by P B Hughes
Then Daniel reached into his pocket and revealed a tiny white flower, flattened yet still maintaining its beauty. He set the flower upon the cross-section of the memorial and stepped back.
An idea formed in Jude’s mind. He picked up his staff and touched the little flower with the tip of his finger. His eyes sparked, and the wood budded before them, seeds falling from each new flower, burrowing into the wood. And then the filthy, burned cross transformed—covered in blossoms as white as the purest snow. Jude admired his work for a moment, and then noticed Daniel had taken a knee beside him.
Jude knelt as well, and Marcus and Ari joined them on either side.
In that moment, Jude hoped there might be forgiveness for what had happened in the arena. He didn’t mean for it to happen. He didn’t know he was being used. It couldn’t be his fault they were dead. But then again, he thought, if he had never taken the stone from Judge Marriott—for that matter, if he had never been born—then all of those people would still be alive.
How can I be blamed? he wanted to shout, but to whom he knew not. How is this my fault?
He choked back his tears. There was no forgiveness, he decided, for the dead cannot forgive. He stood and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
Daniel stood as well, clasping Jude’s arm with his hand.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “And please, Jude, don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
Jude stepped back from him and stared for a moment, not sure how to feel. To hear it from someone else felt strangely hollow. Daniel had always been his friend, always believed the best in him. But he didn’t want to be forgiven by Daniel. He wanted the dead to forgive him.
“Let’s get a move on,” Jude said. “We’re wasting time.”
Chapter 14
The cobblestone road ended, turning to a red dirt path that cleaved its way through the rippling grassland. Ari knew the soil’s color was common to the southern territories. If they were not officially in Irachnian land then they would be soon. The village was now several hours behind them and Ari tried in vain to purge her mind of the gruesome sight they had left.
Such wanton disregard for life, she thought. What kind of men would murder women and children? Images of vagabonds, bandits, and even goblins flashed in her mind. Men without honor or class. Likely born in some hole in the ground or sewer; creatures more than anything.
“Dust,” Sweeny complained loudly from ahead of her. “Dust on my outfit, dust in my lungs. Does it ever end?”
Jude now led the way. But the Ambassador insisted that if he couldn’t ride point then he should be next in the procession. Ari advocated that his request be granted—anything to help ease the tension and silence his incessant whining. But now he found something else to gripe about. Whenever Jude’s horse’s hoofs met the ground, red powder puffed into the air and onto Sweeny.
And your horse covers me in dust, she wanted to tell him, and mine covers Marcus.
Ari’s patience was wearing thin. Even so, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man. He was still damp after being tossed into the river, and his yellow robes were fast turning orange. And even though she thought he was an insufferable clod, she believed the boys’ disrespect caused his attitude to be far worse than it might have been otherwise.
She had hoped Marcus would at least understand. Sweeny had just been stripped of everything he held dear: his prestige, his authority, his comfort. Marcus should know a bit of how that felt, she thought. He was disowned by his own father after choosing knighthood instead of taking over the family business. To come from so high and be brought low would be a difficult thing. But neither he nor Jude had any patience with the fellow. And that worried her. They would need him before the journey’s end.
She cast a glance to Marcus over her shoulder. He flashed a white smile.
How could someone be so kind and considerate to me but be so rude to others? she pondered. She returned his smile and looked away.
He was an awfully handsome fellow—tall, muscular, striking red hair and strong jaw-line. There was something about his personality that she admired. Perhaps, she mused, it was that he blazed his own trail in life despite what those around him thought. He was born to lead. To add to that, he showed he had a heart when he wept for the people of the village. A heart. Something she wasn’t sure a boy like Jude possessed.
Then she remembered the day Marcus and Daniel sparred on the stage in front of the school. The cadet had been a boor then, intentionally humiliating Jude in front of everyone. He had a ruthless side that felt discordant when compared with the rest of him.
Why must boys continually prove who is strongest? she wondered. Can’t they see we are all on the same side?
Still, there was an uncanny resemblance in character that Marcus bore to someone else, and try as she might, she could not disassociate the two. Marcus reminded her of Caden. Caden was also ambitious, a leader, handsome. Those qualities caught her attention initially. But what really won her heart was one simple fact: he noticed her. He could have picked any girl he wanted, but he chose Ari.
She remembered the day she first saw him, surrounded by that gaggle of giggling girls. It was the day he made his debut at Apex Academy. The buzz around school was that he had trained with a private tutor.
In the first week alone he dethroned the reigning jousting champion, utterly demolished three Ruby Miraclists in combat, and announced that he would be running for Student Body President at the end of the semester. By the end of the year, he had pushed his way to the top of the class. A position formerly held by Ari. The boy was officially a celebrity amongst his peers. And Ari wanted nothing to do with him.
“You’re special, Ari Celeste,” she remembered him telling her one afternoon as she left their advanced mathematics class. She had received a perfect score on the final exam. Of course, he did too.
It was the first time he had spoken to her. The first time she realized he knew she existed. She was flattered enough by the compliment to grace him with a reply. “Thank you,” was all she said.
“You’re not like the other girls at this school,” he continued, falling in beside her as she walked to her class on deciphering ancient poetry. “You’ve got brains.”
A sour taste filled her mouth at that. “We all have brains, Caden Baine. Some of us are just more adept at using them than others.”
He smiled at that. “And a sense of humor.” He stepped in front of her and looked her up and down. “You know, I’d like to become better acquainted with you.”
“I’m not interested, but thank you for the offer.”
Caden frowned and barred her path. “There are girls at this school that would give their right arm for a chance to spend time with me. You’re turning me down?”
“I’m not like other girls,” Ari replied, fluttering her eyelashes. “Remember?”
Boys had always paid attention to Ari. However, she cared little for romance, seeing it as a waste of time; a distraction from her real ambition: to become the finest Amethyst Guardian in all of Orsidia. And to let Caden into her life, or any boy for that matter, would do nothing but slow her down.
Still, there was something in the back of her mind that liked the fact that he singled her out. It seemed silly now to think about it, but he made her feel important. Other girls seemed invisible to him. Unworthy, even. But Ari—he pursued her as if she was a queen.
She remembered the box arriving upon the doorstep of her father’s mansion one evening. Inside was a gold necklace covered in jewels, and a note that read, “Precious metals and precious stones, the most beautiful in all of Orsidia. Though I fear they will pale if you wear them, for they are not half as lovely as you.”
The note she kept, but the necklace was promptly returned.
Next, the diamond brooch arrived, then sapphire earrings, then silk robes, even eight speckled bunnies toted by a man wearing a funny green hat. She sent them all back.
But then the filly a
rrived. A tottering beauty, pure white coat with eyes so black it felt as though she were looking into the heavens on a summer night. Her heart melted when she took its head in her hands. It was the same horse she rode now.
If I am to be with someone, she decided, it should be a man of the same caliber and class. After all, Caden is very accomplished. To have a boy like him at my side will do nothing but bolster my chances of success. And Mother always says she will never allow me to be with someone of lesser status.
“High and low blood just doesn’t mix, my dear,” her mother used to tell her. “It’s like oil and water. The oil rises to the top, leaving the water pressed beneath.” And then she would let out a long sigh and sip from her wine glass. “Good people exist in all classes, but at the end of the day it’s best to be with your own kind. To do otherwise would cause you nothing but strife.”
And so she relented. She agreed to a dinner at Caden’s mansion. But she was determined to remain on guard. As regal and proper as the boy seemed, there was something about him that she didn’t quite trust.
“I knew you’d come around,” he told her with a smirk when she stepped out of her carriage. He looked striking: blonde hair tied back, white silk robes with red trim falling about his shoulders. “Although I must say,” he continued, “you lasted longer than I expected. You Celestes are a stubborn bunch.” Despite his arrogance, Caden always said things with such a teasing air that she couldn’t be angry with him. If another boy said such things to her she would have climbed right back in her carriage and sped away.
“And you Baines are a persistent bunch,” she replied, waving her chauffeur on. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
He gave her the grand tour of his home—soaring ceilings, flights of stairs that seemed to lead into the sky. Suits of armor lined the halls, and statues, some grotesque and some gorgeous, were in every room. His mansion eclipsed her father’s in size and grandeur. It was nearly as big as the Emperor’s Palace, and nearly as devoid of life. He informed her that the servants stayed below the mansion in the kitchen or their quarters.
It took over an hour to show her everything. However, there was one room behind two great mahogany doors with serpents carved into the wood that he would not show her. She remembered how desperately she wanted to see what lay behind. She thought of asking, or absentmindedly wandering through the doors as if it were an accident. But then she remembered her manners. A lady does not pry. A lady does not snoop.
Dinner was exquisite—lobster custard topped with caviar, asparagus and imported rice from the east, white wine and sweet cakes. The servants bustled through the doors like ants from a hole, only to disappear as quickly as they’d come. Afterwards, Caden took her by the hand and led her out onto a broad balcony, overlooking sweeping, flower-filled gardens. She remembered the twinkling stars above and reflecting that they might as well have belonged to him, too.
“Tell me about yourself, Ari,” he said. “Your ambitions, your goals. Everything. Leave no stone unturned.”
The request caught her entirely off guard. He wanted to know about her? The boy with the golden reputation, a list of accomplishments long enough to slide the length of his staircase banisters, wanted to know what she desired from life?
So she told him everything. That she saw romance as nonsense, and entertainment a waste. That she wanted to be the greatest Amethyst Miraclist and Guardian—past, present, and future. That she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps, simultaneously running his shipping company when he passed on while remaining an ambassador to the nations.
And Caden listened, on and on, never interrupting. Only nodding his approval. And by the end of the night, he had her.
After that night, she began to spend more and more time with him until she spent nearly every evening at his mansion. And the longer she spent with the boy the more his true character was revealed. She didn’t believe him to be malevolent. He simply seemed apathetic to the needs of others. People were the stones beneath his feet; steps to reach his goals. She thought she could tolerate that as long as no one was harmed. But then, one evening, the serving boy spilled soup in Caden’s lap.
“Idiot boy!” he cried with a fury Ari had never seen before, his chair crashing down behind him as he jumped up from his seat. He snatched the boy by the collar and pinned him to the wall. “These robes are worth more than your life.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” yelped the boy. “It was a clumsy thing I did. Begging your pardon.”
The shadow of Caden’s clenched fist raised up over the cowering boy. “I’ll show you what happens to clumsy servants!”
“No, Caden!” Ari shouted, grabbing his arm before he let it fly. “Let him go!”
Immediately Caden released his servant. The poor boy let out a wail and scampered off down the hall like a frightened mouse.
Caden then turned on Ari with such twisted fury in his eyes that she took several steps backward, pressing herself against the wall.
She still heard Caden’s words inside her head. “Don’t ever challenge me again,” he commanded her.
“Don’t ever be cruel again,” she replied, “and I won’t have to.”
His rage evaporated. He released a cold laugh. “That’s why I like you, Miss Celeste. You fear nothing.”
“Should I fear you?”
Caden looked at her a moment, studying her in such a way that made her want to pull her cloak more tightly around her body. “So brilliant,” he said, stepping forward and grazing her cheek with the back of his hand, “so beautiful. But my dear, I’m afraid emotions stifle your…potential.”
The clack of her heels echoed in her mind as she stormed down the long hallways of his mansion and out the door. She did not speak to him for three days. And then came the gifts, then kindly written letters, until finally the sting of his actions waned. Two weeks passed before she finally relented.
Kind to her but cruel to others. Caden might have thought her smart, but he must have also thought her a fool. I will not make the same mistake twice, she decided firmly, a bitter taste in her mouth. I will not be deceived again.
Now, there was only one person she trusted. And that was Daniel Hart. The boy was an open book. He held no secrets. And after all the lies, she needed someone who did not hide who he truly was. It had only been eight months, but Ari felt bonded to Daniel. He shared everything with her—his hurts, his joys. His silly idealistic notions that the world should be a fair place; that everyone should be treated as though they had value. Impractical as they might be, Ari thought his ideas were wonderful. And she was thankful Orsidia had a warrior like him.
Still, in the back of her mind she knew that they could never be together. Her mother wouldn’t allow it. Guardian or not, Daniel was of low birth, and for that they would never receive her blessing.
Despite that fact, Ari couldn’t help but watch him. She felt a bit guilty over it, but she couldn’t help feeling skeptical that he was as good as he seemed. Of course, he had his flaws. Particularly a self-righteous spirit that made her insides groan. But she had never seen the boy treat anyone poorly. Not only that, but he went out of his way to help those less fortunate—sneaking food out of the dining hall to give to the crippled beggar woman outside the city gate. An extra roll on his dish, maybe two portions of beef or vegetable. And then he would only eat half his meal. The others seemed to pay no mind, but she couldn’t help but notice. Then he would steal off early, plate in hand. It was the first time she knew he had a secret. So she followed him one night at a distance, through campus, all the way outside the city. When she saw him kneel beside the woman and her child to give them the food, it felt as though someone had kicked her in the belly. She flew back to campus, deciding that from then on she would not doubt him.
The whoosh of Shade’s wings beat above Ari’s head. Daniel and Shade were descending. Ari caught sight of him, hunched over on Shade’s back. He wasn’t as tall as Marcus, or as brawny, but then he wasn’t short either. He carr
ied himself with confidence. His dark eyes always flashed with surety when he spoke, and he had the posture of a nobleman—when he wasn’t flying. The two of them landed in front of her. Daniel was an attractive young man, too, she thought, skin tanned from the constant training beneath the sun, his body lean and muscular. He climbed down off of Shade, and she noticed how much she liked the way his windblown hair lay tousled over his head.
Suddenly, she wanted to say something affectionate. Several ideas tumbled in her mind, but what she said was, “Your landing was masterful, Daniel.” She tried to smile but was sure it likely looked more like a grimace. “It was very stately.”
Daniel gave her a curious look, and from the corner of her eye she caught Marcus frown ever so slightly.
“Oh,” said Daniel. “Thank you, Ari.”
“Is it time for supper already?” she said quickly, trying to act as if it were a completely normal thing for her to compliment him. She could have kicked herself. It was only mid-afternoon.
Daniel shook his head. “There’s a forest on the horizon,” he replied. “I won’t be able to see you from the air once you enter it, so I thought Shade and I would ride with the party until we reach the other side.”
“An excellent idea,” Ari remarked. “You and Shade should ride next to me. Although, the road isn’t broad enough for all of us, really. But you could walk in the grass. Though Shade’s fur might become laden with burrs if you did that.”
Daniel slid off Shade’s back and stroked her under the chin. “Burrs, fleas, ticks,” he said. “She gets them all over. I’ll pick them off tonight—though she’ll have to wait for me to deal with the fleas. At any rate, she could use a break from lugging me around all day. Isn’t that right girl?”
Shade folded her wings and let out a snort, swishing her long black tail. Daniel laughed and took her by the reins, falling in beside Ari on foot. She felt glad at that. Maybe her mother wouldn’t care about Daniel’s lineage, she hoped suddenly, ignoring the voice in her head that told her she most certainly would. Lineage was a matter of supreme importance to the woman. But her father didn’t mind so much. And then again, Ari had never asked either of them about marrying beneath her class. Perhaps the fact that Daniel was a Guardian, or perhaps that it was he who thwarted Senator Greavus’ plot, would be enough to rectify any class differences.