by Tara Brown
Tears fell from my eyes but Artan would not turn around. He knew what my injuries were. He always did, it seemed. I slumped in his grip and watched again as Herrick screamed and I was flown away.
Chapter Twelve
In the cottage I stroked my brother's face with cloths. He was burning up. My injuries were gone as we landed. It was a miracle, I was certain. The magic of the witches surpassed my expectations. I didn’t know if it was the cloak or the locket, but the deep wounds, ones I felt certain would end me, were gone almost immediately.
I glanced at the witches. "If you healed me so quickly, surely you can heal my brother?"
They looked at each other and frowned. "We never healed you. We can't heal something like that. Amillia, your brother isn’t burning up from the injuries. He's burning up from the change."
"What change?"
They looked guilty and uneasy. It wasn’t a new look for them. I rolled my eyes.
A knock at the door saved them from my anger and impatience. I glanced at the door and snarled. "When did you get a door that you didn’t have to draw on?" I had never seen it before.
They laughed as if I were crazy and walked to it. Mani opened it. But I ignored the door, watching the troubled look on my brother's sleeping face. I stroked his skin and lifted his hand to my lips. He moaned and gripped my hand. He was waking.
"I've come for him." The deep voice at the door sent chills up my spine.
My head jerked back. "Maddox?"
He looked cold and detached. "I'm sorry, Amillia, I have to take him. I need to keep you, ahh . . . well, to protect you."
I shot up from the floor and crossed the room. "You wish to protect me by taking my brother from me? You wish to protect me from my brother? You, who has chosen not to be any part of my life? How did you even know where we are?"
Mani looked at Edward and then me and back at Maddox. "She doesn’t need your protection the way we thought. Originally. She has just had wounds—"
I cut her off as a dark realization hit me. "You all know each other? You lied when I asked you if you knew if he was alive? Max, you knew where I was this entire time?" It felt as if a knife had sliced into my back. I looked at them all. I had been betrayed.
Katy's face fell. "We are sorry, Princess. But your revenge is more important than anything. Even family."
I looked into his dark-blue eyes and waited for it. The warmth he couldn’t ever hide from me, the love that I saw when I looked into his eyes—it was gone. Nothing remained to be said between us.
My heart was breaking all over again. I undid the clasp and dropped the cloak from my neck. "I'm done. Take care of my brother. I will come for him.”
I walked past Maddox, leaving the cottage that I had never seen before. It was always the tree to me. They trusted Maddox with knowing where their cottage was, but I had to see the glamour of the tree. I had to see the dusty road and the tree. I was trusted as a henchman only. He clearly was their friend.
I stumbled out into the woods, and when the cool forest air hit my lungs and skin, I ran. I ran hard. My swords slapped my sides and my belt cut into my waist, but I ran. I didn’t know where I was going or what I would do.
But when I was deep enough in the woods, I screamed in desperation, "ARTAN!"
His swooping filled the air around me as he dove and picked me up and shot us up into the sky. I climbed his strong body to get up onto his back and collapsed into him.
"Take me home." He turned around and flew back toward the cottage. I shook my head. "Not there. I want to go home. I will just walk in and kill Roland. I don’t care anymore. He can't hurt me. Something is wrong with me. Even the devil wouldn’t take me. I can't die."
He flew to the cottage and sat on the ground in the field outside. I cried and pounded on his back. "Take me home. Damn you, you stupid dragon, take me home." I hit and slapped and sobbed, but he never moved.
"Amillia."
I turned my face to see Maddox standing in the field. He put a hand up for me. I scoffed at him. "Just leave. You've gotten good at that. But leave my brother here."
Artan tilted his body and dumped me off onto the ground. I wanted to scream at him, but I deserved it for hitting him. I sat in the damp grass with a sore bottom.
Maddox grabbed my hand forcefully and dragged me up into his embrace. I wanted to fight him but I didn’t. Instead, I closed my eyes and let the lies I told myself be real. I didn’t care that he didn’t love me. I wanted him so badly I was willing to be the one that loved enough for us both. I melted into him. He held me tightly.
With my eyes closed I could pretend that he loved me, and I could ignore the fact he'd left me to the wolves. Or rather witches.
The woodsy smell of him was too familiar. Tears stung my eyes as I glanced up at him. "You loved me. I know you did. I don't care that you don't love me anymore, but please don't make me feel like it was all one-sided. Tell me the truth."
His jaw flexed. He looked down on me. "I never lied to you, Princess. I never told you I would run away with you. We always were what we were. I was always honest about what I could give you and what I could not."
“But you loved me and denied it—why?”
“I have never denied loving you, just my ability to be with you. I have never lied about my feelings for you.”
“You never loved me enough to run away with me?” I was asking even if it didn't sound like a question.
“I never told you I would run away with you. I never made you any promises other than to have your back, and I have kept that. Even when you didn't know I was guarding you, I did.” I hated the fact that it was true, but I hated more that I still wanted him. He had never once told me that he would run away with me. It had always been my idea. In my head and my heart I had believed that he loved me enough to want it too. But clearly, he hadn’t ever loved me that much. For those feelings and promises I whispered to myself had never been inside of him nor part of his plan for his life.
He bent his face and kissed my lips softly. It wasn’t his kiss. It was strange and weak.
My lips trembled and I hated myself for saying it, but I did anyway, "Can you just pretend for a minute you feel the way I thought you did and kiss me for real?"
His body tightened, his mouth crushed mine. Tears streamed down my cheeks and mixed with our kiss. He stepped back and looked at me. "I'm sorry, I can't. I need you to see that this isn’t ever going to happen." He took a step away from me, and I felt the mountain move between us again. His dark eyes burned. "I promise I will keep your brother safe. That’s a promise I will keep, no matter what. However, your fondness and affections for me have to end." He turned and walked away.
I wished for death. It was almost ironic that the death I easily doled out was the only thing I could not have. That, and Maddox.
I looked at Artan who bowed his head, ashamed. Even he was ashamed of how pathetic I was. I didn’t cry like I thought I would. I wiped my drying tears away and watched Maddox get smaller.
His impact on my heart never diminished as my view of him did.
I stood and looked at Artan. "Can we please just go home?"
He didn't move except to lie in the field and watch me with his bright-green dragon eyes.
I threw my arms into the air. "Fine. Fine!" I stormed back into the cottage to find my brother standing, dressed and hugging the witches. He still looked sickly and weak.
I looked at him and shook my head. "Don't leave me."
His eyes were full of something, conflict maybe. "I have to go." He rushed to me, hugging me and sniffing my hair. “I am so grateful for the rescue, Amillia, but you must promise not to come and look for me. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
It was a night of promises and lies.
I sniffed and changed the subject. "How are Mother, Grandmother, and Michael? What happened to you? Why were you with her? Where's Herrick staying? Is Roland still at home?" I hoped he would give me the answers the witches had hidden from me.
Wh
en he didn't answer, I pulled back just in time to see his eyes dart to the witches as he shook his head. "I don’t know. Our family is all fine. They live as servants for Roland, but all are safe. I was taken and tortured by Herrick's mother. She wished to know where you were. She was a sick woman." He couldn’t speak of it and I could respect that. The images of him tied to the wall attempted to crawl into my mind, but I closed it off.
I looked down. "Why did you jump, Ed?"
He pulled me in. "It just feels hopeless, Amillia. Hopeless. Roland has destroyed everything our family has created over the last few hundred years." He kissed the top of my head. He still felt feverish. “Mother and the others are servants and Father is dead. What do we have to live for?”
“Each other and the hope we will get our revenge.” I looked up at him, running a hand down his cheek. "You're still sick. Stay. Please don’t leave me."
He looked dismayed. "I have to. I have no choice."
I glanced at the witches. "Why can't he stay? He's not well enough. He'll die out there."
Mani looked at Katy who smiled sweetly and nodded as she stepped toward me and stroked my face. "Just relax, Princess. He has a journey akin to yours. He must do his part in all of this."
I never noticed the kiss he put on my cheek or the way he let go of me, or that Mani led him from the house. I was lost in Katy's sweet brown eyes. I was lost in a calm sea of bliss. She stepped back and Mani hugged me. "It's best this way. He’s not like you—he can die. You could get him killed. You can't fight everyone and get your revenge if you're busy trying to protect him."
I knew what she said was right, but I needed to get away from it all. I glanced at Mani. "I want to go to the city. I need a few days."
"Stay here, Amillia. Rest and prepare. You've had a hard night."
I pushed them away. "No. I need to be away from it all. I need a day or two to make my heart forget."
She nodded. "You'll be careful, right?"
I nodded. I took off my swords and walked out to the washtub to start to get ready.
When I was clean and dressed, I walked through the doorway she drew that led out of the tree. Artan dropped onto the gravel road beside me and lowered himself. I shook my head. "No thanks, Artan. I need to walk. Just stay here."
I walked past him and tried not to imagine how hurt his feelings were. I hadn’t told him I was sorry yet. I was, but I was also close to losing the tight grip I had on myself. I knew if I tried to make things better with him, everything would collapse and I would end up in a heap. I was slowly losing everything.
I walked to the city with only the small daggers on my belt, instead of my swords. I wanted to blend in. I wore my tan leather breeches and white shirt. The witches had fashioned a band for me to wear to hold my breasts in, so I could still wear the things I liked. I could still dress like a commoner.
Chapter Thirteen
"Well, well, the girl in the breeches returns. You look exhausted, Millia."
I chuckled bitterly. "You have no idea." I sighed and sat at a table.
Grayson arched a dark eyebrow. "Rough day?"
I looked into his bright-blue eyes and forced a smile across my lips. "Rough lifetime would sum it up.”
He leaned on the wooden pillar next to him, offering me a smile that should have brightened every day I’d ever had. He was the simplicity and distraction I so desperately wanted. “I am so glad you’re back. It’s been a lonely few months without you.”
I couldn't even fight the grin. “You have no idea how grateful I am to be back.”
“What were you up to?”
“Every bit of trouble a girl like me can get into.” I laughed bitterly, hating how true it all was. My heart had run the gamut of emotions. “Can I get an ale please, Grayson?" I forced myself to see him in a new light, the one my heart had been fighting all along. He was beautiful and sweet and fun.
He pressed his lips together and nodded. "I've told you before, everyone here calls me Grayse, and yes you can, but I don’t want you in here drinking alone. Come to the back where I am and have a drink." I laughed, not at all ready to see him in that new of a light. I glanced at the table of men playing a game and laughing in the far corner. "Don’t worry about that. I won't be alone."
He sighed as a stressed look crossed his face. He left and returned with a drink. I slammed it back and got up from the table. "I'll take another." I winked at him as I walked over to the group of men. "What are you guys playing?"
They frowned at first but smiled once they gave me the up-down. A red-haired man with a huge beard laughed. "Sit next to me, beautiful. Be me good luck."
He shoved the dark-haired fat man next to him over. I nodded and sat in between them on the huge wooden bench. “All right.”
A younger man with jet-black hair and a crooked grin nodded. "We're playing crowns. Ya in?"
I scanned around the table, making eye contact with every one of them. "How much?"
"Buy in with a hundred notes." I looked down at the cards with the crowns on the back and blinked, wide eyed. I pulled two fifty-note bills from my breeches and innocently passed them to the man with the jet-black hair.
His crooked grin widened. "Do ya know how to play, sweet thing?"
“My name’s Millia.” I shook my head. "And no, I don't know how to play; I'm just in need of a distraction."
He passed me a stack of painted tiles that were mock-ups of gold coins.
"The object is to kill off the crowns ya have in yer hand. Everyone pays for what they have left when the first person goes out. Ya place a crown when the number and symbol before ya gets played. It always goes in order. A single coin is worth one—one note. Got it?"
I nodded and looked confused. Had I not played with my brothers for years, I would have been confused. The explanation was terrible, but they seemed fairly drunk.
The burly men each looked at me like they were about to devour me. It didn’t make me nervous. I was more deadly with daggers than swords.
The hand started.
"If ya were my girl, I wouldn’t let ya alone in here," one man spoke.
I nodded. "Right." I didn’t know what to say to that.
A drink was plunked down in front of me, spilling a little. I glanced up at Grayson with a frown.
He grabbed my arm. "Your drink." His eyes turned to steel as if he were sending me a coded message with them.
I pulled my arm away, "Thanks."
He was being peculiar. He clenched his jaw and tried to tell me more things with his eyes. I rolled mine at him and turned around.
"Ya going to hover the whole night, Grayse?" Red Beard sneered.
He let go and walked away.
I lifted the drink to my lips and sipped. Cool, clean, refreshing water entered my lips. I shot Grayson a glare.
He smiled sarcastically, offering a subtle bow.
I looked over at Red Beard who was sitting next to me. "What's in the pitcher?"
He smiled. "Fire ale. It's a special blend made for men who want a little . . . well . . . more."
I slammed back my water and placed my mug down in front of the pitcher. "A little more sounds good to me."
Red Beard’s dark-brown eyes glistened. He hesitated, glancing at Grayson, then pouring half a mug for me. I pulled it back, feeling cheated, until I had a sip. I nearly gagged. I put a hand to my lips as I coughed, feeling like my face was on fire. It explained their red faces. They laughed. Red Beard slammed me on the back. "Ha."
I glanced over at Grayson and smiled sweetly. He sneered and motioned for me to come to him. I turned my head and let the card game begin.
I played it up like a lost little girl for a bit. I was letting the drink hit us all and the night air get bogged down with the blasting fireplace.
I poured the last of the fire ale into my throat. "This stuff is good." The jet-black-haired guy turned out to be named Guy. I pointed at him with my mug still in my hand. "That’s a really strange name, Guy. You are a guy named Guy," I s
poke with a touch of a slur.
He chuckled. "Me ma had five sons before me. I think she ran out of names."
We all laughed.
Red Beard, who turned out to be named Hans, lit his pipe. I looked at him. "Hans, I would like to try your pipe, if it's all the same to you."
He almost choked on the smoke. "Ya what?"
I put my hand out to him lazily. "You heard me."
He laughed and passed me the large ivory pipe. I wiped his spittle from the bit. I put it into my mouth and looked at him. "Now what?"
"Well, lass, ya got to suck in and pull the smoke into yer mouth. Swirl it around and breathe it into yer lungs. Then ya breathe it back out. If ya cough, ya buy the next round of fire ale."
I wrapped my lips around it and pulled as the hot air filled my mouth. I swirled it around, which really didn’t feel like anything, and breathed it in. I breathed it out and started to cough. I felt like I was dying as I hacked and convulsed.
Hans patted my back and rubbed it. "It's okay, lass." He put a hand in the air and waved it at Grayson's stepmother. I choked and hauled money from my pocket and slapped it on the table.
She sauntered over, smiling until she met my eyes. Through my watering eyes I could see her scowl. "What are ya doing here?" she asked.
My body uncontrollably hacked and coughed as I tried not to laugh at the savage look on her face.
Hans shook his head. "She is me guest. Now fetch me the pitcher of fire ale, wench." Her scowl worsened.
Before I could stop myself, I laughed. "Now she's probably going to spit in it."
He grinned. "Wouldn’t be the first time, lass. In fact, I quite prefer it with a little spittle in it. Takes the edge off."
"That is horrid. Why do you smoke it?"
Hans shrugged. "Me pa smoked and me grandpa. All me brothers smoke it too." The men around the table nodded and started talking.
"Aye, my pa too."
"I've always smoked it."
"Aye, Lance, ya come right out of yer ma smoking it, did ya?"
The dark-haired man next to me laughed and lit his pipe. "I did, in fact. Then I planted a big fat kiss right on yer ma's arse. Now let's deal the cards."