The one named Goren stepped forward cautiously, his eyes intent. “Why do you call her Angel?”
“She thinks that's her name.”
I began to thrash against Nissa's hold, desperate to break free of her powerful grip. “No, Nissa! Please, don't let them take me!”
Conal Tremaine glanced around cautiously, scouting the surrounding area. “We need to leave. We can't stay here long.” He inclined his head towards Nissa, his black eyes grim. “You should come with us. They'll kill you if they discover you helped us.” When he glanced at me, there was sympathy in his eyes. “And it may be easier for Char… Angel, if she has someone familiar with her.”
Nissa pondered his words for some seconds before she spoke. “I have been a member of the Queen's Guard for over fifty years. It's all I've ever known,” she admitted pensively.
“And yet you have discovered the path which is the right one, Nissa of Skardling,” the one named Goren responded. “You must surely realize the Queen's treachery is behind this war?”
Nissa inclined her head in assent. “I do, Goren of Blamen.” She patted my arm, attempting to comfort me. “I will come with you, Angel.”
“Nissa, no! No!” I shrieked. “This is a trick!”
Nissa brushed her fingers across my cheek. “No, Angel, it is no trick. It is you… and I, who have been deceived by Aethelwine, Archangelo, Bran and the Drâghici.”
“No! Archangelo is my husband!” I shook my head fervently.
“Husband?” Conal Tremaine visibly paled.
“Do you know anything of her baby?” Goren demanded in a low voice.
Nissa stared at him blankly. “I know nothing of a baby.”
“We'll deal with that later. What the hell is wrong with Charlotte? What have they done to her?” A third man in the group spoke, keeping a worried eye on me. With short dark hair and warm brown eyes, he was tall and finely muscled.
“We must leave now, and allow Nissa to explain once we are safely away from the Realm,” Goren announced decisively. “It won't take long before they realize she's gone. We must be far away from here before that eventuates.”
With one last, desperate tug, I managed to free my wrist from Nissa's grasp and ran further into the woods in desperation. I sprinted, twisting and turning between trees, hindered by my skirts catching on branches and roots.
Heavy footsteps pounded behind me, and before I could get far, an arm captured me about the waist, tugging me to a stop. Conal Tremaine hitched my still-struggling form into his arms, holding me securely against his chest as I kicked and pummeled, screaming at the top of my lungs.
I expected him to shout, force me to stop struggling by hitting me, or worse. Instead, he held me gently, ignoring my ineffective fight to be free. He whispered huskily, his mouth close to my ear and I inhaled a heady combination of sandalwood, pine, and musk. I was so frightened, I didn't recognize anything of what he said, only that the words were spoken in a soothing manner, his tone tender. Squeezing my eyes shut, I was reduced to helpless sobbing as I gave up, knowing all was lost.
≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈
It had been dark for hours before Conal Tremaine stopped our trek through the mountains on what had seemed, to me, a never-ending and miserable journey. The hours had passed in a blur, as we marched through thick forest, tramped through rivers with water reaching our thighs and climbed over mountain summits. They'd used something called a 'portal' to magically transport us from one place to another more than once, in their attempts to thwart anyone from following. Each time I'd been forced to step through the infernal device, it had left me nauseous and utterly wretched in my misery.
I lay alone beside a small campfire, having declined to eat or drink anything they'd offered; I'd sat apart from the group, deliberately refusing all attempts to coerce me into speaking. The one with the short dark hair and brown eyes, whose name was Matt, had built up a campfire beside me, insisting I needed to stay warm. I'd stared at him mulishly as he worked, refusing to talk.
No-one had hurt me, but uncertainty pumped steadily through my veins, chilling my heart. It was only a matter of time. Eventually, they would begin the torture as they had before. For now, I feigned sleep, hoping when they finally slept, I'd be able to escape. I suspected they hadn't bothered tying me up because of my poor physical condition, but while I couldn't move swiftly, if I gained the opportunity I would flee and find somewhere to hide until the Queen's Guard could rescue me.
Nissa was sitting with the enemy and I was still struggling to grasp why she had done this. Nissa – who'd always been kind to me, whom I'd thought of as a friend and a confidant – was sitting with the renegades, consorting with them.
“How did you discover who she really was?” The one named Goren was sitting on the leaf-strewn ground, one leg stretched out before him, the other bent at the knee with his arms wrapped around it.
“I was issued with orders to provide Angel with both protection and companionship. I was advised she was Archangelo's wife, but not the circumstances surrounding her arrival in Tamekeel. I was told she'd endured a breakdown of some sort, and that she was extremely fragile. The story I was given, that everyone received, was that she'd been captured some months ago, and tortured by members of your group. They said the markings on her body were created by complex dark magic, designed to destroy her mind.”
“That's bullshit,” Conal Tremaine growled.
“What made you believe she was Nememiah's Child?” Goren asked calmly, his voice composed. He was one of the Fae, and naturally, had his emotions under tighter control than the humans did.
“The Queen's Guard members had heard a rumor that Nememiah's Child had been captured many months ago, but nobody had discovered what happened to her. When I began to spend my days with Angel, it became apparent that her situation was curious and she was deliberately being kept isolated from any discussion of the war. While it seemed understandable that a young woman, so fragile after illness would need to be protected, there was something… unusual about the level of isolation they insisted on keeping Angel in. As time went on, things happened which struck me as odd.”
“What sort of things?” Conal Tremaine snapped.
“She was being lied to – Archangelo and the Drâghici told her they abstained from human blood, but I knew they were bringing humans to the Realm to be fed upon.” Nissa's voice was cold, her disgust obvious. “They'd convinced Angel they were feeding on animal blood. She saw a group of humans being escorted to the Queen's villa in preparation for harvesting their blood and questioned me about them, as she recognized they were human. I persuaded her not to mention what she'd seen to Archangelo or Bran, knowing it would give them a reason to increase her medication.”
“Medication?” Conal Tremaine repeated the word abruptly.
“Bran's been medicating her, to treat the symptoms of her illness, four times each day. It was another reason I harbored doubts regarding her real identity. Bran and Archangelo were continually cautioning me to advise them immediately if Angel mentioned the renegades. If she suffered any nightmares or mentioned hearing voices, I was to advise them immediately and Bran would adjust her medication. The more I understood the extent of their deception, the more I began to wonder who she really was – and what they were so desperately trying to hide from her.”
There was silence for a long time before Goren spoke again. “Do you know what this medication is? What have they been giving her?”
“I don't know. Bran administered it, and they insisted it was imperative she take it, because without it, she would surely descend back into the madness.” Nissa sighed profoundly. “My suspicions grew that she was not who they professed her to be. And I was growing more disturbed with each passing day regarding Archangelo's behavior. His stability has been deteriorating swiftly where Angel is concerned. She never admitted anything, but there was fear in her eyes whenever Archangelo was at the villa.”
“She said he was her husband.” Conal Trem
aine's voice was filled with anguish when he spoke.
“She believes herself married to him. He filled her head with endless stories of romance and their life together. When she first woke from the illness, Archangelo spent hours with her, telling her tales of how they had met and how he'd rescued her after she'd been captured by your group. She was so confused and lost, I think she would have believed anything she was told, if it gave her a sense of stability and safety.”
“She slept with him?” Conal Tremaine's voice was low, but even from this distance, I could hear the catch in his throat as he spoke the words.
“Yes. It was a true marriage in every way.”
“He put those bruises on her?”
“Yes. As I said before, he was growing increasingly unstable as the days and weeks passed. I was dismissed for three days when he returned from the last battle. When I was called for again, this is how I found her.”
“Why the hell would she believe their stories?” It was the man named Matt who had asked this question.
“I do not know. All I know is that she has no memories of her life prior to when I began to protect her, after her arrival in Tamekeel. She believed she had lived in the Realm her entire life, that she'd been abandoned on the banks of the Sorgone River as a baby by her human parents. Not one thing from her life, prior to the illness, is recalled.”
“What made you reach out to us?” Conal Tremaine questioned.
“She drew a picture. Archangelo had given her the freedom to use paper and charcoal for her drawings. She drew a picture of you.”
I knew she would be looking at Conal Tremaine as she spoke, telling him what I'd done.
Nissa continued. “When I saw what she'd drawn, I knew my suspicions had been confirmed. She was kept so utterly isolated, she couldn't possibly have seen the signs posted everywhere in the Realm, depicting your face. It was then I began to truly believe she was Nememiah's Child, and that she did know you.”
“She does know me,” Conal Tremaine agreed, his voice heavy with emotion.
For a few minutes, silence descended over the small group, broken only by the sound of logs shifting and crackling in the campfire. “Is what I have heard true? Has Zaen fallen?” Nissa questioned.
“Sadly, the news you've heard is accurate. Zaen is no more. We were attacked by thousands of demon and Fae over the course of a fifteen-day siege,” Goren said.
“I'm sorry to hear this news,” Nissa responded quietly. “Your casualties – they were heavy?”
Conal Tremaine's voice broke with strain when he spoke and I found myself sympathizing with him, despite my efforts not to. “We lost nearly four hundred of our people. Men, women and children. The rest were portalled out from Zaen to some of our fallback locations and have regrouped to a secret location.”
“And that's where we're going now?” Nissa asked cautiously. “Will they accept one of the Queen's Guard joining your group?”
“We accept everyone who sees the truth of our fight,” Goren answered. “It is what Nememiah's Child insisted upon and we've continued to follow her directions, despite her absence from our group for so many long months.”
“Angel – she is definitely who you believe her to be?” Nissa questioned, her voice low. “She is the Nememiah's Child?”
“Yes, but I'm deeply worried about her child. You are certain, you've heard nothing of a baby?” Goren prompted.
“No, nothing. I knew nothing of what you speak until you mentioned it when we rendezvoused as you'd requested.” Nissa paused for a long moment. “She has no idea, if what you are saying is true. She recalls nothing of her past. Everything she knows, everything she believes, has been learned in the past weeks since she regained her senses after the illness.”
The crackle of leaves and twigs alerted me to the approach of someone and I willed myself to remain completely still, needing them to believe I was asleep. It came as a surprise when the warmth of a blanket was draped over my body and carefully tucked around my curled form.
“Do you think we'll get the real Charlotte back?” Conal Tremaine spoke from beside me, and the depth of passion in his voice was astounding. Why had he provided me with a blanket, covered me with such care? The simple gesture was completely at odds with what I'd been told about the man.
“Conal, my friend; I honestly do not know,” Goren responded. The discussion around the campfire tapered off, and I blinked owlishly, watching the flames flickering beside me, their swirls and flares of scarlet, yellow and blue mesmerizing me as I debated over what I'd heard.
Despite my best intentions to escape, exhaustion got the better of me and tucked beneath the warmth of the heavy blanket, I fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 7: Old Friends
We reached the renegade encampment late the following morning, after a third journey through the light ring they called a 'portal'. Each time they'd used this form of travel, I'd suffered extreme nausea after the experience. Again, Conal Tremaine surprised me when I stepped out of the portal, supporting me with a gentle hand on my arm while I tried to quell the nausea billowing around in my stomach, and then, offering me a bottle of water to drink from.
Regardless of their kindness, and what I'd overheard last night, I was still deeply conflicted and highly suspicious of their motivation. Who was telling the truth? I kept glancing at the faint scars on my arms and wrists, remembering the tales Archangelo had told me regarding the horrific torture I'd endured. All that I knew – everything that had given me a modicum of comfort in the past few weeks – was it all a lie? Or were the renegades lying, trying to trick me into providing them with information?
The renegade encampment was nestled in a narrow valley, sheltered between snow-capped mountains. It consisted of a vast gathering of drab khaki tents, providing shelter from the elements and camouflaged from view. Walking into the encampment, I realized people were stopping in their work to stare at us and I kept my gaze lowered, frightened of meeting their eyes.
Nissa and I were escorted to a tent very near the center of the encampment. It seemed the tents had been arranged in circular fashion around a large central area, and the outside of the perimeter was heavily guarded by armed men and women, and any number of werewolves and shapeshifters, in their altered forms.
The tent we had been directed to was sparsely furnished; two sleeping bags lay on thin foam mattresses on the floor and other than these items, the tent was utterly bare. “These are your sleeping quarters,” Goren explained with an apologetic smile. “I'm afraid we have nothing more comfortable to offer, it has been difficult enough to get a roof over everyone's head after Zaen's downfall.”
“This will be fine,” Nissa agreed.
“We'll organize some clothes for you,” Conal Tremaine's voice came from the doorway, making me jump. “You'll probably want to shower and freshen up, then we'll organize a meal for you. “Are you hungry, Angel?”
I shook my head, keeping my eyes downcast.
He sighed heavily before he turned and stomped away. “We'll leave a guard outside.” His tone didn't suggest it was a warning, merely a precaution for our own safety.
“Of course,” Nissa agreed readily.
I slumped down onto one of the mattresses, curling up into a ball and trying to quell my overwrought nerves.
Everything was so strange, and I couldn't begin to fathom where the truth might lay in what I'd been told by the two opposing sides. I didn't understand why these renegades were being so… kind.
Nissa dropped gracefully onto the mattress but I refused to acknowledge her, didn't want to speak to her. She'd handed me over to the enemy, believed everything they'd told her. I still couldn't make any sense of what they were talking about – what was Nememiah's Child?
I knew the talk of a baby was a trick. I'd never had a child. I'd never been pregnant and up until my bonding with Archangelo, I'd been a virgin. But what did they hope to accomplish with these lies?
Biting my bottom lip, thoughts tossed through my min
d incessantly. What did they want from me? Nissa was being fooled by them, I was sure. These people weren't my friends – I didn't know any of them. Nobody seemed remotely familiar. And what was going to happen to me, once the medication began to wear off? How would I manage without it?
Nissa wisely left me to my own thoughts, not interrupting with an explanation for her actions. She sat silently beside me, the silence a welcome reprieve as I dealt with the maelstrom of emotions and anxieties which were assaulting me.
“Hi, you must be Nissa.” The voice was musical, lilting and I turned to see the person who belonged to the voice. She was tall and slender, her eyes the brilliant blue-green of the Sorgone River when the sun hit the surface, and her purple and black hair fell halfway down her back, separated into dozens of brightly colored plaits, tied with bands of multiple colors. Her mode of dress was outlandish, like nothing I'd ever seen within the Realm, even amongst the Unseelie Fae who were known for their… unusual tastes. This woman wore short black pants, something the women of the Fae would never consider. She'd paired the garment with stockings, in bold stripes of green and white and a short, cropped top covered her breasts. Bright bangles covered her lower arms, and she had huge, feathered earrings dangling from each earlobe. Her feet were encased in heavy leather boots, their soles thick and chunky and at odds with her delicate features. “I'm Marianne and this is my friend, Rowena.”
In direct contrast to the first woman's bright, overwhelming approach to her clothing and jewelry, the second woman was the epitome of understated elegance, her long dark hair pulled to one side and draped down across one shoulder. She wore a sleeveless white shirt and had paired it with tailored camel trousers and low heeled, enclosed shoes. Both women smiled in my direction as if expecting some form of acknowledgment, and disappointment flickered simultaneously across their features when they realized recognition wasn't forthcoming. “And you're Angel,” Marianne added softly.
The one named Rowena had a pile of clothing in her arms and Marianne was carrying towels and a small supply of brightly colored bottles. They dropped the supplies onto the vacant mattress and Rowena smiled warmly. “Hopefully, we've managed to locate some clothing in your sizes. If not, I'm sure we'll be able to rustle up something else. If you'll come with us, we'll show you where the showers are located and once you've freshened up, Conal suggested we take you to the mess to grab a bite to eat. You must be hungry after such a long journey.”
Knowledge Protects (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 5) Page 5