“So she doesn’t know we’re wed yet?” she asked. He shook his head. “I suppose that’s good news, but we need to get the whole story across or we’ll have a mess to clean up by morning. Will she try to contact the Elders now?”
“No. She needs to cool down first and she knows it.”
“Then let’s get this over with while we still can.” Meaghan led the way to the kitchen door and knocked. The door swung open to the beginning of another argument.
“If you think you’ll be able to talk me into going along with whatever idiotic idea you’ve come up with, then you’re as much of a fool as my damned sister. If I had known she planned this…” the rest of the words froze on May’s lips when she saw Meaghan standing in front of her. Her eyes whipped to her son, who stood a step behind. “Why is she here?”
“She overheard us,” Nick responded. “Can we come in?”
“So you’re in on this?” she asked Meaghan. “Are you that irresponsible? Of course you are. Viv raised you. It seems her judgment was—”
Meaghan grabbed May’s arm. Her glare pinned May’s mouth shut. “I won’t tolerate that,” she said. Her voice remained low, but the ice in it conveyed her anger well enough. “I know I’m not allowed to call Vivian my mother any longer, but she was a wonderful woman and I will not allow you to continue to speak about her that way. The only person having judgment problems at the moment is you.” She released her grip, but not her glare. “Did you want to let us in or did you intend to continue giving your neighbors a show? Some of them are awake and curious.”
May nodded and stepped aside. After Meaghan and Nick entered, she shut the door behind them. “Would you like some tea?” she asked.
“That’s not necessary, Mom,” Nick responded.
“Let her make it,” Meaghan said. “She’s nervous. It will help her.”
“Thanks,” May said and put a kettle on top of the stove before keeping busy by collecting dishes.
Meaghan found a seat at the kitchen table where a ceramic pot held a sickly looking plant. She could not tell what it had been in its life, but near-death, it looked like a twig. She ran her finger along the pot’s rim while Nick paced the room. Minutes passed in silence before the teakettle whistled. May poured the tea to steep and then brought the cups to the table. When she sat, the conversation began again.
“Why are you here?” she asked Meaghan. “Do you know how my son feels about you?”
“I do.”
“Do you feel the same way?”
Meaghan hesitated, considering how she wanted to respond. “I care about him,” she said. “But so much has happened since we left Earth that I haven’t had time to figure out how deep those emotions run.”
May’s relief came out as a sigh. “Then there’s still time to fix this,” she decided and drew a cup to her lips. She took a sip and then clutched the cup in front of her. “I don’t know if Nick has told you about our weddings, but it’s important you don’t see each other anymore. If you were to fall in love, he would lose his powers. That could get him killed.”
“I know,” Meaghan said. “He—”
“You know?” May asked. Her hands tightened around her teacup and her anger swelled again. Behind it, panic surfaced. “Then why did you fight to keep him as your Guardian? How could you willingly put him in danger?”
“Because we’re already wed.”
Color drained from May’s face, and then her cup fell from her hands. Tea flooded the table. Nick stood to get a towel from the counter.
“Please tell me you’re not serious,” May whispered. She turned her eyes toward her son, beseeching him to deny it. He remained silent as he wiped up the tea. “Nick,” she pled.
“I’m fine, Mom. I promise you.”
“That’s not possible.” Tears filled her eyes and Meaghan thought she would cry, but she jumped from her seat instead. “How could you do this to him?” she demanded of Meaghan. “Do you not understand you’ll be burying him within a year? Do you not realize how that will feel?” She faced Nick, grabbing his arm. “She said she didn’t love you, Nick. She told me. How could she lie about that? How could you tolerate it?”
“Mom—” he started, but May overran him with another tirade.
“How could you do this to me? To us? Your job as her Guardian meant everything. Meaghan’s our future. Vivian died for her. We’ve all sacrificed for her. And you’ve invited your own death and risked Meaghan’s life in the process. How could you? How—”
“May, stop.” The authority in Meaghan’s voice cut through May’s yelling better than any counterattack ever could. May turned her head and nodded. She sat again at the table. “You’re good at acting angry,” Meaghan told her, “but I know anger isn’t your driving emotion. You’re scared, terrified even, of losing Nick, but you don’t need to be. If you’ll let him talk, he can explain everything to you.”
“I don’t see how anything he can say will fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix.” Meaghan covered May’s hand with one of her own. “Listen, okay?”
The older woman nodded. Nick discarded the towel, and then slid into the seat next to Meaghan, taking her other hand and linking their fingers together. “Aunt Viv asked me to come to Earth because she knew she had to die and because she knew I had to build a relationship with Meaghan before I brought her home. Meaghan had to trust me enough to follow me.”
“Yes, of course. That makes sense. But I fail to see—”
“He isn’t finished,” Meaghan interrupted.
May pursed her lips and then sighed. “Continue.”
“Vivian had a prophecy,” Nick said. “She hid it in Adelina’s amulet so we would find it when we got here. It spoke of our wedding and of why it needed to happen.”
“What did it say?” May asked.
Nick pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. She read it, smoothed it out on the table, and read it again. Then she looked up at him. “It isn’t clear. It could be about anything. Please tell me you didn’t wed based on this.”
“We didn’t,” Nick said. “In fact, I didn’t see it for the first time until after the wedding. It didn’t matter, though. It happened anyway.”
“Happened?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t you mean you kissed her anyway? You took the risk anyway?”
“No, I don’t. I mean it happened. We were standing across the room from each other and it happened. I know that’s hard to believe, but—”
“Across the room,” May whispered and stared at the paper again. “You weren’t kissing?”
“We weren’t even touching. As I said—”
“Did anything else happen?” she asked, turning her attention toward Meaghan. No anger remained within her. Even her worry had disappeared. In its place, and laced within her voice, she held only excitement. “If I’m reading this prophecy correctly, something did. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Nick confirmed. He frowned at his mother. “I’m confused. Why aren’t you upset anymore?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. What happened to Meaghan after you wed?”
“She received a new power.”
May’s eyes flew back to Meaghan’s. “Show it to me,” she commanded. “I need to see it.”
Meaghan hesitated. “I’m not certain I can. I don’t have much control over it.”
“You can do it,” Nick said. “Focus. You’ll be fine.”
“All right,” Meaghan agreed, and turned her attention to the clay pot on the table. She touched the grayish-brown plant within it and then focused on the warmth harboring next to her heart. She tugged on it, sent it down her arm, through her fingers, and then sat back when the plant came to life. It grew tall and green. It sprouted leaves, and at the top of the thin, delicate stalk now standing where the brown twig had been, a white flower budded and blossomed. She gasped in recognition. “It’s an orchid. I didn’t know those grew here.”
“They don’t,” May told her. “Vivian brought
it to me the last time I saw her. The local Gardener has kept it alive, but he’s never been able to get it to grow.” She turned to her son. “Your powers became stronger, didn’t they?”
“How did you know?”
“Because Meaghan’s power is stronger than yours. It’s why you didn’t lose your powers when you wed. You took some of her power.”
“How is that possible?” Meaghan asked. “I thought the only power stronger than a Guardian’s was a Spellmaster’s, and then only when the Spellmaster grew older.”
“That’s supposed to be true,” May agreed. “And your revival power is supposed to have gone extinct centuries ago, but obviously that’s incorrect.”
“Revival power?” Nick asked. “I’ve never heard of it. I thought we learned about all the extinct powers in school.”
“Not this one,” May replied. Standing, she picked up her teacup and brought it to the stove to refill it. “It only ran through the royal line. It was also extremely rare, so common knowledge of it went away with the power.”
“Then how do you know about it?”
May turned to face them again. She brought the teacup to her lips and blew the steam from it. “As Adelina’s Guardian,” she responded after taking a sip, “I overheard some of the royal family secrets which were kept from the rest of the kingdom. I’ve maintained those secrets, as was required of me, but I think it’s also required of me to share them with you. I wish I knew them all. I’m afraid most of them died with your mother.”
Meaghan nodded and felt sorrow in her statement. “What do you know about the revival power?”
“Not much. I don’t know why it came to you later than your empath power, and I don’t know the full scope of what it can do. But it seems to play a part in this prophecy so I’m guessing there’s more to it than it appears.” She set her cup down on the counter, and then rejoined them at the table. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” she told Nick, clasping his hands between her own. “I should’ve realized you never would have taken the risk. You deserve this, though. You deserve to be happy, and I’m glad you are. And you,” she turned to Meaghan. “Don’t worry too much about what you feel. Love will come to you in time. The other prophesied weddings have proven that.”
“There are others?” Meaghan asked.
“There were. When I saw you tonight, you’d fled to the alley because of your empath power, correct?”
“Unfortunately.”
“That means Nick needs to be closer to you than I realized. You start training tomorrow, as I’m sure he’s told you. Until you have better control over your power, he should stay with you in the guest cottage.”
“That won’t look right,” Nick protested. “People here gossip too easily and since I’m already under review—”
“You’re wed now,” she reminded him.
“No one knows.”
“We’ll fix that in the morning. The Elders will understand. For now, your priority is protecting Meaghan, even if it’s from her own power. The best way you can do that is to stay at her side.”
Nick stood. “Then I think it’s time we slept. Especially if we intend to talk to the Elders in the morning. I’m certain that won’t be easy.”
“They’ll understand,” May repeated and rose from her seat. Crossing the room to a bookcase, she slid a brown journal from the shelf and brought it back to the table. Without opening it, she handed it to Meaghan. “As I said, you aren’t the first to have a prophesied wedding. This book will explain the rest, but don’t open it until you’re alone. The story was penned by a Writer.”
“What’s a Writer?” Meaghan asked.
“Someone who can infuse words with life,” Nick explained. “You aren’t just reading the words, you’re watching the story the way it happened. You’re living it.”
“I see,” Meaghan said and looked down at the book in her hands. At best, it appeared nondescript, nothing more than a cloth journal she could find in any bookstore, but she had a feeling its appearance belied its importance. “So this book is based on a true story?”
“About your family,” May said. Meaghan’s heart jumped, but she had no time to ask any further questions before May pulled her from her seat. “Go to bed,” May said. “You have an early day tomorrow.”
And with those last words, she scooted them out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE NEW day had already started when they returned to the guest cottage. Meaghan could hear the clock in the town square chime the one o’clock hour. Though she wanted to read the book May had given her, Nick removed it from her hands, and ushered her to bed. He did not have to say anything. She knew they needed rest. But her body still reeled from the day, and her mind still clung to what May had told them. The answers were in the book and Meaghan had to learn them. When Nick’s breathing deepened into sleep, she climbed from bed and retrieved the book from the small table where Nick had left it. Tucking it under her arm, she found a seat beneath the window, and then opened it to read by the patch of moonlight streaming into the room.
As soon as her eyes fell on the first words, the cottage surrounding her disappeared. Much like the sensation she had felt while being teleported, her world shifted, and she landed in another place, watching two women from another time hurry past.
§
QUEEN ADELINA threaded her way through the maze of stone hallways, easily avoiding the pools of stagnant water that hid in the shadows lining the underbelly of the castle. Few people would have guessed the glistening quartz walls and colorful gardens housing the royal family could harbor such a dark and dreary place. But few people could understand the need for such a place. Most prisoners, those convicted of petty crimes, were housed in village facilities, kept well, and provided standard comforts until they had served their terms.
Those brought here and tossed into the dredges of the Pit, as this place had been nicknamed by the guards, held worse intentions in their hearts. They were repeat criminals, murderers, rapists, and traitors. The Pit housed them until trial. If proven innocent, they found freedom. If not, banishment or death became their fate.
Few received an innocent verdict, though that came as no surprise. A criminal’s guilt had to be almost certain for the person to gain entrance into the Pit. Punishment was inherent in its design.
Stale air lay thick and oppressive over an endless maze. Stone walls coated in water from long-forgotten leaks had sprouted black mold and white chalk. Prison cells offered no beds or blankets to keep the prisoners warm. And meals, though provided three times a day, did no more than sustain minimum life. Bland porridge started the morning. Bread and a hunk of horsemeat marked the noon hour. A hash of vegetables and potatoes came at the day’s end. Water accompanied each meal, though Adelina loathed calling it that. Tinged a light shade of gray, she questioned not only its quality but also its cruelty.
The place appalled Adelina. She considered it a violation of basic human rights. When she had first discovered it as a teenager, she had demanded her mother shut it down. She and her father had argued over it for weeks. She had sulked, pouted, and used every manipulation technique in her arsenal. In the end, her father had used only one. He had made her sit through the trial of a murderer housed within the Pit.
The prisoner had been a Healer with a specialty in potions. Known to be both conniving and ambitious, his goal had been to create a potion that would allow him to advance on the royal family and take over. He had never had the chance to fulfill his goal. Because of the secretive nature of his plan, he had tested his potions on himself. One concoction had snapped his sanity and he had gone on a rampage, killing not only his entire family with a butcher knife, but everyone who happened to be within throwing distance of his house. By the time the village Guardians had detained him, twelve bodies lay at his feet, including four children, two of which were not his own.
Declared insane, even though he had arrived at that condition by his own hand, the laws would not allow the judging panel to execute h
im. He had been banished, sent into the wilderness where Adelina felt certain he had met his death. The punishment seemed fitting for the crime. She had never forgotten the sobbing of the surviving villagers as they described the carnage they had witnessed, nor the despondency of the couple who had lost their children. No punishment could make right their grief or make whole their loss. She had never forgotten that lesson, and she had never forgotten the name of the white haired man who had sat through his trial with a crooked smile on his face and malice in his eyes. Finnil.
For Finnil, she had allowed the Pit to continue housing the unworthy. And to ease her own guilt, she had vowed never to set foot in the dungeon again.
A rat scurried across her boot and she froze in her path, checking the shudder creeping up her spine. Strength, she remembered. She must only show strength in the presence of others. Especially those she could not trust. Although the Guardian who walked a step behind her had come with high regards from the Elders, Adelina could not find the will to trust her. She missed Ellida too much. The woman had been her mother’s Guardian for forty years and Adelina’s since she was born. But Adelina had no control over who guarded her. The Elders dictated those assignments, for good reason, and it had been determined that Ellida had earned a peaceful retirement. Translation: Adelina had proven to be too much of a handful for the seventy-year-old woman. Since Adelina’s mother had been dead for a year, Ellida had moved back to the Guardian village and her granddaughter had taken the job.
Adelina did not dislike her new Guardian. She found the woman capable and smart. She just did not see the point in having a Guardian. There was nothing she could not do on her own. She had wielded a sword since childhood. She could race horses with the best soldiers in the kingdom. She had even fought in a battle during the Zeiihbu War. The latter, of course, had happened despite Ellida’s protests. Adelina had ridden off without her personal Guardian, protected by the youngest and strongest of the royal army. And she suspected that decision had something to do with the elder Guardian’s retirement. The thought tugged at her heart, but she knew she had done the right thing. She had needed to meet with the leader of the Paecis in person for her plan to succeed. And she had needed her plan to succeed to bring peace to the northern kingdom.
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