by Shari Cross
I think again about what they’ve told me. About how Drake rushed into our home that day, my limp body hanging in his arms, his face stricken with panic. He told them what happened in the woods with the hellion, which I now remember clearly, while my mother dressed my wounds. My body was badly cut and bruised, due to being dragged across the forest floor. But the wound that concerned them most, the one that made my mother call Gerwyn Ellers, was the one around my ankle. The skin around my ankle had been shredded and was causing me to lose large amounts of blood. It took many stitches and herbs to heal my wounds, and there were times they thought I wouldn’t make it. But my body persevered, even though my mind remained trapped.
Apparently, I faded in and out of semi-consciousness enough for them to consistently force soup and water down my throat, but my mind never broke the surface of awareness until a few weeks ago. They said this was likely due to the poison. They believe the hellion’s blood was poisonous and, since the blood had reached the open wound on my ankle, it was able to burn its way through my body, giving me a very high fever, and causing hallucinations. It was only recently that the poison finally made its way out of my system, allowing me to recover.
Certain images come back to me from time to time and I have to decipher them, determining if the memory is a real one or one of a vivid hallucination. Unfortunately, the memory that brings the most pain, the one I can’t recover from, is completely real.
I look down at my visible wounds, the ones that have healed, as I think about my invisible wounds that never will. The light scars on my arms look like someone etched them into me, creating an erratic pattern of lines. My ankle is much worse, and the scarred skin around it is rough and wrinkled, reminding me of old leather. But this I can live with.
It’s my thoughts and questions that torment me, and I have nothing to distract me from them, nothing to ease their bitter sting. I can’t help but feel incredibly angry and betrayed that Drake would leave me. If he had been hurt, and possibly on the verge of death, I would never have left his side. Did he even care that I had been injured? Did he visit me at all? I have a memory that tugs on my mind, telling me he was here, that he checked on me, talked to me, but maybe these were hallucinations as well.
The sound of my door opening momentarily pulls me from my thoughts, and I watch Elizabeth come in and fill my water before moving to light the fire.
I push myself into a sitting position, with my back leaning against the wall, and stare out the window.
“Did anyone tell you about the man from Incarnadine?” Elizabeth asks. “They found him in Synereal and arrested him.”
I feel the blood drain down my body. I turn to face her, but my fear makes even that simple movement difficult. “When?”
“A few months ago.”
“After Drake and Gregory left?” My heart sprints ahead with my question as though its frantically searching for the answer.
“No. It happened just before they left. You were unconscious.”
I drop my face into my hands and breathe. He’s okay. It wasn’t him. But he’s still in Synereal, which means he could still be in danger if anyone finds out where he’s from. “Has the man said anything about Incarnadine or why he’s here?” I ask. What if he’s here for Drake? Is that why Drake left?
“No, not that I know of, but it has everyone even more uneasy. Between the hellion’s attack on you and now someone from Incarnadine crossing over, there are a lot of rumors.”
“What kind of rumors?”
Elizabeth rings out a cloth in the wash bowl. “Different ones, but mostly people think that the Incarnadians are testing our borders for weakness.”
“What do you think?”
Elizabeth shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe they are, but maybe it’s just a coincidence. The man they arrested seems crazy. I don’t think he’s part of some big plan. I think he’s just someone who got lost or ran away.”
Is that what happened to Drake before I found him in the river? Did he get lost or run away?
“Maybe people from Incarnadine have crossed our border before and we just didn’t know it,” I say, wanting to offer a piece of the truth.
“Maybe,” Elizabeth agrees and heads toward the fire.
“Did Drake know? About the prisoner?”
Elizabeth pokes the fire with a rod, but the flames stay minimal. “I think so. All of us did.”
Dread mingles in my heart. More questions, more thoughts to torment me.
“He was going to stay, you know.” Elizabeth says as she stands and moves toward me. My eyes follow her, feeling taken aback by her words. She sits on my bed. “He told everyone that he was no longer going to leave with Gregory and Walter. He said he was going to stay here with you. Then one day he came out of your chambers, spoke briefly with Father, and left. Father said that Drake told him that he had changed his mind and would be going with them after all.”
This leaves me feeling more unsettled than before. He was going to stay with me, but decided not to. Why? Why would he do that? Was it the prisoner? Or was it because of me? I remember telling him that he should go to Synereal. But that was before the attack. The fact that he still left, after what happened, leaves me completely heartbroken. The tears sting my skin as they fall down my cheeks. Elizabeth wipes them away, but soon realizes that they’re not going to stop anytime soon. She gives up the battle and instead crawls up on the bed and pulls me into her arms. I return the embrace and curl myself against her, eventually laying my head in her lap.
“Why? Why did he leave me?” I ask through my sobs.
“I don’t know. It took everyone by surprise. I’m sorry you’re hurting. I know you love him, but believe me when I say that I truly believe he loves you, too.”
I push myself up and wrap my arms around my knees.
Her words frustrate me. I can’t possibly allow myself to believe that he loves me. If he did, he never would have left. It’s selfish to feel this way, to feel he should have stayed and given up everything for me, but if the roles had been reversed, I would have done it for him. I never would have left him.
Suddenly his words from that day in the woods echo through my mind: “I don’t know what to feel anymore.” And I know why he left.
Once he realized I was going to live, his anger with me for lying to him must have resurfaced. He realized that he couldn’t love me, that he was better off without someone as selfish as I am. I don’t blame him. I am selfish, and I don’t deserve him.
I don’t know what to feel anymore.
Any love he may have had for me is gone. I made sure of that when I lied to him for four years. And now he’s gone. He left to find out about his past so that he can have a different life, one away from me. I curl up on my bed and close my eyes. “Go, Elizabeth. Please. I want to be alone.”
Without a question or breath of hesitation, my sister leaves. I think of being that cracking glass again, only this time the pressure of the pain shatters me.
Chapter 12
HER
I tie Freyja to the village stables and lift the hood of my cloak, hoping this time it’s covering enough of my face to keep the stares away. Even though I’ve been to the market several times, I can’t seem to escape the looks of surprise, curiosity, and even distrust that come from the people around me. It’s even worse now that Samuel Hunt has disappeared. Lord Berrenger led a search for Samuel, but all that was found was a torn piece of his clothing, dangling on a branch near the river. The thought makes me shudder. Everyone’s afraid, including me. We all know that the hellion probably took Samuel, and the accusing stares from the people around me make me feel somehow responsible. I mentioned this to Elizabeth the other day and she told me I was being ridiculous, that no one blamed me, but I could tell she was lying. After much more prying, Elizabeth finally caved and told me that some of the villagers are frightened of me. They think that I have somehow been cursed by the hellion. Maybe I have.
“Do you hear the crunch of leaves,
; Following behind you?
When you turn what will it be?
The Hellion’s come to find you.”
The song is followed by the high pitched screams of several children. The first time I heard it it startled me, but now I recognize it and it’s lyrics have become familiar enough to accompany my nightmares.
I turn the corner and see the baker’s son, Winston, moving sluggishly behind the other children, chasing them, pretending to be the hellion. He’s always the hellion. Probably because he towers over the other kids his age. Isobel’s little brother, Thomas, is hiding behind the wall, watching Winston, a wooden sword in his hand. “Kill the Hellion!” he shouts, and jumps forward, lunging for Winston. I move down the next street and away from their game.
When I step into the market, I see almost everyone in Faygrene scurrying about, like mice searching for the only piece of cheese. Everywhere I look there are people perusing fabrics, sorting ribbons, sniffing flowers and inspecting jewelry. Too distracted to notice me or their fear, I think to myself with a smile. I guess I do have a reason to be thankful for the Ball that’s a couple of weeks away.
As I shop for the items on Mother’s list, my mind drifts to the conversation I once had with Drake about the annual Floret Masquerade Ball. He was true to his word and didn’t attend the last two. Instead he stayed with Elizabeth and me, like he promised. But this year was supposed to be different. This year I’m eligible to attend, and he should have been going with me. But circumstances have clearly changed, and instead of going with Drake, I’ll be accompanying my mother and father.
It’s been seven months since the boys left. We’ve received several letters from Gregory. He says he’s doing well and that he misses us. He says that Walter’s adjusting well to the Schild. He never mentions Drake. Still, it doesn’t stop me from scanning every new letter for Drake’s name before reading the rest with a harrowing mixture of sorrow, disappointment, and anxiety. I don’t understand why Gregory never mentions him, but it’s probably better this way. Hearing about Drake would only make this harder than it already is. I don’t need any more reminders that he left.
No. No more. I have to stop thinking about him. I push the thoughts of him away, refusing to be heartsick today.
I exit the bakery and stop dead in my tracks. Charles Berrenger is making his way through the crowd, heading straight toward me. I pull my hood tighter, turn and quicken my pace.
Mary thinks that Charles is going to present his jonquil to me at the Ball. At the Floret Ball, every young man who’s not yet married is given a white jonquil. During the Ball, they present that obnoxious little flower to the woman they most admire. If she accepts, she’s accepting more than a flower, she’s accepting a courtship that usually leads to marriage. The idea of Charles giving me his jonquil should make me happy. Any other girl would be thrilled to have the young Lord’s attention, but I just hope Mary’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t feel this way. Charles is kind and he really is handsome, but I don’t want him. I don’t want anyone except the one person I can’t have. At least Mother has stopped badgering me about it all. I guess my accident had one positive outcome.
I duck inside one of the open shops and watch through the doorway as Charles passes by. I’m not in the mood to talk to him right now or anyone for that matter. I stay inside, my fingers brushing over the spring flowers and leaves that decorate the shop. My fingers linger on several strands of wild grass as I delay, waiting until I’m sure I can leave without a run-in. After several minutes, I tell myself that it’s been long enough and cautiously step outside.
“Excuse me, Miss, can you tell me where the bakery is?”
I turn around and my breath catches in my throat. Gregory is standing in front of me, a full smile on his face.
This can’t be real.
Suddenly, he lifts me off the ground and spins me around. His laughter booms in my ears and I feel his heart beating, rapid with excitement. I’ve dreamt of this moment so many times, and now he’s here, he’s really here! He’s no longer just a shadowed memory of what I lost. I wrap my arms around his neck while he continues to spin me, holding onto him with everything I have. He finally comes to a stop and sets me down on my feet.
The time in the Schild has changed him. He’s at least an inch taller and his already broad stature has filled out with more muscle. His fair skin has darkened from the warm sun of Synereal, and his hair is slightly longer, falling near his shoulders and almost covering his brown eyes.
“Why are you home? I mean, I’m ecstatic that you are, but how did it happen?” I ask when I finally find my voice. I force myself to push the thought of anyone else who may have returned with him far from my mind. I can’t allow myself to feel that kind of hope.
“I decided to leave.”
“Why?”
“You want the honest answer?”
“Don’t I always?”
Gregory takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that I abandoned you.”
“Gregory . . .”
“No, Addalynne, let me say this.” He stops and looks at the people around us, their footsteps halting as they stare. He grabs my hand and starts walking us away from the market. We exit the center square and his pace slows, but he keeps his hand in mine. “At first, I thought that my loneliness and uncertainty were due to missing all of you and my worries about your health,” he says as we continue to walk, leaving the villagers’ stares behind us. “I reminded myself that all my life I had wanted to be a member of the King’s Schild. You of all people know this,” he says with a laugh. I smile at the memory of us running around with our wooden swords, pretending to be members of the Schild. “When the opportunity came, I thought about it for a long time, but I didn’t really need to think about it. I knew I wanted to join. I’ve always known.
“The Schild taught me a lot, as did King Theoderic. I gained insight and experience that were invaluable, and I never would have attained them if I had stayed here. But once I was there, I constantly wished that I hadn’t left. All I could think about was you and the rest of our family. I worried about your safety, the safety of all of you. Synereal has plenty of Schilds to protect it, but who was here to protect you?”
We reach the village stables and I stop in front of Freyja. “Gregory, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m capable of protecting myself. I hope your reasons for leaving weren’t only based on that,” I say as I put the bread and soap I bought at the market into the saddle bag. I fasten it and turn back to Gregory. He’s staring down at me, his eyes narrowed in thought. I know what he’s thinking about: my accident with the hellion. But that could have happened to anyone. The frustration slowly spreads through me, but I take a deep breath and push it back. My brother’s home, his reasons for being here don’t matter. Besides, now is definitely not the time to argue with him. I can always pick a fight later if I still want to.
“They weren’t only based on that, Addalynne, but it was a factor. You’re stronger and braver than any girl I know, and than most boys for that matter. But you’re my sister. My younger sister.” He waits for me to respond, surely expecting me to argue again, but I bite back my tongue. He gives a soft chuckle and, with a slight shake of his head, he continues. “Anyway, after word reached the capital about Samuel’s disappearance, I told the King that I wanted to go home, that I needed to be here to protect my family. I also told him that if he ever needs my service to send for me.
“He understood and said he was actually grateful to have someone he could trust keeping an eye on things in Faygrene. He asked me to notify him if any other attacks or disappearances happen. Then he thanked me for my service, told me I was always welcome to return, and wished me well.” After a moment, his mouth turns up into a satisfied smile. I smile back while tears sting the bottom of my eyes and throw my arms around him.
His arms wrap around me, too, and he rubs his hand along my back: the way he used to when we were young and I had a bad dream. The tears pour down my fa
ce. Having him here makes me realize how much I’ve missed him. I’ve been so heartbroken over Drake that I didn’t fully recognize the emptiness Gregory’s absence left in me as well. Now that he’s here, it feels as though a piece of myself has been returned to me. I’m nowhere near complete, and in all actuality, I probably never will be, but in this moment it’s easier to breathe.
“I’m happy to see you’re not angry with me,” he says, his body shaking with laughter.
“I could never be angry with you, Gregory.” I rest my head on his shoulder, tears trickling down my face. His body shakes more now, his laughter deepening. He pulls back from me and takes my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs.
“I’m going to remind you of that the next time you look at me like you’re about to strangle me.”
“I’m sure you will,” I say with a laugh.
“You’ve really grown up. When I left, you were still a girl, now you’re a beautiful young lady. Well, lady, might be an over-statement.”
“haha,” I say as I lightly hit his arm. His face holds a smile, but there’s concern and worry stealing its warmth.
“Have you really made a full recovery?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes. My injuries have healed. I’m completely back to normal.” This of course is a lie. I’ll never be the same again, but that has nothing to do with my injuries and everything to do with Drake. I want so badly to ask about him, but I don’t have the courage. He lets out a breath and some of the concern leaves his face.
“Just before I left Faygrene, Doctor Ellers assured me that the worst was over, that you were going to be fine, but I was still terrified. I don’t know if you fully understand the extent of your injuries,” he says with a slight grimace. I don’t think he does either. “The day I got the letter from Mother and Father, telling me that you had finally fully awakened, was the best day of my life, but I still needed to see you healthy and healed before I could completely be at ease.”