by S A McClure
“Haven’t we met before?” he asked, his lips curling downwards and his eyes drooping slightly. “I know you.”
Before she knew what was happening, he’d wrapped his arms tight around her waist and pulled her close against his body. She heard the gentle thudding of his heart and felt the ripple of his muscles as he held her. Silver-blue eyes met hers as she peered upwards.
The branch slipped from her fingers and landed with a soft thud on the ground. She was entirely mesmerized by him.
His eyes were like one of the constellations Grandmother had shown her. They swirled with a vibrancy Iris found enthralling. She uttered a small sigh, her lips parting slightly.
Without breaking eye contact with her, the man began leaning down. Panic rose within her. She didn’t want this. Or did she? Doubt clouded her thoughts. A part of her longed to know what it felt like to be touched, to be desired. She trembled in his grasp.
His lips grazed hers so faintly that it was but the touch of a butterfly. She stilled as he withdrew. He peered down at her with a lopsided grin. In the stillness that followed the kiss, Iris felt his heart hammering in his heart, a mirror of her ow.
“Who are you?” he whispered again, his voice husky. “Tell me your name.”
He leaned in to kiss her again. Desire simmered in the deepest part of her core. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him. Still, she couldn’t ignore the warning bells tolling in her mind.
He could hurt her if she tried to run. He seemed lost and disoriented, but what if that was all an act? She couldn’t let him take advantage of her. She was alone here. No one was coming to rescue her.
Making a decision, she smacked him across the jaw. The jolt of the blow reverberated up her arm, but she drew back again to deliver another strike. He caught her fist in his hand and pulled her arm down. He didn’t hurt her, but his hold was firm. If she were being truthful with herself, she barely put up a fight. Caught between shame and curiosity, she stole a glance up at him.
Her eyes trailed over the pink spot on his jaw and cheek from where she’d struck him. She didn’t think it would bruise, but it would sting for the next several minutes. She chided herself for resorting to violence to solve her problems. It never had before and, clearly, it wouldn’t now. She had always rebuked Emmaleigh for using her brazenness and strength to fend off their opponents. She couldn’t believe that, the one time she was left to face something like this alone, she’d resorted to falling into the same trap.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She meant it, too. “I don’t know what came over me,” she continued as she lifted her eyes past the red mark on his cheek to meet his gaze.
He released his hold on her and took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated as she took a step to close the gap between them. “I didn’t mean—”
He shoved her away from him, his gaze darting around the small clearing. Iris froze. The gleam of yellow eyes in the distance pierced the darkness.
Grandmother, she thought as she drew herself to her full height.
The eyes multiplied.
Not Grandmother.
If she hadn’t been so scared of the darkness lurking behind those eyes, she might have laughed at her eagerness to see Grandmother finding her in the forest with a strange man. But it wasn’t Grandmother and she had read too many stories about people going missing in the woods.
She screamed. It was the only thing she could think to do in the moment.
The man nearly tackled her as he thrust his arm around her mouth, stifling her scream. She bit into his skin. He grunted but continued holding firmly to her body. He pulled her against a tree.
“Shh,” he whispered into her ear. His breath was like a gentle breeze on a summer day.
The multiple pairs of yellow eyes blinked. Iris leaned into the man. His arms tightened around her and she found herself comforted by the weight of him upon her. Her heart hammered in her chest. She prayed to the Light that he took her rapidly beating chest to be a sign of her anxiety over the creatures lurking in the trees and not because of their proximity.
The eyes blinked again, but made no sign of moving closer to them. She clutched at him and turned her face away from the eyes.
He cradled her to his chest. The steady beat of his heart was soft against her ear. It was so calm. She had always heard—well, read in her books—that when men found women attractive their hearts beat more quickly. His sounded like any other.
She sighed and mentally scolded herself for caring what a perfect stranger thought about her.
“Hmmph,” she muttered before pushing herself away from him.
He didn’t even try to stop her as she turned toward the creatures skulking within the shadows. Not that she needed a man to tell her what to do. She could take care of herself, thank you very much.
At least, she hoped she could.
Dark masses spread from the central one. The eyes blinked several times before closing and disappearing into the shadows. Still, the first set of eyes remained.
“You’re not welcome here,” she hissed. Her words died as the wind picked up all around her.
The mass of darkness seemed to lift itself from the ground. It was larger than she had thought. Much larger. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came. The mass of darkness continued to grow.
What would Emmaleigh do?
In her heart, she knew if Emmaleigh were here, she would do one of two things. She would either fight or she would run like the wind to escape whatever this thing was.
For once in her life, Iris wanted to be brave.
She chose to fight.
She drew herself up as tall as she could and lifted a hand toward the mass. “I said, you’re not welcome here!”
Light erupted from her open palm and burned through the spot where the creature had been hovering above her. The shadows fled. Even after the light streaming from her hand dissipated, the darkness was not quite so dense.
Shuddering, she stared down at her hands. What had she just done? Heat pulsed from her palms and the world spun around her. Inhaling deeply, she focused on the tension in her chest before releasing a long, slow breath. Too many strange things were happening, and she had no control over any of them.
Focus on one thing at a time, she chided herself.
She turned to face the man. He stared at her, a dumbfounded expression on his face. He shook his head.
“How?” he asked.
Iris shrugged. She didn’t know how but she also didn’t want to explain that to him. She’d just imagined doing something heroic that the creatures wouldn’t be able to stand, and it just happened. Although her body felt drained and numb, she also felt exhilarated.
“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad you did,” he said as he took a step towards her.
She smiled at him, the exhaustion subsiding slightly at his praise.
“You must be her. The woman I’ve met, once upon a time in my dreams. I’ve never—” He paused, looking down at his hands, “I’ve never seen her face before. It was always just vague impressions of who she was, what she said, what she looked like.”
Iris shrugged again. “I’ve never been here before.” She peered around the forest, realizing how true her response had been. Her mouth went dry. “You’ve asked me what I’m doing here and I’ve attempted to answer. I think it’s only fair you provide the same courtesy.”
He visibly sagged. Torn between a desire for answers and not wanting to cause him distress, Iris fumbled over her words.
“It’s just—” she began.
He cut her off. “I shouldn’t have expected you would be her. It seems like I’ve been searching for her for so long. Maybe she just doesn’t exist.”
He looked so pathetic with his quivering lips and crestfallen face, Iris found herself sympathizing with him. “Don’t say that,” she said, laying a hand upon his arm.
He tensed, and she jerked her hand back. Heat flooded her cheeks. Grandmother had never allowed her o
r Emmaleigh to spend much time with men before. She hated that she didn’t know how she was supposed to act. He had just kissed her, after all.
She ran her foot through the soft mud of the forest floor, drawing symbols Grandmother had forced her to practice over and over again. Practiced until her fingers had bled and her hands had cramped so badly she could barely move them. She’d never forgotten those symbols. Now, she found herself drawing them whenever she was distracted or nervous. They comforted her.
The man stared down at the symbols. In the dim light, Iris saw his chest heave as she finished the one meant to symbolize protection.
He cleared his throat, “Well, even if you’re not her, I’m still glad we met. I have searched but have never found anyone who walked this forest with me,” he said in a raspy voice.
He gripped her hand in his own and grazed his lips across the tops of her fingers. A flutter swept through her stomach and she wasn’t sure if she should rip her hand out of his grip or wish for more. Thankfully, she didn’t have to be the one to make the decision. He released his grip on her and took a step back.
“How long have you been in these woods?” she asked.
“It’s hard to say, really.”
“Oh?”
He began walking through the trees. Iris hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should follow him or not. An owl hooted from behind her, sending a shiver down her spine. She didn’t want to be alone in these woods. Huffing, she trailed after him.
Water gurgled nearby, drowning out the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. Iris hoped they would cross paths with the stream. Her mind felt fuzzy and she was parched in a way she never had been before. The only thing she could think about was the blinding light that shot from her palm as it were nothing at all.
They walked in silence. Iris wanted to ask more questions about the forest and about him, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the conversation without seeming too forward.
“I grew up on the southern border of Dramadoon,” he said as they rounded a bend in the path and found themselves at a small reservoir of water. “I’ve spent my entire life defending its borders and protecting my people.”
Iris had heard of Dramadoonian families waging a silent war against the Szarmians. It was no wonder. Dramadoon praised the Light and followed the will of the Creators. They believed magic flowed through every living thing. Those who wielded great power were considered the highest ranking members of their kingdom. Szarmi, on the other hand, were said to murder any child who exhibited the Light’s gift.
She swallowed hard. The two kingdoms really weren’t so different. Her own parents had abandoned her and Emma to the wild when they reached the age of awakening and failed to demonstrate even the slightest hint of being blessed by the Light. No matter which kingdom one lived, there was still hatred and bigotry.
“Where does your family live now?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject.
He made a stifled sound that almost sounded like a sob. She gave him a sidelong glance. He peered up towards the sister moons, his face bathed in pale light. His brow furrowed and his lips puckered as his eyes roamed back and forth across the sky. Her gaze followed his, yet she couldn’t determine what held his attention.
“I was on a mission from the King,” he murmured. “I should have been there, but I wasn’t. It was my sister’s birthday and my mother had begged me to stay. I told her Valerie would have other birthdays. I didn’t even kiss Valerie on the cheek when I left because she wouldn’t see me.”
Iris took a step towards him, but he waved her off. “By the time I returned, it was already too late. I vowed right then and there that I would never let what had happened to my family happen to anyone else.”
He turned towards her. His silver eyes shimmered as he reached out and took her hand. “I’ve killed enough of those Szarmian demons to fill an entire mortuary. But still they rise.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“There is nothing for you to be sorry about,” he responded. “You’re clearly not Szarmian.” He flicked a strand of her ebony hair behind her ear. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”
Iris opened her mouth to respond when the first rays of sunlight burst through the dense trees. The world around them began to disintegrate into particles of light. She clutched onto his shirt, pulling him in closer.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and whispered into her ear, “Until we meet again, Iris of Dramadoon.”
She watched in horror as his face exploded into a swirl of sparkling dust. She didn’t have enough time to scream before she followed.
Chapter Four
Iris
Iris jolted from the chair. She screamed as her feet collided with the wooden floor. Falling to her knees, she frantically felt her face. It was intact. She ran her fingers over her entire body. She was whole.
She shuddered as the image of the man’s face disintegrating into little more than dust filled her mind. It had felt so real.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Emmaleigh asked as she threw her arms around Iris’s shoulders.
Iris continued to quiver. Sweat beaded down her forehead and into her eyes as she curled in upon herself. Her throat was dry and her blood pounded in her ears. She leaned her head against Emmaleigh’s shoulder, letting the tears soak into her sister’s blouse.
Emmaleigh cooed in her ear and ran circles down her back. Normally, this would have calmed Iris, but now it only made her think of the mysterious man from her dreams. She knew it had only been a dream; there was no other possible explanation. But still, he had seemed so real.
“What is the meaning of this?” Grandmother asked as she strode into the main room of their cottage. Her eyes shifted over Iris curled in Emmaleigh’s arms. “You know my feelings on affection, especially this early in the morning.”
Iris pulled herself out of her sister’s grasp. “Sorry, Grandmother. I…had a nightmare. Emmaleigh was only…”
“Let me stop you right there, child,” Grandmother cut in. “I am in no mood for your ridiculous explanations. Not after last night. Do not forget that it was you who disobeyed me to begin with.”
Iris glared at Grandmother as a bit of realization dawned on her. “You sent me those dreams, didn’t you?”
“Me? Why, Iris, how could you ever think such a thing?”
“Your sarcasm is thinly veiled, Grandmother Rel,” Emmaleigh chimed in.
Iris gave her sister a thankful half-smile before facing Grandmother once more.
“You had no right,” she said.
“No right?” Grandmother asked before Iris could utter another word. “Honestly, Iris, after all these years of training you to guard your mind against invasion, you should be able to identify when someone is attempting to attack your mind.”
Iris quelled the surge of irritation swelling within her. She didn’t want to admit it, but there was a large part of her that yearned for Grandmother’s approval. Being chastised in this manner did nothing to engender her towards betterment. If anything, it made her doubt herself all the more.
Grandmother Rel turned her back on the sisters. Over her shoulder she called, “Come with me, Iris. It is well past time for your lessons to begin for the day.”
When Iris did not immediately follow Grandmother Rel through the hidden doorway, the old witch turned to face her again.
Her eyes gleamed gold and smoke curled from between her lips as she hissed, “I told you to come with me.”
Iris shot a glance at Emmaleigh before standing and following Grandmother. Emmaleigh stuck her tongue out at Grandmother Rel’s back, and Iris almost laughed outright. She caught herself—thankfully—before her chuckle escaped her. The Light only knew what Grandmother would do to them both if she caught them openly mocking her.
Iris followed Grandmother down a long flight of stone stairs carved directly from the mountain. They were slick from the condensation that sometimes crept through the stone. She hated when the stairs we
re this slick. She was in constant fear of slipping and tumbling down the stairs.
“Tell me about your dreams, girl,” Grandmother commanded when they’d passed the second bend in the stairwell.
“There’s not much to tell,” Iris lied.
Grandmother clucked her tongue but didn’t press for further details as she unlatched the door to their potions room. Musty books and rotting scrolls were scattered across wooden tables. Jars with hand-written labels were stacked several rows deep on a set of bookcases lining the wall. Glass cylinders containing concoctions she and Grandmother were in the process of blending occupied a narrow shelf that stood separate from the rest of the phials.
Grandmother pointed towards a small, ragged scroll. It appeared to have been made out some of sort of animal hide, the leather stretched taunt over two wooden pegs. Although many of the scrolls in the Grandmother’s potion room were rotting, this one was perfectly intact. The wooden handles were carved with birds in flight.
Iris felt a spark jolt through her the moment she laid a single finger on the scroll. With trembling hands, she passed it to Grandmother Rel.
“What’s this one for?” Iris asked as she watched Grandmother pour over the scribbled words. They were in a script Iris had never seen before.
“Do you know why I chose to take in a pair of sniveling girls from the dead of winter?” Grandmother asked. Her whole body shook as she reached upwards. Her bony fingers wrapped around a phial on the top shelf.
Iris noted Grandmother’s stiff, disjointed movements as she clutched the phial to her chest. She wondered how much longer Grandmother Rel would be willing to let her body deteriorate before giving into the desire to be young again.
“You are kind,” Iris said.
She kept her face as passive as possible. They had never spoken of that night before. Iris had never deigned to question Grandmother Rel’s motives. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why Grandmother had taken them in. She was just thankful she had.
“You know I am not kind, child,” Grandmother replied as she set the phial upon the wooden table. She opened a spellbook, whose spine cracked and flaked, to a page depicting the sister moons shrouded in dark clouds. She ran a finger down the ingredient list, her brow wrinkling on the rarer items. She began adding powders to a mixing bowl.