Nick did not respond. She heard him move and then felt his fingers touch her hands. Gently, he coaxed one hand from the other and then rubbed something rough against her right hand. She opened her eyes. His fingers wiped raspberry from her skin with green leaves he had plucked from the bush. He concentrated on his task, his face passive, and she wondered if he intended not to answer her question. He discarded the stained leaves and plucked more, wiping the last of the juice from her right hand before moving to her left.
“I was eight when I first saw a man die.”
He continued to focus on her hand, wiping with careful strokes and it took her a minute to realize he had spoken. His voice had been so soft his words had nearly dissolved into the air. She felt grief from him, and guilt, and she realized he had dropped his guard so she could fully understand what he needed to say.
“I was similar to Aldin then, more curious than smart. And though I understood the concept of the protective boundary surrounding our village, I didn’t always pay attention to it. I would forget it was there and wander outside it, or I would ignore it if I saw something beyond the village I wanted to explore.”
He discarded the last of the leaves and then slid his palms over hers. She curled her fingers around his hands. “That day, I ignored it. I saw something in the woods that caught my attention and I thought I had to go to it. I can’t even remember what it was now.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. His guilt grew stronger. “I was playing somewhere along one of the paths when I felt it for the first time. It was a low heat, a tingling sensation in my stomach I couldn’t quite place, and it scared me so much I hid behind a bush. I learned later that it was the automatic warning a Guardian feels when danger is imminent. I’d never faced true danger before that day.”
He shrugged and looked away. “They showed up about a minute later. I saw brown cloaks, leathery skin stretched over bone, and those red eyes. They froze me. Even though I never looked into their eyes, my fear froze me.”
Nick stopped talking and took in a breath, releasing it with the same calculated measure. Although his eyes remained dry and his voice stayed steady, the pain within him grew. Meaghan moved closer to him, tightening her hold on his hands, and he continued.
“They were looking for me. They’d found out I’d been assigned as your Guardian and had come to kill me. They had been looking for days for the village, but the protection prevented them from finding anything until I ventured across their path.” He paused again and she drew a hand to his temple, tracing her fingers through his hair and down his neck. He lifted his hand to cover hers and held them both still.
“They saw him before they found me. He ran from them, leading them away from the village and into the forest. It was there they killed him. They didn’t use lightning. They used some sort of spell or strangle power and it took minutes for him to die. I watched him struggle. I watched him fall to the ground. The Mardróch laughed. Their voices echoed around me until they moved away and I could no longer see them.
“I remained frozen where I hid. I waited for my mother to discover I’d escaped my babysitter. I don’t think it was long, maybe half an hour, but it felt like an eternity. She organized a search party and they found us both.”
Meaghan waited to see if he would continue again, but when he did not, she spoke. “Do you know who the man was?”
“My father,” Nick answered. “My mother always assumed I’d gone outside with him, that we’d been ambushed. I’ve never been able to tell her the truth.” He brought their hands down to his lap and stared at them. “I’ve never told anyone what happened.”
“Nick,” she whispered, unsure of what to say.
He looked at her again. “Death is a regular part of life here. But it hasn’t always been and it won’t always be. I’m certain of that. My father died because he believed in that too, and because he believed I could make a difference. So do I. And so does everyone who fights to free the kingdom.” He raised a palm to her cheek. Stroking her cheekbone with his thumb, he held her eyes with intensity. “That’s how we stand it, Meg. We live on hope and we keep trying to make things better.”
She nodded in understanding, but did not shift from his touch. She felt more from him now than she had all week and she did not want to sever the connection. Though his grief and guilt remained, his conviction that they would succeed in what they fought to do overshadowed the darker emotions with hope and faith. She considered his words, painted the image of that dreadful day in her mind, and felt a new type of empathy that had nothing to do with her power.
“Those are good reasons,” she said, but then realized how closely the image echoed her own experience. When the Mardróch had chased her through the field while she struggled to protect Aldin, Nick had frozen. She had seen it and did not understand it then, but she did now. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to ease the pain she had caused him. But she could not figure out how to say the words, so she did the only thing that seemed right. She leaned toward him and kissed him.
A spark ignited. The warmth of fire built within her stomach, consuming her. She expected him to pull away. She felt the struggle within him, the longing and fear, but he hesitated for a second. He hesitated, held, and then fed the longing. He touched her face. She traced her fingers through his hair. They grew closer. The fire grew stronger. Then the crystals flickered.
Nick pulled back from her so fast she pitched forward. Panic washed over them both before he succeeded in shutting her out once more. He jumped up, knocking her apple over. It bounced down the stairs and rolled into the clearing. He scanned the trees, the panic disappearing from his eyes as soon as his gaze locked on the white crystals.
“Don’t do that again,” he told Meaghan, though he refused to look at her. His voice came across as brusque, and she did not understand what had happened. He had enjoyed their brief encounter as much as she had.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because it’s forbidden.” He walked down the steps and retrieved her apple. Returning to the porch, he handed it to her, never breaking his stride. Then he disappeared into the cabin, shutting the door behind him.
Several minutes passed. Meaghan stared after him, stunned by his behavior. A breeze picked up from the west, chilling the air around her. She clutched her arms to her sides. The wind grew stronger. Her teeth chattered, her fingers turned to ice, and still, she waited. Embarrassed and angry, she did not want to face him yet. But the wind sliced through her clothes and her cloak. The cold bit her skin, and she could not take it any longer. She picked up the backpack and followed him inside.
Although the outside of the cabin had seemed somewhat run down, the inside looked to be well maintained and clean. Next to the door stood a small table with two chairs. On the far wall, a fireplace waited to give warmth. Flanking the fireplace, two cots invited weary travelers into slumber. Though small, it promised relaxation and safety. They were both too upset to take pleasure in either.
Nick watched her from the foot of one of the cots as she tossed the backpack on the table. “What was that about?” she demanded.
He met her scorching gaze with one of his own. “I told you before. We can’t do that.”
“I don’t recall you fighting me off.” She crossed her arms. “It felt more like you were enjoying it.”
“It was a mistake,” he said. “A moment of weakness. And it can’t happen again.”
“As I asked before, why not?”
“Because it’s forbidden.”
“So you said.” She pursed her lips. “But you still haven’t answered the question.”
Nick stood and moved to the fireplace. A wood box to its right held sticks of kindling, and he crouched down next to it. Retrieving the kindling one at a time, he broke them in half before tossing them into the fireplace.
“Guardians are forbidden from falling in love with anyone but another Guardian,” he told her. “It’s the only way to keep our powers strong.”
“I see,” she said, her voice as chill
y as the air. “So the rest of us aren’t good enough for you.”
He paused, half a stick locked in his hand as he turned to look at her.
“I’m not good enough for you,” she said, dropping her arms. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Of course not. Meg—”
“What?” she snapped. “I’m tired of hearing excuses from you. I want the truth.”
“There’s no point in it,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. We can’t have a relationship. It’s against the rules.”
“And there’s no way around that?” she asked. When he shook his head, she turned from him. Walking to the cot, she sat down before she looked at him again. Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “This feels right, Nick. It has since the day we were lost in the woods. I was childish. I wanted to keep hating you, but I found it impossible. I grew to care about you.”
“I did too,” he confessed. “But the rules have been enacted to protect us. Aunt Viv died to protect us, and I don’t want to throw away her sacrifice.”
“Why would you?” Meaghan asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s complicated.” He turned his attention back to the fireplace. “For now, you’ll have to take my word for it. We can never be together.”
“Maybe if we—”
“Never,” he insisted, his voice stiff with the finality of his decision. He stopped snapping kindling. Waiting for her next protest, she knew, but when she did not offer one, he returned to his task.
She wanted to be angry. She wanted to yell and argue with him, but she could not find the will. Today had been too taxing on her and his rejection tipped her emotional scale. Though she hated showing the weakness in front of him, she buried her head in her hands and cried.
She felt his sorrow join hers and then disappear. He had dropped his guard. It had only lasted a few seconds, but it had been enough for her to know she was not the only one suffering. She looked up at him.
“This isn’t fair to you,” he said. “I know that, and I want to explain everything, but I don’t know how.”
He stood, and then placed his hand on the mantel. She began to feel warm. Her eyes turned to the fireplace and she watched the fire he had built spread.
“If I could be with you, I would,” he continued. “You’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known. You grow stronger each day. I watch it and I’m proud of you for it. You’ll be perfect as Ærenden’s Queen.”
The warmth in her intensified, moving out to her limbs. The fire remained small, and she wondered where the heat came from. It pulsed down her legs, and along her fingertips.
“But your royalty is the reason nothing can happen between us. No matter how much we care about each other, we can never make it work. It’s not just against the rules. It’s more than that.”
She felt feverish. She curled her fingers into her clammy hands and then stretched them out again, bringing them to the burning in her cheeks.
“Meg, please say something.”
“I’m sorry,” she responded, though the fire filling her brain made it difficult to think, let alone speak. “I’ll do whatever you feel is best.”
“Thank you,” he said. He turned to stare into the fireplace. “For what it’s worth,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, too.”
The warmth she felt boiled, and then it overtook her, searing every fiber of her body before exploding from her, a volcano of heat and light that turned into swirling silver.
A second later, Nick gasped. Blue light poured from him, shooting straight into the air to collide with the silver stream emanating from her. Where the colors met, they swirled together, turning into dark red. Once no more blue and silver existed, the red separated, retreating into Nick and Meaghan in turn. She stared at her hands, at the glow enlivening her skin, and then closed her eyes, sensing steady warmth she had never known before. She felt alive. She felt vibrant. She felt powerful. And for the first time since she had come to this world, she felt right.
Nick sank to the floor in front of the fireplace. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way,” he said. He turned to stare at her. Fear haunted his eyes, but she did not need to see it to know. He had stopped hiding his emotions from her again. “We have to touch,” he continued, though his words made no sense to her. “That’s how it works. It has to be a kiss.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “What happened?”
He closed his eyes and his fear gave way to despair. “It’s over,” he said. “I have nothing left.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s over,” he repeated and pressed his hands into his forehead. “You took my powers.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I STILL don’t understand.”
Instead of responding to Meaghan’s confusion, Nick stared ahead. At the wall, through it, or maybe he could not see it at all. She did not know. She only knew his emotions harbored both fear and a loss she could not comprehend. He remained on the floor, unmoving for several long minutes that felt like hours before he stood.
“We should sleep,” he said and walked to the other cot. After pulling back the rough wool blanket and the crisp white sheet underneath it, he sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes.
She watched him, waiting for him to explain, but when he slid under the covers, she realized he did not intend to tell her anything.
“Nick,” she began, stopping when he turned to look at her. He had drawn a curtain over his emotions, darkening them, and that frightened her more than anything else.
“I need time,” he told her. “Let me sort this out. We can talk about it after we sleep.”
She nodded and when he closed his eyes, she rose to add fuel to the fire. The kindling he had lit had nearly burned down and she did not want the flames to go out. Despite the warmth now inhabiting her body, her skin had turned to ice. The temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees in the last hour.
“Don’t,” he said when she lifted a log. She turned to face him. His eyes remained closed, a forearm stretched over them, but he had heard her.
“It’s cold,” she argued.
“We’ll live. The smoke will give away our location.”
“But we’re protected,” she protested, though his warning gave her pause. Had she stolen his powers? She looked through the window of the cabin, searching for the glow of the crystals, but could not find anything. Panic rose within her and she settled it. He blocked her Empath power again, so he must be mistaken.
He did not seem to think so. “We’re not protected anymore,” he said, his tone flat, giving no misinterpretation to his words. “Now go to sleep.”
She swallowed her dread, her fear, and now a growing sense of frustration, and did as he asked. She dropped the log back into the wood box before making her way to her own cot. Taking off her cloak, she snapped it flat over the top of the wool blanket, and then slid between the sheets. They felt as icy as the air. Within a few minutes, they insulated her body heat, but not enough. She shivered, clenching her teeth to control the need to chatter them, and waited, hoping sleep would find her despite her accelerated heart rate and overwrought brain.
It did not. An hour crawled by, made unbearable by the increasing cold, and she sighed, giving up on the effort. Though Nick had grown still, his breathing steady, the quiet only made her anxiety worse. She slipped from the bed and found her way to the small table by the entrance. The wind pushed its way through the cracks around the door, making this side of the room feel like a refrigerator, but she ignored it, taking a seat at the table. She shivered, ignoring that too as she dug through the backpack. She focused on one thing, on finding the small object that had brought her comfort night after night while Nick slept—her mother’s amulet.
She found it where she had last left it, in the front pocket of the backpack, buried at the bottom. She slipped the amulet from its pouch, and then ran the chain through her fingers. Though it star
ted out as cold as the air, the metal warmed to her touch. She cupped the amulet within her hands and examined it. Each turn of the flowers along the border captivated her. Each twist of metal mesmerized her. Each glint of glass held her eyes transfixed, as it had always done in her dreams. It still amazed her that every detail commanded her memory with accuracy, despite her young age. It must have been important to her birth mother, an importance that had made an impression in Meaghan’s mind. And she had not forgotten, despite the years and distance. It still looked the same, except for the glow. It had appeared more beautiful and important when the stone had glowed.
She flipped it over, tracing her finger down the back until she felt the small bump Aldin had found. Pressing it up and then in, she released the catch for the hidden door. Inside laid the paper she had come to cherish each time they had stopped to sleep. With the tip of her finger, she nudged it out of its hiding place and then opened it flat on the table.
When she had first seen the writing on the paper, she had wept. The familiar loop of each cursive letter, the soft touch from a delicate hand, the flowing, graceful characters—they all came together to speak to her. Though the words made no sense and the prophecy—as she had come to decide it must be—escaped her knowledge, the writing brought her happiness. It belonged to Vivian, and it somehow connected Meaghan to her old life and to a peace she could not seem to capture on this world.
She traced the words with her index finger and wondered what her mother had been trying to say. She had no doubt the paper had been hidden within the amulet for her. She just could not figure out why.
“You should be sleeping.” Nick’s voice broke into her thoughts from across the room. She looked up from the paper to find him sitting up in bed, watching her. His face looked tired, older than it had before he slept, and she turned her eyes back to the paper. Careful to hide her movements, she folded it and tucked it back into the amulet, closing the door over its secret.
“It’s too cold,” she responded after she put the locket away. “I may go for a walk and see if that warms me up.”
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