The Darkest of Dreams

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The Darkest of Dreams Page 27

by Emigh Cannaday


  Talvi arrived home with almost as much fanfare and fuss as Finn had received. His arrival had been expected, and the taxi carriage dropped them off at the front door just in time for Talvi to greet his family and sit down to a meal that rivaled those served at most holidays. Underneath the Marinossian roof, there was a complete whirlwind of activity as he met Aidan and Violet, reconnected with Stella and Sloan, and sat up late into the night catching up with his family and friends. Rather than sharing much of what he’d gone through, he spent the majority of the time listening to them. His ears remained alert and his gaze was focused as one pipe after another of Tuzlian tobacco was passed around. Yet his mind kept wandering back to the cold, damp prison island up north, and the only friend he’d known inside that awful place. Nobody else could understand what life had been like on Bleakmoor Island. He owed every precious bit of his sanity to Nillin. If it wasn’t for that dark elf, Talvi might still be trying to have conversations with a wall dripping with blood.

  When his family was asleep, he stayed up late into the night reading each of his obscure history books. He absorbed every chapter, soaking up every scholarly sentence, every written word about the Battle for Veselle. Every book told of how the vampires had earned their place in Estellian society for helping win the fight against the Näkki. It was the main reason why the vampires were now tolerated instead of outright persecuted. And the dark elves had been led by a Prince Dillon Blackwood of the Kingdom of Sinaryos.

  One book described Prince Dillon as ten feet tall with eyes that shot fire. Another book said he was short in stature and hideous to look at. One book described the prince’s armor as being black and red…there was no mention of golden horns. Another said the uniforms were the color of mud. More than a few claimed that the prince and his soldiers didn’t fight or die with any honor, because the Näkki simply didn’t value honor in the first place. Each of the textbooks reiterated the story that poor King Balerin Blackwood was presented with a box of gold and an offer for a truce, although one old text was adamant that the box was made of hammered copper.

  If Nillin was right and this golden helmet was his, that made him Prince Dillon of Sinaryos. Talvi searched each page hoping to find a photograph of him somewhere, but there were none. He couldn’t find a single photo of anyone from the Blackwood family to draw a comparison to Nillin’s face. It was as if they’d been erased from history. All Talvi could find were a few drawings that depicted a grotesque physical difference between the two elven races.

  The Näkki were made to look like fools and monsters while the Kallo elves were drawn as wise, benevolent beings. Talvi had seen Nillin’s face often enough, and he definitely didn’t look like a monster, let alone a fool. Truth be told, they didn’t look much different at all. If his friend was actually a prince, it certainly explained some of his remarks about growing up in a wealthy household and having more than a few concubines at his disposal. But even though the Ellunian Empire was only separated by a narrow sea, Talvi didn’t know very much about that country. He knew it was warm and fertile, unlike the dark elves that lived there. But Nillin—or Dillon—hadn’t been anything like the soulless fiends that he’d been warned about since childhood. Talvi had liked him well enough that they probably would’ve been friends in any other circumstance.

  And regardless if Nillin—or Dillon—wasn’t who he claimed to be, it was still wrong for a captured soldier to be held prisoner after a cease-fire, let alone to be forced to work day after day in the somnomium mines of Bleakmoor Island. Wars had a way of punishing soldiers long after the fighting was over; for many it didn’t matter who won or lost…they all suffered to some extent. But that didn’t mean soldiers like Dillon and his men should keep suffering simply because they’d been on the wrong side. The fact that he’d been tricked into giving up his life for an eternity of choking on somnomium dust only made the injustice of it burn hotter in Talvi’s chest. It burned so badly that the longer he continued to sit and smile and drink and dine with his family as they chatted about trivial day-to-day matters, the worse he felt for the privilege of being there in the first place. All he could think about was the Blackwood family trying to do the same thing, except with an empty chair at their table.

  So it came as a surprise to his family when he politely wiped his mouth after dinner one evening and announced that he wanted to get back to work early.

  “But you’ve only just come home!” his mother protested. “You haven’t even been back for a week!”

  “I realize that,” he said, nodding in agreement as he set his napkin aside. “If I could be completely honest, I’m having a rather difficult time getting on with things after all that’s happened. I can’t stand the way half the villagers look at me the few times I’ve been out in public. At least the other half doesn’t bother looking my way at all.”

  Althea’s shoulders fell as a sympathetic look filled her warm brown eyes.

  “Of course they’re a little apprehensive, darling,” she said, glancing at Ambrose for support. “Surely you understand that it will take more time until things settle down. The newspaper article that explained your release only came out a few days ago. You simply haven’t given everyone enough time to read it and process the information.”

  “Even if everyone in the village or the entire province reads it, I doubt things will ever go back to the way they were,” said Ambrose. “The one thing that’s constant in life is change.”

  “That’s precisely my point,” Talvi added. “After everything that’s happened, my everyday life will not revert to any sense of normalcy.” He looked around the table at his sister Anthea and her husband Asbjorn. They had two children and were expecting another in April. He looked at Sariel and Justinian. They were new parents. His eyes wandered over to Hilda and Nikola. They were also new parents, and if Nikola played his cards right, they would probably be expecting another addition to their family within the next year. Then he turned to Finn, and his mouth spread into a sly, crooked grin. “Unlike some of us, I have no young children or pretty librarians to distract me from my complicated life.”

  Finn shot his brother a look, although there was absolutely no malice behind it.

  “Ellie and I are only friends.”

  “Then you’re doing something wrong…as usual,” Talvi quipped. Hilda stifled a snicker but Runa let out a laugh that more than made up for it. Finn’s cheeks brightened considerably, yet he held his tongue as his brother continued to speak. “Since we’re on the subject of doing something wrong, I’m not doing myself any favors by lingering here when my job and my marriage are calling my name.”

  Althea sighed in resignation, then gave her son a reluctant nod of agreement. As much as she wanted Talvi to stay close to home, she wanted him to be happily married just a little bit more.

  After the dishes had been cleared, Finn seized an opportunity to invite his brother to his room.

  “You’ll be gone in the morning without a proper farewell, won’t you?” he declared more than he asked. “And this time it will be for a very long time. Longer than you’ve ever been gone before.” Talvi raised an eyebrow at his observation and softly shut the door.

  “Have I become that predictable?”

  Finn laughed softly to himself before nodding his head. He stepped over to his desk and motioned for Talvi to follow him.

  “Perhaps you have become predictable to me…however, I’ve known you longer and known you better than just about anyone else. I’m certain that Father knows of your plans.”

  “What about Mother?”

  “Mother’s in denial,” Finn answered with a thoughtful smile. “She wants to see all of her children sitting around the dinner table, carrying on as we did when we were youngsters. She hates to think of what your personal life actually consists of. She couldn’t bear the truth. I don’t believe she’s given half as much thought as I have in regards to the logistics of you being married to a modern girl.”

  “Oh? And you have?” Talvi asked as he cr
ossed the room and arrived near his brother’s side.

  “I’ve given a lot of thought to all manner of things. Annika was one of those things,” he admitted. “I’ve thought a lot about the prophecy that was made at your birth, how you were always destined to marry a girl with the blood of a samodiva and the voice of a siren. That’s why I borrowed so many books on ancient languages…particularly the ones used by the old Druids.” He pursed his lips as if hesitant to elaborate on his inner thoughts, but the need to share them outweighed his concerns of the consequences. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “It’s my opinion that having the knowledge of exactly when you would marry Annika is why so much of the romance was stolen away from you. It was stolen from both of you, really. That’s probably why you butted heads as often as you did.”

  Talvi scoffed, although he wasn’t offended in the slightest.

  “You can still have romance even if you know what the outcome is going to be,” he argued. “I cannot begin to recall how many romantic candlelit dinners I’ve sat through whilst knowing exactly what the outcome was going to be.” Finn rolled his eyes, yet he was grinning as he did it.

  “I’m not certain you truly understand how romance works,” he said. “But I know you, and I know her, and I know that you’re both the type that loves surprises and the joy of discovery. No wonder there was so much room in your new marriage for discontent, and so much room for a disconnect. Your prophecy took all the fun out of your courtship.”

  A pair of blue and green eyes studied him from only a few feet away. They were crafty and calculating and one black eyebrow quirked upwards at Finn’s comments.

  “It didn’t take all of the fun out of it,” Talvi said with a grin.

  “I suppose not,” Finn agreed with a nod. His eyes implored for Talvi to understand what he was trying to say. “I still believe that the knowledge of your prophecy placed all the emphasis on who you would marry and when you would marry her, not how the two of you would get on after the ceremony had been carried out. You knew the very day that you would marry Annika, and yet I’m not so certain that you considered how much you might have to give up to actually be with her.”

  Talvi cast his brother a rueful expression as he mulled over what he’d said.

  “That’s the problem with spending so much time locked away in a cell with scarcely anyone to speak to,” he replied. “It gives a fellow plenty of time to consider all manner of things…including what he’s willing to give up for the chance to be with his wife again. You saw her in Tokyo. Are you certain that she wants to see me after all that’s happened?”

  “Yes,” Finn answered.

  “Then why do I keep sensing hesitation from you every time I’ve asked about her? I saw the letter you wrote to the Court of Korvaaminens,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You don’t think I’m worthy of her, do you?”

  “It’s not that,” Finn said in all seriousness. “Well…maybe it is a little. Mostly I keep wondering how you’re going to have a successful marriage when you’re both so wrapped up in your own lives. You’re both pursuing careers that you love without building anything together. Even now, with all the books you had me fetch for you—they have nothing to do with her…nothing to do with relationships or marriage. You’re already on the next assignment. Where does she fit into all of this?”

  Talvi’s eyes wandered around Finn’s room as his rich, deep voice trailed off. It was a rhetorical question; his brother didn’t expect an answer, although one would’ve been nice. He glanced around at the thousands of books resting on the shelves, and the ladder attached to the track that gave access to the volumes that would’ve been out of reach otherwise. Those books on their perch were so much like his elusive wood nymph wife…visible from a distance, and still out of reach. Did they even want their bindings cracked or their pages turned, or did they merely want to be left alone and be admired from afar?

  Finn broke the silence with a soft tap above the right drawer of his desk. “Open it.”

  Talvi hesitated, but curiosity usually got the better of him, and this time was no exception. His fingers curled around the metal handle and slid the wooden drawer open. A glint of sharp steel shone brightly back at him, anchored by a handle carved of ebony.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, continuing to stare at his beloved black-handled knife. The last time he’d seen it was when it had been confiscated by his father for threatening to use it against Finn.

  “We make mistakes, Talvi,” his brother said knowingly. “Some are worse than others, but we will keep making them. Perhaps this is a mistake right now. I’d prefer to think of it as a gesture of trust instead.” He lifted up the knife and handed it to Talvi, who took it gently into his hands. “When I came home after being presumed dead, Father told me I could do whatever I liked with your knife. I know you had it made to look just like Runa’s and Hilda’s. Even the protective runes carved into it are the same as theirs.”

  “I’ll never forgive myself for the day I tried to use this against you,” Talvi said while trying to keep a stiff upper lip. He quickly tucked his knife into his boot before his hands could tremble with any more emotion.

  “We’ve had some dark moments in the recent past,” Finn concluded as he closed the desk drawer. “I know we both have bright futures lying ahead of us. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

  19

  The Word on the Street

  “Morning, Tripp.”

  “Morning, Annika.”

  Like every morning since he and Adams had moved in, a fresh pot of coffee was waiting for Annika when she skipped down the stairs. It was their daily ritual before their morning run, to simply sit in peace and enjoy a cup of coffee together. She added three small spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of cream to her cup as usual, then settled into the chair across from him, as usual. His eyes met hers and he gave her a nod of acknowledgment; then they darted back down to his paperback thriller, as usual. The two of them sat there in silence for a long time. Eventually she glanced at the rich caramel color of her drink before bringing it to her lips and taking a hearty gulp. Something was off. The coffee tasted just fine, and beyond the window she could see her neighbor heading to work right on time as always, but there was a strange hum in the air. She set her mug down, pursed her lips, and raised a curious eyebrow at the man sitting across from her.

  “What’s going on?” she finally asked him. “I can tell there’s something on your mind.”

  “What makes you think that?” he replied, still staring at his book.

  “You’re a fast reader, and you haven’t turned a page in five minutes.”

  Tripp gave a wry grin and promptly turned the page.

  “Maybe I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this ridiculous plot.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she grinned back, and took another sip of coffee. “Not for a second. Seriously…what’s up?”

  To her surprise, Tripp set aside his book and leaned back in his chair, then folded his arms across his brawny chest. There was a foreign expression on his face, like skeptical hope with a dash of apprehension. He looked uncomfortable, pure and simple, which was just enough to command her full attention.

  “It’s your husband. He’s been exonerated.”

  Annika set her coffee cup down and narrowed her eyes at her bodyguard.

  “Exonerated? What does that mean? Is it like a pardon?”

  “No. A pardon would mean that he committed the crime and it was excused. Being exonerated means that the court’s overturned their conviction,” Tripp explained in a calm tone. “From a legal standpoint it’ll be like it never happened. His record’s clean as a whistle.”

  “That’s unbelievable!” she gasped in wonder. “When does he get out of Bleakmoor?”

  “Err…well…that’s the thing…” Tripp said with more than a little hesitation. “He’s already been released.”

  Annika’s eyes registered both comprehension and confusion.

  “He’s
out? When did this happen?”

  “A couple days ago.”

  “A couple days ago?” she repeated. “And no one thought to tell me any sooner?”

  “I knew it was in the works, but it wasn’t officially made public until earlier this morning. I didn’t see the point in waking you up to read the news,” he said with a shrug. “I’m sure the prison discharged him without making a fuss because they didn’t want it turning into a media shit storm. Of course, that’s exactly what happened.” With a steady hand he reached for his phone, which had been sitting on the table beside his empty coffee mug. He unlocked it and handed it to Annika. His web browser showed page after page of headlines from the Estellian Empire. Most of them were in Karsikko, Fae, and other languages, although one was in English, which read: Marinossian Brothers—Resurrected, Reunited, & Redeemed. The article began with an interview of an innkeeper who was invited by the magnanimous Marinossians for an after-dinner smoke in the main lounge area. “‘Their stay was short, but they were polite, kind and very generous. They’re the sort of fellows I’d like to have for neighbors,’” the innkeeper was quoted as saying.

  “I thought you didn’t have the internet back on Eritähti!” she accused Tripp in disbelief while scrolling through the news articles.

  “The people don’t have it,” he said with a knowing nod. “The government does. At least, they have it on this side of the portals.”

  “I thought your government was against things like that,” she frowned as she clicked on a headline. “It sounds pretty hypocritical if you ask me.”

 

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