelly and resembled a person gargling nails. His hands clenched the reins in anticipation, the movement so small the soldier on the wall would never have noticed it.

A shiny, silver helmet spattered with raindrops came into sight. Its wearer wasn’t the prettiest fellow, and had a rather long, flattened nose. His eyes were a little close-set, chin jutting out stubbornly. He carried a crossbow, held in such a casual way that it was proof he could shoot it well. It seemed the archer had come out of the crenel, which they never do unless they are under-manned.

A small, imperceptible smile flashed across the thief’s face, but it was quickly extinguished. The man was a professional, always doing the dirty work for his own King because he was the best. He couldn’t let any emotion show on his face and ruin the mission. He was given a task, then he hand-picked the men to help him in this job. Normally three men would have been best, but other things needed to be done which could not by only a few. So he needed an extra.

 As if hearing his thoughts, the youngest man in the group shifted slightly. One of the older men snapped his head around, giving him a look. The boy settled.

The archer narrowed his eyes for a second, as if trying to decide if it was worth breaking curfew for a few strange, hooded men. Granted, the gates had closed only a small while ago. He finally relented, obviously not wanting to stay outside and seeming to understand their reluctance to travel any further. The heavy metal helmet he wore didn’t make for warmth, and it was devilishly cold.

“All right,” he said, clearly irritated. Then he turned and shouted down to someone, “Lower the bridge!”

Someone shouted back what sounded like a question.

“Just do it already! Or do you want to stay out in this blasted storm?!” As if in answer, lightning lit the sky and thunder boomed so loud it seemed to shake the ground. The horses whinnied in fright and stamped their hooves. Their riders checked them with ease.

Apparently the man the archer had shouted at conceded, for the gate opened and the bridge lowered. The portcullis raised slowly, the metal grill ending in sharper spikes that made any man sympathize the fool caught by them.

While this was being done, the first rider noted the merlons lining the walls and the other archers atop the bastions. The place was like a fortress.

A white and red flag embroidered with a symbol flew on each tower. The dampened flag was fluttering limply and despairingly. The symbol embroidered on it was of a beautiful stag in a prance-like position in front of a golden moon. The symbol on that flag now represented peace, freedom, and equality. It represented the kingdom Dyat.

The black and purple symbol the four men had known and pledged to was one of destruction, evil, and hate. It was a black dragon breathing purple fire. It was the symbol of the kingdom Blythe.

There was only one other kingdom flag, that of a beautiful flaming bird flying above a blue ocean. The color of the sky was gray, the neutral symbol meaning that there would be safety, but it also meant the chance for a fresh start with no worry at all. The kingdom of Seascer was a noble one, and not to be bothered with squabbles. It stayed out of the way so Blythe and Dyat could have their war. Though, for the two kingdoms to confront it would have to be on either Seascer soil or in the Wayfaring Wood. Neither was much of an option. And so the war had gone on for over a generation.

Once the heavy bridge was down, the four men nudged their horses forward, clattering over the planks and onto the cobblestone where the iron gate had once been. When they were across, the bridge once again was raised.

Two soldiers stood at the ready, one on each side of the second archway. On the left the hefty man put his hand on the hilt of a sword in its scabbard and the lanky man on the right held a tall spear with a gold ribbon stretching around the top. Neither seemed comfortable with the weapons, signifying that they were new youth soldiers desperate to prove themselves. They nodded for the four men to continue forward, and the sound of hooves clattering over stone could be heard through the streets.

The city was extraordinarily big, the same flag flying everywhere one looked. The houses were surprisingly close together and the streets were crowded. Sloping, barely-shingled rooftops with blocky chimneys were seen, and no citizens were about save for the ones in the pub, coming in and out in their drunkenness. The houses had a glow in some windows, laughter echoing through the thin walls. The rain misted the street and the lanterns were a dim glow.

The men lead their steeds to a narrow alleyway, dark enough to have difficulty seeing their comrades. The clatter abruptly stopped, and a gravelly voice took its place.

“Aoric” he ordered sharply, “go to the Gate House and inform us of their movements. Try to get as much information as possible. We need to know when to go through.”

A horse whinnied and galloped off.

“The rest of us will infiltrate the castle.”

“But how are we to do that with the extremity in the castle’s protection?” A second smoother, deeper voice asked hesitantly. He knew never to question the other man, but risked it only once.

Assassins as they all were, it was unorthodox to send them for grunt work. The king had plenty of working thieves, but this mission required a certain level of finesse that thieves did not possess.

“Today has a certain note of…importance in this kingdom,” the first man answered ungenerously. He almost spat the words. “It is the day of the prince’s birthday, and so the royal family will be paying more attention to him than their daughter. So it is crucial that we attack now. I have a new invention from one of the king’s scientists; it allows us to climb up very high walls at a faster pace.

“Our mission is to take the princess to King Abbedon. We must do so as quickly and quietly as possible. No witnesses.”

Silence followed, none daring enough to ask any more questions. The boy shook his head very carefully, dislodging any doubts perhaps.

Three clopping horses were heard, heading for the castle. No one cared…yet.

 

Not an hour later, screams of outrage were heard in the castle:

“Where’s the princess?!”

“What happened?!”

“She’s gone!”

Alarm bells clanged and soldiers shouted orders. At the gate house a lone figure emerged. His black cloak hid his face, and he hurried away to the closest pub, where a black horse was tethered. He entered the pub and waited while the soldiers ran past.

Three other hooded men entered after a while, and the bartender watched them suspiciously. They sat at a table, joined by the fourth.

 The leader shook off a few raindrops and leaned forward. He kept a careful eye on the bartender. “We need to get out of here. Aoric, did you clear the way?” He knew Aoric had a tendency to “experiment” with taking soldiers out…quietly.

 The man held an air of defense. Annoyance rolled off him. “Of course everything’s clear. You think me a bumbling idiot?”

 The warmth of the pub turned very cold. Everyone felt it, looking around. The bartender went in back to make sure the door wasn’t open.

 The leader stood up stiffly. “No.” He turned, skulking out of the room with anger. The other men moved after him, not bothering to ask what was wrong. They knew. The youngest man, in a wise act all his own, slipped a few coins out of his cloak and placed them on the table with a few clinks, then followed after his comrades.

Out in the rain, they all gathered their horses and went to the gate house. Every soldier and archer there seemed to be asleep, and the strangers let themselves out, one pocketing what seemed to be a blowgun.

“You did well, Aoric,” the leader of the horsemen approved, anger still simmering in his voice. He then turned to another rider, “As did you.”

The man nodded, a small bundle in his arms. He held the princess gingerly, knowing that he and his wife would be the ones to raise her.

“What will be her name?” The fourth and youngest horseman asked gently, knowing it to be a sore subject due to the man’s wife not being able to bear children.

“I will name her Willow.”

2: Chapter 1

Chapter One

 

 I stared out the window, wanting to go into the city once again. But I was stuck cleaning the chambers for the umpteenth time. It seemed to get worse every time Allura asked me to clean. It was impossible. My own small chambers were spotless and the stone almost shone in the sunlight, my cleaning was so thorough. I was a master of the art of maidservant. Yet the great chamber was never spotless no matter the time I took. The stones were always stained with wine, as with the bed sheets. The window curtains had some sort of tear, due to the master’s cat obsession. Sometimes the window itself was broken, but not this time. As if his own daughter had time to clean everything. I was Willow Rosten, not a maidservant.
I sat at the window seat, the plush green cushion a comfort in the cold, dark room. A few strands of light, blond hair fell into my eyes, and I gently brushed it back into its bun. The extravagant curls my hair naturally held were always a setback for the styles Allura tried to place. Braids came unraveled, buns came undone. It was irritating.
Another half hour passed as I got to my knees and scrubbed the floor. My rough hands were anything but lady-like, and I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Seeing no more use of my time after polishing the stone, I stood and walked out, gently closing the heavy wooden door behind me. It clicked into place loudly, echoing through the house. The hallway held paintings of the lady and lord of the house. Lord Maron and Lady Allura looked charming and quaint with a gray backdrop and the splash of color on their cheeks. Their clothing was lively and expensive. Although, the appearance of Lord Maron always unnerved me for a reason I could not explain. He was my father, yet those black eyes and that dark hair haunted me. His expression held a sharp edge, like he was hiding something.
Shivering from something not even related to the cold, I passed by the painting and walked down the empty hall. Everything was dimly lit and cast eerie shadows on the walls, like creeping insects and watching eyes. The house had always placed fear in my heart.
The door leading to the keep stood wide open, and curiosity overcame me. I put the bucket and cloth down. There would be time to put them away later. I headed to the dark passage. Climbing the steps carefully, the narrow space made my heart beat faster. I hated this small stairway and had yet to understand why. The walls just seemed to crowd closer the longer I stood, clogging my airways and taking away all reason.
The keep wasn’t actually a keep at all, but a small tower leading to the attic…and my chambers. Why anyone would go up there, I had no idea. But I fully intended to find out. I would give them quite a scolding.
The surrounding stone should have made the stairway freezing cold, but the lanterns gave off a little bit of heat as well as light. Granted, the stairway was a little slippery and very hard, but I had kept my balance several times since growing up here. I stayed closer to the outer wall, as was instructed of the entire household, so any who came down would do so close to the inner wall to avoid crashing into someone else.
At last at the top, I scanned my surroundings in a glance. No one was up here. Everything was orderly and in place. So why was I so worried? I looked over at the dresser, seeing a mirror with a beautiful carved frame. Walking over and dropping ungraciously into a wood-backed chair, I watched my reflection with a sigh. The nervousness associated with intruders fluttered in me. I swatted the feeling away and took deep, calming breaths as I stared into the mirror.
My appearance changed every day. It was like I couldn’t decide who I was or wanted to be. Today my eyebrows were curved up in a delicate arch, a frown lining my face. My red lips pouted where as yesterday they smiled. My almost colorless green eyes were watery and dimmer than the day before. My entire countenance was that of a moping child. I wanted to throw my hands in the air and give up.
Where had the proud, lustrous woman gone? Did she wave goodbye as she left? I didn’t want to be the weakest, the one to be picked off first in a battle. But all women were supposed to be this fragile. I despised it. Sometimes I had to convince myself that reflections really were reflections of me and not of a different person. I was uncomfortable with the way I looked and had to hold myself, even if it was custom. It felt unnatural, like something was off. Like something was missing…
“Dash it all,” I murmured to myself, picking up yet more strands of glistening hair. I held the traitors in front of my face, exasperated. “Do you have an explanation for yourself, hair? You know better than to unravel,” I scolded, tucking it behind my ear with a lazy hand. My delicate features and slight figure made suitors flock from whatever gutter they called home. Even the really rich men had asked for my hand, but I refused vehemently. They desired my beauty, not me. They loved my sparkling golden eyes, not the personality that makes me who I am.
I was a rather proud girl, something Allura always looked on with disappointment. She didn’t understand why I was so stubborn, so reckless. She wished me to flit around and dress like the other girls, but it wasn’t me. I preferred simplicity over complexity. A loose green dress was just fine, though breeches would also suffice. But that wasn’t even remotely acceptable. A pity, that was.
Many didn’t understand the process my mind wandered to whenever an idea occurred. However, Lord Maron looked on with amused aloofness. He loved my small rebellions, though cautiously warned me not to take it too far.
The bed was not too flattering, but it was mine, and it tolerated my weight. The down in the pillows was soft if a little prickly, same with the bedspread, but I loved it for the imperfections. I found the world more of a curiosity with these small differences.
Suddenly, a tapestry fluttered, the small movement almost imperceptible. I shot back to my feet and searched for the disturbance. A small form emerged, a smile plastered on her heart-shaped face.
“Ebony, dear, you startled me!” I gasped with a hand pressed to my heart, though still grudgingly respecting her. She could sneak around like nobody’s business.
The small girl had long cinnamon hair and bright forest eyes. She was pale, but it complimented her rosy cheeks and blood-red lips. She wore a simple gray dress and tarnished gold pendant. She was the daughter of the main house servant. She smiled wide and giggled. “You were really scared?” The girl was almost fourteen, a year younger than me, and yet her voice was the sweet melody of a much younger child.
“Darling, you never fail,” I chirped, patting the bed and plopping down.
She sat graciously, unlike myself, and folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze was steady and gentle. Mine was always defiant and proud, darting around to take in my surroundings. She was the true lady in the room. I was ghastly in manners compared to this rose.
Ebony sighed heavily, eyes on her hands. I took it as a bad sign. She was always so easy to understand.
I laid my hand on top of her tiny, fiddling ones. “What is it? Surely Lord Maron-“
“No, of course not,” she replied hastily, head snapping up. “It’s just this whole war. Dyat is in the winning tide.”
At this news my eyes widened. “Surely not. Blythe will pull through as they always do.” It wasn't that I liked the kingdom, but it was the one that I always had supported. After all, should Blythe fall, it would mean absolute chaos all around. I wasn't fond of imprisonment.
She looked up, tears threatening. “My papa…he didn’t make it through. I heard Mama talking about it. She was hysterical. I’ve never seen her like that before.” Her voice wavered.
I took a deep breath, wrapping Ebony in an embrace. There was no room for words. Nothing I could say would alleviate the grief she felt.
Strangely, I felt that the same pain was a part of my life as well. Lord Maron and Lady Allura were my parents, but it always felt so different around them, like they were foreign.
I wanted to say how sorry I was, how unfair it was, but kept my silence. It was all there was left to give.
She cried as I held her, wondering why my own tears never fell, why sorrow didn’t claim me, until she fell asleep. She must have bottled all the pain in, trying to be brave for a dull, uncaring world. She was holding her head high, whereas most young girls would whine over a simple matter such as bad stitching in their skirts. She was so strong it hurt me to think of how hard she had to try. In many ways, she was better than me.
I clenched my fists. A child should never have to hide away. Nothing like that could be right.
My breath so full of sudden hate it was smothering the humanity in me. I wanted to know who I was, the origins of my own possible story in a world all its own. I wanted to feel right, like there was a place among friends and true family. Blood relation did not make a family, their actions did.
I stood after a long while. Ebony sat and watched with red eyes as I went over to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. She didn’t ask any questions because she still knew her place even if I was relaxed about it. She was a servant, and I was the daughter of the Lady of the House. She was under my status and therefore not able to start asking my motives. I wanted to change that.
I lifted a secret panel and took the one thing that I knew came from my ancestors: a small ring. It had a silver band inlaid with gold. The blue gem sparkled brightly and the band itself was carved to shape two stallions going either direction. It was a beautiful masterpiece and I kept it close. I put the panel back in its place and closed the drawer.
“Ebony,” I said gently, turning and walking back to her. I knelt on the floor in front of her and offered the ring. My breathing came faster and my insides contracted painfully. “Can you take care of this for me? It’s very important and I know you’ll love it.” I grabbed her hand and opened the curled fingers. She had made a tight fist, not wanting to take something so precious from me. I dropped the ring on her warm palm and closed her fingers around it.
She stared at me with surprise and waited silently. She lifted her hand, opened her fingers the smallest portion, and observed the gem with such intensity I thought the room would catch fire. She watched it with unbelief in her eyes, wondering how this could possibly be her job. “Thank you, Lady Willow,” she whispered quietly. She clutched it to her chest, closing her eyes and smiling. “Thank you.”
I pulled her close in a tight hug. Her soft hair bundled between us, creating a feathery layer that tickled my face. I knew Ebony hid behind all her hair, leaving a few strands down on purpose. I loved her rebellion, and apparently so did some noblewomen. I had seen a trend going around. Soon no one would have their hair up. It was amusing. Little Ebony alone changed the views of society.
I don’t know how long we both sat there, but in no time at all the other servants calling made Ebony break away first. She sniffled, looking at the floor. Red was creeping onto her face. I took a piece of gold ribbon out of my pocket and gently tied a bow in her hair before she left. She had always been a little sister to me and always would be. No matter what.
After Ebony closed the door behind her I went over to the mirror and checked my reflection. It was the same as before, for once. I then turned my attention to the window for a last look before writing an entry in my small notepaper book. Pushing heavy curtains aside I stared out at the bustling, crowded streets of Blythe’s capitol: Durath. Food vendors and merchants were running about, selling their wares and advertising to any customer that came near. Taken by surprise, a few villagers were lead to the market and would later reappear flustered and confused by all the jewelry the held.
One of the citizens in the crowd caught my eye. It was a man, tall and young, looking straight at the entrance of Lord Maron’s house. I watched him curiously and studiously. He was intriguing. A slender yet muscular build, proud stance, and quiet confidence suggested he was neither a servant nor a peasant. He was higher in status than that. He stood very still, as if trying to decide whether or not to approach the house. I leaned closer to the glass, wanting to get a closer look at the stranger. The black cloak he wore prevented me from seeing any of his features. I was devilishly curious. It was not a good thing to be.
When he finally made a movement, it was fast and slight. He looked up and straight at me. I pulled back and tripped over a chair. Falling to the ground ungraciously, I hit the cold floor hard, cracking my head against the stone. I shook the pain away and scrambled to the window.
The stranger was gone.
He had vanished without a trace. I wondered what he wanted here and got an uncomfortable sinking feeling. His visit was not without consequence, of that it was certain, but what consequences exactly was the real question.
“Willow,” came a quiet voice. It was Allura. What was she doing up here? Still, I did not turn away from the glass. My mind was busy with other thoughts. Thoughts about a mysterious boy.
“Willow, you must come for dinner,” a hand gently laid on my shoulder, “Maron would not want you to miss it.”
I finally turned and looked at my mother. She was beautiful, what with sparkling gray-green eyes and shimmering black hair. Her face was oval and pale, her cheeks rosy with color. I was not so much the comforting beauty. My looks were foreign to the city. No other girl had my strange complexion. My dark blond hair was uncommon.
“And why is that, my lady?” I asked somberly. It must have been an important matter else my father would not have sent his wife to get me. That was a servant’s duty, not the Lady of the House. I could only wonder if it was the boy I had seen a moment ago. He really was sneaky, that one.
“Well, we have a special guest this evening…” She trailed off. I saw confusion cross her face for a brief second. “Turn around for just a second. Is that blood? Willow what did you do?” Allura asked anxiously. Her tone held an undercurrent of fear as she fiddled with my hair.
I reached back and touched the back of my head. It came away wet with blood. “Wow, I didn’t think I hit my head that hard.” It was amazing what clumsiness could do. That stone floor was hard.
“What happened?” She fussed. She was trying to find where the wound was without getting her dress ruined. She had taken off her black gloves and wrapped them in her sash. Her sleeves were slightly pushed back in a very un-lady-like fashion. Her dark blue dress fit her waist and torso tightly while billowing out at the bottom. Ripples of fabric went down the dress, the folds making a surprisingly good contrast against the satin fabric.
“Well, as it happens, that chair is quite the nuisance and the floor is somewhat hard. They made a great team in knocking me senseless,” I explained, glaring accusingly at the innocent chair now lying on its side. Of course, the chair couldn’t possibly shift in guilt or apologize, but if I glared hard enough it just might catch fire. My father had always said I had quite the evil eye. It was not a good quality for a young lady, but what did I care? I was not looking for marriage or approval. “Dearest me, I had better watch out if the floor has made a grudge.”
Allura frowned, ignoring the rude remarks about the floor. “You need to be more careful, Willow. Now, I see the cut is very shallow. It should stop bleeding soon. Just promise me you’ll watch where you put your feet?” Her tone was a little mocking, a tad condescending.
“Of course.”
“Then you’re good to wash up and meet me in the dining hall.”
I waited until she left, whisking out the door, before sprinting over to the window again. I paused, took a deep breath, and searched through the glass. There was nothing on the streets. Not even the ordinary villager roamed the once-crowded cobblestones. They had cleared out now that dusk was setting in. Where was that boy? The spot where he stood was vacant and yet brought my eye to it despite.
I shook my head. “Oh, bother this, Willow. Honestly, what did you expect to see? You truly need to get a grip.”
But that image still plagued me. A boy with eyes black as obsidian and hair of cold night with features hard enough to match. A black cloak held on bold shoulders. Wispy air billowing in front of his rather pleasant mouth. A strong torso with iron cords for muscles. Posture full of courage and daring to ask the forbidden. The rushing crowd parting to leave a wide distance. He was no ordinary nobleman’s son. He was someone dark, something with a black, unturned heart. No easy life left someone like that in its place.
So the question was: who was he?

3: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 

 

 

 Nothing at dinner could possibly have been called ordinary. For one, the food had been some extravagant dish from a completely outlandish cook. Possibly Etreganian cuisine. For another, the important guest was one of the lord’s business partners. Maron owned a factory run by steam and producing new inventions. The grapple was a popular one, as was the pipeline housing project. It was amazing how, instead of going to a nearby river for a water supply, you simply put in a system of tubes leading to a casket. I didn’t understand the full mechanics but also knew better than to inquire of it. It was not my place to learn a man’s work.

At first I was disappointed to find it was not the dark-eyed boy from earlier. He had aroused my interest and I found him very distracting. He perturbed me, caused a sense of déjà-vu. He seemed so familiar it was haunting. I just knew he would show up again, and soon. I hoped all the dark, serious air around him was a façade, a show. But I had a sinking feeling it wasn’t.

 It was quite disturbing, this sudden twist of perspective. I found it a little amusing. Lives could change quickly and that was just the beginning of all the fun. Life involved so much confusion I would think it was supposed to leave you bewildered on purpose. It was not our place to understand things, just accept and move on with them.

“Ah, Willow,” Maron welcomed as I walked in. “It's good to see you've made it to the dining hall. I trust you know who our guest is?” He sounded almost mocking. It was not like me to get lost. He was pointing out that he wanted me to act like a stupid girl.

 I nodded imperceptibly, ignoring the jibe. Ladies do not bob their heads like some dumb bird when agreeing with someone, even if I was to act dull-headed. “Yes, indeed. How do you do, Mister Angstrom? It has been a while.”

 A man at the opposite end of the table from the lord and lady, sitting tall, bowed his head in acknowledgment. He wore a handsome waistcoat with a chain looping out, suggesting a pocket-watch. “I am very well, Miss Rosten. Tonight is a special occasion.” He looked up and glanced at all of us as some servant pulled out a seat for me. Angstrom’s nose was hooked at the end but for the most part he had a pleasant face. His bright blue eyes roamed over us, his dark brown hair a stark contrast. His face had the chub of a man well-off, but it was not a bad or unattractive chubbiness. In fact, he looked more like a recently returned soldier. His voice was warm and welcoming. He was no longer the young man he used to be, but he still held the handsomeness of youth.

 The servant pushed my chair in so far I thought it would prevent my breathing if the dress didn't already do the job. It was the newest fashion design from some lot of weavers in Marlinton, the “rich land.” The fabric was a vibrant green with much the same style as Allura's own. The only difference was the pearls lining the sides and heart-shaped top, as well as the color. I wore arm-length white gloves whereas she had black, lace-trimmed, wrist-length ones. My get-up made a splendid combination. The green brought out my eyes and complimented my hair drastically. Too bad I wasn’t one for fashion or “standing out.”

Mr. Angstrom continued, “We have news from the king. Tonight the prince has chosen his bride. We do not yet know of who it will be, but it is certainly a momentous occasion.”

Allura spoke up in a confused tone, “But the prince had already chosen Lady Ambrill. Did the marriage not work?”

Maron leaned over and whispered into his wife's ear. I watched as she turned a bright red and dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Oh, dear,” she exclaimed. “Forget I even asked. Do continue, Mr. Ang-strom.”

 I watched as Lord Maron smiled, eyes glittering brightly. His smile was lopsided and genuine. His eyes crinkled at the corners. It was then I realized just how fast my parents were aging. It was a strange thing to notice.

“As I was saying, the prince has found his bride-to-be and will inform us at the grand festival at the castle in two days' time. It will be a welcome relief, what with all the-”

“Thank you for coming, Drendon. I am sure we will all be there for the festival. Now,” Maron interrupted quickly, ringing a small bell at his side. “We can eat dinner.” At that, dozens of servants flooded the room carrying large dishes of exotic foods of every color. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion of Maron’s outburst as a platter of peppers of every kind was set in front of me, while breads with seeds and others white as flour were placed on the opposite end. A great big dish was placed in the center. It seemed to be a turkey of some sort.

“Ah,” said Allura. “I see you decided on the roast pig-turkey. Very good choice.”

A pig-turkey? I'd never heard of such an absurd thing. Yet the appearance of the creature proved the title accurate. The bird's beak was squashed flat, the eyes were way too small and beady for it to possibly have seen anything, and it had great floppy ears on its head. I was sure it once had beautiful feathers.

“It is an Etreganian delicacy,” said Maron.

Allura clapped her hands together. “Delightful.”

I simply stared at the so-called “delicacy” of what I had first assumed was Etreganian. The people were strange and their culture resembled that of a disorganized group of pillagers. They took their culture as pieces of others. The Masonri people had turkey day festivals as well as pig, and I could only think this creature was the result of a mixture of the two. The Etregan land was not a place I'd recommend to travelers. The wilderness was harsh and the people even harsher. It was terrible that they resided just north of Seascer. The villagers there were so pleasant and it was tragic they had such a horrid neighbor.

I was still thinking about the dark-eyed, dark-haired wonder boy who could mysteriously vanish in a flash and not reappear for some time. I assumed he had gone into the crowd around him and followed them, hiding himself in the process. I was the ridiculous girl who just happened to be wondering about him like some foolish, love-struck lady looking for the best husband she could possibly ever find in the whole wide world. Then again, this world was a terrible place to get married, what with the war and all the poverty going on and whatnot.

It was simply a fantasy I was living. A dreamworld that I saw in a vision of peace and no pain among all citizens. But I was of no importance, so why should I be the one to change everything? I was not the daughter of a king, so I had no influence in any country. I was the daughter of a nobleman, and therefore able to live in comfort and raise children while watching my husband either go to war or get fat off of his own wealth.

It was not the most glamorous life, but it was mine. Or, it was my future. I planned to change my own life the way I wanted it to be, and I made this decision very clear to my parents. They would not sway me. I would not get married until I wanted to. Not until I found the right suitor. Not ever before then. Arranged marriages were terrible for your love life, and it was not going to happen to me. The one thing that seemed to make me uncomfortable was, for an odd reason, the very fact that the prince had found his bride, and I didn't know who she was.

And why should I care? No, I shouldn't, yet I did.

What did the prince look like? Rumors stated he was a handsome devil, but I had yet to see if the gossip was true. I'd always wanted to see the royal family. They did not go out of the castle or parade around, offering encouragement for their troops. I feared that our sense of politics was lost on me completely.

The ruckus of laughter and enjoyment filled the room to bursting. Strangely, I felt closed in and claustrophobic. Everyone watched me put my napkin down and push away from the table. “Excuse me.”

Allura was most surprised and bewildered by my sudden haste. “Where's the rush, dear? You've hardly eaten.”

“I have a headache. I'll be just fine after a long rest.” I turned and nodded to the visitor. “Thank you for your company, Mr. Angstrom.” And with that, I spun on my heel and strolled off down the corridor.

I took the steps leading to the second floor two at a time, gathering up my skirts in a puffy bundle. What I had said about the headache was indeed true; it pounded in my temples like a drum. It was nothing to worry about, though. The pain was dull and easily ignored. No, what things were on my mind were the prince and the boy outside my window. They had a connection; I just knew it. There were some pieces of the puzzle that were missing, and they were vital to making the picture clear. All this serious thinking had my nerves jumping all about and my skin shivering feverishly. I hurt in my heart for completely ludicrous reasons. Perhaps those other stupid girls in books had it right and love was a stupid thing. It hits in such a stupid way and for stupid reasons. I felt so pitifully shallow.

I would go out tomorrow and look for that stranger while shopping in the market. It was a servant's duty to get all the household needs, but I insisted on it. It gave me time with darling Ebony. Shopping was droll without her cheer around to lighten the mood in dreary old Durath. Ugh, even the name of the city was terrible. It was absolutely dreadful. I could be shallow at moments, but naming a city was important to outward appearances. What kind of city could possibly pull off such a hideous title?

The streets were grimy and full of filthy passerby, but it was mild compared to that of the Castle Courtyard. That market was busier than a hive of nettle-bees. No one went there and survived with their ears still functioning as before. There, pockets were drained quicker than the customer could keep up with. That was a nobleman's market.

Reaching the balcony of the second floor, I looked down at the entrance. After a few seconds I recoiled in shock. There was a man's shadow in the lobby. He stood stock still, not even the sound of his breathing to be heard.

“Hello? Who-who's there?” I tried to stop the waver in my voice, but it cracked anyway. The figure must have had a cloak on him: he was way too wide and angular for it to be his natural shape. His hood was down judging by the full shaping of his head. Wishing the torches were lit, my fingers fumbled in my skirt pocket, pulling out a stubby candle and flint. The flame flickered to life as a pathetic, weak little thing. Trying to seem unafraid, I walked down to the entrance, cupping the small flame with one hand while holding the candle with the other. The stranger followed my movement with his head. He turned to face me full on, and my confidence flickered just as dangerously as the flame. “Who are you?” I held the trembling candle out. Its light gave only minor description. He was still cast in shadow.

 Quick as a flash, the man whipped his hand to my wrist and smacked it out of my grip. The small candle rolled on the floor, stopping at his side. Wax dribbled down and pooled on the stones. He had failed not to illuminate himself. Though, why he didn’t want the candle in my grip was confusing.

 Perhaps he's just scared of fire. It was an amusing thought. No, it had to be something more than simple phobia. He stood still even as the flames licked at his boots. They were hardened leather, yet seemed unlikely to catch fire.

 He had eyes black as coal, hair like a crow's wing. His black cloak rested on his shoulders and stripped back, revealing gleaming black armor. It looked light, for wearing only while traveling into wild territory. A sword was worn in a sheath at his waist; on the opposite side were daggers of some sort in a double scabbard. His hands were long fingered and gloved. His legs lacked much protection save for his trousers. His features were hard as was his expression, and boy, did he look unhappy. He did not like being seen, I noticed. Recognition ripped sharp needles through me. Wait, it-it was him. He was the boy outside my window. Who-why…

 I hurriedly moved to back away, but he caught my wrist with lightning speed. His grip was that of iron. It hurt a fair deal. I gasped at the pain. With surprising strength, he pulled me to him by moving my arm up and around his neck in a position of almost intimacy. His demanding presence and confidence shocked me into stillness. He now held me by the shoulders. I was a limp husk, warring inside myself on whether to smack him or faint. So I did neither.

 He leaned close – he smelled of the forest and metal – and studied me with fiery intensity. His gaze roved over me in the most uncomfortable manner. His smile was even more unnerving.

 “Ah, yes. You're her,” he said gently. I barely caught the words. He whispered them so softly it was more of an exhale of breath.

 “Who?” I demanded, blushing fiercely from head to toe. This-this…boy had offended me in a high manner I found inexcusable. How dare he just barge into my home without announcement like some filthy pig straying too far from the pen? But he smelled so much better than that…

 I was abruptly shoved away, falling to the stones onto my back with a gasp of astonishment. My hands hurt where they scraped against the cold, hard floor. My wrist ached. And then my head hit the floor, hard, for the second time that day. Dizziness hit me in a wave of nausea. Everything swam in front of my eyes. No man should treat a lady in such a manner, but there was little I alone could do about it.

 Freezing wind billowed around me and snuffed the pitiful flame out; the door was wide open, letting in freezing air. There was no one in the lobby. The man had gone. The rhythmic patter of rain was heard outside, and thunder rolled across the sky.

 I was flustered. “What in heaven?”

4: Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 

 

 

 Apparently, I was supposed to be confused because, the next day, I found myself sleeping on the floor still fully dressed. Dirt and wax stained my dress. I eyed it with disgust. Yet another beautiful piece ruined. It was just another reason not to wear expensive things. Give me trousers any day over troublesome skirts.

 I stood, rubbing the back of my head in doing so. It was scratchy with dried blood. I couldn’t even remember how I got up to my room. My chambers were filthy with smeared dirt and more blood. It was wiped across almost every surface. My head thrummed dully with pain. Looking down at where I had slept the night before I saw, with some surprise, an alarming amount of dark red liquid. It was pooled in the shape I had slept in. I was staring, wondering how I had woken up at all, let alone with strength enough to stand. I scrubbed the floor, not wanting anybody to baby me or panic. I continued to take a bath, lowering myself into water I had warmed while cleaning. Soaking away all my troubles calmed me about the night before. No, no one would know about it. It must have been some sort of accident. I was hallucinating. I hit my head earlier that day and again later just by clumsiness.

 Didn’t I?

 

 Allura was reluctant to let me spend the day shopping, so she compromised by asking me to buy a good dress for the prince’s announcement at the festival later that night. I admit a part of me was excited to go. I’d never seen anything of the prince or king before. But the other part of me was nervous. I was inadequate to go to such a formal activity. I could not hold myself as a proper lady would. “Stupid social values,” I whispered under my breath as we left the estate. The manor was a nice home. It didn’t have the lure of the outside world. There were so many different people out there. Everything was so big and spread out.

 It reminded me of a Romeo and Juliette scene. It was so difficult to find the right person and yet they just killed you in the end. My heart wouldn’t be touched by such a man, not ever again. Yes, there had been one. It was a boy who turned out to be nothing more than a selfish pig who wanted me only for my beauty. Sometimes, I wished that I weren’t stunningly beautiful. Not only did it create absolutely jealous women, but rivaled my own ability to talk in public. A beautiful lady shouldn’t walk among peasants, a lady like you shouldn’t be outside, a lady of your status shouldn’t have to do a slave’s job. Yes, it got quite pestering at points. Sometimes it was all I could do to plaster a smile on my face and walk away.

 Some men were the most ridiculous human beings in the entirety of existence. Why in the world would you want to offend the guards and soldiers so much? Some teenage boys would bite their thumbs as they walked by the royal guards. They would promptly be hunted down and arrested. They found this sporting good fun, and continued to do as much until their numbers dwindled increasingly and every nook and cranny was searched for them. I found jailing young boys amusing, and walked by the small jail every now and then so they could see what they were missing. Playing around with a boy’s emotions was pleasantly fun for me. It never ceased to amaze how much they would beg to be let out after sauntering by in a fashion on the edge of mistress and young lady. I would swing my hips in the silliest ways.

 The day was hot and made my skin sweat as Ebony and I carried baskets into the market street. The street was named “Baker Cob Way,” an ironic name to call it as it was the most popular for selling pastries other than King’s Courtyard. I filled the one basket with breads and delightful treats while the other was brimming with peppers and fruits and vegetables. Ebony, the strong girl, was carrying the meats with her. A pig hid half of her completely and still on top was a chicken. We traveled back and forth from market to home almost all day long, laughing cheerfully at all the busyness of the day.

 “How do these people come out here so often? They must not have a penny to spare!”

 “No, indeed, miss,” said Ebony. Her expression was somber as she watched a man in no more than rags shuffle on past. “Most of the folk are poorer than a beggar man. They hardly have anything to spend. I remember living that way before Lord Maron took my family in as servants. It was a cold, hard life I plan on never visiting.”

 Well, who could say anything not absolutely dreadful after that?

 

 “Ah, the shopping is done.” I stretched my arms out and reached upward. The cool air of night surrounded me.

 Ebony smiled kindly. “And the night is welcome here.”

 I patted her head. “We should go see Mum.” I didn’t mean Allura. Sure, she was okay most of the time, but she had a habit to make boring conversation about future husbands and things like that. No, I meant Amberly Statson, the head maid in the house. She was always a good one to talk to if you wanted a smile. She was more of a mother to me than my own. Ebony had her mother’s looks, all right. The head maid was one to fall for, as many of the other men had. But she refused to get re-married. “A sign I should be no more staying with the filth than working,” she used to say. Recently, however, Amberly had fallen ill. No one knew of the disease or its origin, but she was not the first as well. It had been happening for a little while now. Amberly was just one of the unlucky ones to catch it. Having heard of its being incurable, I feared for little Ebony. She had lost her father, and would soon lose a mother, possibly within the same week. I, for one, would cry my eyes out the second Amberly passed on. She was so gentle and kind, it was unfair she should be the one to leave us.

 Ebony dragged me by my hand to the servant’s quarters. My already-tiny hand dwarfed hers. I was excited for the day when Ebony was old enough to be my personal maid at my beck and call. Not that I would work her to death, but she would be around more often. We could talk all night long. But that was still a little while away.

 We opened the wooden door in the basement corridor and rushed inside. There were a few grumbles of sleeping men and women, and a small gasp of exasperation. We went over to a cot in the far wall. Amberly was slumbering peacefully on it, her previously full face pallid and thin.

 “She’s gotten worse,” I said. I reached out and brushed my thumb against Ebony’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. Amberly had always been bouncing around, and now she didn’t have enough energy to wake and see her daughter once more. It was unfair.

 Ebony looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “The other servants told me that she’s happy when she sleeps. They said that when I won’t see her anymore, she’ll always be there. They said she’s going to a better place. Is it heaven? Does heaven exist? Are they right?”

 I smiled slightly, fighting back overwhelming sadness. “Of course, dear.” We embraced, and I rested my head on hers. A small tear leaked from my eye. “Of course.”

 

 We watched as Amberly slept, talking softly and going over good memories. She felt feverish, so I kept putting cool rags on her head. Ebony watched this process carefully and started doing it herself after a short while. As I observed this touching scene of daughter taking care of mother, a flash of sorrow hit me. Before I knew it, tears were rolling down my face. I wiped them away with my sleeve, got up, explained that I had to go, and went up to my room.

 The attic was crowded. Both Maron and Allura were waiting for me.

 “Where have you been?” Allura demanded, throwing a recently bought dress at me. “It is night, and we’re running late.”

 Oh, no. I’d forgotten about the festival! The prince. The ceremony.

 “You need to learn to retain things, Willow. One day it will get you into deep trouble.” And with that, Lord Maron walked away crossly, footsteps echoing in the stairwell. I stared after him, deep red embarrassment creeping up my neck into my face. I tried so hard to please him; he just came at the wrong times.

 I stuffed myself into the dress. It was a frilly thing, tight in the torso with long, flowing sleeves. It had a train in the back, two layers with ruffles at the edges. A new-fashioned sweetheart neckline dropped at the top. I felt it was too low. The dress was a gorgeous silver. It reminded me of a river made of liquid diamonds. A diamond necklace and matching earrings were the final placements. With a heavy, satisfied sigh, Allura stepped back and admired her work. “The jewels compliment your eyes, as does the dress. The braiding isn’t my best work, but it will do. The small bits of hair framing you face will take all eyes off the mistakes.” She made me turn a few times, noting all the things to be tweaked and things to remain as they were. The latter was least amount. There were many changes Allura could spend hours making and adjusting. But, not having the time, she put a sparkling silver gem in my hair and sent me off.

 Ebony was waiting at the entrance, wringing her hands and smiling up at me. “You look magnificent, Miss Willow.” She took my hand and leaned up on her tip-toes to whisper excitedly, “I bet you’re going to be a Misses soon! I overheard Maron talking to someone just outside. I don’t know who he was talking to, but it sounded an awful lot like the man was asking your hand!”

 I reeled back, my hand pressed to my throat in astonishment. “Surely not without my permission first!”

 “Maybe they decided you needed to be independent. You are getting a little, um…” Ebony blushed fiercely.

 “Old?” I concluded for her. “Dear, I am only a year past first year of legal marriage. I’m seventeen.”

 She looked up at me. “Yes, but I was thinking that you act so much older than you are. It can be confusing.”

 I laughed. It was so true about how I acted. Amberly used to say I was maturing too quickly for my body to catch up with. I didn’t worry normally, but now all I could think was, Oh, my, what if the boys think I’m already married or do not wish it? Do I sound too old for them? I hope not. I was exasperating myself. Since when did little independent Willow get self-conscious?

 I hugged Ebony close, telling her to stay safe and be careful. I couldn’t help the thought of the strange visitor the night before. He haunted my thoughts, always at the fringes. It was still a mystery how he got past the guards; one I fully intended to look in to. I hadn’t told anyone else for fear that it was simply me going crazy after all these years. I was stilling having nightmares about a stormy night away from a white castle. I was almost sure it had happened at some point in my life, but didn’t know why. We had no castles like that in Blythe. I wondered where a castle of that structure would be.

 A horse-drawn carriage was waiting just outside on the previously-busy town street. Lord Maron was already inside, Lady Allura beside him, when the coach helped me up. He shut the door softly and the carriage rocked a little as he clambered up into the box. A soft whinny was heard and we were moving, rattling over the cobblestones. Silence hung in the air, lying like a thick fog.

 “So,” Allura said. She paused, as if not knowing what else to say.

 I decided to help her out. “I hear the festival will be lively this evening.”

 She clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh, yes. It will be a splendid time, Willow. There will be so many sorts of foods and dancing and the meeting with the King and Queen…”

 “It all sounds fun, Lura,” said a disinterested Maron. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and templed his hands. He watched me intently, a tightness in his eyes not expressed elsewhere. “Willow, I want you to be on your best behavior. No nonsense. Do not disgrace me, please.”

 I was surprised he’d ask such a thing of me. Of course I wouldn’t be an outrage. Did he think me a child? I kept my voice level and expression neutral. “I promise to be my best, Father.”

 “Good.” His gaze turned away from me, looking out the window to the darkened streets. Chills went up my spine. He had always unnerved me in the strangest way. He had created a sense of dread in me whenever he was near. It was as if my darker and shadowed memories included him.

 Allura watched her husband with a deep frown turning her normally smiling mouth down. She looked over at me with reluctance and forced a cheery smile back on her face. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just in one of his moods,” she whispered as quietly as she could so as not to be overheard. I could see by his shoulders stiffening just slightly that she had failed. She lapsed back into a frown after realizing she wasn’t as sly as she first thought and her husband had an ability to hear everything with unusual clarity. I remembered complaining to her that surely Maron was not human. Or that he had to be a spy of some sort.

 Maron wore a nobleman’s velvet cape on his shoulders with a gold pendant connecting it to his fine dress-coat. His hair was brushed back from its normally disheveled manner.

 Lady Allura wore a dark red dress that pooled around her feet in a silk flood. It covered her shoulders and only a small portion of her collarbone. Embedded in the stitching luminescent pearls traced the length of her curves. Her hair was tidy but not at all out of the ordinary or attention-grabbing. She had the perfect look for a nobleman’s wife. To me, she looked stunning. I was sure Maron felt the same, showing it in the little ways he had. Which was to say: he wouldn’t reveal his emotion at all except for small gestures. He would most likely embrace Allura in his half-hug way before the night was over. How Allura put up with this shy side of her husband, I did not know. But she loved him anyway, with eternal, ever-enduring warmth. It set a great example for me.

 I twiddled my thumbs absentmindedly, not knowing how to comfortably break the silence in the candle-lit space. The flames flickered behind small glass placeholders, like lanterns. They gave the smothering atmosphere a gentle glow and, due to all of the jewels, everything sparkled. It somehow comforted me. They were like little, colorful stars on the seats and walls. It made me, childishly, want to reach out and try to grab the dots. Instead my hands were folded, my will forcing me to keep my composure.

 The outside world was dark and eerie. Fog had rolled in, covering everything in a fine blanket of cool, gray-white mist. This night was dangerously quiet. Only the clomp of the horses were heard. Even with the sound muffled, it was the loudest thing caught by ear. Nobody in the carriage whispered a word. We all hardly moved: shifting only when uncomfortable to a point of unbearable.

 I thought more about the night before, still trying to convince myself it had all been due to a head injury. I had hallucinated that night. There was no boy. He couldn’t exist. My mind was playing silly tricks on me.

 I knew I was telling myself lies.

5: Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 

 

 

T

he world was gray when we finally arrived. We weren’t terribly late. There were still many people streaming into the castle ballroom. These citizens I saw were the strangest yet. I was used to poor beggars wearing rags or simple servants, not rich, over-dressed gentlemen and ladies. They greeted each other with contempt, joy, or polite nods of acknowledgment. It was disconcerting.

 The driver opened the door and helped us out. He watched us with a kind smile on his face. I thought his name was Richard. It was an unusual name, but one he carried proudly.

 “Thank you,” I whispered to him. Customs said I was not to speak to commoners, but since when did rules matter to me? People are equal – no sense in saying otherwise – and so they all needed to be addressed the same. The driver’s eyes widened as I spoke, possibly in a curious manner of why in heaven I acknowledged him at all. Still, his smile grew ever so much more.

 “No problem, miss,” he whispered back heartily. I was glad to have made him smile. It was one of the things that gave me joy. He then jumped into the box and, tipping his hat to me, drove the horses away. I knew he wouldn’t be far, but with the other carriage drivers. He was a sweet man. He couldn’t be more than twenty years of age, and he had an adorable face. He had dimples in his cheeks, dark hair, and almost black, forest-green eyes. I was surprised to know that he was not yet married. Perhaps he did not want to be. There were many who made that choice.

 “Hello, Miss Willow Rosten, isn’t it?” I turned to the voice. A tall, handsome boy stood in front of me and, for an unexplainable reason, my heart leaped into my throat. It beat faster. I thought he’d be able to hear it. Get a hold of yourself, girl.

 “Ah, yes. That would be me. And you are?” I managed.

 He took a small bow at the waist, his black hair hiding his face. “I am Treastan Marley. My father is Mister Saramon Marley. It is nice to finally meet you,” he said. His head lifted enough to show me a lopsided smile. His eyes smoldered with mischief. I found myself very attracted to this. I mentally slapped myself and listened to him. “I have heard much about you.”

 Oh, as if that was a big surprise. Everyone knew me. Whether it was by my little rebellion problems or my foreign features was the big question. I hoped he knew me by the latter.

 “Oh?” If I could have raised one eyebrow, I would have.

  He stood straight, that smile still twisting his lips. “Weren’t you the one to run about with a gang of servant boys? I believe you ran straight into my home, throwing mud on the walls.”

 I blushed fiercely. That one was such a long time ago that I’d forgotten about it. Most my troubles resided in hanging around the poorer folk of Durath. Although there had been a game of mud-ball with some village children…darn. “So everyone still remembers that, do they?”

 He laughed. “Of course they do. It is not something so easy to forget, is it? After all, with you being a nobleman’s daughter, it is a very uncommon occurrence.” He lifted my chin up with a gentle finger, curiously studying me. My thoughts froze along with the rest of me.

  I quietly got my mind back to a somewhat respectable state. “Yes, it is one I’d rather not remember. That is in the past.” I stepped away from him, brushing my dress to keep my hands busy, trying to cover just how…uneasy he made me.

 He seemed a little downcast and disappointed. “Well, I suppose it would need to be kept in the past.” He gently cleared his throat, turning away for just a moment. So, he was just as awkward as I. It was comforting to know. “Are you excited for the festival?” He changed the subject. Real smooth.

 After his question, I saw Allura watching me, beckoning me over with a tilt of her head. I nodded back before smiling to Treastan. “Of course I am,” was my quick answer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my mother is calling for me. I must go.” I gave a small curtsy to be polite and walked away.

 “Farewell, then.” He stood for a second, as if wondering what to do. He stared after me and, with a small smile, wandered into the crowd. I watched him leave with an unknown emotion climbing into my heart. I pushed it away with the air of someone swatting at a fly.

 “What will be going on at this festival, exactly?” I asked Allura apprehensively. Everyone was acting so excited.

 “Don’t you know? The prince has chosen his future bride! Oh, I can’t wait to find out who it is!” She practically bounced on her feet, which would have been very disgraceful and ungracious. I liked it. My mother was amusing in ways I could not begin to explain to anyone else. She made my day just a little bit brighter. Although, she always had this sadness in her eyes, like she was hiding something or she had done this awful thing nobody could ever know about. I was left wondering why.

 I was about to reply that, yes, I did know about the prince – how could I not when it was announced constantly? – but the crowd’s sudden simultaneous gasp cut me off.

 Bells rang and the sound of trumpets was to be heard inside. The guests rushed by even faster. “All important nobles to this side,” yelled a steward, his hat half off his head. His attire was ridiculously colorful. I could assume it was for the benefit of seeing him through thick crowds of people.

 “Come, Willow,” Allura shouted to be heard. She pulled me along much as Ebony had. We chased the steward down and found Lord Maron waiting for us. His eyes lit when he spotted Allura, then me by her side.

 “There you are,” he said, ushering us through the throngs of people. “We are personal guests at the request of the prince himself. We are to go through here.” He indicated a small doorway being blocked by two royal guards. Their attire was extravagant yet practical. Maron went up to them, said a few words, and they parted, revealing a pathway inside. I was shivering, it was so cold. That doorway looked warm and inviting. I glanced to Allura for permission. We both walked in together, my father behind us. The guards moved back in place. They took their jobs seriously and did very well for it. I was impressed.

 “Just look at everything,” Allura exclaimed, a hand to her heart. “Why, this would take years to decorate! Such exquisite furnishing and carving! Dear, we must re-decorate our own home. It looks pathetically bland compared to this!”

 Maron listened to Allura with amusement glittering in his eyes. He wrapped his arm around her for a brief second, squeezing her close before letting go. He took it all in with quiet fascination, as did I. The ballroom had the highest domed ceiling I’d ever seen. It seemed to reach the sky, as shown by the clouds decorating its surface. The other half of the ceiling had stars splattered across it in a beautiful display. The sun and moon met in the center, splitting in half. Pillars lined the circular ballroom floor. The pillars were decorated with hills dotted with trees. A few painted animals hid along the shrubbery. It truly was a gorgeous place.

 And then I saw them; the royal family sat at the far end of the room. A long, red velvet carpet stretched to their feet. The King wore a glittering, golden crown that seemed to be heavy on his head. He was a burly fellow, with a thick neck and big arms. He held a staff with a position of power. He was intimidating. His black eyes roamed the crowd. His hair was a pitch black almost impossibly darker than his eyes. It looked like ink. He wore lightweight, strictly-for-occasions armor. It was black and red, reminding me of war at night.

 The Queen, at his side, was beautiful and strong. She held her head high, unwavering as everyone she ruled over bowed and scraped to please. Her eyes were set in stone, the blue irises glittering like cold gems. Her brown hair was dark and soft-looking. She held it up in an intricate style so she could fit the smaller, golden crown atop of the braids. She was silent and reassuring in her posture. She would always stand by her husband. I only wished I could be that strong.

 I saw an empty seat beside the King and Queen. It must have been for the Prince, but where was he? I searched the room for him, thinking that perhaps he was somewhere in the crowd, dancing among the commoners. It would be a strange sight to see, but welcome nonetheless. I wondered if every dance was this close-quarters. People were jostling each other to and fro as they talked. The waiters and waitresses could hardly snake through thin gaps. They carried silver platters of wine and small snacks. I was amazed at the skill they were able to carry everything. They didn't spill even a drop of wine. It was an impressive display.

 It was our turn to be announced to the royal family. We walked down the carpet with the small, colorfully dressed steward bellowing out the family name: “The Rosten family! Mister Maron Rosten; Misses Allura Rosten; Miss Willow Rosten!” I blushed as they called me. Gaining attention was never one of my strong points; I hated being looked at. Everyone turned their heads and a hush fell across the ballroom as we stood in front of the king and queen. I fell into a deep curtsy, as did Allura, while Maron took a bow from the waist. “My Lord and Lady,” he said in acknowledgment. His voice was steady and peacefully quiet. It was a polite, standard voice.

 “Ah, Maron,” the king said. He narrowed his eyes. I couldn't tell what emotion it portrayed. “It has been a while.” The king glanced over at me, smiling a wicked, crooked smile that sent a shiver up my spine. I was being observed by a predator baring his lethal fangs. “Enjoy yourselves here, for tonight my son has chosen his future queen!” At that everyone clapped. Music, delicate and melodious, filled the atmosphere. It floated by my ears with pleasant, ringing notes.

 As we turned to go, I took one last look at the king, but his jaw was set and he stared ahead casually, the way one might look if he were waiting for a wife to finish getting ready. I looked away.

 “Where is the guest of honor?” I asked Allura in a hushed whisper.

  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye before looking ahead again. “He is most likely being dramatic and putting all of us in suspense. We all want to know who the lucky lady is, and he is taking this to his advantage. The longer you keep a crowd waiting, the more anxious to hear it they get.” We wove through a group of high-class merchants, talking about trade on ship and on land. They were older men, though one had a younger man with him. The same boy I'd met outside conversed with casual humor. Laughter echoed around them. I was confused as to why a nobleman's son would be spending his time with salesmen. He met my gaze and grinned. Blushing and trying to hide it, I turned my face away.

 The talking and music and dancing were all lovely and went on for quite some time. Unfortunately, I was stuck with a fancy dancer: a boy by the name of Roland who could take a dance to a whole new level. I wouldn't be surprised if he walked away with bruised feet. My own way of movement was complex and slow. I needed to know where to place myself. I over-analyzed everything. Luckily enough, he was a very patient man and took my inability in stride.

 I smiled shyly as Roland bowed deep at the waist at the end of the dance. He took my lack of skill with ease, grinning as he kissed my hand and walked away.

 I didn't talk to very many people. Their chatter was so confusing that it just wasn't worth it. They all knew things about the progression of the war I didn't bother learning. I got along better with the servants carrying the refreshments around. We formed a small circle, and soon laughter was all around us. I had always been good with the poorer folk. They had more of a sense of humor.

 Soon, the servants had to leave. We could not chat for long else they would get in trouble. So, once again, I was left alone. I sighed and wandered the dance floor, refusing to dance with those that came up. I made excuses and hurried away.

 I noticed the ballroom was filled with masks. People were trying them on as servants gave them out. One of the previous servants I had talked to – I believe Deran was his name – handed a particularly beautiful silver-green mask to me. He smiled and said it matched my eyes before slipping away. He vanished in the crowd even while I stared after him.

 I fiddled with the foreign object in my hand. I looked to be made out of a broken mirror and jewels. It was a pleasant combination. The mask shone like a gem under gray waters.

 Suddenly, Treastan came through and met me while I held the mask in a tight fist. I could tell it was him even with the white mask on his face. His shock of black hair and glittering green eyes were the telling points. Not to mention just how unusually tall he was. “Hello again, Miss Rosten,” he said politely. He raised an eyebrow when he saw what I was holding and gently took the mask out of my iron vise. “Do you want help putting this on?”

 I don't know why he even bothered to ask considering he was already tying it on. The silk fabric in back was a light green and held surprisingly well. I reached up and felt my face for a brief moment. “How do I look?”

 He came around, a smirk on his face…and stared. His mouth came open for a second before he quickly closed it, breath wooshing out of him. He cleared his throat, the smile gone for once. His face reddened and I blushed, ducking.

 Treastan let out a shaky exhale. “You look wonderful, Miss Rosten.”

 I sighed. “We may be used to old traditions, but this is the nineteenth century. I do believe it wouldn't be a crime to call me Willow.”

 “Ah, yes, of course.” He seemed uncomfortable. Alas, a song full of a violinist's notes cut through. It was fast and splendid. Everyone became excited and rushed to dance. It was a familiar, traditional farmer's dance.

 I saw my doom emerging in Treastan’s eyes before he even turned back to me.

 “Want to dance, Willow?” Treastan held out his hand. He waited, expression bright as to a point I could not refuse him.

 I put my hand in his and smiled encouragingly. “Alright.” I was promptly dragged into a clearer space, though still near the small orchestra. The violinist played fast and light, fingers dancing over the strings. He was enjoying himself more than the guests were.

 Treastan put one hand on my waist; the other held my trembling hand. We danced and spun. Sometimes, we stretched out far apart, but always came back together again. He was skilled with this particular dance, and so I felt like a convincing dancer myself when in his arms. He led me through the steps with ease, improvising with breath-taking maneuvers. That is, until our partners switched. All the people dancing in a circle reached out with one hand. A boy with pitch-black hair and eyes of coal grasped my hand and lead me away. Treastan laughed as I was spun, breathless, apart from him. He had reached to a pretty young girl with dark brown, curly hair. It fizzed at the ends, but she pitched raucous laughter despite. Her cheeks were flushed, the silver mask she wore trailing small pearls on them. She was quite attractive, but still I saw Treastan look around her to meet my gaze. He gave me a crooked smile. I found myself smiling back.

 The boy in front of me spun and dipped me down close to the floor. It was a fast change of pattern, but it was a fun change. Regular routines were dull and boring. I wanted new spice to everything I did.

 There was something familiar about this boy. The way he moved, the way he looked reminded me of someone...

 My eyes widened, shock flashing through me like lightning. “You,” I whispered. I tried to pull away, but he smiled wolfishly and held me tight. “Let go of me!” I hissed.

 He leaned close, his breath brushing my ear. “No,” he whispered infuriatingly.

 I hated being denied. I hated feeling weak.

 I tried to pull away from him again, though I knew it would be useless to do so. We spun away from the circle, the sound of laughter fading away until there was silence. I was held tight, suddenly standing still. We stood in a deserted hallway. I watched the boy in front of me warily, no longer pulling away. “What do you want with me?”

 He seemed taken aback. He put a hand to his throat in what was most likely a mock imitation of me, keeping the other in a tight grip that told me not to try anything. “With you? Well, if you must know...” He tilted my chin up, observing me like he had once before. “I find you to be very cute. I just wanted you all to myself.”

 He's insane. “You're insane.”

 He leaned back and chuckled darkly. “If you insist on putting it that way, then yes, I am.” He spread his hands out, releasing me. “But aren't we all?” His eyes, behind a black and gold mask with spikes along the top, hardened to black ice – a warning to me. It was then I noticed his eyes weren’t pure black, but the darkest shade of blue I’d ever seen. It would have been attractive had it not been his attitude to ruin it. His humor was a wicked one. His posture was predatory. Still, I could not help marveling at the magnificent shape he had. His arms were corded muscle, his legs long and his neck a graceful slope. His shoulders were broad, a black cape hanging loosely on one side. His decorative, lightweight armor was a steely gray. It fit him well, showing how he was neither thin nor brawny.

 Wisely, I stayed put. He could move quickly, as was demonstrated a fortnight ago. He was a mystery to me and possibly a very dangerous one. I wondered if he was here to kill me. It didn't seem likely, but there was still a chance.

 His hand caressed my face. I immediately stiffened, my spine snapping taught as a bow string. His eyes tightened but he didn't move his hand away. A finger traced my jaw, going down my neck and running along my collarbone. A shudder overtook me.

 He stepped away. He smelled of pure sugar and the forest at night and warm metal. I could feel his movement, it was so quick that a small wind hit me, and his scent wafted over me. It assaulted my senses and left me temporarily paralyzed. He smiled, tilting up only one corner of his mouth. It would have been a pleasant grin had it not been for the fact I was frozen with terror. He ripped his mask off, the silk coming violently undone. A deep tear ran down part of the ribbon.

 His face was beautiful. It was the same strange boy I had seen in the flickering candlelight. His features were sharp and defined; his eyebrows arching and slim; his lips a dim red. He was all sharp angles and high cheekbones. He resembled a dark angel. I was wondering if he actually had wings because no one like him was earth-made.

 I found myself staring and shook my head free of the confusing thoughts colliding within me. My emotions tangled hopelessly. This was a face I could never get used to. He seemed to know it too, judging by the smug expression on his face. It was soon wiped clean.

 “Come with me, now,” he said. He rumbled with a quiet monotone. It shook me to my core. His voice was a deep tenor, sounding as clear as a pure stream in the forest. I melted to that voice and he pulled me along. I could not stop to think or pause to look around. He took up my vision.

 Get a hold of yourself, stupid girl, I thought harshly. Perhaps he was a splendid sight to look at, like a masterfully done painting or sculpture, but he was dangerous and hard as the stone he would have been carved of. He radiated dark emotions. His movements were the careful steps of a spy. He glanced around with alertness. His black, leather boots made no noise on the marble ballroom floor.

 I soon realized that he was taking me straight up to the royal thrones. The third, smaller one at the king's other side was still empty. We came to an abrupt halt in front of the king. He raised an eyebrow, watching us approach with disdain. He did not even glance in my direction. His eyes were all for the boy. “What have we here, now?” his question held mild interest.

 The boy did not bow and held me stiffly straight as I tried my best to curtsy while he had a hold on my arm. I snapped my gaze to him sharply. He did not take my look into account and kept his own eyes forward with cold detachment. For some reason, my heart contracted tight.

 “This is her,” he clipped. His voice held a slight tone of some horrid emotion I couldn't place. He kept his head held high in a way I found increasingly worrying. No man is above the king or even had the right to speak first unless...

 The queen smiled delicately and stood. She gained the attention of everyone in the room. The man beside me and I turned to face the curious stares. I was shaking with fear, my knees knocking together under the fabric of my dress. I heard whispers and mutters throughout the ballroom. My gaze roved over the thick gathering, finally resting on Maron and Allura. They both watched me, confusion on their faces. Maron looked a little unbalanced.

 The queen spoke, her voice polite but loud enough to be heard throughout. “I have fantastic news. Your Prince Rowan has finally found his bride and future queen of Blythe!” She gestured to me, a kind look on her face. It was the first time I'd seen the proud queen smile. It was dazzling and....wait.

 “Prince?” I whispered. The boy who was the supposed prince stepped in front of me, removing my mask with gentle fingers. My face felt naked without it. There was nothing to hide behind.

 There was a collective gasp in the crowd. Allura fainted and Maron caught her. The servants I had talked to avoided my gaze. Even Treastan was pale.

 “What is going on?” I said. My voice was barely more than an exhale of breath. “Why me?” The last question was directed to Rowan. He watched me, eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave a stiff, forced smile. “Because I have known you for a long time, Willow. It was you I first met outside the castle. I have been in love with you ever since.”

 So why did everything sound like a lie?

6: Chapter 5

Chapter Five

 

 

 

 "No.” I stumbled back, jerking my hand out of Rowan's. Hurt crossed his face before it settled into a smooth mask of detachment. His arm rested against his side, forming a fist so tight his knuckles were white. The crowd gasped again and Maron's eyes narrowed dangerously. He was warning me not to do anything rash. I thought again about his earlier request of not disgracing him. Had he planned this? He knew?

 I put a hand over my mouth, trying not to scream. Or throw up. Or both. As my teeth bit into my fingers, blood ran into my mouth.

  “Miss Rosten,” the queen started. Her tone was disapproving. Good, because no one could approve of this...this boy marrying me. He had broken into my home. He had shoved me and hurt me. He had scared me. I would not marry him.

 “No, no. This is impossible. He can't...” I choked, darkness crowding my vision. The back of my head ached anew. I called out, though I wasn't sure what. My ears were ringing.

 Maron watched, tight lipped, as I collapsed to my knees. The queen looked sharply at me, the king stood up, and Rowan dove forward to catch me. His arms wrapped around me protectively. They were warm and solid. I sagged against him, my hands hitting the floor with a dull thump. His worried face was the last thing I saw before falling into a pool of black.

 

 I was floating in a warm darkness, wondering what to do, when voices hit my ears. “She...wake for...hours or days...hard...tell.” Said a male voice. He was professionally clipped and to the point. He sounded monotone and melancholy at the same time.

 The next voice sounded like a frantic Allura. “But...head injury...fatal, is it?” I could imagine her fiddling with the fabric of her dress the way she did when nervous or scared.

 A different voice answered. Another male, but deeper and richer. A shock was sent through my body. It was Rowan. Why was he here?

 He was gruff. “Go get...rest Allura.” Everything was coming clearer than earlier. I heard almost every word he said. “I'll stay with Willow.”

 “Alright. Just...please try to contact me and my husband when she wakes.” I imagined her taking one last glance over, fear in her eyes, before the door shut behind her. There was a rustling of papers and a deep sigh.

 “Go on, doctor,” Rowan said kindly. “I'll stay here and tell you if anything happens.”

 There was a small pause, but the man knew as well as I did that the prince was not to be refused. “If you wish it, Prince Rowan.”

 “Of course.” There was a smile in his words.

 The door opened and shut again.

 Rowan let go of a breath he had been holding. I felt the bed I was lying on dip as the weight of another body rested on it. Rowan pushed some hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. I was sure my heart skipped a beat.

 “Wake up, Willow,” he whispered. His breath caressed my face. He was close, too close.

 I tried to force myself to wake up, but the black was so heavy. I pushed harder, not wanting him any closer. My head hurt, the pain starting to register through the thick wall of glass in my mind. The pain meant I was really close to breaking through.

 Something small fluttered in my chest as Rowan sighed and leaned away. His warmth went away. It was like being next to a cozy fire then sent into the freezing night. It was a drastic change. I gasped, my eyes flying open, staring up at him. His eyes were deep black. Like a cloudy night sky.

 My back arched as I drew another gasping breath. I thumped back onto the mattress, tears pricking at my eyes for a reason I could not fathom. My body was not my own. My thoughts unraveled.

 He quickly grabbed my arms. I hadn't realized I'd been clawing at the air, searching for something to latch on to. My mind was still blanketed by fog. Dizziness swelled in me. There was something important I had to say. What was it?

 “Get...me...out,” I managed, sounding like someone else completely. His eyes widened. His face paled and went gray. I held on to him, not knowing what in the world I was talking about. My nails were digging into his arms, drawing blood. He didn't flinch. “Rowan...please,” I whispered. “Help me.”

 I fell back into the darkness.

 

 In my slumber, I dreamed. It was a nightmare, playing over and over again. Each scene was disconnected but all the same.

 I was in some sort of castle, laughter and light all around me. The voices carried an accent unfamiliar to me. The design of the room around could not belong to Blythe. It was too subtle, too bright. The architecture was curved unlike the straight, bold lines I had seen all my life. This was not anywhere in my country.

 Then there were whispers and strange hands, lifting me out of a crib. I was staring into the face of a man, though I couldn't see detail in his features. He was blurry.

 Suddenly, we were outside in the freezing rain. I whimpered, hearing shouts behind me.

 A blanket covered me.

 We rode on a horse, me in the man's arms. He smelled of campfire and pine.

 There were alarm bells and frantic shouting from many people around me. The man tensed, whipping the reigns down. I poked my foot out, trying to get comfortable. The reigns caught my uncovered toes, lashing at them. I felt the reigns whip my toes, like fire. I shrieked. The man grumbled and wrapped the blanket over me again. It covered my now bleeding foot. I cried pathetically.

 The horse stopped and warm air billowed around me. Men talked everywhere, but the closest ones were the only ones I heard clearly.

 “Have you got her?”

 “Yes.”

 “We should probably leave, then.”

 “We need to wait for – ”

 A chair scraped back. “The gate is secure. We need to go, now.”

 There was silence except for the chatter of other people inside. I was lifted as the man stood.

 Cold air again, blasting the blanket and making me shiver. A horse snorted and clamped its hooves.

 There was a small time of black, as if I'd fallen asleep, then voices again.

 “What will you name her?”

 There was a hoarse reply, “I will name her Willow.”

 

 “Willow.”

 I shot awake, gripping the blankets tight. My breath came in ragged gasps, coming shallow and fast. Behind my eyes swam visions of blood, rain, gray skies, and a blurred face. It was heart-achingly familiar.

 What had that been? Was it a memory or simply a dream? I threw the blankets aside and fell off the bed. I landed awkwardly, on my leg, but shook it off and stood. I almost fell again, but someone caught me. Pins and needles struck my limbs.

 “Willow.” It was said urgently. I stared but couldn't see. So much blood, so much rain. No more or I would surely drown.

 “No more,” I said, putting a shaky hand to my lips.

 “Willow, it's okay. It was only a dream.” The face in front of me was starting to get clearer. More defined. Arms wrapped tightly around me, hugging me close. “It was a dream, just a dream.”

 “Rowan?”

 He raised his head from my neck. Worry lit his gaze. His lips were turned down. His hair was messy and disheveled. And he was truly the most handsome boy I'd ever seen.

 “What-what happened?” I asked. He still had his arms around me and I found it...not unpleasant.

 “You hit your head and we took you to the closest medic. He didn't know if you'd wake up. It was a serious injury.”

 I felt my head. Sure enough, there was a bandage there. And a lump. Again. Darn, would the head injuries never stop? “I'm terribly sorry.”

 He stepped back, a nonplussed look crossing his face. “Sorry for what? Falling down a lot?”

 I dipped my head, hiding my face behind a curtain of hair. “Maybe.”

 He laughed. He actually started laughing at me. Flushing with anger, I raised my head sharply, fixing him with a glare. His laughter was more of a light chuckle. It didn't last long, just a few moments.

 “Ah, you're cute,” he said. We then just stared at each other. His obsidian gaze bore into my light gray-green one. He assessed every emotion, every tremor with patience. I blushed and broke away first.

 Pretending to be busy, I didn't watch him as he sat on the bed. The sheets rustled and crumbled under him. I knew he was observing me in the way one does when he thinks no one is watching, and heat crept up my face hotter than ever.

 I saw he was wearing regular clothing, like a commoner, not any prince's attire. His trousers were well fit against his legs, his black leather boots reaching his knees, his shirt white beneath a heavy cloak. I saw some of the newest styles in his clothing: the way the shirt did not have buttons, the waistcoat not even there, the heavy material of the trousers having thicker fabric on the inside than the fabric out, and the fashion of his boots. We were at the end of an era, I knew. Still, I enjoyed wearing the delicate dresses and hoped to continue the tradition if not to lose any of the dignity women had in the world.

 Rowan, my betrothed – it was still hard to think of him that way – regarded me curiously, like I was a new type of woman in his country. Perhaps my looks were strange around Blythe, where dark hair and eyes were the average, but it didn't make me an outcast among outcasts, right?

 “So,” I said half to myself. “When are we to be married?”

 He coughed, breath whooshing out of him. “What?” He croaked.

 I stood, brushing myself off. “You said I was to be your bride. When is the wedding?”

 His expression was somber. “Oh, right. Well, as this is now, I haven't set a wedding because I have not properly courted you.”

 I wanted to throw my hands in the air in frustration, but kept still and politely quiet. “And you decided this now? Why not have done this sort of thing before?”

 The corners of his mouth twitched. “Because you have turned away dozens of suitors. You were not looking for marriage, so I forced your hand.”

 “I would not have...” I started indignantly. I trailed off as I thought about it more. Yes, it was a likely thing that he was turned away the second I heard of it. I did not like trying new things. The unknown frightened me and marriage was not something I was well-educated in. Hard as it was to admit, he was right.

 “So you see that my actions were in the right.”

 “Ugh, yes, fine. You win.”

 He stood, offering his hand to me. “Shall we get started then?”

 In my mind alarms went off. This was my chance to say no. But something about him intrigued me and, heaven help me, I wanted to know him more.

 “How?” I asked, taking his offer and walking with him out of the medical wing. Our footsteps echoed down the torch-lit hallway. Our shadows cast confusing patterns on the floor and walls. The stone was cold and hard, making it difficult for me to step without winching through my very thin slip-ons. The material of the shoe was thin cloth, not made for walking around. The dress I was still wearing from the night before was dusty and rumpled, but it was as if Rowan did not care. Whenever he would give me a reassuring glance, it always roamed over me like some precious possession he owned. I was not owned nor a possession, but it made me shiver with emotion to look into his face and see such raw intensity and desire. He did feel something for me. I wasn’t just a random achievement because I was the only girl with these foreign features. He liked me in some small way. It comforted me, if only a little.

 “Where are we off to? Because, I hate to say, my feet hurt quite a lot.” I lifted my foot and wiggled my ankle about for a moment.

 Rowan lifted one side of his mouth in a very appealing way. I had always loved the dark, mysterious mischief makers. It was always my downfall. “We are going to talk to the physician and get you some decent traveling clothes. I don't want you to walk around with me in such...uncomfortable attire.” He turned right, down another lit passageway. It was a long stretch. My feet ached worse just thinking about it.

 “Do you want me to carry you?” The question was innocent enough, but I just knew it had some undercurrent meaning. I tried to catch Rowan's eye, but he was facing straight ahead and avoiding me.

 “Um,” was all I got out before an arm went under my knees and shoulders, lifting me, shrieking, off the ground and into the air. Desperately trying to balance, I clung to Rowan, wrapping my arms around his neck. His chest rumbled with a small chuckle. I felt his heartbeat through his shirt, his breathing lifting then flattening his chest. It was a strange sensation and one I found pleasure in. I had never been so close to a boy before. I could feel how hard his muscles were, like iron cords.

 That iron strength shoved you to the floor a fortnight ago. The thought was unwelcome, as were the images that came with it. I saw a small candle roll to the floor, a man saying “You're her,” then being pushed away, falling to the hard ground. Pain, white-hot, striking my head as it hit the stone. Anger rolling through me.

 “You can put me down now.” My tone was cold and it obviously alerted him, as he stopped immediately. But he didn't let me go.

 “What is it? What's wrong, Willow?” Icy cold air was all around us despite the torches lining the walls, and his words created a small cloud of mist in front of him.

 I wished he wouldn't call me by my first name. He had no right to act as if we were good friends. Or if there were something intimate between us. “Let me go,” I hissed. I struggled against his hold and he set me down, deciding it best not to be kicked in the face. I wobbled for a second, finally leaning on the wall. I pushed his hand away as he tried to stable me.

 “Willow, what is it?” He asked, voice carefully neutral.

 Tears stung my eyes, but they were forced back. I would not cry in front of the prince of my country.

 I wanted to confront him, but a small memory of my dream came back. I felt the reigns whip my toes, like fire.

  I could squabble with a very ridiculous man later. There was a nagging doubt in my mind to be put at ease. I pushed my forth-coming argument out of my head. Pulling off the small slip-on, I took a deep, calming breath, and looked at my toes. I knew that the dream had to have been a nightmare, but I also had a sneaking hunch...

 There was a scar. It was a small, pink line I had somehow never noticed. A barely visible scar. And it was right where the reigns had caught me in the dream. It was a line straight across my toes.

 I slid with my back against the stone wall to the floor and ran a hand through my loose hair, dropping the shoe to the stones. The dark blond strands caught my fingers, creating knots. It pulled on my scalp, a reminder to brush my hair next chance I was able to. The pain flashed bright in my head, but I barely registered it.

 “What will you name her?”...

 “Willow.”...

 “Willow, please, talk to me.” It was Rowan. He knelt in front of me. His eyes shone like dark fire, an all-consuming rage I hadn't noticed before hidden in the depths. There was a lot of pain there too. It was like looking into his past. It was deep, dark, and clouded.

 “Is everyone a liar?” I whispered. My voice was so soft, Rowan ought not to have heard it, but he did. His face darkened, pupils dilating.

 He stood, towering over me. All his emotions were snipped like scissors would slice through thread. I saw a brief flash of hurt from him before he masked it with a cold detachment. “Perhaps we should postpone until a later date. When you feel better.” I flinched. His cold, icy words were like a slap in the face.

 “Rowan, you know something. Tell me. Are the Rostens my real parents? Was I born here?”

 His face paled. I knew I was getting close to an ugly truth. But what secret could involve my parents? Rowan was obviously terrified of some unseen force. How could he be so afraid to tell me the truth? How was he afraid to open up and answer a simple question?

I grabbed the hem of his cloak, but he yanked it out of my grip, turned on his heel, and stalked down the hall. He tried to hide his shaking hands but failed. He clenched them into fists at his side.

 “Perhaps you should stop meddling with affairs that do not concern you. Or, I promise, you'll hurt much worse than you do now.” He threw the words over his shoulder.

 Frozen in disbelief, I stared after him long when he was gone, having turned around the far corner of the hall. How could the kind, concerned boy I had talked to just minutes ago turned into such an ugly, dark version of himself like that? His words cut like knives, pain radiating through me.

 As the physician ran to me, helping me to my feet and taking me to a room, I refused to believe Rowan would be out of my life that easily. My parents – if I could even call them by that title anymore – stood in a tiny room with a clean dress. It was a dull gray, just like my mood. Just like rain on a cloudy night.

 I had a feeling there was so much more to me than being the daughter of a rich, well-known nobleman. And this feeling also came with the sense that learning who I really was would come at a high price.

7: Chapter 6

Chapter Six

 

 

 

 At home, finally able to sleep, I found it a hard feat to accomplish. My mind whirled with thoughts, my dreams were rough and plagued with harsh shouts and clanging metal and blood, my body hurt extremely, and Rowan weighed heavily in every lingering daydream. I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable with all the new information in my mind. So I stood and went to my dresser, turning on the lamp with a piece of flint and pulling out a small journal. I took a quill and bottle of ink and started to write:

 Dear Journal,

 My heart is confused and in denial. I find myself immersed in a deadly game of wit and lies. It twists around me much as a spider's web. There are many strands linking to many people, some I have come to know and love. Is there a soul out there to trust anymore? Am I to trust if I don't even know who I am? For there is no trust in strangers. There are no words among liars.

 That nightmare came again, and it is true. It is a memory. The prince, Rowan, knows all these things. I believe he is the answer to my questions. And so I will stay quiet, act as if my earlier experience were nothing but delusion. I will stay close to him, even in marriage if it so calls, to find out who I truly am, and where I originate.

 With Concern,

 Willow (or possibly some other name, for I’m sure Willow is not my birth name)

 I finished, setting the quill down and stretching my arms to their full length, marveling how ivory my skin was. My fingers were long and delicate. I closed the small journal, tucking it back in a drawer, where my ring had previously been. It made me sad to think that the ring might have been some fake family heirloom, but my heart told me that, despite earlier knowledge, the ring was from my true parents. If I found who the ring had been made for, then my family would be found. It was no easy task, but it was a plan.

 “Let's get started,” I murmured to myself. Turning off the light, the dark weighed heavy like a second blanket. After a while of thinking over everything, I fell asleep.

 Another dream came.

 I was sitting in a throne room. It was vast and beautiful. As I looked down, my hands were a pale milky white with a lovely diamond adorning my ring finger. It glittered in the torchlight, the golden band around it much like the band of the ring given to Ebony. Outside the window, everything was dark and stormy. Lightning lit the sky and thunder cracked the silence in two. The dress I was wearing was very old: dark purple with cuffs and ruffles at the edges. The neck was high and ridged with white lace. It was tight on the chest but loose on the waist, then it spread out in a great poof of fabric. Flowers decorated the dress here and there. A long train stretched out from it, again decorated by ruffles and bright blue flowers. No hair framed my face, and it felt as if I wore layer upon layer of heavy makeup. My body shook with exhaustion and sadness.

 Across from me, down a red carpet lined with dazzling white marble pillars, stood a small group of soldiers. Between them was a young man. My heart contracted as realized it was someone I knew.

 It was Treastan. He looked just a little older than now, but also terrible and ragged. His clothes were torn. His head hung down, and two of the soldiers were carrying him by his upper arms, which seemed to be the only things holding him up. His legs dragged on the floor.

 I stood. The dress weighed a ton. It dragged me down, as I was less person than fabric. I held my head high, proud as a queen who was dying could be. I could feel the illness tearing me apart inside. I was one of the youngest queens to die, but I held the information with no bitterness.

 “Treastan Vin Hemon,” I said, my voice high, clear and musical. “You are a spy from Blythe, which is punishable by –”

 “I didn't spy...for them,” he interrupted weakly. A soldier stepped forward and slapped him across his face for cutting my words off. I gave the guard a fierce glare, and he stepped back. I narrowed my eyes, but turned back to Treastan, waiting for him to continue. He coughed, splattering blood on the carpet. “I told you...Seascer...is my country. I am here...for a favor.” He gasped the rest out, trying to clutch at his side. He moaned pathetically.

 My heart wrenched at the sight of him.

 “Let him go,” I said. The men holding him released their grip and he slumped ungraciously to the floor. He moaned again, resting his head on the carpet and not moving. I stepped away from the throne, walked over, and knelt in front of him. My big heart wouldn't allow me to leave anyone placed at my feet to suffer. I was one with mercy, which was why it was so important my husband be here. But he was off looking for...I gulped, not finishing the thought. It was too painful.

 I ran a hand through the boy's sweaty hair, causing him to stir and look up at me with astonishment. His eyes were...gray. That wasn't right. “So it's true,” he breathed. “You are the Good Queen. I can't believe it.” He coughed again, and tears sprang to my eyes.

 “Who did this to you? Surely it wasn't my guards?”

 He tried to laugh, which ended at a wet choking sound. “No, it wasn't them. I had a scuffle with one of the men who took your daughter.”

 My throat tightened. I stood, hands forming fists at my sides. Pain ripped through me. It wasn’t physical pain, but close to it. “Who? Who took her away?” I demanded. My voice came out as a whisper.

 “I don't know his name, but...he is one of Blythe's...assassins. In fact, there were about four of them.” He took deep, ragged breaths. I stood, knowing it was too taxing on him.

 “Take him to a good chamber, where he will be treated and given food and rest so we will be able to talk to him without so much hassle. He is not of Blythe, I would know if he was.” The soldiers immediately nodded, not knowing how their queen was so perceptive.

 As they left, the door banging behind them, I sunk into my throne, looking wistfully at the empty space beside me. I touched the arm, where I would have grasped my husband's hand with tight fingers. He would have looked over at me, asking through his worried eyes if my time were drawing short. I had always been sickly with disease, but he had married me anyway. I was lucky to have had two children living and breathing as they were. My young, little prince Alistair, and my lost newborn girl –

 

  I snapped awake, breathing hard. These nightmares were getting more bizarre. But this latest one...it made no sense. Surely it wasn't real. Just part of my subconscious.

 Soft sounds of morning greeted me. But something was out of place. Haunting notes hung thick on the air, floating by my ears. I heard the ballad playing somewhere in the house, and knew the words. Though why anyone would play this song was a mystery.

 Oh, if the world would bow

Its little branches intertwine

With all our singing in sorrow

And the winds our sighing

 Oh, if thine heart was pure

Its loving tendrils sweep

With tearful bowful gaze adore

My own broken keep

 How hath thine soul?

 How hath thine will?

 How hath thine power?

 How hath it send me to sleep?

 Among the flowers which we weep?

 The ballad played on, the lyrics singing in my head with sweet abandon. It told a tale of two lovers who had lost their children because of their forbidden love. So they saw each other in secret, mourning their loved ones, until they were both together forever by hanging themselves in the same tree, hands twined. It was a sad tale, and a violent one at that.

 I dressed quickly, sending up a silent prayer that everything would go right for once. It was a vain hope, but hopeless things were what I ended up hoping for most. So, be it that way, I would think positively.

 My dress was a bright pink, decorated with a couple of pearls at the wrists and ruffles. One such pearl held a fold of the dress up along the waistline. I added a small, side-knot hat and left, feeling as if the day would be wonderful yet. My boots were a creamy white, as were my tight gloves.

 I found the piano player in the entrance hall and stopped dead in my tracks. It was Treastan.

 Did young, handsome boys haunt me everywhere? Did they always sneak into my home at such absurd hours? The sun had barely even risen!

 “Hello, Treastan Marley,” I said casually. I waved a hand at him as he stumbled across notes and came to a standstill. He smiled back, standing and opening his arms wide. I didn’t take the invite. His waistcoat was a light gray. His hair was messy as usual. His was a rugged handsomeness whereas Rowan's was more a dark, princely one. Though, either way, it made sense. “What brings you here?” I continued.

 He rubbed the back of his head, messing his dark hair further. I found it cute. “Well, if you must know...” I raised one eyebrow at him, or at least tried to, ushering him on. “Well, I know, as does the rest of the city, that the prince has chosen you to be his bride, but only after he courts you first.”

 I nodded agreement with all he stated. “And this brings you here...”

 A blush crept onto his cheeks. “I, um, wanted to know if you would agree to marry the prince. Not because he's bad or anything! But, um, well, you see Miss Rosten –”

 “Willow,” I corrected automatically.

 He smiled shakily. “Willow, then. I wanted to know if you'd be interested in perhaps having a throw at us both.”

  I was flustered and folded my arms. “You mean to choose between the two of you who I like best and who would be best suited to be my husband?”

 His blush was definitely getting more pronounced. His ears had gone red. “If you put it that way, then yes.” He fiddled with his thumbs, swung his arms a little, and finally settled. “You see, I felt a real connection that last night and if you were not having your hand forced I would not have – well, you see…ah, this is hopeless.” He seemed so embarrassed and small that I couldn't help but smile wide.

 “Yes, I think I will help you out, Treastan. I accept your invitation.” He brightened at that.

 “Thank you ever so much, Miss – I mean Willow. I promise to treat you to the best of my ability. Er, do you wish to go out for a lovely carriage ride this evening? It won't be too far, of course.”

 I laughed, not being able to help myself. “Indeed I will, Treastan. I think that will be absolutely splendid.”

 He scratched the back of his head again, his mischievous smile unbalancing his features in that adorable way he had. “So...when the sun starts setting on the horizon then?”

 I nodded enthusiastically. “That would be nice. But, you must excuse me; I need to eat before the servants put everything away. They keep a very arduous schedule.”

 “Ah, yes, you go on ahead, Willow,” he said, backing away. He bumped into the corner of the piano, barely able to catch himself. “I will see you soon.” He turned, red as a tomato, and dashed out the door before he could embarrass himself further.

 “I just know this day is going to be fun.” I went to the dining hall, still smiling at how clumsy Treastan could be. And I thought I was bad. He made me look balanced and well placed.

 It was a happy thought.

 

 Breakfast went by slower than normal. First, there was the matter of questioning my true ancestry and parentage, then there was the matter of the future proposal. Or two. But they didn't know about the other possible one. Yet.

 “So,” Allura said as a servant placed a buttered biscuit in front of her. “You and the prince.”

 “Yes,” I said, poking at my own biscuit. I found myself with a loss of appetite.

 Maron sat quietly, eating slowly and gazing at something none of us could see with narrowed, concentrated eyes. He was always so intimidating when he was like that. I had no idea why.

 He was cutting into a steak. For some strange reason no one could fathom Maron always had some sort of meat in the morning. A warrior's breakfast, he called it. We didn't bother to question it.

 “Well, what do you think?” Allura asked with bright eyes. They sparkled like gems. “Do you want to be his wife?”

 “It's not as simple as that.” I held my gaze forward, past her shoulder. So much for telling them later. “Treastan has asked for me to be his as well.”

 Allura sat back, stunned. “When?”

 “Just this morning, actually.” I stopped when I saw both Allura and Maron staring at me. If my father was actually snapped out of his daily daydream… “What?”

 “Honey –”

 “Do you know anything about this fellow?” Maron rumbled. His voice was that of a sleepy bear's. It’s better not to poke him.

 “Well, I don't know much about the prince either,” I countered, not taking my own advice and prodding the bear. His frown deepened, so I went on with my argument. I might as well now that I’d said something back. “And Treastan is...kind. He knows how to be proper and polite. He is the son of a nobleman, Saramon Marley, and I can tell he loves me for me.” What I said was the truth, but doubt pricked at my mind. What was wrong with me? Trusting a man I didn’t even know?

 Who was Treastan, really? In my dream, his name was Treastan Vin Hemon. Was that just me being dumb, or was it real? It could not have been a memory, because it was a queen who was dying, and I was neither a queen nor dying of some terrible disease. I just had to ask him. I was sure he would tell me what was really going on. Perhaps he had a link to my past and who I was. But, if he was there, how was it he was still so young? He should have been an older man by now, not young and only a few years older than me. It was an impossible feat to accomplish without some sort of sorcery involved, and boy, would my parents have a fun time with that possibility. Everything was so confusing. Nothing made sense of the past few weeks.

 This was a man I’d just met, and he hadn’t even properly met my parents before asking for my hand. What had the world come to?

 Did logic exist anymore?

 

8: Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

 Evening came quickly, almost too quickly for me to catch up with it. I was in a rush to be ready for a first night in the big city. The maids helped me put on my blue, fashionable satin dress. The fabric rippled like the water of a lake. It fit snug and tight, restricting my breathing. Sometimes good fashion hurt. I hoped it was worth it.

 Treastan had said he would come by in the evening. That seemed to be a lifetime ago. Now, the sun had just kissed the lip of the mountaintop, settling like an old friend ready for a long slumber. Twinkling stars were coming out and the moon had risen. It was about time for him to come. He would be at the door any moment now, waiting for me to make a dramatic entrance.

 Ebony was with me, brushing my hair and trying her best to braid it to perfection. Her mother, Amberly, sat next to her. Amberly was in her last days and, miraculously, these last days made her feel no pain at all, and so she was able to help me one last time. At first, I had refused, but she was so persistent, with that bright smile of hers that could change my mind no matter what the argument was, that I was helpless to refuse once again. Misses Statson wanted to spend the rest of her time with the two girls she loved most, even if one wasn't her own. I was grateful to her for treating me like her own child. It made me who I was.

 I sat still as the maids tugged and pulled both the fabric and my hair, teasing it into place. They apologized whenever they pulled too hard and made me stiffen, but I shrugged it off. They chatted with each other and me easily. Their conversations overlapped yet flowed with ease, like a brook forking and connecting again. It was always the same general stream.

 I stared into the mirror once the maids moved out of the room, still talking exaggeratedly. My reflection showed me a completely different girl from the one I was used to. My lips were bowed up in a smile. My eyes twinkled, showing more green than gray for once. My complexion was still ivory but my cheeks were rosy. My eyelashes contrasted black against my gentle white skin. My dark blond hair was twisted in dizzying arrays, but it was somehow beautiful. The braids coiled into the back, creating a loose bun going from the bottom to the top of my head. My dress fit snug, like a second skin. It revealed the curve of my hips and the low-cut neckline exposed my collarbone. I thought it a little too revealing but it was the new fashion. Treastan wouldn't know what hit him tonight.

 Self-conscious and unable to move with much grace I practiced walking back and forth in front of the only two people in my room. Ebony smiled encouragement while Amberly watched with a solemn gaze. She had little to say, which I didn't know whether to find good or bad.

 One of the servants knocked lightly on the door. He poked his head in, his droopy eyelids making him look old and bored. “Mister Marley is in the lobby, Miss. He is waiting upon request.”

 Ebony stood. “Thank you, Quintus. You may take your leave and tell him we will be there shortly.” Her tone was clear and crisp.

 Quintus nodded acknowledgment and bowed out of the room. His balding head was the last thing I saw before the door gently clicked back into place.

 I went over to Ebony. My emotions were tumbling all over each other. “Since when were you growing up? I must no longer allow this. You will stay my little sister forever.” I held her hands in my own, a smile tugging up my lips. She grinned back, her face bright enough to turn the night to day.

 Amberly stood, brushing herself off. Her face was waxy and pale. She looked strained. But she still managed a curtsy. “My lady, might I take Ebony down to servants' quarters now? It is late, and I'm afraid we need rest terribly.”

 “Of course,” I exclaimed. “You head to bed and get a good sleep. I will meet Treastan in the lobby.”

 Amberly smiled gratefully and pulled Ebony along with a gentle hand. Ebony glanced at me and mouthed, “Mothers,” before vanishing out the door. I reached into my dresser drawer and pulled out my little journal. It was a delicate item I owned, and I wanted it with me this night. It was a need I did not understand, but also didn't question. So, putting it in a small pocket in my dress, I closed the drawer and left my room.

 The dark stairwell was more ominous and foreboding than it had been before. I took it as my imagination getting to me. It had a talent of getting away with me sometimes. My mother had always said it meant I was a creative and free spirit. Father simply stated I was too suspicious and scared of the world. I couldn't help but agree that it was a little bit of both. I was not very adventurous due to my fear of the unknown.

 I reached the second landing and saw Treastan standing near the entrance. He was stunning in a black waistcoat and white shirt. His trousers were black and fit him well, though not too tightly. His black, knee-high boots gleamed in the candle-lit lobby. He was very handsome in this get-up.

 I strode down the stairs, trying for fluid grace and perfection. He watched me, his mouth opening then quickly snapping shut. He shook himself, as if this were a dream he found himself in. I beamed at him, and he at me. I walked straight to him, holding the folds of my sleek dress. He marveled at the sight of me, offering his arm. I took it with a light touch. We left the house, and I saw just outside a beautiful carriage waiting.

 “Impressive,” I said. “You really were serious, weren't you?”

 He chuckled. It was more heartfelt and sincere than Rowan's sounded. I shook my head to clear it. I was with Treastan this night, and he deserved my full attention.

 “I really do think you to be a beautiful, wonderful young lady, Miss Rosten.”

 “Willow,” I corrected.

 He laughed again. “Ah, yes. Always wanting to rid of the formality and tradition, I see. Very well, Willow it is.” He opened the carriage door and helped me inside. Once I was settled he leaped in and shouted out to the driver. “To the Mystic Fountain in King's Court.” He then closed the window, leaving the curtains back so as to see a great view of the city. I sat across from him, hands in my lap and sitting as straight up as possible. It was not lady-like to slouch.

 But something was bothering me. “Treastan.” I tried to sound light and airy. It didn't work when a twinge of irritation shot through the name, shadowing it.

 He turned away from the window, blinking his eyes before focusing on me with a brilliant green gaze. It was so unlike Rowan's dark, icy black pools. “Yes, Willow?”

 I made sure my voice didn't waver and my chin was high. It was a challenging posture and Ebony had once mentioned it was one that only high-class royals claimed. We didn't know where I got the habit. “I do keep tradition. I just tweak it to accommodate more modern views. The times are changing, an era ending, and I decided it wouldn't matter if we called one another by first or not.” I leaned forward slightly. He pressed against the back of his seat, a spark of fear tracing its way along his expression. He was intimidated, which was just how I wanted it. My tone took on a more serious current. “I adore tradition only if it is worth it. This war, however, will never stay traditional if I have any say.” I had no idea where the confident words came from. It felt good. Like I could finally speak my mind. But whoa, where did the war come out of this?

 Treastan was speechless. He stared at me with mouth agape, arms limp at his sides. He caught himself and cleared his throat lightly. His throat convulsed in a silent laugh. “Well, um, yes...of course I apologize for my earlier statement, Willow, and retract it.” He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his neck. “And, if I might ask, where did all this come from?” He was nervous, so I leaned back against my seat once more for him. Relief made his shoulders slump.

 “I was just thinking out loud. I'm terribly sorry. It isn't very polite of me.” I looked down at my hands, folded on my right knee.

 Treastan put his hands on mine. His eyes were gentle and a smile lined his lips. I found myself strangely affected by how piercing his green gaze was. His scrutiny made me think he could see every sin I'd ever committed. He'd make a great philosopher. “It's alright, Willow. I understand. After all, I am here to get to know you, right?” He chuckled, the sound bringing more light into the small cab. He lifted my spirits almost immediately. It was a nice change from the somber mood of my home.

 I returned the care-free grin. “And goodness, did you choose wrong this time.”

 He laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Ah,” he said, waving a finger with a playful glint in his eye. “But I don't think I did. In fact, I know it was you who made the wrong decision here.” With that he went back to the window, cupping his chin and resting his elbow on the sill. It was a position of great concentration and study...but made him all that much more attractive. I forced my eyes elsewhere, studiously ignoring him and the view he represented.

 I smiled to myself. Ah, I'm such a silly little girl.

 

 When the carriage rolled to a stop, Treastan quickly covered the window with the curtain. Surprised, I asked, “Treastan? Where exactly are we?”

 He smiled and said, “We're in King's Court, right by the castle. It used to be the main courtyard before half the castle was ruined by a landslide from the surrounding mountains.”

 “And so they relocated the reconstruction so as to prevent a future disaster.” I nodded. “It makes sense.”

 He seemed more excited. The history of castles was obviously a topic he knew much about. “To also prevent it they set seven stone walls lining the mountainside. Each wall would help stabilize the land, so if it did slide, the walls would catch it before it got too bad. All in all, an ingenious plan.”

 I sighed. “It truly is a marvel of craftsmanship.”

 He bounced his arms on his knees lightly. “And do you know just who's plan it was?”

 I shook my head.

 “It was Rosthes Marley, my grandfather. He came up with the idea, put it out to the king at that time and they took it. He soon rose up to be a well-respected nobleman.”

 I tilted my head, confused. “But wasn't he already –”

  “Of course. He just...well, let's say he was the black sheep of the family. He had all these crazy notions and ideologies.”

 “Like what?” I asked, but Treastan had already leaped up to the door, pushing it open. Cold air blasted the warm carriage and I shivered. He quickly reached over, grabbed the cloak I'd forgotten I'd brought with me, and wrapped it securely around my shoulders.

 “Come with me,” Treastan said, leaping to the ground with grace. His movement reminded me of a deer. It was light, crisp, and gentle. He offered his hand to help me out and I took it gratefully.

 The ground was dirty cobblestone but that was the only thing I found wrong with the place. A few torches lit a beautiful pond with golden fish swimming lazily about. They had white, fan-shaped scales lining their faces and fins while gold covered everywhere else. They sparkled like jewels. Fireflies flitted around the pool, lighting on lilies and white, floating petals. Arches lined the court in a circle. Each arch had a cruel-looking dragon perched with its eyes staring down. I shuddered just seeing them. Everything had an older, time-aged appeal to it. It was like walking into the past.

 Treastan took my hand, guiding me to the glittering pool.

 I was watching the fish in the pool swim lazily about and got myself ready to confess just how grateful I was when a shadow detached itself from one of the arches. It walked silently toward us, moving like a predator.

 The gait was all too familiar, and dread coursed through me, settling in my stomach as a hard block of ice.

 It was Rowan.

9: Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

Treastan spun around, hearing footsteps. His eyes opened wide then narrowed dangerously as he faced Rowan. His smile curved up on one side, revealing his white teeth. His grin was not welcoming. Everything was silent and still. It wasn’t a peaceful stillness. The boys’ stances indicated that they'd already met once, and it wasn't a pleasant memory. Rowan's posture was stiff and straight, taught as an arrow on a string. Treastan had his hands clenched in tight fists, turning his knuckles white. Both of them radiated intense emotion: hatred, anger. I found it unpleasant to be standing between the two. Treastan was an open book where Rowan was closed off completely.

 Question was, what in the world was Rowan even doing here?

 “Rowan,” Treastan growled in acknowledgment, eyes flashing.

 “Treastan,” he snarled back. He glanced from me to Treastan and back, his anger brewing behind his eyes.

 They both started inching closer, though I didn't think they noticed it. It seemed a more subconscious movement. I could see a fight just itching in their eyes.

 That wouldn't happen. They wouldn’t fight if I could help it.

 I stepped forward, putting myself in their paths and pushing them back with a hand on their chests. “Stop it right now!” I snapped. Both boys froze, their shocked faces comprehending that I actually existed outside their little feud. Or whatever it was. I shoved Rowan back roughly, forgetting all about my manners. “You need to get a grip. You’re the prince for heaven's sake!” I swung around to Treastan. “And you need to learn to be nice. Respect your future king and stop all the bloody fighting!” If they were shocked before, it was nothing now. My colorful language had them reeling.

 I cleared my throat softly. I'd never had to shout so loudly before. So I cooled it down. Unfortunately it also made my voice distant and icy. “Excuse my language. It is very improper of me.” I almost spat the words, contradicting the point of my apology entirely.

 “Indeed it was,” Treastan smiled. “But what's a lady and future wife if she doesn't take control once in a while and break a few manners?”

 Rowan looked at him sharply. “And I guess you would think to be the future husband?”

 He shrugged and smirked cheekily. “Maybe, maybe not. You never know who she's going to say yes to, now do you?”

 Tension filled the atmosphere once again. I threw my hands up and turned away from them. I decided to go near the furthest arch. “Boys! Do they never get along?” I could hear them arguing, their voices getting louder and angrier.

 “What are you doing with her?”

 “What does it look like?”

 “Do you have a death wish?” The calm voice was Rowan’s.

 “As if you could kill me.” Treastan answered smugly.

 “Don’t test me.”

 “Why, ‘cause you’d fail?”

 The voices faded off.

 I sat against what used to be a stone border and watched the surrounding hillside, ignoring the two boys completely. I was at the edge of a cliff, but the wall was still partially standing and it kept me away from a long fall. I saw rivers and hills dot the horizon beyond. Dark forests blotted out the first half of the land, while meadows and farms filled the rest all the way up to where the sun had set. It was a spectacular view.

 I didn't bother watching the scene behind me, for I was sure the two were throwing punches by now. I wasn't fond of violence. I found it a foolish thing. And so those boys were simply being absurd and stupid. Again.

 I wondered where all this hatred and anger came from. They acted as if they knew each other. If so, why weren't they friends? Were they once? I wanted to ask but refused to until they were finished with their little squabble.

 I wasn't impressed by how a man could flatten another man's nose, or break an arm within a few seconds. Strength wasn't everything. Wisdom was more precious to me. If they wished to court me, they weren’t doing such a good job so far. At least Treastan had the decency to take me somewhere more pleasant. But of course Rowan had to be the one to ruin it.

 I was still staring at the horizon, deep in thought, when something landed on my shoulder, startling me out of my reverie. It was light but still heavy enough to bother me. Looking over, I saw a giant spider. Its hairy legs brushed against my collarbone, those red eyes watching me. Long fangs gleamed in the torchlight as they clacked together.

 I shrieked, flailing at it and trying to brush it off. The thing hissed at me much as a snake would hiss and leaped to the ground, scuttling away. But the damage was done. I'd lost my balance, tripping over my own dress and falling backward over the wall.

 I tried to catch myself, to fall forward, anything but down that sheer cliffside. I saw the world flip upside down, the wall start to fall away from me. A scream caught in my chest as air whipped by. My hands darted out and caught the crumbling edge of gray stone, holding on tightly. My body swung forward, hit the wall hard, taking my breath away. Rocks cut my hands and wrists, but what did I care? It was a small price to pay compared to being smashed along the rocks far, far below my dangling feet. I scrabbled for a foothold, the earth sliding beneath me. The small rocks I kicked fell away down into the darkening abyss. The earth was loose and unstable. My boots tore away chunks of dirt until I lay dangling with nothing close enough to touch the tips of my toes. I tried raising myself up with arm strength alone, but my stupid, “fashionable” dress caught at the stones. Everything hurt. My knees scraped along the stone and tore my dress. The tight waist prevented me from breathing. I felt my voice trapped inside me, terror making me silent. The sun was setting, leaving me behind. All warmth faded. Tremors of cold and fear wracked me. My hands started to slip: I hadn't had a good hold anyway. I cried out, trying to clutch the stone tighter. I felt it loosen, as if about to give way. I clawed at the merciless stone, scrabbling to hold on higher up the wall. The pieces fell away from my hands, forcing me to keep the hold I had. It started weakening bit by bit. My weight was too much. The bottom started sliding. I hugged the wall closer, tears trickling down my cheeks to my clenched jaw.

 This is it, I thought hazily. I'm about to be smashed to pieces while two boys fight over me. Oh, how ironic.

 My breath sawed in and out of my lungs, my arms were starting to burn, my hands cramping. I hadn't had to use such strength before. It cost me greatly to just keep myself up. Pulling my body up and over was out of the question now, even if my dress wasn’t caught. In my state it would be highly impossible.

 I had a horrible thought of Ebony all alone in that house. When the news reached her, it would be devastating. She would be heartbroken. I'd promised to always be there for her. I had failed.

 The small grip was rapidly crumbling, forcing me to shift my weight in agonizing fear and fatigue. An image flashed in my mind of me lying broken on sharp rocks near the river at the bottom of the cliff. I would probably crash through the tall pines before reaching the rocky shore. Even the trees might kill me. Those branches weren’t soft in any sense. A small sob escaped me.

 Two things happened simultaneously: the rock I clutched onto crumbled away, air filling its place; as I was closing my eyes to empty space, a hand caught my wrist with frightening speed. My breath whooshed out of me in shock and pain. Being held by the wrist was not pleasant. It pulled against my shoulder and I feared my arm would fall off. A strong, tan hand held onto me, not letting me fall those hundreds of feet below.

 I stared up into the face of Rowan. Determination was written across every feature. His lips were pursed tight, turning them white. He held himself flush with the wall, pressing against it for support to keep himself firmly rooted to the ground. He reached out his other hand, grabbed my other wrist and, with amazing strength, pulled me up into his arms. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he cleared me of the wall. The air was replaced by solid ground, not ready to give way beneath me. Everything was solid and warm. I held him close, burying my face in his shirt, and sobbed. I was so ashamed to be weak like this, but he was the only thing that kept me up. Otherwise, I would be an ungraceful puddle on the ground. My legs wobbled uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly against him.

 “It's alright,” he soothed. “Hush, now. You're safe. I've got you.”

 He continued talking gently, resting his chin on my head. He knew just the right things to say, calming me while I blubbered and shivered. I trembled from fear and shock, feeling pain radiating everywhere in me. My arms were sore and shook violently with the strain I had put on them. I heard his heart beating through his shirt. It was strong and constant, calming me. I knew this to be an intimate hold, but what was the point? He was the only thing keeping me from collapsing. Which would Allura prefer? “Th-thank you, Rowan,” I stuttered, hardly able to make a coherent sentence through my tears. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

 “No need to thank me,” he grumbled. I felt the vibrations rumble in his chest. I nodded, sniffling and finally pulling away. I decided to “forget” about our disagreement or whatever it was in the medical hall and give him a second chance. After all, he wasn't used to my “everyone treated equal” belief. He was raised to be above others, and having them ask him questions was almost insulting. And he did just save my life. A few mood swings were nothing compared to this ordeal.

 I was spent. My legs wobbled, my dress was coated in dirt, my hair most likely had dust and grass in it, my hands were bleeding, and I was emotionally wrung out. “I want to go home now.”

 He was about to answer when his brow furrowed. He took my hand, seeing the small cuts up my arms. “You can go as soon as these are taken care of.”

 “Oh, but the maids can-”

 “I insist.” He put a hand on my back, leading me away from the cliff edge. He relaxed once we were far from it but never removed his hand. I wasn’t going to complain.

 I didn't see Treastan anywhere. I asked Rowan about it.

 His reply came out gruff. “Coward ran into the trees. I was going to chase him when I heard you call out.” He looked at me, a tender expression on his face. I didn't know that he could even be tender. Heroic, princely, handsome, sure, but not tender. “I'll get him later. For now, all my attention is focused on you.”

 My heart leaped at that. It was a strange sensation. I tried to convince myself the reaction meant nothing. I was not infatuated with this prince.

 He continued, oblivious of my inner dilemma. “We need to clean those cuts and get you back home. I'm sure your mother will have a fit at the sight of you. No lady should go home looking like…well, maybe it’s better not to say.”

 I winced. Yes, Allura would be frantic, all right. I didn't even want to think about it. “My mother…she sure will panic.” I sighed deeply and grumbled unintelligibly.

 Rowan smiled, a slight lifting of his lips, took my hand, and led me away.

 

 We rode back in Treastan's carriage. The driver didn't mind at all. In fact, he was ecstatic that he would be the one to escort the prince. It was an honor he scraped and groveled over, practically drooling over the prince’s feet. Rowan shook the man off and, when my worry became pronounced, just said that Treastan would most likely find his horse and use it to travel home.

 “I love that horse,” he murmured. “He had better return it.”

 I didn't say anything. I was still shocked by the near-death experience at the cliff edge. After the incident, Rowan had cleaned my cuts and bandaged my arms. Some of the cuts were a little deep but nothing to really worry about. They would be healed within a few days. The real problem was explaining it to Allura, Amberly, Maron, and Ebony. I was going to have a fun night…

 “Hey.”

 I snapped my head up, meeting Rowan's amused gaze. “Yes?” I blinked to clear my vision of the daydreams running through my head.

 He chuckled. “You had this weird expression on your face. Care to tell me what was on your mind?”

 I smiled tensely. It was still strange, with Rowan's almost-proposal a constant pang in my mind, tolling like a bell over and over. I didn’t know how to act around him. It wasn’t that every time he looked at me my heart skipped a beat. That was just nerves. It’s normal around royalty, right?

 I shook the thoughts off and answered him as flippant as possible, not daring to let my emotions slip through, “Not at all. I was simply thinking about my...parents,” I didn’t mention that I was actually thinking about how handsome he looked, “and what to tell them about this night. It isn't every day one leaves with a man and comes home in the same carriage with another. Let alone a prince.” Frustratingly enough, I blushed, dipping my head to hide behind my hair. It had come undone after the whole falling-off-a-cliff ordeal. “Not only that, but I'm covered in dirt and bruises. What they would think to see me like this.” I shuddered.

 He tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy. I would have laughed had I not been so jumbled and beat up. “You could always have me explain it to them,” he intoned reasonably. “At least then you could just get some rest without extra stress.” He leaned forward, suddenly very close. I lifted my head sharply, gaze fixed on him. We were only inches apart. He smelled...nice, despite having dirt smeared on him and a dark bruise forming under his jaw. His dark eyes observed my reaction, unfathomable, unblinking. His hand reached out, cupping my chin, tracing a thumb over my cheek. A deep shiver ran through me. His touch was like lightning burning through my veins. How could I have even resisted this for a moment? “I need you to get better, Willow,” he whispered, his voice heavy and deep.

 My heartbeat picked up and my breath hitched in my chest. An overwhelming, unknown feeling encompassed me. His breath washed over my face, like pine, metal and a summer day mixed together. It was pleasant. I closed my eyes, feeling his lips lightly brush across mine. Heat sparked through me. What had once been candles burst into a miniature sun in my heart. Warmth overwhelmed me, senses diving into a long free-fall. Every nerve in me tingled with joy. This was what I had been waiting for. This was a perfect moment. A memory to cherish.

 Then he sighed and pulled away. I blinked open my eyes, watched him with confusion. He was staring out the window, trying to avoid contact with me. It stung. Did I do something wrong?

 “I'm sorry,” I said immediately. He didn't react. “If I did something, if I was too forward-”

 “No,” he interrupted softly, not turning his head. “I promised to court you first. To know you.” He shifted slightly. “I'm afraid I have no self-control. I'm moving a little too...fast. Forgive me for my blunder.”

 I was speechless. Him, a prince who never put himself below others, asking my forgiveness? It was unbelievable.

 But…I had enjoyed that kiss. There was nothing to apologize for. It was as much me as it was him. Disappointment toned all my emotions down, making my heart calm to a small thumping.

 “Of course, you can have – I mean I do, forgive you that is.” I stumbled on my words horribly. My face heated and I coughed softly to try to cover any other words trying to rattle through my mouth. My disappointment made my voice flat.

 He took my lack of grace with a small grin. Amusement glittered in his dark eyes. He held himself tall, his arms folding over his chest in a casual way, as if it were the normal thing to do on a carriage ride. The muscles in his arms bulged just enough to make me blush and look elsewhere. The man was very potent. He needed a second coat or something. He was a little too…exposed. A lady isn’t supposed to see a clearly outlined, muscular chest.

 I put myself off those thoughts, blinking and trying to distract myself.

 We didn’t speak much for a small while. I was about to ask why he was courting me of all people when the carriage abruptly stopped. I didn’t have time to steel myself against the jerk and was thrown forward. Rowan huffed as I slammed into him. He then wrapped his arms around me and laughed with that quiet yet emotional way he had. My hands had shot out to steady myself and ended up on his chest. We were pressed together in a very immodest way. Breaking away, my face heated to a crimson shade.

 “Well,” I said. I didn’t finish the sentence, not really knowing what to say. I instead busied myself with brushing off my ruined dress and staring out the window. Nothing in the blackness actually formed to a recognizable shape. I pretended not to notice Rowan’s eyes as they roved over me very slowly. His gaze held desire…and regret? Why would he regret his love for me?

 My whole body tingled but, stubborn as ever, I pinned it down as leftover shock. These feelings did not come from Rowan’s heated gaze or his muscular torso. I didn’t even remotely like Rowan…so why in the world did my heart believe otherwise?

 “Why are we stopped? This isn’t Miss Rosten’s home,” I heard Rowan shout out through the window to the driver. The other man responded with something I couldn’t hear. Rowan ducked his head back inside and shut the window. I couldn’t see anything except for blackness outside. He pursed his lips, casting ominous shadows across his features in the candlelight.

 “What’s wrong?” I asked gently. Rowan seemed stressed. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. He rested his elbow and arm on his lap, hunched over. I’d never seen him look so frustrated.

 “There’s a tree in the road,” he mumbled. He looked wound tight, as if preparing for a long, hard journey. I barely heard what he said but understood it despite.

 “What?” I exclaimed. “How far are we from home? I didn’t think it was all that far from the city!”

 “It isn’t.”

 “Then where are we?”

 A playful smile twitched the corner of his lips. He didn’t answer me, just opened the door and leaped outside. Before I could protest he shut it, cutting off the awful, freezing breeze billowing in around me. I hugged my arms to my chest to keep warm. I wanted to ask Rowan what he was up to, what he planned to do about the situation, but refused to be sent into the freezing rain beyond the cozy carriage interior. The carriage felt ominously empty and sinister with Rowan gone. I could hear murmuring out by the driver’s box. They talked reasonably and calmly, though I couldn’t hear just what they were saying. After a moment the talking ceased. There were chopping and thwacking noises further on, muffled by the wind and light sprinkle of rain on the roof. The chopping gradually faded until it was far away and silent.

 I thought more about how this night had gone so far. It had a few twists and turns that were completely unexpected. I enjoyed some things and others – like the entire my-life-is-in-danger-because-I’m-dangling-by-my-hands-over-a-cliff part – I did not enjoy so much. My arms still throbbed from all the exertion I’d put them through.

 Thunder boomed outside. I heard the pitter patter of rain on the roof that slowly became a torrent. Wind pounded against the carriage. I pulled the curtains back and peeked outside. Everything was still dark. Mist from the rain rose into the air, obscuring even the smallest details I could make out. The trees were black, tall shapes against a blacker sky. The grass was a fuzzy blanket along the ground, shivering in the gale. The wind whistled outside, giving me chills and making my skin break out in goose bumps. It was a frightening night, not one for traveling.

 Lightning lit the sky like the crack of a whip. The white tendrils reached out, forking several times, and touched the ground with a bright flash. It hit the earth not too far away, catching a tall pine. The tree burst into flames immediately, swaying back and forth before choosing a direction to topple. It fell sideways, landing not too far away from the carriage. I heard the horses outside whinny in fright. The sound was muffled but no less unnerving.

 By the flames of the tree I saw something move. I thought maybe it was a deer of some sort. They roamed the area quite often if we were where I thought we were. This section of forest was a ways away from the city. No one came out to this part of it due to previous years of people gone missing while traveling through it. I certainly was not brave enough to venture out to the woods on my own.

 The animal lumbered away from the fire. Unfortunately it angled toward me, shuffling forward in a predatory position. I saw it was not a deer at all, but a wolf. Even as I watched with wide eyes, more wolves stalked out of the trees, glowing eyes locked on the carriage.

10: Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

 

 

 The wolf in front, most likely the pack’s alpha, lifted his head toward the sky and sniffed the air. I stiffened and started to inch away. His intelligent gaze shifted to lock with mine, freezing me in place even if there was a pane of glass between us. The animal bared his teeth in a fierce snarl, fur on the scruff of its neck bristling. I was surprised the creature would react to me in such a way when two other men and two big horses stood just out the door. I was inside, unable to be caught, and yet the pack was trying to figure out a way, coming uncomfortably close. I wondered what Rowan was doing. After all, it isn’t like a pack of starving, aggressive wolves was something to casually shrug off. A terrifying thought struck me. Was Rowan even there? Had he and the driver moved on somewhere to remove the tree? If so, where in the world could they be?

 I scoot to the opposite seat and into the corner. A soft scratching noise came from the side where the animals were. I heard them growl and snap, still scratching at the door. They circled around, searching for a way in. And where in the world had everyone gone?

 The horses reacted violently as the wolves came closer, yanking against their reigns with forceful lunges. I felt the violent and desperate attempts to free themselves and slid to the floor. I curled up into myself, holding my knees against my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. I whimpered softly as the horses screamed and ripped against their restraints again. One of the creature’s cries was suddenly cut short, replaced by a horrible ripping sound. Something hit the ground with a dull thud. Growls greeted more terrified whinnies. I had never been so scared in all my life.

 Tears slowly ran down my cheeks. I sniffed and buried my head in my arms. My back was hunched against the wall and seat. Something slammed against the door, then again at the window. The glass cracked slightly. I let out a small squeak of terror. I was paying so much attention to the one side closest to me that I didn’t even notice when the glass on the other shattered. Glittering shards flew in and I shielded my face with my arms, pulling my coat sleeves up.

 A wolf snarled and tried to leap through the jagged hole that once was the window, scrabbling to pull himself up. His hind legs clawed against the slick outer surface. His muzzle was cut up. His fur was wet and dripping. His fangs drooled, saliva mixing with blood. Possibly the blood of the horse the pack had killed. I could see the animal’s ribs. Clearly, the creatures were desperate for food. They were starving to death. I’d have felt sorry for the were they not trying to kill me.

 I frantically looked around the carriage, pulling open the drawer nearest me. The only drawer in the carriage. It had an umbrella made of some flimsy material and a hard case holding something. It was long but very thin. I left the flowered umbrella but pulled the case out, opened it, and found a long, white dagger. It had the thinnest blade I’d ever seen. The hilt had some sort of bird engraved on it.

 The wolf finally pulled one hind leg in, leaping toward me with amazing speed and strength. It foamed at the mouth, eyes wild and savage. Its long fangs gleamed white and red. I wildly slashed the blade through the air in front of the animal, feeling resistance.

 The wolf made a terrible choking sound. It gurgled as blood pooled at its feet. I found that I had put in a lucky cut at the throat. The gash was deep, running from the top of the throat in a diagonal to the chest. The life was rapidly draining out of him, and he stumbled toward me. The wolf tried for one last growl, sinking to the floor where it moved no more. Its glassy eyes stared at nothing, a snarl still in place.

 I was numb. The knife clattered to the floor, resting in the widening pool of blood. I saw the hilt splash into the red liquid, flecks spattering the polished white ivory. It dripped thickly down the sides and rippled in the pool. The blade shone bright red, flickering in the candlelight. I turned my face away, hiding behind my shaking hands.

 The last horse outside whinnied and frantically tried to fight off its attackers. The noise should not have been muffled due to the gaping window, but I found it very quiet. I fell into the seat, curling up tight, and pressed my lips together. I whimpered and bit my lip. Blood seeped into my mouth. It was coppery and salty. Tears were running down my cheeks.

 Something scratched at the door even as yet another wolf leaped up to the broken window. I screamed a high, blood-curling scream and ducked my head, putting my hands on top. My shoulders tightened in preparation for the slashing pain that would inevitably come. But it didn’t come.

 Shouting hit my ears and the snarling cut off into whimpers and whines. I lifted my head as the wolf fell from the shattered window. It ran into the forest, disappearing into the blackness with a few others.

 The horse was calmed down by one soothing voice. It sounded like the driver. “Whoa, girl, calm down now. I’m sorry about your partner, but it’ll be okay. Hey, Rowan!” He called out. My heart leaped into my throat. “The window is shattered; you might want to check on Miss Willow!”

 The door was thrown open even as he was finishing, and it hit hard against the outside surface. In the space where it had been was Rowan, soaking wet and still absurdly handsome. His hair hung down into his wild eyes. Desperation was written all over his face. The moment he saw me he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight.

 “Rowan…I can’t…breathe,” I gasped against him. I felt like laughing and sobbing. It was possible I was doing both.

 He put his lips close to my ear and whispered, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

 “I scared you?”

 “I was terrified. I thought I’d lost you.”

 Somehow, hearing him say that was pleasing. A tough prince saying he had been scared? It was unheard of. My heart leaped with joy. But still, I decided to be the one to comfort and be humbled by this ordeal. I closed my eyes, relaxing against him. “You won’t lose me, Rowan. Don’t worry.”

 I realized just after saying it how much he could imply into that.

 Thankfully, he didn’t notice. Or pretended not to notice. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and sighed. It wasn’t an unhappy sigh or even a frustrated sigh. It was a content sigh. It was one that said I wish things were always this easy. I wish I could pretend this little corner of the world could last. Horrifyingly enough I found myself agreeing with it. I was warm and safe in Rowan’s arms. He comforted me to a far extent no one else got close to. Then those other thoughts came. The ones always nagging me at the back of my mind. He was a prince of the country and I was a nobleman’s daughter. We were ranked completely differently and lead different lives. We weren’t compatible. Ranks did not mix. It wasn’t custom. Only royalty could marry royalty. Unless you were Diathoali, the most beautiful woman on the planet. It didn’t matter if she was the daughter of a beggar; her face was so strikingly perfect that she could be crowned within seconds. Every woman both hated and loved her. Dia had a lot of problems to sort out with the people around her; otherwise she just might be killed one day. I wasn’t her, though. If only…

 Rowan could very well be the most beautiful man out there. I wasn’t being dramatic. He looked that good. His entire form was well defined. His wet shirt clung to his chest, revealing chiseled abs and iron muscle. I was trying to convince myself I was not infatuated with him specifically, my heart only leaped at his sheer perfection. His strong jaw, messy hair, dark eyes…he was some kind of angel. If I could have an idea of what a cast down angel looked like, it’d be him.

 No. I didn’t deserve such an amazing man. He was everything anyone could ever ask for and I was…not. But could there be any imperfection in him?

 I had a terrible flashback to the time he’d pushed me down, shoving me to the floor. The candle flickering out. My smile snuffed as fast.

 Why would he do that? What was so important to harm me in such a way? To scare the daylight out of me?

 I stiffened, no longer a puddle in his arms. He noticed the tension in my body and stepped away. A confused, slightly exasperated look crossed his face before he settled back into the serious, no-nonsense expression. Even so, his eyes didn’t hide anything. He failed at a completely cold mask. Anyone could read the hurt in those black depths.

 I couldn’t hold back the outburst. “Why were you watching me? What were you doing in my home? And why did you hurt me?” The last ended in a whisper. I had wanted my voice to remain strong. But strong wasn’t something I was good at. But he knew what I was asking him, and he would answer or so help me…

 Rowan grimaced. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long, slow breath. Regret crossed over him. “I didn’t mean – you just –” He clenched his hands into fists for a brief second, not looking at me. I folded my arms and waited. He had no right to be angry at me. After all, it wasn’t like I pushed myself down, was it?

 “Do you remember when we first met?” His question threw me off, and I didn’t answer. My feelings tumbled all over each other, vying for attention. The truth was, I did remember. It was one of those hazy memories that you convinced yourself was a dream. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t remember that day,” Rowan continued, thinking of my silence as ignorance. “I was dressed as some poor peasant boy. You had no need to even glance in my direction, yet you did. You wandered around, giving your hard-earned food to whoever needed it most.” He laughed bitterly. “You handed me some and didn’t even ask for anything in return. You didn’t know I was a spoiled little prince who wasted more than I ate. You just smiled and told me to go make the best of the day.” He finally gazed into my eyes, searching for something. “I haven’t been able to find that kind of kindness anywhere else. I’ve looked to see if there were others like you out there. There aren’t.”

 I knew that already. I was a foreigner in this country. I looked nothing like my parents. They both had dark hair while I had a light, honey brown, so light it was almost gold. Maron had dark eyes, Allura green ones, and I had a green-hued gray. My facial shape was delicate whereas Allura’s was square and strong. My figure was slim, tall, and willowy, different from any other girl. Everyone here had dark brown or black hair, dark eyes, a strong face and body, and all the women were petite. I was none of those things, nor would I ever be.

 Perhaps he loved my different looks, because it certainly wasn’t my feminine charm. That was nonexistent. My manners were thrown out the window whenever I felt they needed to be. And that is no way a future bride and wife should act.

 My heart hurt. It was being yanked in too many different directions at once. Exhaustion hit me. My eyes drooped and all I wanted was to lie down in my bed, forget everything for a while. I needed time to think, to sort through my jumbled emotions. I was drained. Too much had happened for anger to stay with me.

 Shivers wracked my body from head to toe. Rowan put his hands on my arms, rubbing them gently. He was surprisingly warm for being out in the cold for so long. He pulled me aside and sat me in a seat, turned away from the animal I slaughtered.

 He dragged the corpse outside, leaving it by the forest’s edge. He went up front to the driver and said something to him. I closed my eyes and drifted. The door shut, the carriage lurched into motion. Strong arms set me on someone’s lap. I mumbled incoherently, burying myself into a soft, though slightly damp, shirt. I heard Rowan chuckle, the rumble coming from deep in his chest, before falling asleep.

 

 The dream descended on me again. Without warning, I was plunged into the same stormy night. Laughter echoed around me. Faces I didn’t know cooed at me, making offending noises. I babbled at them unhappily. Soon, I was alone in the dark, shadows leaping on the walls from the light coming out the open door. A window was opened, rain and wind gushing in. The dancing firelight caught a sneaking shadow. It came closer, peering down in my crib with disgust. His face blurred at the edges, but became clear enough. It was an older man. He had one scar running from his temple to the right corner of his lip. It twisted his features just enough to make a permanent frown. His voice was rough, like nails. “Is this the girl?” He sounded disappointed.

 “I believe so,” another voice answered, coming up behind the first man. I realized they both wore black cloaks. These were not guests at the party. But that voice…why did it sound so familiar?

 I was suddenly wrapped in a blanket. It covered every last bit of me. I felt the fabric smothering me. Whichever man had lifted me handled me roughly, keeping a painfully tight hold on my struggling body. Rain pelted the blanket, slowly seeping through. Air rushed by and I felt weightless before being jarred. A small cry escaped my lips. I was shoved into different arms. This man took better care but, riding astride his horse, the reigns whipped my exposed toes. He shoved my foot into the blanket as a wail resounded out of me. I looked down: blood coated my foot.

 Scenes flashed in front of my eyes. Once again we rode on a horse, galloping fast over stone, then wood, then dirt. I could hear the thuds the hooves made on the worn path. When we finally slowed beyond tolling bells and shouting men, whispers permeated the air. I sneezed.

 “We got lucky,” I heard someone say. Another answered him.

 A much closer voice came, “Is that her?” It gently whispered.

 “Yes.” His voice was deep, reminding me of someone. I just didn’t know who.

 “What will you name her?”

 “I will name her Willow.”

 The blanket was pulled away from my face. I stared up at my handler. Shock went through me.

 A horse rode up. “Maron, keep her occupied! We need her quiet passing through the Seascer gates!”

 My heart beat erratically as I stared up into the face of my father, friend, and guardian.

 Maron?

11: Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

                           

 I blinked rapidly, throwing myself into a sitting position. My fingers clawed at fabric, tearing it, while my breath sawed in and out of my lungs. My eyes darted around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. My heart pounded in my ears, an endless thrum of fear. Cold sweat had broken out across my skin. Things started to come into focus.

 Candles dripped wax, the small stream falling into a pool at the bottom. Familiar curtains held my attention. They were pulled back from a handsome view. My view. I clung to my sheets, staring around my room before getting my bearings. The nightmare clung to me much as the sweat clung to my dress. I threw the covers off and stood, relishing the cool air kissing my skin. My eyes closed for a brief second while my breath struggled to resume a steady rhythm, much as my heart. Gradually, the fear faded.

 That’s right. I remembered. The night before, with the torn dress…Rowan had talked to everyone about it. I had their stares on me for hours before being able to drag myself into bed. I was sure Allura wouldn’t let me wander for a long while yet.

 I was starting to walk to the window when a voice shattered the silence.

 “Planning on looking for strange, cloaked men?”

 I spun around. Rowan leaned against the far wall, arms folded, a frown on his face. He stood in a shadow, barely discernible. He wore every-day commoner’s clothing. I found it to fit him well.

 I cleared my thoughts. Anger started to well up and I held my clawed hands at my sides. I would not act with violence, however. There was enough bloodshed in the world. Fighting was not necessary.

 I let out a pent-up breath. “What are you doing here in my room?”

 Rowan was shameless. He didn’t even blush. He pushed himself off the wall and walked to me. He brushed my hair back, staring into my eyes with fiery intensity. He gave me a small, sad smile. “Et Salva,” he whispered. “Flores Mei.”

 He turned and left, walking through the door, without an honest answer. I reached up and felt petals in my hair. Looking into the mirror on my dresser, I saw he had put a small, blue-green star-lily in the disarrayed curls. It was a beautiful splash of color that complimented my skin. I ran my fingers along the soft petals, thinking fondly of the times me and Ebony had gone out to pick some before the responsibilities of life caught up.

 I turned back to the open door, heart longing for something it hadn’t in a long time. Somehow he knew just the right things to say and do. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

 

 After changing into something a little less…destroyed, I ran down to tell Ebony of everything that had happened the night before. My steps were quick but silent. I had no idea where this habit popped up from, either. I had a lot of strange tendencies.

 Muffled voices caught my attention. It came from my father’s workplace. He stayed in there, sorting through some papers displaying the use of certain weapons. I edged closer to the door, wanting to hear what was so important to be said in there. It was one of my nasty tendencies. I had to know about everything going on everywhere.

 So, against the warnings of survival in my head, I pressed against the door.

 “What do you want from me, Rowan?” That was Maron, sounding irritated and annoyed.

 “You know what’s wrong here. She deserves better than ignorance.” He was angry. It smoldered beneath his voice. I could imagine the dangerous glint in his eyes.

 “Sometimes ignorance is a blessing.”

 I heard a loud pounding that made me think of a fist hitting the surface of a wooden table. It made me flinch almost as much as the angry voice behind it. “Is it a blessing to think you’re someone who doesn’t exist?!”

 I froze. How could I not exist? What was he saying? Disbelief shot through me, then anger.

 A chair scraped back, toppling to the floor. “How dare you speak of her that way? What do you know of sacrifice?” Maron’s voice ricocheted against the walls, ringing in my ears. I cringed against the loud noise. I had never heard Maron speak with anger like that.

 “I know she can’t always live like this. You can’t keep this from her forever.”

 “And I suppose you hope to be the one to tell her? Do you think she’ll love you then, hmm? Let me explain this, and get it through your thick skull: Willow does not love you. She never will when she knows the truth. She will hate you for who you are and what your family did to her. And then where would we be? Out of luck.”

 Rowan spoke after a few seconds, voice constrained with emotion. “She will know one day. But she also needs to know something about her life that has been constant. Something that never was a lie.”

 There was a brief pause. “You actually fell for her, didn’t you?” The silence stretched. He didn’t deny it. Maron laughed cruelly. “You were supposed to gain her trust, manipulate her feelings for you, and then the tables turned. Ah, what the king would say if he knew…”

 “You will not speak a word of this!” Rowan hissed, fear lining his voice.

 “Of course, Prince Rowan. But listen here, if you ever try to escape with her, or even touch her with a suspicious gesture, I will turn you over to your father for punishment. Is that understood?”

 “You make yourself clear. You need not lay the rules down for me.” I heard him start toward the door.

 Quickly, I went back to the stairwell and clomped loudly down the last steps. The door to Maron’s workspace opened, revealing a weary Rowan. I stopped in my tracks. He had purple bruises under his eyes, and his entire countenance was worn thin. I wanted to push the black hair in his eyes away, but could not move. He had angered me, saying that I did not exist when I clearly did. He could just say he regretted the proposal, but his pride would not allow it. That might be the only truth I knew about him. He would not turn back on a decision. But one other thing held me still:

 He was supposed to manipulate me to marry him. Why? What for?

 He raised his head, acknowledged me with a slight nod, turned, and walked away down the hall in the direction of the entrance. His steps were strong and confident, but lacked much determination and direction. I saw how much he wanted to just lie down. Sadness seemed to weigh his shoulders down. I felt terrible not doing anything for him. His soul was so heavy. But he was keeping something from me, something important. Perhaps Rowan knew more about my past than he let on. I needed to find out what he was hiding and why. It would have to be soon, before either Maron or the king himself forced me to marry a man I hardly knew.

 Maron came out not so long after Rowan disappeared down the hall. I looked at him, seeing a much younger version in a hooded cloak. Fear sliced my heart wide open, spilling the contents through my trembling fingers. I clenched my fists tight and put on a strong face.

 He was surprised to see me, that much was apparent. “What are you doing here, Willow? You should be downstairs eating breakfast.” Suspicion bracketed his frown, narrowed his eyes, stiffened his shoulders. He was wondering what I knew. What I had heard.

 I faced him with a conviction of courage in my heart. Fear was there, but pain made me strong. How could he do this to me? How could he bear to see himself in the mirror? Surely a monster stared back?

 “I woke up late. And just as well, as Row – I mean, the prince, was just here. I did not want to pressure anything.”

 “Why would you pressure him?”

 “Well, the proposal surely hangs over the both of us? It is not something to ease away with a flick of the wrist.”

 Confusion knit his brows together. “But he did not propose to you, Willow. He simply made you the candidate for a bride.”

 I waved it away. “It does not matter. He always said courting would come first.” I thought about his first failed attempt. Wolves, lightning and a fallen tree had ended the romantic evening in a snap. Wait…why was I looking on the memory with fondness?

 Ugh, snap out of it already. I scolded.

 Maron was still watching me with questioning eyes. I smiled unconvincingly and walked away. The smile vanished like the sun behind a cloud once my back was to him. There was no reason for joy here. Everything around me was a lovely diamond palace of lies. Beautiful, glittering, safe, but very cold and hard. Not all diamonds were priceless. Even the cutter can throw a mangled piece away and start over. Right then, I wanted to throw this tortured life of mine into a river and start new, fresh. Away from Durath. Away from Blythe. Away from Rowan.

 My head and heart hurt. Pieces of me broke off, worn away much as water wears at the earth. I was changing, just hoping it was for the better and not the worse. The river was cold when thrown into it. Maybe my life would be worn away to nothing if I kept trying to dig up a well-buried past, but it would be worth it in the end. It had to be.

 

 The dining room was as crowded as usual, which was to say that nobody was there. Just Allura, Maron, and I sat at the long polished table. It was a silent, lonely breakfast. As was the usual. But this day, for some reason, it bothered me more than normal. A feeling of unreasonable sadness wrapped around me. I pushed my food around on my plate until even that was unbearable. Sighing, and pushing my plate of uneaten eggs and potatoes away, my gaze rested on my lap in silence.

 My long fingers twisted together in a dizzying array of intersecting lines and knots. My knuckles were lightly bruised, though from what was the mystery. My skin always bruised easily. It wouldn’t be a surprise to figure out I had simply bumped my hand against the bed headboard and gained the purple imperfections.

 Allura took notice of my somber mood. She frowned at me but made no comment. She turned away, a battle warring in her every move. It was the battle of secrets. She kept something from me even now. Tears pricked my eyes when I thought that she might have known, all along, that I was a stolen child. I belonged somewhere else. How could she have been so quiet about it all this time? How could sweet Allura have let this happen?

 Everything was too quiet. Even when times were hard and there was tension between us nothing had been this eerily silent. Where were all the servants?

 “Willow.” My name was said softly, gently. It was an immediate warning, halting my troubled thoughts. What had happened? Something must have gone wrong. Allura never spoke so…dead. Her voice held back emotion, cut off from it. I knew it to be a crying-safeguard. She would not shed tears in front of anyone. After all, Maron could not stand tears.

 “What is it?” I whispered, despair and hysteria creeping into me.

 Allura’s bottom lip shook. She bit it and looked away. There was so much pain in her gaze. My chest tightened. “Willow, it’s Amberly…”

 Allura couldn’t continue. She didn’t need to. White coated every surface in a bright, surprisingly painful flash. I saw everything from a distance. It was so far away, as if this would bring me away from the shattering of my heart. I didn’t want to know, but I already did. The unthinkable had happened.

 Maron didn’t look up. “She passed away last night.” His tone was one that could care less, sealing the final nail in my coffin. When he finally did meet my blank gaze, his was cold and far away. He did not care. To him, she was just a servant. A maid.

 Something broke in me. Some part of me that I would never get back. My throat convulsed with words. Hurtful words, sad words, angry words, bitter words. Words to create and destroy. Nothing was said. I took on a silent shock. This reality wasn’t possible. It wasn’t reality at all. She couldn’t be. Amberly wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye to me. She promised. I remembered that promise:

“Willow, my wee one, come here.”…”Listen to me, for there isn’t much time left. You must remember that I love you as a daughter. Always know there is good in the world even if you can’t see it. When I leave, take care of Ebony. I do not know her father will return. Promise me this, and I promise that before I go I will say farewell to you.”

 It was a lie. I sobbed in my mind. She couldn’t keep her word this time. But I would keep mine.

 I stood and walked away, forcing my lip to stay firm. The chair slowly tilted, clattering to the floor. No one said a word. Silence became my companion on the lonely walk to who-knew-where. I didn’t care anymore. “No,” I mumbled to myself, knowing what I had to do, who I was supposed to be. A lady did not cry over servants. They came and went. “You will not fall onto the floor. You will not find the darkest corner in the house and curl up there. Your lip will not tremble. Your eyes will not shed a tear. Not a single one. You are not sad, you are happy. Smile, now. Smile.” A weak, pathetic twitch forced my lips up an infinitesimal amount. I imagined it would be more of a grimace. It would do, for now.

 I had been taught to always smile for public appearance. Smiling would make me feel better. What a pretty little lie.

 The hallway blurred before me, twisting in odd angles like everything was underwater. Perhaps it was the unshed tears in my eyes. The droplets that my iron will force back, welling up against orders. They had to go away to that barren desert where they belonged. They needed to dry up. Please, dry up.

 I angrily wiped my eyes with a hand, clearing my vision. My teeth were painfully clenched; such was the force in which I had to hold my emotions. I had to strangle them. Beat them down. Destroy them for just a moment.

 My walk continued up the stairs, to the attic and my meager possessions. They weren’t much, but one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it?

 The house that had been home was now more of a prison than a place of comfort or safety, which was quite ironic, considering I still called it home and most likely always would. I had grown up in these familiar halls. Many times this had been a refuge. A haven among troubled times when I would become upset with something or someone. It would never be that way again. It made me very sad. These halls held memories never to be revisited again. But those memories weren’t real either, were they?

 I had made a big choice in my life. It was time for one of those path-finding days. After all, nobody lived in complete peace and simple freedoms did they?

 No, the decision was set. It was already being put in motion, even if I had not realized it until now.

 One last thing was to be done: I needed to find Ebony. She would most likely be mourning over her mother somewhere in the servant quarters or in the house garden. Either way, this was another thing for me to face down with a firm and unwavering purpose in mind. It was a solid stone to hold me up even if all around me there was nothing but darkness.

 I was leaving. And I was taking Ebony with me.

12: Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

 

 

 Ebony wasn’t in the servant quarters or the garden. Instead of those places, she had decided on my balcony. At first, it was difficult looking for her. She never broke the rules; never overstepped her place despite my own protests. But this night was an exception. I had been in my room for only moments before going to search for her. She wasn’t up there then. I could only assume she had gone in while I was hastily searching the lower levels.

 I went up to her with cautious steps. She had just lost her family. She was all alone in the world. She would not want to be consoled or have anyone’s sympathies. My heart wrenched thinking about my own problems. Both our lives were not the best to live. I had unknown and possibly dead parents from a royal, enemy line. The men to reach my heart were not showing their real selves and purposes. Rowan wanted to manipulate me; Treastan was not even his real name, so I had no idea who he actually was. Worse, the king seemed to be keeping a close eye on me to marry me to his son. I needed to leave. There was no other way. I would never truly be free if I was kept like a prisoner.

 Ebony stood still, resting her elbows on the balcony’s stone railing. Her hair, tumbling loose around her shoulders, blew in the cold, brisk breeze. She held herself like stone, gazing straight ahead to nothing I could see. She seemed to have aged a great many years since I last saw her. Sadness crept into me, threatening to overwhelm me. It was hard for me to take the tentative steps to her side.

 “You know,” she whispered to no one in particular, “I thought she would make it. I really thought she had a chance.” Ebony closed her eyes, a small tear trickling out. “I was wrong to be so hopeful.”

 Her voice held so much sorrow and grief, so much despair. I felt it thicken my throat. I couldn’t speak beyond such a lump in my airway.

 Another song came to me:

 The trees sparkle diamonds, precious one

 For I am always with you

The flowers sing lullabies, little one

For it is time to sleep soon

The skies dance love, dear one

For I go where you go

The heart beats comfort, loved one

For mine is yours

 Amberly had sung it to me once, when I was younger and had no idea that she was actually saying early goodbyes. Her hands had stroked my hair, brushing it back with a bright smile. She used to light rooms with that smile. She had seemed so happy back then. It was before she admitted that sickness was running through her, raging like fire. Before she said she was being ravaged from the inside out. Before her mind left her. I wanted her to be here now. And she wasn’t. She never would be; not again.

 I put a fist against my heart, as if storing all the memories there before they could slip away. “I promise to always remember.” My whispered words were carried off on the wind, not to be heard. I took a deep, healing breath. Ebony stood stiff and hunched over, head down. She flinched when my hand came to rest, ever so gently, on her bony shoulder. She always was built like a scarecrow.

 “I have no one, Willow,” she half-sobbed. She put her hands in front of her face, shoulders shaking quietly. “My father and mother…taken within the same week…it’s not fair. I can’t…what can I do? There’s no one for me here.”

 I wrapped her up in my arms, grief still locked up in me. There was no point in crying; Amberly had moved on to a much better place. I was sure of it. “Ebony, dear, it’s going to be okay. There may not be anything left for us here, so I have devised a plan.” I lifted her chin, forcing her to look into my eyes. “We will find somewhere we belong. Us misfits…we must stick together, right?” I gave a rueful smile.

 “So…what are we going to do? Where are we going?”

 “We will go to Seascer first. I need to see you safe, for my true intentions lie on a dangerous path. In Dyat.”

 “Why would you go to Dyat?”

 I sighed. It was best she not know the real reason. Knowledge could be a hard burden to bear. And, although she was old enough to be trusted, I would not give her more to worry about. This was my trial to handle. “All you need to know is I have my reasons. I’ll tell you soon enough but, for now, we need to keep this between us. Get your things packed as soon and quiet as you can. We leave in three days.”

 She gave me a reproachful look. “This sudden haste…it’s not due to the prince chasing your hand is it? Or the other boy?”

 Sharp pricks of ice poked through my chest. I took a deep breath, plastering a smile on my face. “Of course not.”

 Sort of.

 

 Packing was not easy for me. I had many memories in each nook and cranny of the entire house. It was like leaving an old friend behind. But it was necessary. It wasn’t like I could take my entire dresser with me. That would be foolish. I sighed as I chose the dullest, grayest dresses to wear. It wouldn’t be sensible to bring wealthy clothing. The nice dresses would raise suspicion. That was the last thing I wanted. So, on the very first day, right after Ebony vanished down the cold staircase, I packed my drab clothing, grumbling the whole time.

 Treastan came over once on the second day of my three-day time span. He was there to apologize about the previously ruined night and ask if I had made it home safely. I wanted to laugh at the absolute absurdity of this question. Safe? What was that? But instead I had replied that yes, I had made it home in one piece… thanks to a certain prince. His eyes had tightened at that, and he’d said a hasty farewell. I had watched his retreating back with the emotions I’d held back making their way across my face. If his coach had noticed this, the man didn’t show it. I officially liked that man. He knew when to hold his tongue.

 I decided to take my small journal, another dull-colored dress, some food that would last at least a week, and a couple flasks of water. Despite my conflicted emotions, my hands hand found their way to another ring in the very back of a drawer. It was the Rosten family ring. It had a small, red ruby at the top, buried in a gold and green band. The swirls of jade in gold reminded me of fire. It swirled all the way around, warping around the ruby as if it were being sucked away into it. The ring was a masterpiece. It saddened me that it did not truly belong to me. I juggled with the choice a little bit, finally pocketing it. My guilt was pushed away by cold logic. If we needed money on the road, the ring would provide for a while.

 I felt bad leaving my home behind: Maron and Allura had taken good care of me here. Even if they had lied about my heritage, they had loved me as their own daughter. I wished things could go another way, but it would not be so. I had to know who I really was. If I was the lost infant of Dyat. If my mother and father were still out there. I could no longer live in ignorance.

 The night of the second day had come. I was getting ready for bed, grabbing the candle to snuff it out, when the smell of smoke assaulted my senses. Something was burning, and it wasn’t minor. For it to drift up to the attic in a thick cloud…

 I jumped off the bed, still in my nightclothes. I coughed as smoke made its way into my lungs. A maid dashed into the room, hair wild about her head. She quickly shut the attic door. Fear clutched icy claws around my chest.

 “Ebony?” I choked. That one word held a world of questions.

 The maid nodded, pushing a figure I hadn’t noticed in front of her. The girl was small and bent over, clutching the right side of her face. She looked up at the maid with a child’s innocence.

 I ran to her side, grabbing her shoulders. “Ebony – oh, no! What happened? Your…your face it’s…” I stumbled to a stop. Ebony’s beautiful, flawless face was covered in soot. On the right side, the side she was pressing a cloth to, was a bright red burn. It ran from the corner of her mouth to the top of her eyebrow. It was bleeding. She stood up straighter, watching me with one eye bravely, as if daring me to say more. I saw a small bag slung over one shoulder…and a bow and a quiver of arrows.

 “Since when did you learn to shoot? Never mind. We need to get out of here.” I turned to the older woman. Smoke stung my eyes. It was seeping through the door. “How far has the fire spread? What caused it?”

 The woman – I believed her name was Shelliby – shook her head. “It was Elbern; the clumsy oaf was carrying a bucket of oil for the cook and bumped into Lady Allura. She was holding a lit candle and…well, I suppose you know the rest. Both items fell, the fire catching quick. It seared up and started moving along. We couldn’t get it under control in time.” Her eyes moved to Ebony, struggling with the pain of her wound. “This girl was not too far away from the fire where it started. Once it flung up she ran. I myself was right behind the lass and not surprised to see her do so. Had I been her age, I would have done the same.”

 “How did she…” I couldn’t finish.

 “She ran around, getting her things. A piece of wood above her head caught fire and fell almost on top of her. It got her cheek something fierce, though. It’ll scar.”

 I could ask the explanations later. First I had to get us all out of the house. An ominous glow started at the door’s edge. I went to the window. The passerby outside were either running to safety or trying to put the fire out. I grabbed the nearest item – a small brass candle holder – and broke the window. My arms rose to shield my face just as the glass shattered. It splintered everywhere, cutting my arms. I didn’t complain. Looking down and out, there was nothing but a few prickly, decrepit bushes to jump to.

 I pushed through the coughing fit rising in my chest and went to the other side of the room. I began to carefully remove one of the stones. It was heavy and difficult to lift.

 “What are you doing?” The soft voice was Ebony.

 I didn’t look back. “Getting something I stashed here long ago.” I pried up the stone, revealing a long sheath with the hilt of a sword at the top. I grabbed it, tossing it around my shoulder. “I wanted to get it last minute, and this seems to be it.” I went to the broken window, hearing the wails and shouts outside. I ripped a piece of my dress, wrapping it tightly about my hands.

 I reached for Ebony. She grabbed my hand and I slung her over my back. I was not the strongest woman, but had plenty of muscle from hard work for a lady my age. I got my bag, asking Ebony to make sure it didn’t fall. She nodded against my back and wrapped her arms around my neck, legs about my waist. The sheath went forward slightly. Her legs’ hold was, thankfully, tighter than that of her arms so she didn’t cut off my air.

 I gripped the edge of the window with one hand, then the other, warning Ebony to hold on very tight. She said nothing but did as I asked. I dropped one leg over the edge, then the other. I held tight as we dropped for not a heartbeat. My arms became suddenly taught. It hurt tremendously. A glass bit at the window edge I was clinging to cut through the fabric, but that was a minor wound. I wedged my feet into small crevices in the outer wall of the house, climbing down a few feet before looking back up for the maid. She peered over to where we were suspended. Her look was doubtful and full of fear. Her brown hair – closer to my own color than I had seen anyone’s ever be – hung in tight knots around her face. She was about my height and size. I knew she could make it down. But she took one more desperate look at the wall and ducked back inside.

 I took a deep breath to shout to her when a crash and rumble sounded. Fire blew through the window, followed by a high, unearthly wail. I shut my eyes tight, feeling nausea roll though me. Shelliby was gone. She had missed her chance.

 I slowly, numbly, made my way down, falling the last six feet or so when my arms gave in to exhaustion. We tumbled into the bushes, breaking thin branches and landing with a gasp as all the air was pushed violently out of our lungs. Ebony was not far away from me: being about an arm’s length. I reached out the same time she did and grasped her small hand in mine. We lay very still, wondering over our living, breathing lives. We survived. Against all odds, we had both lived to see another day.

 Ebony’s face had a deep gash with burn marks along the right side of her face, casting a deep, ugly shadow on her otherwise beautiful features. Night cast everything in a mysterious shroud. The torches were no longer needed, for the burning house was light enough to see by. I made out figures running in and out of the house with buckets. Someone brought out what looked to be a long rope. Water spurted from it in a great torrent, soaking everything in reach.

 I sat up, bringing my legs under me to stand. All my limbs were shaking and a bone-deep weariness took hold. Ebony whimpered in pain.

 “All right,” I said. “It’s time to move. We need to get away before anyone spots us.” I pulled my little, sweet girl up into my trembling arms. I would carry her because it was obvious she couldn’t walk. Her breath came out in wheezy gasps. She needed rest and recover time.

 I put both bags on my back and walked. We came across the street when cheering ensued. I looked back. Maron and Lady Allura stumbled out the building, sooty and blackened but otherwise fine. A few servants made it out as well. They were dazed and wandered before soldiers helped them down, calming them. The fire was out.

 A cry was heard from the attic. I couldn’t make out the words, but the mere familiar ring was enough to make me stiffen. It was Rowan.

 He must think I’m dead. I remembered Shelliby. She had close looks to me and, burned up, it was more than likely Rowan thought the maid’s body was mine. I wanted to run up that staircase and comfort him, but my purpose held me fast. I needed to get away and, if a fake death wasn’t enough, nothing ever would be.

 So I went against my kind nature, turned away, and kept walking.

13: Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

 

 The night was bitter cold and lonely. Ebony and I had barely managed to get out of the richer estates before my legs collapsed beneath me. I groaned with exertion, set Ebony down on the cold cobblestones, and rolled on my back. My breath billowed as clouds in the frosty night air. The stars were clouded. They did not shine or show any message of peace and comfort tonight. It was dark indeed outside without them.

 The stones under me were cold, jagged and hard. It was hardly a bed, but to my aching and burning muscles, it was a little slice of heaven. Ebony, beside me, slumbered fitfully, breath wheezing in and out like my own.

 I must have dozed off for a while, for I woke to a curious exclamation:

 “Well, look who we have here.”

 I sat bolt upright, rubbing my eyes and blinking. A tall man came into view. He crouched in front of me, distress written all over him. His hair was mussed, eyes red, clothes dirty and, to my utter astonishment, lips frowning. He never frowned.

 “Treastan?” I croaked. My throat was dry and hurt from all the smoke. It came out raspy. I wasn’t certain if I would recognize myself with how covered in soot I must be. How did Treastan?

 He let go of a shaky breath I wasn’t sure he knew he was holding and guided his lips upward. His smile went almost unnoticed, but there was no mistaking him now. He reached out his arms and I gladly fell into the hug, burying my face against his chest, unashamed in my daring.

 “How are you here?” I asked. The question held a mixture of sob and laugh. I wasn’t sure which to do. “I thought…everyone thought I died in the fire. What are you doing out here?”

 He exhaled a deep, defeated and exhausted sigh. “I live here. Now, don’t ask any questions. I will tell you in due time. But first, let’s get you warm and rested.” Without further comment, he stood up, bringing me with him. “Can you stand on your own?”

 I took a small step back from him, feeling myself teeter before getting my footing. He moved to help me but I swatted his hand away. “I can walk.”

 He gave me a doubtful look, in the end shrugging and walking to little Ebony. My breath caught in my throat. Her burn was a livid red scar on her face, standing out in stark contrast against her pale skin. Treastan bent over and lifted her in his arms. I knelt to grab the bags. They were heavier than before. I put both over my shoulders, followed by the weapons Treastan kindly didn’t ask about and walked after him. He led me to a small, modest home. It was in need of small repair but it was the most welcome sight I’d ever seen.

 He opened the door and walked in with Ebony still fast asleep in his arms. He put her on a cot and lit a candle. At first, I flinched away from it. He watched me curiously. “Afraid of the flames, are we?” That mischievous look crossed his face. His eyes twinkled with humor.

 My defenses rose up despite myself. “Wouldn’t you be after barely surviving being burned to death?”

 He chuckled softly and offered a high-backed wooden chair. I plopped into it ungraciously and he took another, bringing it across from me. He sat much more politely than I had.

 He leaned forward, steepled his fingers. “And how did you manage to get out? They said it was impossible for a girl so small to have managed it.”

 “I’m stronger than I look.”

 “I suppose you are.”

 We sat in silence for a few minutes. Those few moments seemed to be an eternity. Treatsan’s gaze was intense and flitting random emotion too fast for me to capture. He was waiting for me to give a more elaborate explanation. He raised his eyebrows, that lopsided grin glued to his face. I realized that, no matter what, I would always envision him with a smile. I believed he hid behind this humor. It was a carefully constructed mask.

 I sighed. “A maid, Shelliby, came into my room after I smelled the smoke. She brought in Ebony,” I looked over to the cot and the prone form lying on it, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “Her face was already…scarred from a burning beam falling from the ceiling. She looked so scared…I had to find a way out. The door wasn’t an option. So I shattered the window and climbed out that way.”

 “Did Ebony climb out too?”

 I closed my eyes, tightening all my muscles to control myself. “No. She was too weak for that. I carried her down on my back while she held the bags.”

 One of Treatsan’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “You, a small, rich lady, carried her down a tower over thirty feet high?” He sat back. “I’m impressed.”

 “Looks can be deceiving.”

 “So they can.”

 I tilted my head, narrowing my gaze, trying to figure him out. “Anyway…I waited for Shelliby to come down, but she was too scared. She went back in the room.” I swallowed dryly. “She...she burned to death. Fire blew through the room and I…I heard her scream.” I stopped, seeing the fire blowing out the window. My bottom lip trembled. My body shook with a horrified shudder.

 A hand rested on mine. I realized I had been wringing my hands again. His touch calmed me down somewhat. “We fell the last few feet into a bunch of bushes because I didn’t have the strength to hold us both up as well as the packs. I brought Ebony to that little alleyway where you found us.”

 “You are stronger than I would have ever given you credit for.” Treastan stood, offering a hand to help me up. I took it, hiding my pain through a clenched jaw as my stiff joints protested. He led me to one other cot. “I always keep two in case of company,” he explained.

 The way he said company made me think it was better not to ask too many questions.

 But I had to ask one. “Treastan, aren’t you the son of Saramon Marley, the nobleman? Why are you living here?” I gestured to the small living space. The kitchen and entry room were put together. I could see a small room off in the back. Two cots were hanging on the side of the wall where Ebony was. She occupied one, breathing softly. The entire layout of the house was the size of my chamber.

 Treastan seemed to have swallowed a rather large rock. He let out a nervous laugh, ruffling his hair with one hand. I noticed that he was better suited with messy, unkempt hair. It was more of a natural look on him.

 “You’re…not a nobleman, are you?” I asked, the pieces starting to come together at last. I backed away. “You’re not Treastan Marley. You aren’t even a citizen of Blythe.”

 He bared his teeth, giving me a wolfish grin, not denying the accusation. “And you think you belong here? You hold the biggest secrets here.” He countered and stalked forward. I stumbled back, away from this stranger. His name was never Treastan, this was known, but he wasn’t even of Blythe. Who was he? I pressed against the wall, looking fearfully up into his fiery eyes. He trapped me; put his hands on either side of my head. “Why do you think, honestly think, the war goes on? No petty dispute would continue with an entire country in the center of it. Our troops are filtered in, becoming way too thin for confrontation. We fight a battle maybe twice a year, with hardly any survivors on all sides. So why do we continue this?

 “There is a center,” he continued wildly. “Something was lost that can never be repaid. One of these hostile countries stole something loved and irreplaceable. Something cherished beyond thousands of lives.

“I wonder,” his voice dropped as he searched my eyes, the intensity setting my skin aflame, “if you have any clue. If you know, deep down, that you are out of place. That you don’t belong. If you know who you really are.”

 I swallowed drily. I had known, all along, that I was a misfit. For years, it had seemed I was trying to fit myself into a puzzle where I did not belong. I was an extra piece in a finished picture. I was not meant to fit in. My parents had tried so hard to mold me into someone I would never be. I was escaping right now, proving to him that the question was redundant. I knew.

 “I was trying to leave,” I whispered. “All these years, all I ever wanted was to find my place. To be someone worthwhile. My destiny has always been somewhere else. So, even when I didn’t know it, I have been trying to leave this place. All this time, underneath the lies I believed, I knew who I was and what to do.” I looked up at Treastan, seeing him as a blurred image. He nodded for me to go on, to continue. To finally let go. I took a breath. “I am of Dyat. My line is that of royalty, and I vow, as my father before me, to uphold the kingdom and protect it to the end. To my end.”

 I finished my speech, stunned at just how much I meant every word. Since when did my loyalties lie with an unknown country?

 Treastan twined his fingers with mine. His eyes twinkled. “Hail to the princess, for long lost was she to us but has returned tenfold.” I returned his smile, though mine was somewhat less lopsided, and it was watery. How he managed such a goofy grin was beyond me. I just knew that it was, and only would be, his smile. It would be a symbol to me.

 I held my head high, ridding myself of all the training to be weak, fragile, delicate, and at man’s mercy. I was a warrior among women. I would prove my mettle, no matter the cost.

14: Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

 

 My trust in Treastan was already on thin ice, and so when I found that he had known who I was all this time…it was a bit perplexing. Who was this man? Why did he keep such secrets? But I didn’t press him for any answers. In a world such as this, no one asked questions. Distrust and mystery was common. Being quiet was our new way of courteousness.

 The rich life I had lived sugarcoated this distrust and filth with a film of thin white over the ugly black. It made a neutral gray, but was plenty murky. A patch of white on a bloody sheet did not make it clean, but it did draw the eye to focus more on that small spot, on some tiny amount of good. I had lived in that white spot for far too long. Hundreds had suffered for my ignorance.

 Ebony shifted on the cot, groaning in pain. I was immediately at her side, pressing a fresh, cold cloth against the burn. It was changed every ten minutes. Treastan had insisted I get rest for the long road ahead, but I refused. Ebony needed me more. The bleeding had stopped, for now. The gash left a terrible scar across her once-flawless face, puckered and angry. I could only feel that this was my fault.

 The door opened. My head snapped around to it, watching as Treastan quietly made his way in. He frowned when he saw the dark circles that were more than likely crouched under my eyes. “Didn’t sleep a wink, did you?” He nodded to Ebony. “How’s she holding up?”

 I sighed, deeply. “She’ll be fine. I fear that she will have this scar the rest of her life, though. The poor dear, I wish I had been there.”

 “And what would you have done?”

 “I could’ve…I don’t know.” Frustration welled, close to spilling over.

 Treastan knelt by me, watching Ebony with a calm face. “Nobody would have known that this would happen. You couldn’t have done anything for her.”

 “It should be me, lying in that cot with a horrible burn. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

 He gave me a strange look, his never-ending smirk imperceptible. “And…what did you do that was so wrong? Why should you be the one in pain?”

 I shook my head sadly. “You wouldn’t understand. No one would.” I stood, brushing off my filthy nightgown. I gestured to the door. “Was everything starting to settle down?”

 “If you mean the good ol’ High and Mighty didn’t look for you, then yes, everything went smoothly. I believed my part was played perfectly. Nobody was more distressed.”

 I attempted a smile. It ended as a grimace. “Even Prince Know-It-All?”

 He grunted. “Maybe I shouldn’t brag so much. You wound me, Princess.”

 I raised my eyebrows. “Nicknames? I didn’t think our friendship had made it this far.”

 “Yes, well, that goes without saying.” He stood, once again towering over me. Why did I have to be so short? I wasn’t as small as Allura but still, a little more height would be wonderful.

 “And what should I call you?” It was only a second later I realized I was serious. So much for common courtesy.

 He stared at me. I tried not to fidget. “Whatever you wish to.”

 I had already taken a leap, it wouldn’t hurt to push a little more, would it? “And…do you have any other name? One your friends would call you by?”

 “Friends,” he murmured. “Huh. Funny that I’ve never had one.”

 “Well, give me what you would have called yourself, as a friend.” I only had to wonder if I thought of him as a friend myself. Did I?

 The lopsided grin came out again. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

 He started to walk toward the lone room at the back of the house without another word. My interest peaked. I chased after him. “Why not?”

 “Oh, the stories I’d have to tell.” He said it sarcastically and went into the room, not looking back as he closed the door behind him. I didn’t follow, stopped in my tracks and watched his retreat. A man’s chambers were not to be disturbed, and this line I would never cross.

 I didn’t know how long I stood there, staring at the door. It was creaked open a slit, revealing only darkness. I didn’t find Treastan to be the kind of person to sit and brood in the dark, but then again, what did I know about him?

 “Will-Willow?” A weak voice called. I tore myself away and ran to Ebony’s side, clutching her small hand in mine. I searched her eyes. They were still bright with pain, but clear.

 “What is it, little one? You should be resting.”

 “No.” She grimaced, as if it hurt to talk. She pulled herself up on one elbow, hair cascading like a dark waterfall over her. She pushed it pack with a trembling, impatient hand. Her grip was strangely firm. I had underestimated her strength. “We need to leave. We have to go.”

 I smiled, trying to placate her. “Okay, and we will, I promise, just as soon as you get better…”

 She was already shaking her head. “No. I am better. My wound is healing and it’ll scar anyway. We need to leave before we can’t.”

 “Why wouldn’t we be able to later?”

 She stared right through me. “Don’t you think he’ll know? They’ll all find out that Shelliby was never really you. And after that, they’ll lock everything down, looking for you.”

 “How do you…”

 “I heard it all. Every word.”

 I was stunned speechless. She had – well that sure did make things…more or less complicated? I wasn’t sure yet.

 “We need to go. Word will get out about this. If Dyat hears this, then they’ll no longer have a reason not to attack our country head-on. The king never cared that his grunts got the blunt of it in Seascer, but once they lost you…You’re their way to stay safe, to postpone the inevitable battle at the heart of the cause. I’m sure of it.”

 Her insight was one to be marked as uncanny, that much was certain. I had thought of this once before but dismissed it as simple paranoia. Hearing it that way from Ebony…

 I ran to the end of the hall. “Treastan! We need to – what the bloody devil are you doing?!” I had pushed open the door and found a rather downcast Treastan playing with a knife. He was twirling it between his fingers absentmindedly. The blade flashed silver in the weak candlelight. Without thinking, I grabbed the handle and shoved the blade into the wall. He jumped up, startled.

 “Are you trying to scare me to death?” I hissed at him, angry at his complete lack of self-preservation. He paused for a second, stuck with conflicting emotions. He threw back his head, laughing. Laughing.

 I fumed silently, ready to just throw my hand up in the air and stalk away. I was about five seconds from doing just that when his rude outburst subsided.

 He wiped his eyes. “Did you see what you did? Oh, boy, did you scare the – well it’s better not to say in front of a lady.”

 “Oh, and taking a dangerous object from you is commendable?” I snorted. “Hardly.”

 He waved it away. “No, not that. It’s the way you did it. I was spinning that knife so fast it should have cut your fingers off when you reached for it, but you almost got mine! You actually grabbed the handle.” His eyes gleamed, roving over me with respect and pride. “You have some good instincts. Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Princess.”

 “If I have any notion of what you’re talking about, I’ll tell you. But right now there are more pressing matters to deal with.”

 His brow furrowed. “Like what, Princess?”

 I narrowly avoided rolling my eyes. “Ebony is well enough to travel. We have to leave.”

 “Now?”

 “Now, Treastan.” My tone was unforgiving. One that spoke a no-nonsense policy. I dared him to challenge me.

 He snorted, but pulled a small traveling bag up and over his shoulders. “Oh, you’re so ferocious, Princess. Put those little claws away. I’m ready to go.”

 I didn’t take the bait, biting my tongue to keep back a few choice words. He shrugged and left the room. I turned away from the nearly-empty chamber. The entire room held a small cot and lots of wooden crates. I had the feeling that not even this place was Treastan’s. He didn’t have a home.

 And now, neither did I.

 I found Ebony talking to Treastan in a hushed voice when I entered. Their heads were bent down together, hiding their faces. She quickly cut off and gave me a weak but reassuring smile. My eyes narrowed, carefully studying both of them before I returned it, deciding to pretend I hadn’t seen the intensity of the topic they’d been discussing. I would bring it out of Ebony soon enough.

 Treastan, avoiding eye contact completely, walked over to the door and opened it. He poked his head outside for a brief second. He ducked back inside with a satisfied grunt. “Let’s see if the world’s deadliest guards can catch us, shall we?” He went out.

 I gave Ebony a puzzled look and followed after him. She simply shrugged and pulled her bag and weapons up.

 I met Treastan in the alley. He was carefully observing the area, watching the road for troops. No one was about this night. Rain poured down on us, soaking through my ruined nightgown.

 Which led to the point of my concern.

 “Treastan,” I whispered. He gave me a sideways glance but remained quiet. I made a show of what I wore. He blushed. “I don’t think it’s wise that I wear this any longer. I believe it would be better if I dressed as a boy, to draw less…attention.”

 He was a deep red. He drew a hand through his hair and averted his gaze. “I, uh, should have some spare clothes. I’ll see what I can find.”

 “Thank you.” I gave him a dark grin, trying to make him shift uncomfortably. I was enjoying this.

 We both went back in the house. Treastan pushed open his chamber door, disappearing in the darkness. I waited patiently.

 At least Ebony had had the time to be appropriately dressed, I thought.

 He came back with two small bundles in his arms. He gave one to me, and another to Ebony. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.” He turned and hurried away. I felt annoyance bubble and flushed a deep red, waited until the door shut before taking off my nightgown. I slipped into some trousers and a loose shirt. It was a little scratchy, but more comfortable than a dress. I pulled on an old jacket and some worn, leather boots. Ebony had much the same. We both put up our hair under caps. We looked like young village boys. I smiled at her. The scar was shadowed but still visible, so I pulled up the collar of her jacket and told her to keep her head down. She nodded somberly.

 I took my previous, immodest wear and threw it into the fire. I felt so much better when I was fully covered.

 Treastan came back in. I couldn’t help but blush as he stared at my new outfit. I didn’t like how the pants fit to my legs. It showed too much. I cleared my throat uncomfortably. I thought a little bit more about my clothing, how it allowed for easier movement, and pushed my shy feelings away. Now was not the time for them. I put a hand on my hip and arched my eyebrows at him. “Are we ready to leave?”

 Treastan rubbed the back of his head. He shook his head a little, as if to clear it. “Yeah, it seems that way. We should go before the princeling finds us. I can see an ‘Off with his head!’ coming up in my very near future.”

 I huffed and pushed past him.

 

 We came out on the streets as three brothers going to visit a relative in the Far East, right by the Seascer Gates. I was Cale Macabri, Ebony was Risu and Treastan was Killan. Treastan and Ebony could be siblings, for they had much the same looks, but I was far from it. We hoped no one would notice or care.

 “The soldiers don’t take notice of the poorer peasants in this area, but by the bridge we need to keep our heads down,” Treastan told us as we came out of the alley. The street was not as crowded as usual but still had enough people to be trouble navigating. I kept my eyes on the ground and focused on moving forward. We did not get any strange glances. We were invisible. He glanced around with expertise. I got the feeling he’d done this sort of thing many times. “I can’t always keep track of you. If you fall behind, you stay behind, got it?”

 I nodded and stayed quiet for the first little while. We were going through streets I had once traveled when getting wares or extra food with Amberly and later Ebony. The stones were black with soot and dust. The people had filthy faces, rags for clothes.

 Then we came to another kind of dirty road. Women with thin, high skirts stood along corners or in small groups. Their faces were covered with makeup, making them look unnatural and fake. They giggled as we passed by. The sound made me grimace. One of them came closer. She had strange, black shoes on with high platforms. She scrutinized me carefully, making me freeze in place. Treastan glanced back, as if feeling that someone was missing. He gave me a hard look, one that said I’d better keep moving.

 I stared back at her, pulling my coat higher to hide everything but my eyes. Somehow encouraged, she stepped up to me and placed a hand lovingly on my shoulder. The other tried to pry my cap off. I pulled it firmly down on my head, making her pout with fake, red lips. She bat her eyelashes and cocked her head. “No fun in you, is there? We need to change that.” I could feel her breath wash over my face in a hot, uncomfortable exhale. She pulled my coat down and pressed both hands against my cheeks, forcing my head to turn to meet hers. “I will make it all better. Just go along and Scarlet will take away the pain.” I guessed she gave me a fake name. After all, Scarlet was not a common name for children these days. It suggested darker meaning. Was anything real about these horrible women? And what was she talking about?

 Before I could form another thought, Scarlet pecked me on the lips. I jerked away violently, ripped myself out of her grasp. She frowned and I glared at her, mumbling oaths under my breath. I turned away, bumping right into Treastan. He steadied me, looked over my shoulder. His eyes glittered darkly, smoldering with anger. I forced myself not to hug him or in any way act girly. Not that I needed to hug him or anything.

 Scarlet huffed. “Ungrateful little brat.” I turned my head and watched her walk away, shoes clicking. Her hips swayed back and forth in a very unlady-like fashion. She went into a dark, unmarked building. When the door opened, laughter came out. I was glad not to have been dragged in there. It would have ended messy. I felt my belt, feeling the safety of a weapon under my fingertips. I wasn’t completely helpless. I’d practiced with the long, thin-bladed sword I carried for hours on end. The only problem I had was actually using it for the intended purpose.

 “Treastan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean – “

 He pulled me away by my forearm. Once it was clear no one was paying us any attention, he focused on me, looking me over. “Are you okay?”

 “I – yes, of course I am.”

 “Then we can talk later. We need to keep moving.”

 “Where’s Ebony?”

 “She’s safe. We’ll get her as we continue. She can handle herself.”

 “How do you – “

  He gave me a withering stare. I held my ground in stubborn defiance until he sighed in resignation. “She lived out here once before. Maybe not in this exact area, but close enough to know what not to do.” He studied me, gaze narrow. “And you have too much innocence going on. I need to give you a few…lectures when we make camp.”

 I wasn’t excited at all.

 

 Nobody bothered us all the way to the bridge. Ebony had been fine, hanging out in an abandoned shack until she saw us. I saw the way she was so familiar with the dirty streets, how she carried herself confidently. Anyone who looked her way got an ice-cold glare and hurried away. I wondered just what her life had been like before. She’d never bothered to tell me.

 The king’s men at the bridge swarmed it along the way. Nervous, I kept my head down and my shoulders hunched. Peasants of all types cluttered the planks, crowding me and giving no sense to the words “personal space.” I was poked, jabbed, shoved and bustled. I panicked whenever I lost sight of Treastan and Ebony, though it was normally for a split second. It was hard not to lose all direction in the crazy mess of traffic.

 People pushed their way in front of me, dragging along a large ox and cart. I tried to go around them only to be shoved to the ground by other passerby. I picked myself up and made sure everything was still in place before roughly making my way forward. I was so tired of being a…a girl. Of being pushed around and thrown away like trash. I wanted a change, to change.

 Raised voices hit my ears. I looked up, seeing the crowd in front of me part. I quickly followed, elbowing my way between two young boys. Soldiers came by, holding up a decrepit man. His wild, unfocused eyes scanned the crowd. I tensed, somehow knowing…they lit on me. He finally got a spark of intelligence in those dark, cold pits of black. He leaped forward, clawing the air. The soldiers heaved him back, restrained him with iron muscle. He babbled and wailed.

 “She’s the one,” he gasped, wildly pulled and whipped his head back and forth. I watched without a clue as to what to do. He continued with his insane rant, spittle flying from his lips. “She will ruin you all! I won’t be in jail. She will free me. She will free us all!” He fell to his knees, pleading to me. I shrunk back as faces – so many faces – turned to stare at me. I wanted to run from him, from all of them.

 “Shut up,” I hissed at the man. My heart hurt. This man was just another helpless victim of disease. His insanity wasn’t anything to condemn him for. But I needed his silence. Quite literally, my life was at stake.

 “Help me, daughter of the Good Queen.” He continued even as I tried in every way to give him warnings. Others took one look at my face, seeing unbridled rage there, and turned away. After a while of wailing for my good graces, the man unfocused again, slumped and went limp. He kept up a string of strange words. “The light is in the sun. I love the goose. I need a hug! Give me cheese. Let us eat cake…” He giggled, flailing until a guard wickedly hit him across the head. As if that would help in any way. They took him away. Everyone gave his words no attention. They proceeded with their daily travels. I let out a shaky breath and took a couple steps forward.

 “What’s your name, son?” I whipped around. My relief was short-lived. Apparently, the spectacle was enough to arouse some sort of suspicion. I braced myself, tensed and ready for a fight. I looked up into a hard face. A tall soldier towered over me.

 I cowered in response, trying my best to look like a poor boy caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “I’m C-Cale Macabri.”

 He studied me for a moment then nodded. “That’s a good, strong name. Sorry about the scene with that prisoner back there.” He jerked a thumb in the direction the guards went, acting for all the world as if it were a normal thing to happen. He continued to give me a scrutinizing look, scanning my pack and slight frame. “Where are you headed, anyway? I don’t see you with much.”

 “No,” I stated confidently. He raised an eyebrow, and I quickly amended my hasty and hostile reply. “I’m just heading to the Far East with my brothers. We’re visiting some relatives and looking for work.”

 “That’s an awful long way to travel with the little provisions you have.”

 “We’re going to stop off for a while at Lock Chasm.”

 He narrowed his searching gaze. I trembled on the inside but held myself calm and challenging. He huffed. “Okay, that sounds reasonable.” I breathed out, having held my breath for longer than was healthy. “I wish you a safe journey.”

 I barely avoided relaxing in relief. I had to be alert and tense, wary for the unexpected. “Thank you.”

 He grunted and walked away. I copied his example in the opposite direction. I made it to the other side of the bridge easily, weaving in and out of groups without thought.

 “Cale!” I heard a far away call. It was full of desperation.

 So much for being undercover. The whole “every man for himself” concept was never one that worked.

 I made my way to the voice, roughly pushing through throngs of people. Treastan was pacing back and forth, face white and pulled tight with stress. He froze when he saw me and ran forward, eliciting a few insults from peasants on the way. Despite our cover, he pulled me into a huge hug.

 This reminded me of another night, with another man. His black eyes glimmered in relief. His constantly-serious lips shifted in that half-smile I loved so much. He breathed tender words in my ear…

 I mentally shook myself. Rowan was gone. I had left him to believe I was dead, and when he found the truth I would be far and out of reach. I would never see him again.

 My heart wrenched at the thought.

 “You scared me. Stop wandering off, will you? You constantly get yourself into trouble.” Treastans eyes gleamed, the worry being replaced by relief and…something else.

 “Okay, uh, Killan, I won’t. I promise.” I cleared my throat uncomfortably. It felt like my ribs were being pushed together.

 When he set me down, I gave a small smile and hurried forward. I hoped he hadn’t seen the shame and misery on my face. Rowan was a pest I couldn’t get out of my head. The prince was loyal to only his country; he wouldn’t think twice about capturing me and turning me over to the king. So why did I feel so horrible leaving him behind? The truth was right in front of my face, but it was one I didn’t want to see. Perhaps I was being stupid and blind on purpose. The truth was my head made me move forward…but my heart kept looking back. It most likely always would.

15: Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

 

  Have you ever heard of Theudemir?”

 I looked up from the ground, seeing no rocks to trip over. It had been only hours since the bridge passed out of sight. I had yet to have the lecture Treastan promised. I would almost prefer it to walking along a rather menacing, rocky trail leading up a mountain. The traitorous ground had tripped me up on more than one occasion. So I kept my eyes down, glaring at every rock I had to clamber over. I had no idea this was a path in the first place. The length of the trail was strewn with huge boulders, blocking out any sign that one was even capable of making it a way up the mountainside. We had to climb these huge rocks as quickly as possible to make sure no one further down on the valley floor saw us. The tall bushes made it hard to pick us out on the ground, but the boulders stuck up above the cover. All in all, I hated the trail. Treastan had been annoyingly cheerful the entire time, and Ebony was as silent as the grave. I watched her to make sure she caught up. On a normal day she would be more cheery than the impossible Treastan, but she hadn’t said a word. So he went on and on about things no one cared about.

 Now I assumed he talked his regular nonsense, and sighed. “Never heard of him.” It was like speaking to a child. I had to constantly say “no, we weren’t going down that hill” or “stop climbing up every tree you see, you’ll get us spotted!” It was exhausting.

 “Oh, boy. You are going to love this one.” He practically bounced on his feet. I gave him a gentle smile. How he managed to stay so energized was beyond me. “You see,” he began dramatically, spreading his arms out wide to encompass everything, “this is a true story. It has passed secretly, all the way up to the first king of Dyat himself. The Sapientiam they used to call him, I think. I believe it meant “Wise Ruler” or something like that.

 “Anyway, it all begins when the king has a daughter. She is born sickly and weak, and the king lost his wife as she gave birth. The entire kingdom was distraught with such a tragedy. They all believed that the princess wouldn’t survive either. The king had no idea what to do. He cried out to the sky and the gods to save his only child and the last of his family. He had not even a niece or distant relative to take the throne. He did not want his end to be the death of his country. And so the god Theudemir offered a deal.

 “Now Theudemir was an ancient, unkown god. No one knew his true origins, or his power. In fact, all that was ever known about him was he was a god of some sort. No one knew of what, for whom, or why he chose to help in the way he did. And so you can see why the king was reluctant.”

 “Does this story have any relevance to our current situation?” I interrupted. My sour mood was not only caused by the extra energy wasted to keep Treastan in check, but by the exertion and control I had to use just to keep going forward. There were fewer boulders than earlier but I was also wearier. We would have to make camp soon. Unless that boy and his never-ending energy wanted to carry me up the mountain. Not that I would let that happen.

 He raised an eyebrow. “Well, well, aren’t we in a bit of a foul mood today? Maybe you’ll see relevance in your family history if you let me finish?”

 I didn’t comment. And so he moved on. “So the king decided to place a small portion of trust in Theudemir. He told the god to tell him what to do. But there was a problem. The god didn’t want anything easy from the king. In fact, he told the king that one day his kingdom would fall by the hands of his daughter’s line. The king accepted the fact easily. He hoped it would be a very long time until that happened.

 “But he didn’t know one more thing until many years later, when his daughter had a son. His family line was cursed. Every son would be born with evil inside him. Every boy in the line would be cursed to betray his own country. This was the price of Theudemir’s healing. He took the good things any king had to offer and twisted them just a little bit. The king was infuriated by this and summoned the god back. He asked him why this happened, but the god wouldn’t answer. Theudemir simply said only one of the female line would end the curse, for she had his power within her. And so every male ever to be born was disciplined and taught with caution. They were our greatest rulers, for they had an inner turmoil they fought against every day. Sapientiam was the first to teach his grandson the wisdom of his years. That boy was a righteous ruler, earning his own title. And so it continues. But the story is not as it used to be. No one believes enough to look for the one to end the curse, for they do not know if a curse really existed, or if it is just legend.”

 As he finished his story, I yawned. “How does this show relevance?”

 He shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

 “I’ll think about it and get back to you after a good night’s rest.”

 “I second that,” Ebony whispered. I turned and gave her a smile. She gave half of one in return. My heavy heart lifted just a little bit. Perhaps everything would be okay.

 

 We made camp in a clump of bushes not far off the “path.” I had never slept outside before, and so Treastan showed me how to put a tarp up to keep the rain out. It was still very cold so we made a fire. We had to keep it in the middle of our little circle of tents so as not to alert anyone of our presence. The small fire was welcome in my opinion. I hated the cold.

 But there was something that still bothered me. “Hey, annoying one,” I called out. Treastan turned and I resisted the urge to snicker. At least he knew what I thought of his constant blather. “Is Blythe where you were born or is there nothing real about you at all?”

 “My looks are all natural,” he replied smugly. I wanted to slap him. He knew what I meant. He sighed as the silence stretched on. “I wasn’t born in this country. I was raised in Seascer. On a farm.”

 Now I was getting somewhere. “And what was your name then?”

 “Nice try, Princess. But that is one secret you will never get out of me.”

 I shifted forward and rested my head on my hands. “Aww, why not? It’s just a name.”

 He cocked his head to the side. “Does it ever bother you that you don’t know what your own real name is? I mean, they named you Willow on the spot, but your birth name is something completely different.”

 Honestly, it hadn’t ever crossed my mind. What was my name? Who was I? “And would you know, smart guy?” I meant to sound hostile but it came out as a sincere question. I wanted to know.

 He huffed, getting up off the ground. “We’ll find out when we get to Dyat. I promise.” He turned away and started walking into the forest. “I’ll keep the first watch, you get some sleep.”

 I nodded. That was probably the most I’d get out of him for tonight.

 “Hey, Willow.”

 I froze.

 “I always keep my promises.” He walked away.

 I waited until his footsteps faded before lying down and pulling the scratchy, wool blanket over my head. I took off my cap, spilling my hair out on the mat. The fire was nothing but glowing embers and the cold was already settling in. Ebony was on the mat next to me, lightly snoring in her sleep. So much had happened; I was surprised she could fall asleep. I didn’t feel hazy enough to slide into the blissful arms of dreams yet. The fire, the death of Shelliby, kept running through my mind. Her screams made me shudder. Every time I closed my eyes I saw it happen again and again. When would it stop?

 I gave up with a sigh and sat up. The fire was out, Treastan was nowhere to be seen. The stars were bright above me, like little candles in the sky. They twinkled like they would any other night. It must be lonely up there, surrounded by black.

 I shivered. The cold was more severe up here than down in the village. At least they had some shelter there, with lamps to see with and the small rooftops over their heads.

 Well, thinking and wishing won’t make you warm, I thought, and scrambled up to the fire pit. The embers were all but completely out. I tossed in some kindle and lightly blew. They caught instantly and I threw in some heavier sticks before relaxing against a large rock. I’d built a fire once before, but that was with the help and advice of Amberly. It was as if she knew that one day I would have to do it on my own. Perhaps she had always known the truth. It hurt to think that she never told me. But what would the knowledge have done? I was too young to do anything about it.

 My head was going in circles. I couldn’t change the past, so I might as well move on and stop the "what if’s." It was time I started being responsible.

 Finally comforted, I felt the light tugs of sleep at my consciousness and went back to bed. This time, I fell asleep soon as I lay down.

16: Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

 

 Morning came quicker than what I thought was fair. Treastan nudged me awake with the toe of his boot in my back. It hurt a little, but it woke me up. I grumbled and tried to stay in bed for a few more seconds. Everything was finally warm, and I was reluctant to get up.

 “Just let me sleep for a little while, Amberly. I had a long night,” I mumbled. Another light kick in my back. I twisted and caught the boot before it pulled away again, blinking my eyes open a few times to clear everything. There was a loud oof! as something thudded to the ground. I found myself holding a leather boot with no foot in it.

 Treastan was sitting on the ground with his hands behind him and exasperation written all over his face. He reached over and snatched the boot from my hand.

 I tried to make sense of my current situation. I didn’t know why I was outside, and with Treastan of all people…

 Everything came back to me in a flash. “Wait. Did I just…” I laughed.

 Treastan flushed and picked himself up. He dusted himself off before glaring at me. “You never told me you had freaking ninja speed. That’s an unfair advantage!”

 “Wha’?” Ebony grumbled, sitting up beside me and rubbing her eyes. She glanced from me to the disheveled Treastan and shrugged. A light smile tugged her lips upward as she found out what had happened. She stood and gave Treastan a quick pat on the back. “It’s happened to all of us. No one wants to wake Willow in that fashion anymore. She tends to be very quick when asleep.” She trudged off, most likely to wash up a little, as she took a canteen with her.

 We stared after her. I sighed. “Well, now that you’ve got me up, I suppose I might as well get ready for the day.” I stood, brushed a hand through my hair and yawned.

 “How?” I heard. I turned to look at Treastan, who had a look of disbelief. I held my hands up in a confused gesture. He encompassed all of me with a quick movement of his hands. “How do you do that?”

 “Do what?”

 “I was looking forward to seeing you all ruffled and your hair ratted up. It’s the same as it ever was!”

 “My hair is impossible, is what it is. I can never get the ringlets out.”

 “Oh, so that’s a problem?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

 “If you’re quite done with the sarcasm, might I ask what’s for breakfast?”

 He shook his head and mumbled something about women and perfection under his breath before he pointed to a pot over the fire.

 I went over and the scent washed over me. “Coffee?”

 He was at my other side and we stared at each other. “What, you don’t like it?”

 “Women don’t drink coffee, especially for breakfast. Who do you think I am?”

 “Obviously a hater of a delicious brew.”

 “Do we have any real food?”

 He pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly breathed out.

 I took this as an only-if-you-make-it-yourself sign. That was fine. The packs still had some provisions left in them. I took out a piece of bread and some jam. I made enough for me and Ebony, though it would only help to diminish our hunger. I gave her the bread as she entered the camp once again. I saw that her scar was now just a pink line down her face. It had healed very fast, and better than I had hoped. Parts of it still had yet to complete the process, but it would heal fairly quickly. At least it didn’t mar her beautiful face too badly. She was still strikingly pretty.

 She took the bread with the jam spread and sat next to me. As she bit into it, I saw she used only the one half of her mouth. “Does it hurt?” I asked gently.

 She chewed and swallowed before answering. “A little. Though it hurts more if I use that side too much. That’s why I haven’t talked all too often.”

 “Oh.”

 We ate in silence. I grimaced as Treastan drank his coffee, sighing in delight as he sipped it. I didn’t know how he liked such a strong beverage. It was repulsive.

 We finished breakfast, packed up camp, and set out again.

 It was only when I climbed the first boulder I realized Treastan hadn’t given me those lectures yet.

 And I was glad.

 

 The trek went slow and hard. We climbed the mountain until late afternoon. Then we began the long journey to the closest town, Lock Chasm. I didn’t complain even when my muscles screamed in protest. This was for my good. All the exercise would build my muscles.  And, over the next couple of days, it did. I became stronger and leaner than before. My slight frame wasn’t soft any longer. On the second night, in the shelter of a narrow cave, Treastan started to teach me how to fight. It started without weapons.

 “You want to know how to defend yourself if you can’t reach your weapon,” he said. I supposed it was a wise decision. I learned to control my body before controlling a weapon. I was disciplined to learn how to balance on fallen logs, on wet stones and even on one leg during a fight.

 “How are you going to fight if you hurt your leg? Or your arm?” He asked me. I guessed the answer quite quickly, because he swept one leg out from under me right then. Landing on my backside hurt. The bruises just got more bruises.

 He taught Ebony as well. At first, I was the overprotective mother. I would chew Treastan out whenever I felt he was being too aggressive. I finally let them be when Ebony gave me a firm talking to. “He needs to push me, Willow. The bad guys won’t go easy on me just because you tell them to.”

 Who could disagree with that?

 

On the fifth night of our traveling, the provisions ran out and we had to hunt. Treastan had his own bow and went into the forest with Ebony. He taught us both how to make traps and snares to catch game.

 I stayed behind when they went hunting. It wasn’t that I wanted to leave it to them or that I was lazy. I didn’t have a bow, and it wasn’t like I could hunt with a sword. Nothing would let me get that close.

 I was the one to watch over the camp when the others were absent. Treastan knew I was good with the sword from the demonstration I gave him, and so he trusted my skills enough to leave me alone for a few hours.

 We went on like that for only two days before Lock Chasm came in sight. We went with our previous story in case any villagers started asking questions. After all, Lock Chasm was a small village and didn’t get many visitors. The giant ravine it was named after prevented merchants from getting over. They had to take the long way around if they were to get to the village, and most just avoided it. And so there wasn’t much to be had there.

 We watched the town as dusk was falling. We had a high vantage point on a cliff. The scraggly bushes we used to use for shelter had turned into giant, dark pines and shallow caves. I found that we had traveled further north than east, hence the drastic climate change. We were headed for Etregan at this point. I wondered why. The Seascer gates would be easier than trying to go through a hostile land full of pillagers. I was worried and set to ask Treastan about it later. Now was not the time.

 “Okay, so here’s what we do,” Treastan started, glancing at both of us. “We need to get in and out with as little suspicion as possible. So you just leave all the talking to me, okay? After all, no offense to either of you, you don’t exactly sound male. We need our story to be as believable as we can get it. No goofing around or running off without my say-so.” I wondered why he looked pointedly at me. “Okay, we have to be there before it gets too dark. And I don’t want another night out here in the cold when I have enough to buy us a room at the inn.”

 We started down the cliff, being careful with our feet. We were all expert climbers, Ebony included, but one misstep was fatal to any climber, good or not. But another question had risen to the surface and, when we had once again set off on level ground, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

 “Treastan?” He glanced back at me without saying anything. “How much money do you have?”

 “Enough.”

 That’s all I could get him to say.

 

 We made it to the village gates before they closed, but just barely. The guards were ushering the late farmers and others through the gate to close it. Our small group was the last. As agreed, Ebony and I stayed silent and Treastan, or Killan as we were supposed to call him, did all the talking.

 The guards seemed amused by our sorry state when we finally got up to the gates. One of them, older but still considerably younger than Maron, tilted his head as he watched us. His gaze rested on me, puzzled. I felt a sense of déjà vu looking at him. It felt like we’d met, but I couldn’t figure out where or when.

 Treastan hadn’t missed this, either, and he gave me a stern frown I took to say “stay put and don’t do anything stupid.” Of course, I wanted to do just that. I wanted to find out how I knew this guard. I hadn’t been this far from Durath before. Our family trips were normally to the castle to visit the royal family, not out of the city itself.

 He walked up to the two guards. He started to talk in a somewhat hushed voice. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. So I focused my attention on the surrounding forest. Everything was dark with the rapidly-approaching night. The moon was already high in the sky, casting a soft glow on everything. I wondered if the moon was some sort of star that happened to be a lot bigger. If so, perhaps it was the one to decide when the rest of the stars would fade into the day. I found that kind of power daunting. Everything did have its own order, but couldn’t everything be balanced by living together? Could the sun be less jealous and let the stars out?

 Treastan came back. “We are able to stay at the inn for two days,” he whispered. “But we must leave after that. The village doesn’t have much more to offer us. It is monsoon season.”

 “A monsoon?” Ebony scoffed. “In this place? I doubt it.”

 “You’d be surprised. Now go on. I’ll follow right behind you.”

 We shuffled forward, me in front. I paused slightly when the doors loomed above. The more familiar of the two guards nodded and gave me an encouraging smile. I could see he was still trying to figure me out, watching my face intently. I gave him a watery smile back and hurried forward. His eyes were the blue of the ocean. I found them quite interesting, even more so had they not been trying to pry my secrets out of me.

 The guards followed us inside, shouting to close the doors behind us. They shut with a resounding clang. Lock Chasm was pathetically small. The entire town was taken in from the entrance. There were a few homes, a tavern that was also the inn, and a single, bigger house. It most likely belonged to the nobleman in charge of the place. I could see a few servants moving about through the enormous windows.

 Treastan went ahead and led us to the tavern. Beside it was a small stable with only two horses occupying it. One was a smoky gray and the other was a caramel brown with white spots. Both didn’t bother looking up from the hay they were munching. I understood that.

 The tavern was busy and loud. One man, obviously drunk, carried a tankard and stumbled into Ebony. I was about to intervene when she shoved him back into a beam. He cracked his head against the wood and slumped to the ground. He was conscious, but confused. We continued onward. I was surprised that Ebony handled herself so easily. Once again I found myself wanting to ask about her life before living as a servant. She could only have been about five or seven years old when she moved in.

 The innkeeper gave us a room in the attic. When I asked Treastan he just shrugged and said, “Don’t want to draw too much attention. Getting a room is enough without it being a pricey one. The attic is cheaper.” And so we went up to our room. The door was a little stubborn, but I found it better that way. If it scraped against the floor, it’d make noise when someone came in. Better safe than sorry.

 There were two beds in the room and a small wood table. It was otherwise unfurnished. The beds were sort of hard and scratchy, but it was better than sleeping on the ground. Treastan decided that Ebony and I could share a bed, and he would take the other one.

 “Unless you want to share a bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows. I elbowed him in the ribs.

 Surprisingly enough, a girl brought in three bowls of soup for us. Treastan paid her and she gave a shy wave before leaving.

 “What was that all about?” I asked after she left.

 Treastan shrugged and I took a bowl from him. He then gave one to Ebony and dug into his own. “I asked the man behind the bar if we could have the food delivered to our room. I didn’t want to go down there during the busier hours.” As if in answer, hooting and loud bangs sounded downstairs. He didn’t give it any attention, as all his focus was on wolfing down the soup in record time. “Ach! Hot, hot, hot! And does everything have carrots in it?”

 I laughed. “Do you not like carrots?”

 He gave me the evil eye. “And I suppose you actually like them, don’t you?”

 “Of course. They’re good for your eyesight.”

 He grimaced and looked back down into his bowl. Which, evidently, was swimming with little orange lumps. “Good for you. I, however, have good enough eyesight without any help from disgusting rabbit food.” He sighed. “But I did pay for it, so…” he tilted the bowl back, swallowing the carrots without chewing them.

 “Eww!” I exclaimed. “Did you even taste them? That is so gross!”

 “The point was not tasting them at all,” he replied without a single note of embarrassment. I shook my head in wonder. Boys, did they have no shame?

 “Well,” Ebony said in an annoyed tone. “If you two are quite done, I think I’ll go to sleep now. It’s late.” She slipped beneath the covers, not bothering to take her cap off.

 Everything was silent save for the tavern, which still echoed with hollers and chairs toppling over.

 “I’ll, uh, lock the door.” Treastan moved away.

 I rolled my eyes. Of course, now he was embarrassed. Why did it always work this way?

 The covers were warm and I relished the safety of a room with a real roof that wasn’t flimsy or crawling with spiders.

 The lock clicked into place and the lamp was blown out before sleep took me.

 

 My eyes shot open. Everything was dark, and Ebony and Treastan were sleeping peacefully. Out the window, night wrapped over everything. There was a shadow above me, keeping a hand over my mouth. I couldn’t make out who it was. It was too dark to pick out any features. I got ready to kick out at him, but something sharp under my chin stopped me.

 “Don’t move,” he whispered. I didn’t recognize the voice. It was deep and dangerous. “Don’t scream, got it?” I didn’t nod for fear the knife would cut me. I wondered how Ebony didn’t know I was in trouble. Surely one of my companions would realize that we weren’t alone?

 “Your friends won’t wake for another three hours,” my captor said. “And by then we’ll be far away.

 “Now, tell me, are you really Cale Macabri? And don’t sell me any more lies. I know those two aren’t your brothers. You look nothing like them.”

 He moved the hand covering my mouth. I opened it to scream when the point of the knife lightly poked under my chin. “Who are you?”

 He didn’t answer right away. “What is your real name? Is it Willow?”

 “How did you…” I trailed off, realizing my blunder too late.

 “I thought I recognized you.”

 “How?”

 He stood straight, the knife vanishing from my throat. I swallowed, paralyzed. I tried moving my arms, but it didn’t work. “What did you do to me?”

 “The knife has a special poison that paralyzes you for about a day. It’ll wear off.

 “In answer to your first question, I met you a long time ago, when I was known as Aoric. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Willow Rosten.”

17: Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

 

 Aoric was the guard I had met at the gates. I still wondered how I knew him, and even more so now that he said he’d met me before. But that wasn’t my first concern. That would be how to escape.

 He had thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and left out a secret passage I wasn’t aware of. It had been at the end of the hallway. He told me he had poisoned my friends with something similar to the one he gave me. They would just sleep for a while. But I would be awake the entire time he carried me to…wherever it was we were headed. I hated feeling like a rag doll.

 He ran to the opposite end of the entrance to the village and went inside what looked like an abandoned shack. Inside he opened a trapdoor and entered a tunnel. It was made of what looked like cobblestone and leaked terribly. I hoped whatever kept dripping on my head was water.

 I wondered how he even got into the room. The door was noisy and should have woken us all up. I could only guess that he had lifted the door up then pushed it open.

 The tunnel opened up into a small wood. I saw that morning was nigh, as the horizon was a light orange now. Not far from where we were was a beautiful black and brown horse. He stood tall and proud, head raised and alert. Aoric ran over to him and threw me over the saddle. Yet again I felt like a rag doll.

 “Where are we going?” I asked him. Hostility dripped from my voice.

 Aoric got up in the stirrups and swung astride the horse. Most I could see of him now were his feet and knees. He wore mid-calf brown boots and brown leggings. He didn’t answer until we were at a decent canter. “I am going to make up for the past. Those friends of yours are going to get you killed.”

 “Why should I believe you?”

 “Please don’t. In fact, don’t trust me at all.”

 “You’re not helping.”

 A deep sigh. I had that effect on people. “I helped take you from your parents, okay? I was part of the small group that took you as an infant. I was known as Aoric then, but, for personal reasons, I changed it to Dragen. Now, all I want to do is set my wrongs to right.”

 “So…where are we going?”

 “Somewhere safe. I can train you there.”

 “And I can’t trust you.”

 “Exactly.”

 

 The long ride there didn’t make anything less confusing. I found that any questions I asked were either answered vaguely or twisted to mean something completely different. By the time Aoric-Dragen guy made camp I was thoroughly disoriented.

 He set down a large pot on the fire and poured what looked like beef and carrots into it as well as some mysterious liquid. I watched with absentmindedness.

 “What’s that?” I asked.

  He didn’t turn to me, just lit the fire with some flint and steel. “The word ‘that’ is a term describing anything in the world. I can simply say that,” he pointed to the far right, “is a bush, used for several purposes both private and public.”

 I rolled my eyes.

 “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

 I wondered how he knew I was doing that. Did he have eyes in the back of his head?

 “I don’t have extra eyes in the back of my head, for your information. Now get over here so I can teach you how to cook. You should be able to move.”

 I wondered how he knew what I was thinking. I moved over to him, feeling pins and needles everywhere. It was painful.

 “What I was asking was: what is it you poured in the pot?”

 “Stew ingredients.”

 “Like what?”

 “Carrots.”

 He was being a pain in the butt on purpose. “The other thing.”

 “Beef.”

 “The other other thing.” Now I was just frustrated.

 “A secret type of sauce I make myself. I’ll tell you the recipe some day. Oh, and it’s mixed with water so it isn’t too strong.

 “Any other questions?”

 I grumbled unintelligibly. He rubbed his hands together. “Perfect. Now, I’ll just leave it to you to finish this.”

 “Wait, what do I do?”

 A small smile tugged at his lips. “I asked if you had any other questions. You didn’t answer so I knew you had cooking skills because you didn’t ask me how to make it.”

 “But you said you’d teach me.”

 “Only if you wanted to be taught. For example, you could have asked if I could teach you how to finish the stew without spoiling our dinner or overcooking it. It’s all in the thinking. You have a brain, right? So use it.”

 I was flustered and annoyed. He spun me in so many circles I found my sense of up and down lacking. “How do I make it? Show me and teach me, please.” I tried to be specific, if only for his sake.

 “Now you’re getting it.”

 And so he told me, in very general terms, how to cook our dinner. I didn’t know why, but his confidence in me made me want to stay just a little bit longer. I found myself unwittingly trusting the man. He may be a little old and gruff, but I counted him as a sort of mentor or friend. It was strange.

 “When am I going to see Treastan and Ebony again?” I demanded.

 Aoric froze. “Treastan?”

 Whoops. “Um, no, never mind, I meant –“

 He spun around, grabbing me by the shoulders. His eyes were wide. “Treastan Vin Hemon. Is that his name? And don’t bother with the lying. I’ll know.”

 Of that, I had no doubt. He seemed to know everything. “I-I don’t know.”

 He shook me roughly. “This is no time to be stupid, girl. If that is Treastan Vin Hemon, we are in a lot of trouble.”

 “Why?”

 He released me, and I fell back. Rocks scraped my hands. The pain was dull due to my still-fading numbness.

 “Treastan Vin Hemon is a Seascer spy. I don’t know how he’s still alive, because I killed him years ago.”

 “You k-killed him?”

  He turned piercing, dangerous blue eyes on me and I shrank back. “I told you, I have a lot on my conscience. When I was the king’s right-hand man known as Aoric Mastrom I did a lot of things I regret. Aoric is dead, as far as I’m concerned. I am a traitor with no country. So, please, for my own sake and yours, call me Dragen. People know me as a wanderer. If they knew who I really was…it could mean both our deaths.”

 I didn’t know what to say, and I obviously didn’t need to. Aoric – or Dragen as I should get used to calling him – just walked away, head bowed and shoulders hunched. I felt bad for him, even if he did kidnap me. In his mind, it was for a greater purpose. But was what he said true? Was Treastan really a Seascer spy? Treastan did say he was born there. It could be true. But then again, Dragen said not to trust his word, so either one could be lying. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

 I wanted to go after him and apologize, even if it was for an unknown reason. What did I do wrong? I was just trying to get across a couple countries and into Dyat. Why was that so wrong? I thought maybe I could leave, just get going. But this was dangerous country for a girl like me. I looked like a young boy, but that didn’t mean trouble wouldn’t come my way. Just look at me now, stuck in some stranger’s camp who had stolen me from my first home and family.

 Sighing deeply, I walked over to a big rock and sat down, chin resting on my hands. There was nothing to do but wait. I was now the damsel in distress. Hopefully Treastan would come soon, but I couldn’t trust him either. So what else was there to do but wait it out? At least this way I’d be sheltered in a tent and trained to fight back. I still planned on escaping once Dragen turned his back, but not until I knew how to survive on my own.

 The bushes rustled. I didn’t turn around to see who it was. His crunching footsteps gave it away. Dragen really didn’t leave for long. He must have walked off to clear his head and jump right back in when he was at his prime frustrating need-to-know self.

 “Why are you just sitting around when there’s work to be done?” His voice was gruff as ever.

 I didn’t answer him, blowing away stray hair from my face. Darn curls couldn’t stay in a bun for the life of me, let alone a hat. The forest was darkening quickly. The shadows cast long, twisted figures on the sparse grass. Everything was silent, almost eerily so.

 Dragen huffed and moved toward the fire pit, passing me. He grabbed the pot from the flames I had forgotten about and removed the lid. Steam poured out quickly accompanied by a mouth-watering smell. I did my best to move slowly. I wouldn’t run over the second the smell of food hit me.

 Dragen was half-turned and looking into the pot, but I saw a small smile cross his face. “Self-restraint. I like that. You know how to control yourself unlike…others.”

 I didn’t have a comeback to that. So we sat and ate. He was completely silent, but I got the feeling this was normal. He didn’t have company very often. This solitude might be why his voice was so gruff and harsh.

 My mind drifted much as the sun slowly behind the hills. A lot had happened in the last few days. Surprisingly enough, I was okay with all of it. Even being kidnapped didn’t shock me. All of this was a way of finding myself.  If I could befriend an assassin and a spy as well as a prince then it had to come in handy somewhere. I knew there was something I was missing, at the edge of my mind, but it was hazy. The idea had yet to completely form.

 All this thinking was giving me a headache, so I stood, bid Dragen good night and crawled into the tent. I was wondering what he would do. Would he be sleeping next to me? The thought made me pull up the shawl further. It was hard to imagine that Dragen slept at all. He seemed tireless.

 The tent had two shawls so he obviously meant to use the other one. It was hard to sleep with my chaotic thoughts crowding the peace out but, after what felt like an eternity, I drifted into oblivion.

18: Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

 

The world was a mess of blackened fields and raging fire. I knew I was dreaming, but I could not wake up. The ashes clung to my eyelashes, floating around me like tiny black dandelion seeds. They rested on my hair, turning it gray. The more I tried to wipe it off, the blacker I became. The air was suffocating. A fire was burning bright in the distance. It looked like an entire city caught up in the blaze. Smoke rose from it in great plumes, almost blocking out a tall castle. A few bricks were still white, but most of it was crumbling into nothing.

 The wind blew in a sharp gust, flinging my hair back. I breathed in some stray ash and coughed, shutting my eyes against the sting of it. Heat brushed me in an echo.

 I opened my eyes when something clung to my legs. My dress was charred in a diagonal, jagged fray. The longest part was on my left, reaching to my ankle. The right side was burned up to just below my knee. Blisters marred my skin. There was some sort of fabric wrapping itself around my exposed limb, trying to blow further away. I picked it up, examining it. It was a flag with what looked like a horse. It was horribly worn out and had scorch marks all over it.

 The flag flew away from my fingers as another strong wind came. Ash made a funnel around me, lifting up off the ground in a great big cloud.

 The field didn’t have grass. My eyes widened and I stumbled back. Skulls and bones. Hundreds of the dead were at my feet. I tripped over a rib cage, falling back into a mound of bones. The ash had been hiding hundreds of remains.

 Pain registered and white flashed before my eyes. I held my hands in front of me in horror. The skin peeled away, revealing red-washed bone. I felt my face. It was narrower and more angular. My hand came away covered in red. The skin was melting off me as if I were burning.

 I wanted to scream, but the ash clogged my throat. Grinning skulls watched me become one of them. Just one more corpse of a dead city.

 I thrashed and kicked out, trying to breathe beneath the pain.

 “Willow!”

 I heard a far away voice call me. It was coming from the sky somehow. I knew that voice. It was trying to wake me up. Or was this really a dream? It hurt too much to be a dream.

 “Willow, wake up!”

 Everything was starting to blur together. The fire looked more like wet paint running down the canvas. The field meshed into a deep gray color without detail. The ground was shaking. Or was that me?

 Darkness covered me. My eyes snapped open and I sat up.

 Dragen was crouched not even a foot away. His face was very calm. It actually helped me get my bearings.

 “What-” I cleared my throat and restarted. “What happened?”

 “You were having a nasty nightmare. Thrashing about like that. I’ve never seen someone do that before while sleeping. It was as if you were in a great deal of pain.”

 I winced. “Yeah, pain.”

 He studied me closely, never turning away. “What were you dreaming about? What was it that made you so violently act out?”

 I didn’t even know where to start. So I said nothing.

 He grunted. “Fine. I won’t press for any answers. I understand secrets.” He stood, walking over to a tree with a shawl in front of it. I realized that he had slept outside, where the wind was harsher and the elements more severe. He had respected my privacy. For some reason, that made it harder to accept that we were enemies. He seemed to be more of a father figure, just looking out for me.

 I wanted to know more about him.

 The morning sun had yet to fully rise, but he was already making breakfast. I could smell eggs.

 “Where’d you get those?” I asked him.

 He turned, raising one eyebrow.

 “The eggs,” I hurriedly added. “Where did you get the eggs?”

 One side of his mouth twitched before he went back to frying them. “A redwater robin was nesting not too far up a tree. The things have at least two nests at a time, they show up so fast. Do you know how many of those things there are around here?”

 I shook my head.

 He made a noncommittal noise. “Of course you don’t because you were raised under a rock. I almost forgot.”

 I wasn’t offended by what he said. It was true, I knew nothing about the outside world because I was sheltered my entire life. I might as well have been raised in a cave.

 But it still stung just a little.

 I cleared my throat quietly. “Um, if it isn’t too much trouble, may I ask some questions?”

 “Got one down. Might as well continue.”

 I didn’t understand what he meant. So I went on. “How long ago was it you wanted to help me? When was the change of heart and why? I mean, I am grateful but I need to know your reasons. Was it just coincidence I went into a town you were at?”

 He sighed. It was almost silent, but I caught it. He didn’t answer until the small pan he held was off the fire and on a small, flat rock to cool. And even then he put his arms on his folded legs and rested his head on his clasped hands, as if in thought. I gave him time. I knew it was not easy locking all your past in and trying to bring it up again.

 He had dark stubble lining his chin and upper lip, making him looking a little older than when I first met him. His face had sharp angles like he’d gone hungry for a long time, yet it kept the healthy color of a man who was successful. His strong jaw was locked, as if he were grinding his teeth together. He was looking at the ground, as if locked in an argument with the earth itself and he was losing. His dark brows were pushed together.

 He spoke carefully. “I have been around for a while, though not as long as Maron or the other two men I was with.” His eyes flicked up briefly. In that split second I saw raw emotion. Guilt. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath. “The day we took you…it was my first mission out of the country.” He tensed. “Don’t believe I am a man worthy of trust, Willow. Never trust me. I have betrayed a large number of “friends” and I’ve lost count of how many I have killed. I am not a good person, and I’ve done things I regret. But with you I will try to start setting things right. My past is rotten and best left behind but it still follows me around. Old habits are hard to break.”

 I didn’t want to admit how this made me lock up in fear, so I hid it inside. I failed. He simply smiled knowingly, regret lining his eyes.

 “I’m not easy to get along with. I have many faults. You were just an infant when we took you. The king himself ordered us to. I didn’t question it, but inside I was in turmoil. Young and foolish as my mind was then. When they told me to stay at the gates instead of go to the castle, I was relieved. I didn’t know how Maron could do it. How could he raise and lie to such an innocent child?”

 “When Maron took the first few miles it was with you in his arms. When you started to cry he handed you over to me and you calmed right down.” He chuckled. “From then on I was on ‘baby watch.’ The longer I took care of you, the more guilt ripped at me. I was forming a dangerous bond with an enemy king’s child of all people. It was a scary situation. A king’s assassin isn’t supposed to have emotion or care about anyone. We are trained to be detached. I failed miserably.

 “Once we got to the capitol I handed you back to Maron. You were asleep and so I could ride away without hearing a single cry. It was a hard thing for me to do.”

 He stared at me, gaze locked with mine. “You asked when I wanted to help you. It started not even a week after stealing you away. I didn’t like taking a child away from its parents. But that was my job and so I took it without complaint.”

 “So, when did you leave the nation? Why did you become a fugitive?”

 He looked up to the sky. “And here we go…You don’t ask the easy questions, do you?

 “I was sent to Seascer to investigate a possible spy. He had been stealing information from us and we got news that he was part of their council of generals. I was sent in disguised as a new recruit and it went on from there. I was supposed to capture the spy and return him for…questioning.

 “It seems the second I got there he knew just who I was. I found who it was pretty quickly. He was sneaky, that one. Everyone in the military believed he had the gift of immortality because he’d been around for over a hundred years or something like that. His name was Treastan Vin Hemon.”

 My lips pinched together. Dragen saw my reaction but didn’t say anything about it.

 “He was a tall lad, and a little skinny. But I knew better than to underestimate him. He could fight with a sword like a master. The man was most likely stronger than their biggest man and faster to boot.

 “When it came time for him to go out again, I had to act. It was time to take him down. So I followed him as he left the compound. For once, I had him surprised. When I came out on the path on my black horse he was taken aback.”

Dragen searched my gaze. Everything about him was grim and serious. “I am a poison expert. My main weapon of choice is the blowgun. It is small and doesn’t make noise. Do you understand?” I nodded. And he went on. “He didn’t even expect the small sliver in his neck. It was covered in a paralyzing solution much like the one I gave you. Sorry about that, by the way.

 “It should have worked within thirty seconds, but he was able to hold it off for ten minutes. At first I thought I had missed him…and I never miss. He had fallen off his horse but he came charging at me anyway. I had to get my longbow out.

 “Here is something you must know about me, Willow. I am an uncanny shot. That is what makes me such a deadly assassin, why the king kept me as his right hand man. I was the prince’s bodyguard. I can shoot an arrow at what looks like thin air and pin a fly without killing it. I am an expert with any poison and have trained myself to become immune to almost every deadly substance known to mankind. I have enough strength to fight with a broadsword with one of my arms alone. When my daggers are thrown they sink up to the hilt. So imagine this man running straight at me with his sword raised high. It was ridiculous. I felt like the fight was almost unfair.

 “So when I shot three successive arrows and none hit him, I thought the man was a ghost. No, they had hit him but he kept coming. He lived up to the rumors. By then even I thought he was immortal.

 “That was the hardest fight of my life. Even wounded he almost bested me. He was going to keep on, and the only thing left to do was end him before he ended me. So I did the only thing I could. I threw my knife at him. It sunk straight into his chest, knocking him back.

 “He died, and my mission was incomplete. I was angry at myself for it but something caught my eye. There was a young boy standing beside Treastan’s horse. It was his son. The boy had just watched his father die. I hadn’t seen him and wondered where he had come from. I had taken this child’s parent away as well. And so all the years caught up to me.

 “When I returned to Durath it was with a heavy heart. I had left the boy there, not having anything to do about him, for it was not part of my duty. That same day I returned the king ordered me to execute one of his own men. It was one of the men from the Dyat invasion. The man had served the king for years. He and I had become friends. But we both failed in our missions. He was meant to find a trouble-making gang and capture the leader, but the criminal had burned to death in a building before anything could be done.

 “For our failures the king ordered us to fight until one of us was dead. I found it cruel. We had gone out as loyal servants to the king and one mistake lead us to death. It wasn’t right. And so I started to loathe the king. I finally got some sense and found him a tyrant. A mongrel. I would not serve someone willing to betray all who give their lives to him. And so I did not show for the battle. I fled from the capitol. My name changed to Dragen.”

 I was amazed. Dragen really did have a horrible past. But one thing still bothered me.

 “If you killed Treastan Vin Hemon, then who is it that I met?”

 His gaze grew dark. “I don’t know. That is one thing I will find out, and there will be no rest until I do.”

19: Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

 

The very next day, it seemed that Dragen trusted me enough to lend me his hand-made wooden sword. Oh, yeah, that trust went really far. But I didn’t complain. It was wise not to trust someone you kidnapped…twice. But he was giving me more background about himself. The only problem with that would be when he started asking questions back.

 I was practicing a few sword drills on my own after an hour of instruction. It was hard work. I would do certain exercises involving blocking, parrying and thrusting all while trying not to leave myself open to attack. Dragen sent me to practice on a big tree on the edge of the clearing. I was whacking the bark pretty hard when he snuck up behind me.

 “You tend to keep your left side unprotected.”

 I jumped, startled. The man could sneak around like nobody’s business. I hoped that with training I might learn to move that way. But who knew the extent of what Dragen was willing to teach me. He never gave any hints as to what I would specifically learn.

 “Dragen, you scared me!” I exclaimed. He frowned. I knew right then I would have yet another lesson about preparedness and focusing on all things at once instead of one spot.

 “A battle has many hostiles to engage,” he said. “You must be ready to take on several opponents in this instance. You cannot rely on single-minded focus. Someone will take you out from behind. Always be on alert.”

 I set my stick in the ground and glared at him. “Could you be any less creepy?”

 “No.” He walked up to the tree, inspecting it. He nodded at a few good marks in the trunk. “You did well enough for today. You might even reach average soon.”

 I was flustered. “Average?”

 He straightened, raising an eyebrow at me. “Yes, average.”

 I grumbled under my breath and picked up the stick again. I gave it a few lazy swings with my wrist. My pride had been poked at again.

 Dragen got a brooding look on his face, worse than normal.

 “Willow, I have not heard much about your life at Rosten House. Tell me, did you enjoy your time there?”

 The question caught me off guard. “Why do you ask?”

 He didn’t answer. So I could only assume it was not my turn to ask the questions anymore. Seemed fair to me.

 “All right.” I sat down on the grass, the wooden sword across my lap.  “I did enjoy my time at the Rosten house, though Maron always made me feel uncomfortable.”

 “Uncomfortable how? He didn’t abuse you, did he?” There was a touch of anger in Dragen’s voice as he said it.

 I held up my hands. “Whoa now, nothing like that. He was just always so quiet and kept to himself that I hardly knew him even as his own, uh, daughter.”

 Dragen nodded. “Hard to say now that you know he was one to take you from your true place, isn’t it?”

 I avoided answering him directly. So I went on instead. “Maron was always away or in his office. I was the one to clean the chambers and to help the servants where possible to learn discipline. But I enjoyed talking and working with the servants. They were kind people. They made my lonely days enjoyable. There were no other children my age there. That was how I met Amberly.”

 “Amberly…?”

 “Ebony’s mother.” I tried to force down the inevitable sadness that always went with revisiting memories of Amberly. Her loss was still fresh and ached as if cut anew every time she was spoken of. I missed her with a fierceness I didn’t know I even possessed.

 “Does Amberly have a last name?”

 “Statson.” I said it immediately, with no resolve. He deserved to have all his questions answered completely. I was starting to really trust the man, despite my situation’s call of it. He was just so open around me. Perhaps he really was a changed man.

 “Amberly was more of a mother to me than Allura. Her daughter, Ebony, and I became fast friends. We even started calling ourselves sisters at one point.”

 “Hmm. So unlike young ladies. The nobles and servants don’t normally mix classes just for a talk, let alone say they would love to be related. You have surprised me.”

 “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

 He looked up at me, focusing for a long moment before turning his gaze away. “It is a very good thing. There should not be any petty squabbles between something as simple as class or rank. It is a waste of time and can be dealt with in better, simpler ways.”

 I still didn’t know what to make of his so-called compliment. He sounded so serious all the time. I decided to push my tumbling emotions away, locking them behind bars for a while until I was on my own and more capable to deal with them. Human feelings were bothersome. Couldn’t they be less…intense?

 I stretched my back, raising my hands high to the sky. My fingers tried to stroke the soft, fluffy clouds. I was almost certain clouds were just giant, floating pillows. They looked so welcoming to my sore body.

 Dragen walked next to me, staring up just as I was. A confusing expression flit across his otherwise impassable face. “The peasants are calling themselves scientists these days. They have this idea that clouds are actually mists from mountain water. Can you imagine? Water flying through the air; what a ridiculous notion.” He walked away with a huff.

 I thought more on his words. It was true that clouds produced rain, but I thought that was just because the sky was a big crier. But what if the clouds were made of water?

 I shook my head. “Next thing I know, I’ll be thinking the world is round.” My shoes kicked up dust, the thoughts vanishing as my footsteps receded.

 

 “Where are we going, exactly?”

 Dragen looked up. His nimble fingers had been untying the tent from their positions. He didn’t answer. I found his unwavering gaze disturbing. The man should do that to himself in a mirror if not only to keep him from doing it. It sent chills of fear up my spine.

He grunted, getting back to work. I shrugged and walked to the fire pit. The embers gently flickered a hello before I kicked dirt at them. I found that I was still jumpy around any type of flame, but it was easing.

 I reached for the practice stick by my side. The familiar wood sent a rush of comfort through me. This was something that would not change or leave me behind. It was the only possession I found important. It was more than a weapon to practice with. It had become a close friend. I just wished I had something sharper at my side…

 A meaty smack made a white-hot flash of pain light in my upper thigh. I cried out, pinching my lips together at the last moment in an effort to keep quiet. Noise was not to be tolerated out here. I knew that. But it hurt.

 I glared up at Dragen, standing over me. “What’d you do that for?”

 He didn’t smile. “To teach you.”

 I scrambled up on my feet. “Teach me what? How to deal with getting smacked by a…what is that?”

 He lifted the object of my uncomfort. It was a leather-bound sheath. It was hauntingly familiar.

 My eyes widened. It was my sword! I hurriedly snatched at it, but he kept it away. “Now, don’t be hasty. That’s how accidents happen.”

 “How did you -”

 He didn’t talk specifically to me. His eyes roved over the sheath and the hilt of my sword. He didn’t seem to be impressed by the make of it. “Hmm.” He turned it this way and that, then finally pulled the blade from its protective sheath. “Brass pommel, leather grip with extra groove marks, wide guard, good balance, narrow blade made more for thrusts, and silver drops in the center of the blade. What kind of sword is this?”

 I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just found it.”

 “It’s not like any military sword I’ve seen before, nor is it for decoration.”

I knew what he meant. It was a pretty sight, but the way the blade widened before narrowing at the tip made it look more like a very, very large throwing knife. The balance was perfect for it. The truth of it was that I had taken the sword from the local thief. He was wandering about and had just gotten arrested for taking some apples without paying. Of all things to get sent to jail for, stealing apples was most likely not at the top of his list. We didn’t have many criminals in Blythe so having a thief meant he was the thief. People loved the man despite his bad habits. He just loved shiny things and couldn’t help himself. I didn’t mean to keep the sword, but I felt connected to it in a weird way. It wasn’t ordinary or plain, but it just didn’t look natural to fight with. But since when was anything ever natural with me?

 I took it from Dragen, hefted it in one hand and switched before returning it to its sheath. The widened part was no bigger than the width of my arm and it was as long as my calf. It would be hard to conceal.

 Dragen watched me silently, a strange look coming across him as a shadow. He pursed his lips as if to say “Hmm, that’s interesting,” but no words left his mouth. I wanted to ask him what was on his mind; I wanted to know what he thought of the sword. I didn’t say a word.

 Patience was always key when at the Rosten home; I thought it might apply in this instance. So when Dragen shrugged and walked away I realized here it would most likely be the opposite. There is no room for patience when it comes to Dragen, there is just do and don’t. The man had a lot of traditions backward.

 My mind wandered, searching for bits not yet sorted and put into place. Dragen stayed at the front of my mind. He was a mystery to me. He was like a father without even trying.

 Despite my misgivings Dragen had been good to me so far. He knew what he was doing. I might as well stick around for a little bit longer. I had learned so much more around him than any other time in my life. I could actually defend myself if anything happened. Staying put would keep me safe and get me ready for the long journey ahead.

  My rear started to go numb, and that was when I finally stood and walked around the camp, counting every step I took. My knowledge of numbers didn’t go too far, but it was enough to count up. Counting calmed my nerves and relaxed my muscles. Every number was an individual and so it is with muscles. Every muscle is an individual section to be relaxed and loosened. I enjoyed the exercise thoroughly. Even Dragen approved of it, though he thought of it as controlling the body rather than relaxing it. Either way, it was a good habit to maintain.

 The day was warm and calm, making my feet stumble with weariness. The heat sapped at my strength, drowning me in a lazy wave. I yawned, going back to my tent. I had reached about eighty-two. That was good enough, right?

 It didn’t take long for sleep to take me once I’d scrambled onto the mat. Just before I fell under a black blanket, I slipped the sword away from my belt and set it by my side, still in its sheath. The weapon was a mystery, as I was. We would go through the journey together. Perhaps I could find the blade’s origin. Surely there were very few weapons like it.

 I forced my eyes open for a brief second, alertness flooding my brain with disquiet. My limbs were heavy and useless. My head lolled to the side, seeing with perfect clarity a figure beyond the tent flap, for it was slightly to the side. The small slit was enough to notice it was male.

 And it was definitely not Dragen.

 I tried to sit up, feeling the weight of sleep dragging me down. I shook my head firmly. The cloud lifted slowly. I dragged myself up to a sitting position. I couldn’t figure out why it hurt so much to move. I hadn’t practiced much and Dragen had barely hit me on the elbow once.

 I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the tent opening. There was a slight shuffling and the figure disappeared. I froze, holding as still as possible. I was already in a crouch, ready to jump forward. An assailant, no matter what size, could move fast if they were trained for it. I had the briefest thought that this could be a traveler just passing through the woods on the way to the capitol. But if that were the case, why walk straight through the camp? Nothing made sense. Anyone who was looking for me would not find me here; we were hidden very well among the tall bushes and trees. They were small trees but the bushes had quite a lot of coverage. Confusion would just have to be my companion for this confrontation.

 The shuffling was gone, replaced with complete silence. It was too quiet. I slowly inched forward, putting one foot in front of the other with agonizing care. I reached the flap, pulling myself out slightly before looking further out. No one was in sight.

 A sigh had just escaped my lips when a hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked. I fell forward, to the dirt. I had learned never to fall down, so I rolled into it, leaping up and kicking blindly. I connected with something hard, emitting an “Oomph!”.

 The man was tall and bulky. He almost looked like an Etreganian mountaineer. I raised myself higher, challenging him and making myself more formidable. Anyone willing to stand up to someone bigger than themselves must have some trick up their sleeve.

 “Big guys expect little guys to stand down,” I remembered Dragen saying. “So when a smaller person – especially a female – stands up to them, they know that person must have knowledge of fighting. Throw them a few moves and show them you know what you’re doing. It will save you a few brawls.”

 “What’s ‘is?” The mountaineer said, spitting out a wad of blood into the bushes. He had a welt on the side of his face. I avoided a snicker. “Since when da gals fight?” His words sounded blocky and slurred. He was definitely Etreganian.

 I didn’t give him a chance to say another word, kicking out his legs from under him. He fell to his knees, just barely able to keep himself from landing face-first in the dirt. “What are you doing here?” I asked him coldly. I set my face to stone, hiding my fear. If he managed to find me, how many others would?

 He held up his hands. “Whoa, now miss, I didn’ mean ta startle ya. Just lookin’ f- hey, ‘ere he is now!” He looked past my shoulder.

 I turned and saw Dragen stalking into the camp. He didn’t look happy.

 The mountaineer seemed oblivious to the man’s mood. “’Eh, Dragen my boy! Call off yer ‘tack dog ‘ere would ya?”

 I turned and glared at him, fingering the hilt of my sword at my waist. It didn’t take long to tie it back on my belt, just a few seconds. And it would take even less time to shut this guy’s trap permanently.

 I was tired of the constant fear of discovery. I just wanted to do something about it. Perhaps it was time to move on. I had stuck around for longer than anticipated, and my fear for Ebony’s safety was constant. It was obvious that any foe could find me as long as I kept in one place. This man proved it.

 “Who are you? And how do you know Dragen?” I asked the mountaineer coldly. Maybe Dragen had rubbed off on me. I had never been mean like this before.

 Dragen shook his head. “It is okay, Willow. He knows me from…before.” I didn’t believe him. If this was a friend, why would Dragen give him the cold shoulder? I had never seen such a dark look in his eyes before. They were black pits. “What news do you have for me, Oroan?”

 Oroan grunted as he got back to his feet. I was sure it wasn’t easy to lift his bulk around. The guy had to be at least three hundred pounds. He towered at least two feet over me. He pulled his animal pelts closer around his shoulders. “Blasted weather. It gets colda’ ‘ere every year.”

 Dragen kept his glare.

 “Hmph. Grumpy as always, ya are. Anyway, I ‘ave news from the front. Turns out all the boys are hearin’ ‘bout an escapee from the country and were told ta keep a look-out fer her. Say she’s a traitor ta the king himself.” He turned to me. “Ya sure ya wanna take this ‘ere road, girl?”

 I lifted my chin in defiance. “It is already too late to turn back.”

 He shrugged. “So it is.”

 Dragen closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “So the entire country is looking for her. What description does she have?”

 “No’ or’nary lookin’. ‘As light hair an’ real purdy. Say she’s kin’a small and skinny.” He smiled at me, eyes crinkling. “No ‘fense.”

 “Eye color?”

 “Smoky-ish with trees in ‘em.”

 “So green, then. Did they have any posters with her face on them?”

 “Na. No’ yet.”

 Dragen turned to me. “Are you ready to move on?”

 I gripped the hilt of my sword. “You read my mind.”

20: Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

 

 The camp didn’t take long to pack up. No sooner had the sun warmed the earth than we were heading out again. I lifted my face to the sky, enjoying the sun’s warming rays. It felt so much better just moving forward. Staying at camp was turning me into an antsy wreck. I was becoming someone I wasn’t. My worry for Ebony and Treastan was great as ever but at least now I could look for them. That is, if Dragen would let me.

 He was walking beside me, eyes narrow with a warning. Anyone passing by wouldn’t be able to hold his icy stare for long. He was a winter wind: uncomfortable to be around for too long. He pressed forward relentlessly. Dragen’s longer legs helped him with the hike, not to mention that he had probably done this sort of thing all his life. He was breathing evenly, as was the mountaineer ahead of us.

 My feet stumbled over a root, and I struggled to regain my balance. Dragen offered his hand, but I swatted it away. “Thank you, but I need to learn to be more careful. I can’t always rely on others.”

 He nodded and silently moved on. That man was a shade if I’d ever seen one. Although I highly doubted he was made of mist.

 I wished my breathing were silent instead of the heavy panting I was using currently. My lungs just couldn’t get enough air, tight dress or not. I was happy to be wearing men’s clothing, but still I found myself without air. It was ridiculous.

 The hills surrounding us were quickly turning cold and frosty. Pines replaced the small bushes I had become accustomed to. These trees were tall and bushy. Their dark green needles littered the ground. No snow was on the ground, but it was freezing cold. Curious, I questioned Dragen about it.

 He took a short while to answer, climbing over a couple fallen trees and helping me up and over the obstacle. Bless him for knowing my limits. My energy was not at its highest peak this day.

 “We are headed to a very dark place, but it is the safest way to go as no one would step foot on that ground.”

 “But what is this place called?”

 “Fortworth.”

 I paused, halting my progress. “But isn’t that place where hundreds of people were executed?” My voice sounded squeaky with fear.

 “Yes and no.” The mountaineer rumbled, coming back. He folded his arms. “The people there were rebellious and knew what they were dyin’ for. But no one could ‘ave ‘pected the true evil that came.”

 “I know very little of what happened there,” I said.

 “As do I,” Dragen agreed. “Most I know has come from rumors. All the soldiers we sent in the troop never returned.”

 Oroan grunted as he sat on a large rock. “Well, I was there in time to see everyone hanged, yes. But it was mainly women and older children. The men were taken prisoner and hunted for sport in the wild. Those who didn’t ge’ eaten by wolves, that is.”

 “That’s horrible!” I couldn’t believe there were those even capable of doing such things. Truly all this war needed to be rooted out. It was turning others into monsters.

 “And as for the smaller children?” Dragen asked.

 Oroan shifted and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This I could no’ tolerate, yet I ‘ad to. What else could I do? If I tried to save ‘em I would ‘ave gotten captured or worse.”

 Dragen put a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “Just tell me. Get it out of your head.” It was the closest I’d seen Dragen get to comforting.

 “They took the children to three towers abou’ five miles north of Fortworth, on the edge between Kinst and Coonwood. They were separated into the towers and lef’ there. The soldiers did nothin’ when the children cried or screamed, no’ even when they started to die from hunger and cold. The troops gave ‘em instruction to beat the others into submission. The children were forced to become murd’rers to survive. Those who lived were taken away, mos’ likely for milit’ry trainin’. It was the mos’ gruesome display I’d ever witnessed. I was only able to save two wee children from the towers, but tha’ was ‘cause they climbed through the window and fell twenty feet to the ground. Broke a few bones ‘ere and there but they lived.”

 “What happened to them?” I asked gently.

 He shrugged. “Dunno. They were ol’ enough to take care of themselves. They moved on withou’ me. As we should be movin’ along.” He stood and walked away. Dragen and I followed. I lagged behind a little bit, too many thoughts crowding my head to really focus on the hike. What a terrible story…but it wasn’t just a story. How could any person be so cruel and heartless? Where did compassion go? When did humanity leave us? I still believed, naïve as it may be, that people were good at heart. That they wanted to help others if only given the opportunity. I watched the mountaineer’s back, seeing him in a new light. He may be rough on the outside but he had a big heart. Perhaps people could change. Perhaps Rowan could change…

 I veered away from that line of thought. It was best not to dwell on water that had long ago dried up and gone south. Rowan was set in his ways, had grown into them. He couldn’t possibly change now. And I shouldn’t even bother worrying about it. I had enough on my plate as it was.

 My stiff joints were starting to protest, breath sawing in and out of my lungs.

 Dragen turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “Keep it down, girl. With that panting travelers would think a bear was nearby.”

 I glared at him, too out of breath to speak.

 There was a low rumble ahead, “Speakin’ a bears, ya snore like one, Dragen,” Oroan said. “I thought it was jus’ a stuffy nose when ya were firs’ training but I was wrong.”

 Dragen shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a beast at heart.”

 The big man chuckled. “I’ll believe that when I see it, ya scrawny joker.”

 I looked back and forth between them. A question on the tip of my tongue. “Hey, so how do you two know each other.”

 Dragen waved his hand. “Long story.”

 Oroan huffed. “Nice ta know ya still try to keep everyone in the dark. The gal is comin’ with us, she should know.” Not once had the big man turned around, but his voice was still loud enough to mask even my panting. Truly, if there were to be a beast among us it would be him. Etreganians were brutes in birth to begin with. And Fortworth was right by their territory. I hoped Oroan was slightly bigger than most otherwise…we were in deep trouble.

 He stopped by a rotting log, kneeling down and staring at something. Dragen stopped right next to him, his lips pursing. I pushed forward to see what had made them suddenly nervous. “What is it?” I asked, leaning around to get a good look. I didn’t see anything but a slight dip in the ground.

 Neither of them paid me any heed. “We’re no’ alone,” Oroan told Dragen, eyes dark.

 He bristled. “No one ever comes this far up.”

 The mountaineer stood. “Looks ta me like a small party a abou’ six er seven. All mounted.”

 Dragen’s face went blank. I knew that meant he was angry and frustrated. “So what now? The pass is swarming with men. This was the only way up that would be free of soldiers.” I noticed him glance pointedly at me.

 Oroan looked to me. “We ‘ave ta keep movin’ forward.” He turned back to Dragen. “Ya ready ta kick some soldiers inta the ground?”

 “I never lost my touch, if that’s what you mean.”

 “Good.”

 I stepped forward. “Um, what about me?”

 “It’s probably best that you stay back. We don’t want them going back saying a woman like you was with us. The king would know who it was almost immediately.”

 “Hmph.” I folded my arms, taking up a stubborn stance. But I couldn’t argue with Dragen. And it was probably best we didn’t kill any of the king’s men. So we just had to scare them away, and I wasn’t included.

 “Fine.”

 They shared a look. “Remind ya of anyone, Dragen?”

 He frowned. “This just makes things more difficult.”

 I had no idea what they meant, but there was no need to pester them for an answer. I knew from personal experience that Dragen would just change the subject if he didn’t want to tell me. He would give information only if it was relevant.

 I sighed and fingered the hilt of my sword, glad not to have to use it yet. Just because I was trained did not mean I wanted to have someone else’s blood on my hands. And there were still many things to learn.

 We moved on, quiet and stealthy. I got my breath back and tried to keep it low the rest of the hike up. Fear forced me down to a whisper, my steps light and quick. The mountaineer glanced back once, eyes lighting on me, one eyebrow rising. Could everyone do that? He shook his head and turned back to the path.

 The tattered remains of a tunic were stuck on a bush not much further along the trail. I was surprised when I happened to be the only one who spotted it. It wasn’t far off our tiny pathway. Perhaps Dragen and Oroan were so focused on the ground ahead, strewn with sharp rocks and roots, that they hadn’t noticed it. I was a little behind, and I decided that it was best to at least take a look at the cloth.

 I stepped over a small bush, shaking my boot to free it of trailing branches. The grass was dead and crinkled underfoot. I stepped up to the ripped shirt. It was horribly torn and blood stains spotted it here and there. The rips almost looked like a whip had been taken to it. I felt a connection to the horribly mangled tunic, but I didn’t know how. It was a faint feeling of fear and worry.

 My fingers ran along the fabric, feeling the rough texture of it. It used to be white before it got stained with blood and dirt. The thorns on the bush held it in place even when the wind blew. I still wondered how neither Dragen nor Oroan saw this and picked it up. The ripping sound hid the patter of running feet and, as I started to turn away, someone barreled into me. He was heavy and I immediately stumbled backward, my training keeping me from falling flat on the ground.

 Bewildered, I looked up into his face. His wild eyes met mine, brown hair falling into them. Shock rushed through me like wildfire. No, it couldn’t be…”Treastan?”

21: Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

 

 His gaze cleared, finally taking in the fact that I was here. Right in front of him. It was strange to see every emotion flit over his face: fear, hope, relief, joy, worry. Everything was written clear as day. I dropped the tunic in disbelief. Horror slowly washed over me the longer I stared at him. His face was haggard and worn with deep purple bruises under his eyes. Blood leaked from a cut on his lip. He was shirtless and covered in dirt and bruises. Cuts ran up his arms. His hands were shackled together, a chain connecting to his ankles. His pants were torn at the knees, like he had been kneeling in the dirt.

 “Willow,” he gasped and threw his arms over and around me. I gingerly touched him, and he flinched. My eyes widened when I saw his back. It looked like he’d been whipped repeatedly…and recently.

 “What happened to you?” I choked. The bloody tunic…was that his? How did this happen?

 He pulled back, casting a frantic gaze around. “What are you doing here, Willow? You’re in danger. There are soldiers everywhere!”

 “Where is she?” I faintly heard a voice in the distance, it sounded like Dragen. “Willow!” I heard him call, closer now. Too close.

 I looked at Treastan. He was staring in the direction of the voice, ominously still. “Who is that?” He asked me.

 “That’s a long story. Just trust me, okay?” I heard something in the distance, like thunder.

 Treastan swore under his breath. “We need to get out of here, now!”

 I let myself be pulled along, back toward the path. Treastan, due to the chains, couldn’t get a full stride but was still pretty fast. We leaped over the bush that had tangled around my shoes earlier and stumbled onto the path. I almost ran straight into Dragen and Oroan.

 Treastan stopped dead, staring at Dragen. I saw disbelief flash right before rage took it. But whatever problems he had, he pushed it aside as shouts echoed behind us. The soldiers were coming.

 Dragen also put aside any emotions and motioned us back. “Oroan!” He shouted, “Take them in the front and I’ll go around the back!”

 They rushed into the trees, leaving us behind.

 I looked behind me, at Treastan. He was shaking a little but still stood strong. He wasn’t looking at me, but watched the treeline where Dragen and Oroan had disappeared. “You make friends everywhere, don’t you?” He mused. His green gaze met mine. “You never told me why you left or how.” I could see the hurt in his eyes, how I wasn’t wounded or even close to harm.

 I suddenly understood. “Oh, Treastan, it isn’t like that at all.”

 “What do you expect me to think? One day you were there and the next you just disappeared, as if you didn’t even bother to put up a fight. We looked everywhere for you. I couldn’t fathom how you’d be so cruel as to leave us behind after all we’d done for you. After all I’ve given up for you.”

 I gave a frustrated sigh. Curse Dragen! How dare he put me in a situation like this! “It wasn’t at all like that. I didn’t leave of my own free will.”

 He frowned. “So you what? Let someone take you? There was no sign of a struggle and your sword was gone.”

 “This is going to be hard to explain, but I want you to hear me out.”

 He nodded. “All right. But can you give me a hand with these?” He lifted his hands, the chain rattling. “It’s rather uncomfortable.” I smiled, taking my sword from its sheath. I looked at the chain and saw the only weakened link was a rusted loop a couple inches from his shackles. “Hold your hands taught and still,” I told him, grabbing the chain and pulling it tight. Using one hand and a lot of brute force, I yanked on the chain as the sword hit it, snapping it. I frowned at the small nick in my blade but was satisfied none the less.

 He sighed, lifting his arms. “Little better. That chain was heavy.” He gave the sword a nod. “strange weapon you have there. It looks like one of Dyat’s Dawn blades. Only royal knights use those. The metal is very strong in the center so a nick at the edge will literally only be on the edge and no further.”

 And that was a new thing I hadn’t known about the sword. Was that thief more than a thief? Was he somehow sent by Dyat?

 Such information would have to be processed later.

 I took a deep breath as Treastan continued to stare expectantly at me. He didn’t want to make small talk.

 “Okay. So we were asleep in the attic, right?”

 He nodded.

 “But you never woke up at all.”

 He tried lifting one hand, probably to run it through his hair before he remembered the shackles. “Yeah, I’d been wondering how I slept in through the door opening and closing. Those hinges were quite noisy.”

 “Well…no better way to put this then to say you were poisoned.”

 There was a brief pause in which silence stretched…and stretched.

 “You…poisoned me?” He asked.

 “No! Not at all!” I gasped. Then, more quietly, “Um, someone else did.”

 “Who?”

 Why was this so hard? I knew that I’d have to tell him sooner or later. But this was impossible!

 Rustling from the bushes behind alerted me that we were not alone. Treastan stiffened as I turned around. It was Dragen. He glared pointedly at me. “You’re making this hard to listen to. Just tell the man without all the blubbering.” His gaze moved to Treastan. “I was the one who poisoned you. It’s called a blowgun. I’m not stooping down to poisoning beverages. That’s too petty even for me. And I was the one who took Willow.”

 Treastan was ominously still and all out of good humor. “You did, huh? Willow, give me your sword so I can make some sushi.”

 I didn’t get the term. What was sushi?

 Dragen laughed. “Glad you’re strong enough to make rude remarks, and as you are Treastan Vin Hemon I must say that you might be able to hold your own for the first few seconds. But don’t mess with me boy. Your anger does nothing to me.”

 “It will when you’re dead in an unmarked grave.”

 “Oh, and you didn’t even hear the best part.” Dragen nodded to me. “Tell him Willow. Tell him why you didn’t fight back when I threw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.” Treastan growled deep and low in his chest at the comparison.

 I glared at Dragen. “You’re so flattering.” I couldn’t meet Treastan’s eyes. I was so ashamed. I blushed a deep red. It was embarrassing that I couldn’t even protect myself from getting kidnapped. “He, uh, kind of poisoned me too.” It sounded more like a question than a statement. “It paralyzed me for a while.”

 I saw his eyes dilate and his face go dark. Before I could react, he lunged at Dragen, whacking him over the head with both hands.

 Dragen stumbled back and laughed when he wiped blood from his mouth. “So you are just as fast! Tell me, why did you not attack me earlier?” He said it as he kicked Treastan back. The boy stumbled but remained upright, breathing hard and glaring with fiery hatred. Dragen continued. “Do you not remember that fight in the forest? Do you die so often you do not remember the faces of the same man to throw the final blow?”

 Treastan went pale. “It was you,” he whispered.

 Dragen’s brow furrowed. “Now that I think of it, the man I killed had gray eyes, not green. He was also a little shorter.” Realization lit his eyes just as Treastan knocked him to the ground.

 Punches were thrown and somehow Treastan got hold of Dragen’s dagger. Dragen pulled another out of his boot but as he was still on the ground he couldn’t use it very well. Everything was flying by very fast and suddenly I was lifted up in the air. I shrieked and the two men froze. Dragen bolted upright, dagger at the ready. His arm lowered and a small smile lifted his lips.

 I struggled to turn my head and get a glimpse but the voice told me enough.

 “Enough horsin’ ‘round! We need ta get movin’!” Oroan bellowed. My ears rang. “Sorry miss,” he whispered to me.

 “No problem. Now could you put me down?”

 “Sorry. You make a very good alarm though. Very loud.” He set me down.

 “Uh…thank you, I guess?” I didn’t know whether to take what he said as a compliment or not.

 Treastan was shaking with fury. “You killed my father!” He spat at Dragen.

 “Now, now,” Dragen said. “I was on assignment. No need to be nasty. I might have…a dark past, but that is in the past.”

 “Treastan,” I said, running up to him. I took his face in both my hands until his glare turned to me. His eyes softened slightly. I smiled. “Dragen truly is a changed man, and he is trying to help me. Just trust him for now and when we get this all figured out you two can battle to the death, okay?” What a ridiculous thing to say.

 I knew how much he didn’t agree with it. So I put something else out there for his mind to dwell on. “The life of a spy isn’t blood-free either. Wouldn’t you want a second chance?” I saw the hurt flash in his eyes. I wasn’t trying to be cruel or hurt his feelings. I just wanted him to understand. “Trust me, you’ll get your revenge, but Dragen was just acting on orders. Orders from the king. Take your revenge on the one to order your father’s execution, not the executioner, okay?”

 Slowly, slowly, he nodded agreement. I could see how hard this was for him. His whole life he’d been in pain due to his father’s death. He wanted so much to avenge him. And now he had to wait even longer. I wondered why he’d even listen to me beyond all the rage and hurt he had to bear by letting Dragen live. I didn’t want to think too much on it.

 I took a deep breath and stepped back. “I know your real name isn’t Treastan, but I do hope you trust me enough to tell me who you really are one day.”

 For the first time since seeing him again, he smiled. “One day.” He turned to Oroan, avoiding Dragen completely. He lifted his arms. “A little help? This is harder than it looks.”

 Oroan grunted and walked over to him. He had this funny look on his face as his gaze met Treastan’s, but it quickly went away as he grabbed the metal. He took one cuff and put his fingers under the metal. I wondered what he was doing right before the squeal of metal rang and the cuff was torn away. I watched in complete disbelief as Oroan tore the other cuffs off until Treastan was free.

 “Thanks,” he said, rubbing his wrists. The skin was a raw, angry red.

 The mountaineer grunted and moved forward. “Now that it isn’t so much a pain to walk, we should be moving on. Those soldiers will send over more troops sooner or later.”

 Treastan stilled. “You didn’t kill them?”

 Dragen froze in place, turning his head slightly. “No.”

 He started again and I followed, making sure Treastan was okay to go forward. His boots weren’t too worn so he should be fine. He caught up to me.

 “You should really put a shirt on,” I said before he could speak.

 He chuckled. “I’ll do that once I get my wounds bandaged the next time we stop to make camp.”

 I didn’t say anything.

 He gave me a look. “You know, you’re not quite so talkative today.”

 “Where’s Ebony?”

 “Oh, and so now you ask. I’d thought you would question me earlier.”

 “Didn’t have the chance to.”

 “She was ahead of me, I told her to run the second the soldiers came. I held them back while she escaped.” A sorrowful tone entered his voice. “I don’t know where she is now.”

 I swallowed before speaking again. “So…where were you two at before the soldiers came?”

 “By Fortworth, the old towers.” His eyes settled on Oroan, a flash of familiarity flashing through them once. I didn’t know how, but he had met Oroan once before. I would have to ask him about it, but he would take his secrets to the grave. That’s where he and Dragen were alike.

 I was sure Treastan had killed before, but it was a very hard thing to imagine. I could never see the vicious mind of a killer in him. “We’ll find her.”

 He looked to me. “How are you sure?”

 “Because we have to, no matter what.”

 He laughed. “I forgot you were so optimistic.”

 Dragen’s voice drifted down to us. “She’s very naïve. I’ve tried to get her out of that mindset for weeks. I wish you luck.”

 I shrugged to Treastan. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. Most he ever did was beat me with sticks.”

 He went pale. “He…what?”

 I laughed and skipped ahead. Sometimes it was just too easy to tease that boy. But the truth was the teasing and jokes just got my mind off Ebony. I hoped she was okay, not just for her sake but mine as well. I hoped I wasn’t setting myself up for heartache by believing she was okay, wherever she was. I needed her to be okay.

 Oroan was up ahead in a thicket of trees. “There’s a clearin’ no’ too far ‘head. We’ll make camp there.”

 Dragen grunted and moved forward, vanishing into the trees and underbrush.

 I lagged behind. I didn’t want to make camp just yet. There was too much on my mind. And most of it I didn’t want to start dwelling on.

 Treastan stopped beside me. “A lot weighing on your mind, huh?”

 “Yeah.”

 “I don’t think I’m going to sleep tonight.”

 I gave him a worried look. “Are you in pain?”

 He laughed, then winced. “What kind of question is that?”

 “Well I just-”

 “Of course I’m in pain. My back hasn’t stopped bleeding for the past two hours.”

 I did notice he was exceptionally pale and drawn. His hands were shaking. “You stupid head!” I said, quickly reaching into my pack for clean white cloth. I found a long white bandage and pulled it out. “Why didn’t you stop earlier to dress your wound? I thought you were fine!”

 “Aww, so sweet that you’re worried about little old me, Princess.”

 “Shut it and turn around,” I twirled a finger in the air as I said it.

 He sighed and revealed his bare back.

 Most of the wounds were already scabbed over save for one or two of the really deep cuts. They were still leaking blood bit by bit. I bit my lip as I saw the jagged marks. This had to be cleaned before infection could spread. I grabbed my canteen and gently poured clean water over them. He hissed in a breath. “Sorry,” I apologized. After rinsing them out, I wrapped the bandage around his middle over and over until the cuts were all covered. “There,” I said once I finished. “All done. Now go get a shirt on.” I pointed in the direction of camp.

 “So let me get this straight, do you want me to put a shirt on because I do not look good shirtless or because you find me too enticing?”

 I grabbed his wrist and dragged him along to the camp, being careful that I didn’t touch where the shackles had been. The undergrowth gave some resistance but I pushed through until a clearing met us. I let go of Treastan and walked forward, to where Dragen and Oroan sat around a campfire. It was very small, only enough to cook with. I saw Dragen throw some coals into it.

 “Where did you get those?” I asked. The coals didn’t work all too well providing surrounding heat like a fire but could heat up a pot okay. They were fairly expensive.

 He shrugged. “I got these pants a long time ago. And you will never find out where my weapons came from.”

 I mentally slapped myself. I forgot who I was talking to. He needed specifics. “The coals, where did you get the coals?”

 He gave a small grin. “Someone owed me a favor and paid me back in the form of a hundred pounds of very expensive coal bits.”

 Oroan paused in whatever he was doing with his dagger. “Wow, this gal does ‘ave some talent.”

 “What do you mean?” Treastan walked up.

 “She made Dragen smile. Been a long time Dragen’s smiled fer real.”

 “But he smiles every once in a while,” I protested.

 “No’ fer jus’ anyone. Las’ time he smiled was when his wife was still around. An’ she died years ago.”

I didn’t know what to make of this information. Dragen’s face was shadowed. He apparently did not like to bring up the subject of his deceased wife. I wanted to ask him about it but knew that now was not the time.

 “Do you happen to have a spare shirt I can wear?” Treastan piped up.

 Dragen didn’t raise his head. “In my pack, far left side in the biggest pocket. Do not look around in my pack, boy. I’ll know if you do, spy or not.”

 He rolled his eyes and went over to the pack, gently opening it and dramatically searching for a shirt. He pulled out a black one and frowned at it. “All you have in here is black or dark brown.”

 “Did you expect me to have every color of the rainbow?”

 “Well, no but…black?”

 “Yes, that is black. I do not wear white. I’m not a saint, a preacher or innocent in any sort of way. So I wear what suits me.” Dragen finally looked up. His eyes were glowing obsidian in the shadows, a bit of that ocean blue showing through. “Are you what you seem to be on the outside? Are you the same scared little boy I met about ten years ago?”

 I saw the rage enter his face before I slapped Dragen on the shoulder. “Stop it and behave yourself.”

 He raised an eyebrow, a smile widening his lips. “Well, yes, of course my student. Since when did you become so motherly?”

 I didn’t oblige him with an answer.

 “He’s changed. More than any a ya know,” Oroan rumbled. We all looked over at him, but he was going back to sharpening his dagger.

 I didn’t know how the man knew about half the things he knew, but I also didn’t question it.

 “Well,” I said, yawning. “Today has been quite interesting. And exhausting. I’m going to bed.” I walked to my pack, took out a mat and unrolled it on the ground, where the others were only whispers in the wind. I was too tired to eat anything and, as the last of the sun’s rays died behind the horizon, I fell asleep.

22: Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One

 

 I woke more tired than when I had gone to sleep. My dreams had been confused and disordered:

 It began with being taken into a dark hallway filled with strange and grotesque pictures of people being murdered or tortured by demons with fiery horns. In another picture, a bigger one at the end of the hall, was a room filled with decaying corpses burning to ashes. Two golden crowns glinted on top of the pile. On either side of the pyre were two people. One had beautiful gold-white hair, flying around her as if she were aflame with the dead. She was crowned with beautiful flowers, though they were wilting. Her gown was pure white and a white figure stood behind her, though it was so devoid of any other color I could not make out what it was. On the opposite side stood a tall man with a crown of twisted black thorns, but a few of them seemed to be melting away into the man’s light brown hair. He wore a royal uniform for battle, the symbol melted away. Behind him was a hunched figure of black, no light from the fire casting him into view. Before I could get a better look, the picture started to move, as if I was only looking through glass at something real.

 The black figure turned its head to me. A voice invaded my mind: Are you scared, little girl?

 I turned to my left and a crack met my ears. Another smaller painting came to view. It too was moving. In it was Treastan. He was kneeling in the dirt, jaw clenched tight and tears slowly trickling down his face as the whip came down again. His pain-filled eyes met mine, crying out for help. I tried to reach out, hitting the surface but not able to reach through and take him away. A demon held the whip, laughing at every scream.

 “Where were you, Willow?” Treastan whispered. “Why did you forsake us?”

 I wanted to shout to him that I didn’t mean to leave, it wasn’t my fault…but I hadn’t even tried to look for him. I had the chance to leave Dragen, so many times, but I didn’t. There was no excuse.

 “Willow! Where are you?”

 I turned around, meeting another painting. “Ebony!” I cried out. She was running through the woods, dark creatures chasing her. Wolves. She ran into a tower, climbing the stairs to the top. I watched her, horror slowly engulfing me. There were dead bodies of children all around her feet, covering the floor. Wolves hit the door with brutal force.

 “No!” I shouted, pounding on the wall. “Let her go! Leave her alone, it’s me you want!”

 I turned away, unable to bear it anymore. All the other paintings were moving, screams ripping through the air. I ran, slamming into the wall in my haste. I looked back once, face-to-face with the shadow man. He laughed.

 Everything went black and, in the distance, a candle lit. I slowly walked toward it. Picking it up, I held it in front of me with shaking hands.

 What is your purpose, Princess of Dyat? I heard the voice in my head, strangled and monstrous. Do you really think you can stop the shadows from closing over you?

 “Leave me alone!” I shouted. The creature laughed, cackling and wheezing. I held the candle in front of me, hardly able to stay standing. Fear was strong within me. I looked down at the floor. Hundreds of dead children were at my feet. They were covered in scratches and bruises, some of them looked as if they’d been half-eaten, with torn throats and jutting ribs. A few of them I recognized; most I did not. Ebony was one of the closest and lay with her eyes closed, face gray in death. My breathing picked up and I panicked. The candle dropped, rolling to her face and slowly dribbling wax on her black hair. The fire spread, creating a circle around the room. The shadowy figure was hunched at the end of the room in front of me. His curved horns stood from his head, almost touching the ceiling. I stepped back, feeling a windowsill hit my lower back. My fingers clenched the hardened wood, and the curtain whipped back and forth in a cold wind full of desolate screams.

 This world is mine, child. The creature said. You don’t belong anywhere. Why don’t you join those you love in this blissful war?

 “Leave me alone!” I tried to scream, but my voice was lost to me. Around me, the children stirred. Their shoulders shifted and hunched while the figure laughed. All their eyes opened, revealing dark holes. I tripped backward, suddenly flying into thin air. The ground flew up close, bony hands reaching up from an unknown grave, and I woke with a start.

 

 My eyes flew open. I was lying on my mat, covered in sweat and breathing so hard my lungs hurt. I groaned in pain as I sat up. My arms stung and, as I looked, I saw scratches. A few were bleeding. I must have scratched myself in the night. I didn’t even know why.

 Treastan was next to me, sleeping on the ground. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem all that uncomfortable. I controlled my breathing. It was very cold out tonight. The sun still hadn’t risen and no one was wandering about yet. I could only assume it was around midnight. So I grabbed the blanket that I had tossed off and pulled it close.

 A slight sound of movement and then a voice alerted me that Treastan wasn’t truly asleep. “Are you okay? That seemed like a pretty nasty nightmare.”

 I didn’t say anything, just closed my eyes. I didn’t want to fall into that nightmare again.

 I felt an arm go around me. “Don’t worry, I’m right here,” Treastan whispered. He hugged me and lay back down. I slowly shifted until I was curled up against him, resting my head against his chest. He was so warm. He put his cheek against my hair and we fell asleep.

 

 The second time I woke it was with relief. No dreams. As I open my eyes I saw just how awkward this was. I was still curled up right against Treastan, but his arm was around me, trapping me against him where it hadn’t been when I’d fallen asleep.

 I studied his face. He seemed so peaceful in sleep, so vulnerable. It was adorable. His breathing warmed my face. It wasn’t too bad, even for morning breath.

 I looked elsewhere, at the camp, and saw movement in the tent. Dragen was up. He would be out soon to pack up and move on.

 Why I hadn’t set up in a tent, I couldn’t figure out. What was I thinking last night?

 Before he could see this situation and make it remarkably embarrassing, I shifted to get up, trying not to wake the slumbering boy next to me. I failed. Treastan grumbled and blinked open his green eyes. He was almost lazy in that moment. And his hair was a mess as always. The second his eyes focused he froze, staring at me with some surprise. Bright red spread over his cheeks and he hurriedly sat up.

 “Whoa,” he said. “When did that happen?”

 I giggled and decided not to remind him. His bewilderment was amusing. He really was tired last night.

 He was still staring at me. “We didn’t do anything other than sleep, right?”

 My eyes widened. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. “Of course we only slept! What did you expect? A kiss?”

 He sighed. “Okay, so that makes it better. Nothing complicated.”

 I rolled my eyes. “I know you liked finding a woman in your arms in the morning,” his grin stretched, “just don’t expect it to happen that often.” I stood when Dragen came out of the tent. His eyes narrowed on me, as if he had seen the exchange. I nervously waved a hello and he walked away.

 Treastan, now beside me, frowned. “What is with that guy?”

 “He’s had a rough time. His life has been flipped quite a few times. He doesn’t trust anyone.”

 “A wise policy.”

 I watched him out of the corner of my eye. “You seem to trust me quite a lot.”

 “You’re right. And it’s not safe or smart of me to do so.”

 He walked away before I could comment.

 I sighed. Nothing was without secrets, it seemed. I wished I lived in a world where people could just be honest with each other, but it seemed that day was a long way off.

 Stooping, I grabbed my belt and sword and walked on. I had no other clothes to change into, but they were still in dire need of a wash.

 I was making a small fire to make some hot coffee when Oroan walked into the clearing, Treastan beside him. They were both in deep conversation which stopped the moment they spotted me.

 Oroan sniffed the air. “Coffee. Didn’ know ya liked coffee.”

 I stirred in some ground coffee beans. “I don’t. This is for Dragen.”

 Oroan huffed. “Looks ta me like there’s more than that.”

 I looked up. “You can have some if you want. I made enough for all of us except me.”

 Treastan tilted his head. “Aren’t you going to eat breakfast?”

 I stood. “Later, but I need to wash up first.” I motioned to my dirt-covered frame.

 He blushed and nodded. “You go do that.”

 “Do what?” Dragen was here.

 “I need to wash up.”

 He folded his arms. “All right. The stream isn’t far, just a few trees up the path I came from. Be careful. There are soldiers about.”

 I smiled. “Don’t worry.”

 They all seemed pessimistic. Time to prove to them that there was nothing to really worry about.

 I waved and went on my way up the path to the stream. Finding the small trail of water, I followed it upward until the underbrush was thick enough to hide me. Here the stream was a little wider and deeper, so I waded in. No way would I strip off my clothes here. Time for doing a deep-clean later.

 I shivered as the water reached my waist, but that was as high as it went. The current was strong. I dipped myself lower until my head went under, then I came back up. My eyes were still closed as I wiped water from my face. The stream tasted a little coppery. I wondered why. Some of it had gone into my mouth, but I didn’t actually swallow any of it. I didn’t know if the water was pure or not.

 I opened my eyes, looking up at the sky. The trees obscured most of it. Then I caught sight of my arms. Why were they tinged with red?

 I heard shouting up ahead and a splash. The stream…it was turning red with blood. As I watched, a dead man floated down to where I was standing, then another. They weren’t soldiers. They seemed to be villagers of some sort. Their cut throats marked how they died.

 The shouting came closer. I quickly waded over to some long fronds growing over the river and sunk into the water until only my nose and eyes were above.

 “These prisoners are nothing but dead weight. We must find the spy!” Someone shouted. “He can’t have gone too far with those chains.”

 “Patience,” another said, “we will find him soon enough.” A chain rattled. “We’ve got something to bargain with.”

 “He’ll never give in!” I hissed in a breath. That was Ebony!

 “Shut up.”

 Silence, then the sound of horses moving on. The underbrush in front of me shivered. I quietly got out of the water, running through the trees. I looked down at my clothes. So much for washing up. I was covered in blood. I hooked my sword at my side, scrambling over a fallen log and sprinting headlong into the trees.

 “Over there!” I heard the shout right before blinding pain burst in my side, right below my lungs. I clenched my jaw, refusing to cry out or slow down. My side hurt so badly. I didn’t bother to check. It would slow me down.

 A few objects whistled past me. Arrows.

 A soldier jumped out in front of me. Without pause I drew my sword and sliced his head off his shoulders. I was moving on before his body dropped to the forest floor. I zigzagged through the underbrush, feeling hot blood drip down my leg.

 I heard a horse right behind me. It would trample me if I didn’t do anything. I grabbed a throwing knife as I turned, running backward. The rider was wearing a helmet with a slit right where his eyes were. I raised the knife and threw it, knowing it would hit home. Those weeks training with Dragen had certainly made my eye for throwing sharper.

 The soldier cried out as his eye was impaled. I turned back around and kept running, pumping my legs. The camp came into view. I dashed into the clearing and all three men stood up.

 Panting and gritting my teeth, I stumbled and fell to my knees. My limbs were shaking, my vision blurry with unshed tears. I finally looked to my side and saw an arrow had gone straight through. It was up to the shaft, sticking out like an extra limb.

 Dragen was suddenly there, Treastan by his side. I glanced over and saw Oroan run into the trees, broadsword drawn.

 “Willow,” Dragen said. “Willow, look at me.” I focused on his eyes. He was grim but a slight, strained smile appeared. “That a girl.” He turned to Treastan. “I must stay here. Will you help Oroan?”

 He stood. “Yes, I will.” A fierce determination and anger stole upon him and as Dragen offered him my sword Treastan gripped it with white knuckles. Dragen nodded and the spy ran into the woods.

 I looked after him until Dragen forced me to look back at him. “Keep very still, Willow. I have some bandages right here.” He cut away the bottom portion of my shirt with his knife. Normally I would be embarrassed being so exposed, but it didn’t matter.

 For just a moment, everything went black but color soon came back. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Dragen took my face in his hands. “Willow, focus. Concentrate on me, okay?” I slowly nodded. “Good.”

 He turned his focus back on the wound. He breathed deeply, exhaling carefully. “Okay. This wound isn’t the worst I’ve seen.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself I’d be all right.

 He looked at my clothes. “Is all this blood yours?” He sounded withdrawn and strangled.

 “No.”

 He frowned, not asking more. He reached for the arrow, withdrawing his knife. I hadn’t seen him use that one before. “I’m going to use this to cut through the shaft. It is my sharpest knife.” I knew that meant a lot, considering I’d seen him use his other knifes to cut through tree branches with two swipes.

 I couldn’t nod, so I just blinked.

 He took another deep breath, grabbed nearer the iron tip and brought the knife down on the back shaft. It split with barely a jerk, and he yanked the rest of the arrow out.

 I screamed and writhed on the ground. “Be still!” Dragen hissed. I forced myself to absolute stone while he wrapped the bandage around my middle. Blood soaked through it almost immediately, gradually lessening. I was so cold.

 “You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he whispered, tired. “Looks to me that you’re not going anywhere without someone there, just washing up or not.”

 I didn’t disagree.

23: Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

 

 Waiting was agony. Dragen didn’t leave my side to help the others with the battle. He said he wanted to make sure I stayed awake. But my mind was alert to every sound. To every rustle of leaves in the wind, to the cold ground beneath me. I had tried to stand up once and failed. My side wouldn’t allow it.

 I wanted to fight, I wanted to help Ebony. I needed to find her and apologize for leaving her behind. She hadn’t escaped, she wasn’t safe and I wondered just how long she’d been in chains, just like Treastan. I still needed to ask him just why he was so abused. It seemed everyone I loved was doomed to go through endless suffering for my sake. Ebony could have stayed a maid in the Rosten house, Treastan could have lived out his life in Blythe or Seascer, wherever he came from. No one should continue to suffer for my sake. Yet still this is where we ended up, fighting just to survive.

 The bushes rustled and Treastan came in with Ebony beside him and two other prisoners, a boy and a girl. The girl had very short brown hair, and the boy was slightly taller with the same short brown hair. They looked a lot alike. I imagined them to be brother and sister.

 Treastan ran over to me after Ebony was by the fire. She was watching with wide eyes. I tried to give her a reassuring smile but could only manage a grimace.

 He knelt by me, scanning me, face growing pale. He turned to Dragen. “Please, please tell me that’s not her blood.”

 “Not all of it.”

 He looked at the bandage. “So what now?”

 Dragen stood. “We need to move on, but she cannot walk without losing more blood than she has to spare. I’m not sure she’ll make it through as she is right now, but we cannot stay here.”

 Treastan glanced at me. His voice lowered, but I heard what he said anyway. “And there’s one more problem.”

 “What’s that?”

 “It’s Rowan. He’s out here somewhere looking for her.”

 My eyes widened at his words. Rowan? Here? Surely that wasn’t possible. The sole heir and crown prince would not come this far out. It was too risky. Especially in this wild country. There were no laws here. Fortworth was a place of lost order and unity. He would get himself killed or worse.

 Dragen grew more serious, if that was possible. “Was he in the party?”

 “No.”

 “Then let us hope we do not run into him.”

 “Why?” Treastan asked.

 “Because I was the one who trained him.”

 Treastan didn’t have a reply to that.

 Dragen blew out a breath I didn’t even realize he’d been holding. “We need to leave immediately. No questions asked.”

 “What about her?”

 Another voice answered. “I ‘ave somethin’ that can help.”

 They turned. Oroan stood not too far off, holding the reins of a brown mare and a pitch-black stallion. “Got two of ‘em ‘ere.”

 “And where did you get these?” Dragen went over and examined them with a critical eye. Their coats were glossy and well-groomed. The tails were cut short and tied at the ends. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. They truly were beautiful animals.

 “Couple men didn’ know when ta stop fightin’. So I knocked ‘em from their steeds.”

 “Hmm. Well we can use one for her,” he jerked a thumb in my general direction, “and the other as a packhorse. It is tiresome carrying this equipment.” He rolled his shoulders a little as he spoke.

 “Which will be which?” Treastan walked over to them.

 Dragen didn’t turn. He continued to study the horses. I felt bad for them. Dragen’s stare was a little unnerving when focused on you. “The black one is sturdier and well-built. It is more of a battle horse. The mare has longer legs, she’s made for running. So we’ll use the stallion as the packhorse. You never know when we’ll need to run, so it is best not to tire the mare too much.”

 “Makes sense.”

 I shivered as he finished speaking. The wind wasn’t strong and the others didn’t mind it. Why was it so cold? The sun was still up and everyone else seemed to be a little overheated. Though that could have been caused by battle.

 I focused on Ebony and then the two other prisoners behind her. They were both staring at Oroan with familiarity in their gaze. I wanted to know just how everyone seemed to know the mountaineer.

 The girl got up and went to Oroan. She didn’t seem nervous by Dragen and Treastan’s hostile stares. She ignored them and went straight up to the big man. He turned and smiled at her, and she gave him a big hug. “It is good to see you again, Oroan!” She exclaimed.

 He laughed. “It is good ta see ya too, Liathy.” He looked to the boy. “An’ ya too Daethan!” The boy smiled coyly and ran to him, embracing him as well. Ebony simply smiled. I knew she was enjoying the reunion as much as anyone else.

 I smiled as well, and at the same time we met each other’s gaze. Sadness crept in on the edges, but it truly was good to see her again. I’d missed her positive attitude.

 Treastan switched back and forth between us. His regular smirk took its place and it was then I knew everything was okay. Everyone was safe for now.

 

 Liathy and Daethan Greenguard, as it turned out, had been on the run for a long time. They had met Ebony just before getting captured. They were the two children Oroan had saved so long ago from those towers. Liathy was quite the warrior and had taken down four soldiers before six of them pinned her.

 “I could have gotten out,” she said to me as we packed up camp. “But they had my brother and Ebony. I didn’t want my escape to cost them their lives.”

 “Thank you,” I whispered.

 “For what?”

 “For taking care of Ebony.”

 She stopped for a moment and gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you would have done the same. I have heard a lot about you.”

 “You’re right.”

 “Don’ wear her ou’ too much, now Liathy.”

 She nodded. “I won’t, don’t worry!” She had a slight accent, though I couldn’t tell what it was.

 Daethan came over, grabbing my hand in his. He looked about my age. “Thank you for trying to defend us,” he said.

 I wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much. “How did I do that?”

 “You fought the soldiers and led your friends to us.”

 “I guess.”

 His piercing blue-gray eyes met mine. His dark brown hair fell into his eyes. He was sincere. I imagined that I’d made a new friend.

 Treastan stood behind him. When did he get there? “Now, my friend, don’t be making bets you can’t win.”

 Daethan chuckled and stood. “She’s older than I am. She’s my sister’s age. There is no way I’m falling for her, don’t worry.” He leaned down and whispered, “Don’t think you’re not appealing, you’re just not my type. I don’t go for fair-haired women. I’m more a brunette kind of guy.”

 “That’s okay, believe me,” I replied. “I have a lot on my plate as it is.” My eyes twitched to Treastan. Daethan chuckled.

 When the brother and sister went to help Dragen put the packs on the horse Treastan knelt beside me. “Are you ready?”

 I took a quick breath and nodded. He gently picked me up, keeping his grip loose. I grimaced in pain. “What did he say to you, anyway?”

 I grinned and didn’t give him an answer. He huffed. “I see how it is.”

 The mare was quiet and calm. She watched me carefully as Treastan set me upon the saddle. “You won’t be walking, but you still need to hold the reins. Is that okay?” I nodded understanding. The mare bobbed her head as if she understood as well. I patted her neck.

 “She should have a name,” I whispered.

 “Have at it,” Treastan said as he brought over the other horse, packed and ready to go.

 “Hmm. Let’s see. How about Amber?” I knew just where the name came from. This horse was as calm as Amberly ever was. A steady anchor in the roiling sea.

 Treastan pursed his lips. “An unusual name for a horse, but good nonetheless. Amber it is.”

 I smiled. “You could name the black one if you feel left out.”

 He put a hand over his heart. “Aw, you know just how to make me feel better, Willow.”

 I rolled my eyes. “Just pick a name.”

 “All right.” His eyes went dark for a brief second. He ruffled the beast’s mane. “How about Saun?”

 “Saun? That’s more unusual than Amber.”

 “Yes, well. Since we’re naming them after people we have lost…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

 I paused for a second until all the dots connected in my mind. I couldn’t believe it. Had he given me another secret? Did he trust me enough already?

 “Was that the name of-”

 “My father, yes.” He paused. “Just because we take the name of another does not mean we do not have one of our own.”

 “And why will you not tell me yours?”

 “One day.”

 We moved on, the jabbing pain increased just a little, but I took it with no complaint.

 I thought for a second. “How did you know I the name was after someone I lost?”

 “I understand you. The look on your face told me everything I needed.” He hesitated for a moment. His hand held the reins of the other horse and lead it onward. “Who was she to you?”

 I sighed. “That’s a barrel of trouble. I don’t want to go fishing in those memories.”

 “I’ll be right here for you in case you start to drown.”

 I smiled. It hurt to speak, and I couldn’t manage more than a whisper, but I would tell him because he asked. I was nice like that. “Her name wasn’t Amber, but Amberly. She was a maid in the house.” He knew what house I spoke of.

 “’Was?’” That word held a world of questions.

 “I’m getting there. Anyway, she was more of a mother to me. And she was Ebony’s real mother as well. Amberly was always happy and energetic. She kept the days from getting dark or dull…” I trailed off and took a few stabilizing breaths. My right lung hurt. But I pressed forward. “When I was twelve Amberly got sick. At first we thought it was just an ordinary cold, but it didn’t go away. Slowly she got worse. Ebony had to do double the work just to make sure her mother wasn’t left on the streets to fend for herself. She became my personal maid in Amberly’s place.”

 “Wait, how old are you?” Treastan asked me. “You should be about fourteen to fifteen years of age.”

 I laughed, it hurt tremendously. “I’m an old goose. I didn’t actually want to get married, believe it or not. I’m sixteen.” I saw his jaw go slack. “How old are you?” I retorted.

 “Nineteen…”

 “Truth?”

 “I swear it is the truth. How in the world are you sixteen already? How are you not married?”

 “I told you, I didn’t want to get married.”

 He threw his hands up in exasperation.

 I gently cleared my throat and continued, “So back to where I was: Amberly got worse and she couldn’t get out of bed. Just a year ago Ebony and I went to visit and she didn’t even know her own name.”

 I struggled with emotion, cutting off for a brief second. My eyes closed of their own volition. “Not long ago Ebony’s father died in the war. He’d been gone for over three years, so he didn’t even know Amberly was so far gone. After his death she didn’t last too long. The night before the fire she passed away. I wasn’t there when she died, even if she was always there for me, no matter what.”

 A hand grabbed mine. “It wasn’t your fault.”

 “I know.”

 Treastan cleared his throat. “So Ebony is an orphan.”

 I didn’t like talking about it too much. I still couldn’t believe she took it so lightly. “Did you expect anything more?”

 A pause. “No.”

 I opened my eyes. The sky was getting dark and my head felt heavy.

 “Willow, you okay?”

 I blinked. The sun wasn’t setting, it was cloud cover. Big, gray clouds were rolling in. I shook my head, ridding of the feeling of sinking. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

 He gave me a disbelieving stare before he shrugged. The smirk stayed on his face, and I was glad it was back. Hopefully it would stay.

 Dragen came back from the front.

 “How’s Ebony?” I asked.

 “She’s fine. But we’ll need to find shelter soon. I was hoping to pass Fortworth but we may need to use the ruins to get out of this storm.” As he finished speaking the wind picked up. Both horses neighed nervously.

 I checked the mare real quick before fright made her too jumpy. I could not handle jumpy at the moment. A feeling of nausea crawled inside me as I moved.

 “Can’t we just use the tents?” I asked.

 Treastan answered first. “No, not with the way the sky is looking. There will be a lot of rain, perhaps lightning.”

 A flash illuminated the sky, proving his suspicions right. Unfortunately it scared Amber. She tossed her head and sidestepped, rolling her body. I held on despite the pain. On any normal day it would be easy to go with it and pull on the reins, but this just made my teeth clench until my jaw ached.

 “Oh, no,” I gasped right before throwing up. I turned away from the horse so none of it got on her. Doing this I was also turned away from Treastan and Dragen.

 I quickly sat back up. Turning that way stretched my wound out. It seemed doing anything would be painful. Some warrior I was.

 Dragen narrowed his eyes. “You better take it easy on that wound.”

 I nodded silently, a cough building up in my chest. Why was it so cold?

 “Where did it penetrate?” Treastan asked him.

 He calmly answered, “Through the lowest portion of her right lung. It missed the most important parts though. She should live.” I could hear the doubt in his words. “Treastan, or whoever you really are, help her, will you? She can’t handle the mare on her own with this weather.”

 Treastan nodded and gently climbed up behind me. “Give me the reins,” he whispered. I handed them over. He held them in one hand and whipped them down. The horse began a canter. I rested back against him, tired and cold.

 “Geez,” he yelped. “You’re like ice.”

 I didn’t say anything. All I wanted was sleep.

 Lightning flashed in the sky. It was an angry hand striking the earth, ripping it open to see what secrets lie in the depths, illuminating our sorrows. Nothing could hide away from this angry foe.

 The bright light reminded me of a dark, rainy night in a carriage. I wished things were that simple. I could take on a couple wolves right about now…that is, without my wound. Funny, how fast things change.

 The wind howled in my ears, rain pounding the ground much as Ambers hooves, creating a never-ending rumble. Thunder clapped.

 I looked behind and saw Saun running just behind.

 We soon came up to Oroan and the others. Treastan slowed Amber down to a walk. “Oroan!” He called, “I can take Ebony!”

 As she heard her name she turned around. She smiled when her eyes lit on me. I gave her one in return. That girl could always make the day better.

 Oroan called back, “All righ’ then! Go on, gal!” he shooed Ebony forward. She ran up to Amber and got on. I held her hand as she got on. She held tight to the mane and then we were off. I watched as Liathy ran behind us. When Dragen came up on Saun she refused to get on but insisted her brother should. Daethan argued with her for a second before she pushed him away. He scowled but got on anyway. I saw Dragen hide a grin as the boy sat behind him.

 Another bright flash lit the sky. I saw a tree not far ahead catch fire.

 “We need to get out of here!” I shouted.

 Ebony was crushed against me, eyes shut tight.

 I could see how frustrated Treastan was that he couldn’t get a good grip on the reins. I took them from him and forced the pain away.

 “What are you doing?!” He yelped.

 I whipped the reins down on the horse. “Go, girl!” I ordered. Amber leaped forward with a whinny. We charged through the forest. I held the reins steadfast and guided the horse through with expert control.

 A tall structure loomed in the distance. Part of the roof had caved in long ago, but the rest of it seemed intact. The stones were black and uninviting. The entirety of Fortworth was a hole made to make one nervous and frightened. I supposed that the soldiers left it to be that way.

 I could almost feel the many deaths that had happened here. The houses were in shambles as went through the warped gates. Horse saddles lay unused by the stable, a couple swords beside them. I wondered where the bodies were.

 Amber slowed as I pulled on the reins. She was barely panting. Ebony opened her eyes as the horse started to walk to the ruined building that had once been the main structure. She blinked a couple of times before looking around. She quickly jumped off and wandered. I let her. After all, I wasn’t one to stop her.

 A chirp sounded in the trees. Looking up, in the branches of a pine sat a Redwater robin. Though what it was doing so far north confounded me.

 Treastan gently reached over and took the reins. “You’re bleeding.”

 I glanced down. Sure enough, red seeped through my bandage. I had yet to put on a new shirt, as I didn’t own any more. “Great.” I intoned. Still I pushed away the pain and slid off the horse. I landed and my legs crumpled. Kneeling in the mud, I took a deep breath.

 Out of the corner of my eye I saw two boots land beside me. Treastan helped me up. “Remember what Dragen said, take it easy. Now let’s get out of this storm.” He turned his face up. “It is going to get a lot worse very soon.”

 I forced myself forward. Lightning flashed again right before rain pelted down. It soaked through my clothes in an instant.

 Treastan cursed, scooped me up and ran. I hadn’t realized just how fast he could go without any chains preventing his movements. “Here, girl!” He called to the horse. Amber followed.

 “Since when are you a trainer of horses?” I asked.

 “All my life long,” he replied. There was no sarcasm in his voice this time.

 We came up to the building. “What are we going to do about her?” I asked Treastan.

 “I called her over. She’s following along so, when I drop you off, I will go and put her in the extra stables. The ones near the entrance are too easily seen. Not only that, but they’re probably rotting.”

 Dragen and the others were already at the ruined building when we got there. Treastan quickly transferred me to Dragen and ran with the horse to the stable.

 I watched him go, a strange feeling rising in my heart.

24: Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Three

 

After Treastan left we got everyone settled in. I sat by Ebony and we caught up on all that had happened.

 “So, wait, you were kidnapped?” Her eyes got wide.

 I chuckled. “Sort of. Dragen actually thought you guys would get me killed.”

 She hung her head. “I guess so. After all we did get captured and stuff so…” She shrugged. “Maybe he had the smartest idea.”

 “About that,” I said, “how did you get captured in the first place? I thought Treastan was super smart about all this.”

 She sighed. “It was my fault. I was a little loud in the forest. He told me not to call out for you but I didn’t listen. I was so anxious. We both thought you were kidnapped or dead. Treastan wasn’t doing so good.

 “Anyway, the soldiers heard me and came closer, but these two kids ran up and took me away. Treastan was there and he held them off for a while. I didn’t think anyone was capable of fighting so many at the same time, but he did it. I wasn’t sure he even knew who the two kids who took me and ran were, but I guess he just wanted me out of the area no matter what.

 “I was with Liathy and Daethan for a bit. They said they were coming up this way to pay respects to their parents. They just had to get to Fortworth, but the king’s men were everywhere.

 “The fifth day we made it to Fortworth, but it was overrun with soldiers and they spotted us. Liathy couldn’t even get her sword out before she was knocked over the head. Daethan and I never stood a chance.” There was a wistful note in her voice as she finished.

 “So,” I said, “what was with the dead people just before we rescued you?”

 “A couple of folks from the mountains were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The men were passing by but the soldiers thought them to be spies like Treastan. So they took them and when they didn’t have any information the soldiers killed them.”

 I scowled. “That’s terrible. It is not in any way okay for them to do such things. Why would anyone condone it?”

 She shrugged again. “Perhaps you should get Treastan’s side of the story. After all, how did the soldiers even know he was a spy?”

 I frowned. “That’s true.”

 She smiled. “Speak of the devil; there he is now.”

 I whipped around. Sure enough he came through the door. He was sopping wet and disheveled but kept a smirk on his face. It turned into a full grin when he saw us. Dragen gave him a brief message he shrugged off before sauntering over.

 “What’s with the look? Did you miss me or something?”

 Something, I thought before replying. “We were just catching up on all that went on when I disappeared.”

 His smile all but vanished and he folded his arms. “Going right into the pit, huh?”

 I nodded. “I’m of a curious sort.”

 He harrumphed, “Sure you are.”

 “Treastan, what happened to you when you were captured? I’m sure we’re both wondering.” I looked to Ebony and she nodded, her gaze set firmly on him.

 He plopped down and folded his legs. He rested his elbows on his knees. “It was an unfair fight, but I didn’t expect a highly trained assassin to be in the group. The man was short but could shoot a bow like nobody’s business. He got me in the shoulder and they were able to take me down. Unfortunately he could see training of no ordinary sort when I fought and had me…interrogated.”

 I didn’t like the sound of that.

 “They beat me to a bloody pulp and I still wouldn’t speak a word. Somehow that gave him the notion I was some sort of spy or assassin and he had me severely lashed at every opportune moment. I decided to strip my tunic and leave it after a while. There was no point in keeping it. And I’m glad I left it.”

 “Treastan…I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

 “I’ve gone through worse.”

 I couldn’t believe he’d just act like it was nothing. Surely there was some sort of pain leftover?

 I thought about it as he excused himself to the fire to dry his clothes. I watched his face, half of it lit by the flames. The light danced along his sharp features, making him look strange and foreign. Perhaps he only acted like it was nothing so as not to dwell on it too long, just as I was pushing the pain away to pursue a good attitude and not be a weak link. We were being strong for those around us.

 I shook the thoughts off. This was a time of war; there was no room for whines or crying. Pain was a part of everyday life. I had to live with my wounds, just as Treastan had. It would make me stronger in the end.

 Ebony smiled and walked to the fire as well.

 I stretched out on the ground, raising my arms and pushing them back. Pain lanced like fire through my side and I immediately stopped, breathing hard. It hurt a lot. Perhaps I wouldn’t try something too early. I needed to heal sometime.

 My eyes drifted to the fire, watching the flames waver and flicker. Darkness overtook me and I fell asleep.

 

 I woke feeling strange. All my dreams had been a jumbled mess of heat. Looking around, I saw everyone else was sleeping, save for Treastan by the door. He must be on guard duty.

 I felt bad not helping him out, but being incapacitated I wouldn’t be of much use anyway.

 A draft blew in and I shivered. I had a blanket on my legs, folded back from my arms. Someone must have put it there after I fell asleep. I pulled it up higher, around my shoulders. It was so cold.

 My teeth clacked together and I forced them to be silent, clenching my jaw. My joints ached. Nausea rolled through me before settling for a few seconds. I groaned, closed my eyes.

 Footsteps came closer. I knew who it was but kept my eyes shut. A hand pulled hair from my face, tucking it back. “Willow, are you okay?”

 Another roll of nausea. “F-fine.”

 “Look at me, please.”

 I shook my head slowly.

 “Willow, open your eyes. Don’t act like this right now.”

 I obeyed, finding Treastan’s face above mine. He looked worried.

 “W-what?” I stuttered, teeth still trying to chatter. A shiver racked me.

 His brow furrowed. “You’re cold?”

 A glare was his answer.

 He exhaled and ran a hand threw his hair. “All right. I need to check your wound.” He tugged at the blanket. “May I?”

 He lifted the side before I could answer, making his question meaningless. My tunic was pulled up a little bit. I barely heard the hiss of an intake of breath.

 “What is it?” My neck bent and I tried to get a look.

 “Don’t move. Does this hurt?”

  I wondered what he meant. “No.”

 “Can you even feel anything?”

 “Not really.”

 He stood, pulling the blanket back down. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

 Dragen wasn’t far, just a few meters away. He was sleeping against the wall. Treastan knelt in front of him and called his name. Dragen woke instantly. I heard the entire conversation.

 “What?” That was Dragen.

 “We need to leave.”

 There was a pause. “Soldiers?”

 “No. We need to go into town.” Treastan jerked his head in my direction.

 “Is she…?”

 “Wound is infected. Dragen, we need to leave now.”

 I felt a brief moment of shock. Infection. My wound was infected. That wasn’t good.

 He grunted as he made his way to his feet. “How long has she got?”

 “At this rate, I’d say two days.”

 I tried not to react to this information. Two days. Was my life meant to be cut so short? I craned my head over and picked at the blanket. Such a small issue and yet is has become such an enormous fear. How things change…

 “We’re lucky we’ve got that long.”

 “I’m not a doctor, she could have one to three so I made it two.”

 “What about the skin around the wound?”

 “Dark red.”

 “Get everyone up. We leave immediately.” Dragen sounded distant and cold, which meant he was panicking. I knew him well enough to hear the undercurrent of emotion. I set my head back down and closed my eyes. Perhaps fighting it so hard would just make it worse.

 My eyes flew open when I was lifted into the air. Surprisingly it was Dragen carrying me.

 I smiled softly. “Why, Dragen, I never knew you to be so gentlemanly.”

 He stared at me. “Don’t make me regret this, child. I am only carrying you because if you try to walk you’ll increase the risk of death.”

 I didn’t say anything else.

 He took me to the stables. The wood was starting to rot in some places, but for the most part it was intact. Both horses neighed a greeting.

 He walked up to Amber. The horse snorted and shook her mane out before settling. Dragen brought her out and got up in the saddle easily, still cushioning me in his arms. His blue eyes were almost black in the darkness. His features were sharp and serious.

 The land was a blur of soft rain. I heard Dragen curse before throwing his cloak over me completely. A strange fear arose within me. Perhaps I did not like complete covering. Maybe it was born in me the second the reins caught my toes as an infant.

 “Settle down. You’re fine,” Dragen rumbled.

 I forced my breathing to steady and, once it had, weariness took over. Just as I was on the brink of being asleep Treastan spoke,

 “Is she out?”

 “I think so.”

 “Where’s the nearest town?”

 No reply.

 “Dragen?”

  “…Too far.”

 There was a long pause.

 Even though they were discussing my bleak future, I felt disconnected from it. My lack of self-preservation was a little disturbing, but it didn’t have a hold in my thoughts. I was drifting in puzzlement and curiosity.

 Treastan was the first to speak. He sounded angry, or heartbroken. It was hard to tell. “I will not let her die.”

 I wondered why he was so deeply concerned. We were friends, sure, but there could be nothing between us. I was a lost princess, the centerpiece of an entire war. And somehow a key in Theudemir’s prophecy.

 He was a spy with a lot of family problems to sort out. I didn’t even know his real name, or who he even was. Everything I knew was from what he decided to reveal to me. And how could I even be sure it was the truth? What foundation was there to build anything more than a strange friendship on?

 My thoughts drifted back to the conversation at hand.

 Treastan was till speaking. “She’s dying and you won’t say anything?”

 No response.

 “And of course the assassin doesn’t care what happens to her.”

 Dragen kept his mouth shut. I felt his body tense. He was angry. Very, very angry. I telepathically begged Treastan to shut up. I wondered what part of their words I’d missed for this much hostility to fester.

 My silent pleas didn’t do anything. He wanted to be an idiot. “I bet she was a burden to you all your life. You had to keep an eye on her, all of you did. Until one went crazy and another defected. Then it was just you, Demtir and Maron. But Demtir was your father so he sent you to take care of all the spying, all the dirty work.”

 Dragen’s breathing stopped. He wasn’t moving any muscle. He might as well have been a statue. I knew he wouldn’t make any quick movements as long as he was carrying me. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t do a slow one. And he was very good at it.

  “I think I know just who you are, Dragen. After all, I was already in the city when Aoric defected. I saw you run. Were you running out of fear and cowardice, or because you felt too guilty to see her face anymore?”

 I needed to wake up. But I was so tired…

 “And you’re not talking because it’s true, isn’t it? You’re ashamed of yourself. You had to go make another name for yourself just to soothe your hurt feelings.” Treastan laughed. “And to think such a pathetic man bested my own father.”

 “Watch wha’ ya say.” Oroan’s voice came from the other side of us. He was grim. “Dragen’s no’ one ta be messed with.”

 “Or what? He’ll run away?”

 Dragen answered. “And yet here I am, taking care of Willow of my own free will and all you can think of are insults.”

 I couldn’t believe he could hold his breath for so long and still be able to speak just fine. I didn’t listen to any more of it. The nausea was coming back.

 My mind drifted away from reality. White enveloped me in a shimmering cocoon of light. I wondered what kind of dream this was. Not far ahead a white doe pranced. As the land came further into view I saw a forest of silver and white. The doe had silver antlers and golden hooves. As I stood, taking it all in, it turned its head to me. I was surprised to see remarkable intelligence in the gaze. It was a pure, liquid silver gaze with big black pupils. It flowed ahead gracefully. I ungracefully followed with steps firm and light, no pain keeping me behind.

 We entered a tall thicket of trees and finally a clearing. It was perfectly circular with a raised platform in the center about the size of a small cottage. The platform was made of marble with swirling silver.

 The doe stopped just at the foot of the stones.

 “Why have you taken me here?” I asked, knowing it to be foolish to question a deer.

 My foolishness was soon put down because it spoke back, “I have brought you for your choosing.” The voice came out female and soft. It lilted and swayed like a lily frond in the wind. “This is the time to set a destiny, for you are at a critical moment. There will be one other time to do this, and I will give you the strength to accomplish your ultimate goal.”

 “What are you?”

 The doe lifted its chin. “I am a goddess of prophecy. I am Ayamana, partner of Theudemir before he cast me into this unruly form.” Those eyes stared into me. “And I believe you could help me overthrow Theudemir.”

 “Overthrow?” I echoed.

 “The king god has many problems he cannot sort through. His prices are too high a risk and he does not take anything seriously.”

 “But what is he?”

 “The god of choice. The god of fate, balance and nature. He raises the sun, he lights the stars, he makes the wind blow. He is evil and good, light and dark. Yin and Yang.”

 Yin and Yang…I’d heard the term before from an Yjorrmen healer. Yin and Yang, opposites that created perfect harmony.

 “Willow, you have been touched by the hand of Theudemir and Rimedueth.”

 “Who’s Rimedueth?”

 “The darkness, as Theudemir is the light. They are one and the same.”

 I was confused. “What do you mean?”

 She started to fade, “Fight for freedom or die. Those are your choices.”

 The forest turned brittle, melting away.

 “Wait!” I called out. “What do you mean?!”

 The howling wind was my only reply. She was gone.

 

 The world came back slowly. I blinked my eyes open. I was on the ground next to a fire. The flames created a harmony that danced and twirled before me. I’d never seen a fire so beautiful.

 “You’re awake.” It wasn’t a question. I smiled as Ebony came into view. I took her hand as she came close.

 “Yes,” I whispered, “I am.”

 Liathy walked up behind her, Daethan in tow. She folded her arms. “You’re gonna die if you keep trying to do things too soon.”

 Daethan stepped forward, casting a stern glance at his older sister. “What she meant to say was, you should probably take it easy and try not to do anything hard. You aggravate your wound if you move too much.”

 I sighed. “I know. I just feel so helpless.”

 He smiled. His teeth were surprisingly white. “Don’t we all.”

 I gave a small cough. “Where are we?”

 Liathy answered, “A day’s journey from Fortworth. We are by the Towers.” Her voice became hard and hushed. I knew why. The Towers were where she and her brother had been locked away to suffer with the rest of the children of their childhood.

 I took a deep breath. “Don’t worry. What’s past is past and that place will only have the ghosts of memories. No one will keep you there ever again.”

 She nodded and turned away. Her head tilted. “You know, those memories have always kept me locked in that tower.” She paused, her head lifting to look at the twinkling stars above, lost in thought. “I’ll never truly escape. Sometimes…I’m afraid to.” She shook her head and left.

 Her brother watched after her. “At least you got a response,” he said. “I worry for her. Liathy hasn’t been a kid ever since that wretched tower. None of us have.” He gave me a reassuring grin and followed his sister.

 My gaze focused on Ebony. “They sure are nice.”

 “Give them time. They’ll warm up to you.”

 “Thank you, dear.” I patted her hand. “Now, have you had your dinner?”

 She sighed. A small light of happiness shone in her bleak eyes. “You haven’t changed one bit.” She stood and went after her newfound friends. “I’ll do as you say, big sister,” she threw over her shoulder. I smiled at that. It was a title I would keep proudly.

 I shifted to a more comfortable position, wincing slightly. Most of my side was numb. It was difficult to move. Infected. That word kept replaying in my mind over and over again. It was always there, in the back of my mind. I wouldn’t let the others know how it affected me. Heaven knows how Ebony feels just seeing me like this. She must be terrified I’ll leave like her mother and father.

 My thoughts drifted suddenly to someone I hadn’t thought of in a long time. Gan Statson, Ebony’s father and Allura’s husband. He had been a resilient man, and a stubborn one. It had taken Allura a year to convince him to serve the Rosten house. His pride had taken a severe blow being a servant, but he took it with no complaint. Gan was a simple man with blunt opinions. Perhaps that was what made him a friend to Maron. Gan wasn’t overly strong or smart, but he knew people. He loved people. He was a quick learner in the ways of politics. I imagined he could have become a grand advisor to the king. He would have had a bright future ahead of him if not for the war. They had forced one man from every house to fight for their country. I could still see the bleak desperation in Gan’s eyes as he was taken from his loving wife, who had recently come down with a cold after another miscarriage, and his only child, Ebony. I had wanted to speak out but would not endure the punishment for such action. And so I held my tongue. It was a horrible day indeed. And the last day I saw him. I could only wonder what he thought of me now. He was the one to teach me the basics in training and how to become stronger. He was the reason I knew how to climb, how to run, how to defend myself at least a little. He gave me everything…and I couldn’t even speak for him. I had failed him.

 I blinked tears away. Resting like this gave me too much time to think of those I had lost. Dwelling on the past would do me no good. I needed to do something, to act.

 I stared into the flames, wondering at their movements. They seemed so carefree and beautiful, so fragile that a few drops of water would weaken them. And yet they were the only things to be warm in a desolate landscape, the light in the dark night. Fire was strong in its own way, and the more it had, the brighter and deadlier it became. I hoped to be like fire one day. To burn bright, with a ferocity that no other could match, to be thwarted by none. I’m beautiful and graceful, but not something to be left as weak. Someday others wouldn’t take me for what I seem to be, but for who I am.