Awry taoa-2

by Chelsea Fine

  “Not hardly.” He leaned forward on his elbows with a crooked smile beneath his deep eyes. He was probably quite popular with the woman of the court. With a smile like that and the confidence he held, what woman would not swoon?

  More silence.

  “You do not need to like me, you know.” Gabriel leaned back with a pleasant face. “We shall wed for my father’s sake, but we do not need to be a true union. We do not even have to get along.”

  She paused. “Tristan cares for you, so I have no doubt I will care for you as well, my lord.” Scarlet bowed again.

  “Scarlet.” Gabriel leaned forward again, smiling at her nicely. “Do not bow to me. Not ever again. And please, for the love of God, do not call me ‘lord’. Call me Gabriel.”

  Scarlet looked into his eyes. “But that would be disrespectful. It would be against the rules.”

  He shrugged and tossed her another crooked smile. “I am not known for my obedience.”

  “Is that so?” Scarlet watched him carefully. He looked like trouble and he smiled like sin. Cocking her head to the side, Scarlet found herself intrigued by the daring boy sitting across from her. “We may get along after all.”

  And for the first time since she’d arrived at the castle, Scarlet genuinely smiled.

  ***************

  “We had a plan, Gabriel!” Raven’s black hair swung around her head as she turned around to yell at him while he stood in her family’s garden.

  Gabriel stepped forward, trying to calm her down. “I promised Tristan—”

  “You promised me!” Raven’s gray eyes looked deadly. “You and I together,” she gestured back and forth between them, “are unstoppable. You and that peasantgirl? That is just pitiful.”

  “I promised my father that I would marry Scarlet—”

  “Ugh! Do not say her name.” Raven paced for moment, her eyes catching on him every few steps. Then she stopped and took a deep breath. “There is still time to fix everything. Maybe we could send the peasant away, have her join a nunnery or something.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “I cannot send her away. Tristan asked me to take care of—”

  “No.” Raven set a finger against Gabriel’s lips, halting his words. She brought her exotic face in close to his and looked at him from under her lashes. “Take care of me, Gabriel. Do not take care of a girl who will not hold you,” she walked her fingers from his mouth to the back of his neck, “or want you,” she ran her other hand down his chest, “or kiss you….” Raven set her mouth to his, cupping the back of his neck as she pulled him down closer to her.

  Gabriel kissed her back, placing his hands on her hips and bringing her closer to his body. He loved the way she tasted and the way her hands roved his back and lower….

  Pulling back from their embrace, Raven nipped at his lower lip for a delicious moment. “Gabriel?” Her voice sounded small and delicate. “Do you not want me anymore?”

  Gabriel licked his lips, hot from her mouth. “Of course, I want you.”

  “Then you will find a way to be with me, won’t you?” She pressed her mouth to his neck.

  “Yes,” Gabriel answered automatically. He would not break his promise to Tristan. But how could he resist Raven? Why would he want to?

  He would find a way to be with Raven, yet still take care of Scarlet.

  Somehow.

  Raven kissed him more fully. “Mmmm.” She pulled back again, this time more abruptly, and smiled. “You and I will be unstoppable.”

  43

  Tristan winced as he tried to stand up straight in the little shack. The pain was almost unbearable, keeping him from walking or standing without wanting to scream.

  It felt like he was imploding, his soul pulling at his skin from the inside out.

  He stood in the kitchen, looking down at an untouched plate of food. Lifting a fork to his mouth was too taxing and chewing made his ears throb and pop. He hadn’t eaten all day, but his pain far outweighed his hunger.

  He thought about going back to where Scarlet was, just to relieve the aching for a few hours.

  He would, he decided, if it carried on for another few days. If there was no reprieve from his torment soon, he would make his way closer to Scarlet. Just close enough to breathe easily. Or breathe at all.

  Until then, he would just grit his teeth through the pain.

  He picked up his uneaten plate of food and emptied it into the trash, wincing with every movement.

  44

  Later that week, Scarlet and Laura sat on the couch together watching an old movie. Laura had been especially worried about Scarlet lately, always asking where she was going and what she was doing.

  And sometimes, just sometimes, Scarlet swore Laura was looking at her eyes. But that made no sense. How would Laura know? And if Laura did know, why wouldn’t she tell Scarlet?

  Maybe for the same reason she didn’t tell me she knew about Tristan? Or her weapon fetish?

  Scarlet was so confused. She didn’t know what to think of her guardian’s secrecy. But she also didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. Laura had been great since Scarlet’s breakup with Gabriel. She’d taken Scarlet out to dinner and movies and distracted her as best she could.

  Scarlet and Gabriel had almost every class together, so Scarlet couldn’t help but see him all day, and their conversations had been clipped and limited.

  They didn’t hate each other. Not at all. They just didn’t know how to act around one another. Scarlet ran a hand through her hair and looked around the room.

  Piles of folded, clean laundry were stacked up around the couch, making cloth towers in the living room. If there was one thing both Laura and Scarlet were bad at, it was putting laundry away.

  The movie came to an end and Scarlet looked over at her guardian, who was sound asleep with her head on the arm of the couch. Her red hair fanned out against the pale fabric of the sofa, looking soft and flawless as it settled on top of a short tower of Laura’s clean shirts.

  Scarlet turned the TV off and gathered a few piles of clothes from the floor. She tiptoed upstairs and dropped her own laundry off in her room, before walking into Laura’s room to do the same. Her joints burned as she moved and Scarlet winced. That had been happening a lot, lately. Maybe Scarlet needed to take up yoga or something.

  She set the clothes on Laura’s bed and turned to leave Laura’s room, when something caught her eye.

  Peeking out from the double doors of Laura’s closet, was a suitcase. The same suitcase Laura had been so weird about when she’d come home from Europe.

  Scarlet stared at the closet, twitching her lips.

  She never invaded Laura’s privacy.

  In fact, she’d only been in Laura’s room one other time and that was when Laura first showed Scarlet the house two years ago.

  She had no business being in Laura’s private space, let alone looking inside her luggage.

  No business at all.

  Nagging curiosity poked at Scarlet as she stared at the suitcase. Were the Bluestone weapons in there? Was that what Laura was hiding?

  A minute passed.

  Scarlet scolded herself as she made her way over to the suitcase.

  It was wrong. So wrong.

  But did that stop Scarlet? Nope.

  She looked behind her to make sure Laura hadn’t followed her upstairs, then eased the closet door open and knelt beside the suitcase.

  Slowly unzipping it, Scarlet felt her nerves begin to jump. She didn’t know what to think of Laura carting around a collection of knives.

  Lifting the flap of the unzipped suitcase, Scarlet blinked.

  Not knives.

  Inside, carefully tucked into black casing so as not to be jostled, was a single yellow flower, roots and all.

  What the…?

  Footsteps on the stairs had Scarlet quickly shutting the flap and zipping the suitcase back up. With her heart pounding, Scarlet stepped out of Laura’s room and tried to act casual as Laura reached the top of the sta
irs.

  Laura’s sleepy eyes roamed over Scarlet. “What are you doing?”

  “Just putting your laundry on your bed.” Scarlet smiled, hoping her lie sounded convincing. She faked a yawn. “I’m sleepy. Good night.” Scarlet walked to her bedroom door and let herself in, Laura’s eyes on her the whole time.

  Once inside her bedroom, Scarlet closed the door behind her and allowed her heart to beat at the full force it wanted to.

  Her head spun as she stared ahead at nothing in particular. What was so important about that yellow flower?

  What the hell was going on?

  45

  For two months, Tristan had been in the king’s army, traveling from battlefield to battlefield. It had been a bloody and exhausting journey. But more than that, it had been impossible to escape.

  Short of death, there was no way to flee from his duty. Too many men kept careful eyes about the troops and too many men were traitors.

  Tristan had been fortunate enough to come thus far without injury. He was grateful for such luck, but impatient to get home.

  Had Gabriel and Scarlet already been married? Was Scarlet safe? Was she provided for? Was she happy?

  His heart twisted.

  He only had one life to live and the girl he wanted to share it with was a thousand miles away and about to spend her life with his brother.

  He had given up the girl he loved, but he didn’t regret it. Giving her up meant keeping her safe.

  He rolled his shoulders.

  It was just before dawn and only two other men were awake: the king’s guard and a young soldier who had joined the army just yesterday.

  The young man looked fearful and small, shaking as he sat upright on his sleeping mat.

  Death would come for him on the battlefield. It was certain.

  Tristan lifted the dirty shirt he wore and began to retrace Scarlet’s drawing on his skin with crushed berries. He did this almost daily, as a reminder of his last moments with her.

  The last time he was happy.

  “Wh-what is that you draw?” the young soldier asked from across the field.

  Tristan didn’t look up. “A reminder.”

  “Of wh-what?”

  He continued to darken the strokes until Scarlet’s design looked brand new. And, like always, his heart began to hurt.

  “Love,” Tristan said simply, throwing down the rotten berries and letting his dirty shirt fall back over his skin.

  The young soldier was still shaking. “D-do you have love ba-back home?”

  Home.

  Ha.

  He had no more home.

  Tristan looked at the young boy and, for a moment, saw himself just months ago. Before everything had been stripped from him.

  “Not anymore.” Tristan stood from his mat, grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows, and headed out to the field for more war.

  More death.

  ***************

  Tristan’s first opportunity to escape came in the form of an old monk pushing a wagon filled with ale. Almost all monasteries in the area had been overrun by the land-hungry king, leaving many monks without food or shelter. Spying a monk with any possessions at all was rare.

  The king was a greedy man.

  Just like Tristan’s father.

  Dressed in his battle gear with his bow on his back, Tristan casually made his way over to the old man, trying to pass off his conversation as a barter for ale.

  The monk eyed him suspiciously. “What is it you want, archer?”

  Tristan kept his eyes steady. “I want to make an arrangement.”

  “What arrangement?” The monk looked around at the troops nearby.

  Tristan kept his shoulders high and straight. “I can hunt enough game to last you through the winter.”

  Tristan could tell the old man was no longer capable of hunting on his own. If the monk wanted meat, he would need help.

  “And what would you want in return?” The monk cocked his head.

  “Help escaping the king’s army.”

  The monk did not look convinced.

  “I hate the king,” Tristan explained.

  The monk nodded as he looked around. “Well, in that case,” A moment passed as he slowly smiled. “We have an arrangement.”

  ***************

  Tristan’s escape plan went off without a hitch. He knew the king’s guards would search after him if he simply disappeared, so instead, he would die.

  He pretended to be wounded in battle and laid his body down in a far ditch, praying the troops would be too lazy to report his death to his father. The last thing he wanted was for Scarlet and Gabriel to think he had died.

  When the battle was over, the old monk came upon Tristan’s body and asked the nearby soldiers if they wanted help burying the remains. Relieved to dig one less hole, the soldiers allowed the monk to wheel away Tristan’s body.

  As the sun set, the monk took Tristan through the forest, staying covered in the shadows until they reached a small monastery hidden in the trees. Bring his cart to a stop, the monk pointed to a door on the side of the old stone building and said, “You may enter through there. I will get you a bed.”

  Tristan looked at him. “I need no bed. I will sleep outside and hunt for you in the morning.”

  “Our guests do not sleep outside.” The monk headed for the door. “Do not argue.”

  Tristan didn’t.

  “What is your name, archer?” the monk asked as he pushed open a short, old door, dark with age and weather.

  Tristan hesitated, not sure he trusted the man with his name. “Hunter,” he replied.

  The monk narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing him. “Welcome to our monastery, Hunter. My name is Elliot.”

  Tristan nodded as he followed the old man through the small door, ducking his head to fit his body through the frame. Once inside, Tristan’s eyes caught on a pile of weapons set atop a large table. He raised his brows. “Are you planning to fight the king?”

  Elliot shrugged. “If the king attacks, we will fight for our home.”

  Tristan wrinkled his brow. “The king’s men outnumber your monastery greatly. You could all die.”

  “True.” Elliot turned to Tristan with a wise smile. “But there is no victory without a battle.”

  46

  “Laura has a secret flower,” Scarlet blurted out to Gabriel and Heather at school.

  Okay. That sounded weird.

  “What?” Heather’s made a face.

  Although things had been tense between her and Gabriel since the breakup, Scarlet still saw him every morning at their lockers. They made polite conversation, and sometimes talked about the curse or the map, but mostly they just avoided eye contact and tried not to accidentally kiss each other out of habit.

  But the flower thing had Scarlet freaked out and she forgot about their awkwardness as she shook her head and started over. “I looked in Laura’s suitcase—the one she was protective of. I thought I’d find Bluestone weapons inside, but instead I found a yellow flower.”

  “That’s weird.” Gabriel wrinkled his brow. “What else was in the suitcase?”

  Scarlet thought for a moment. “Nothing.”

  Heather blinked. “Okay…you found a flower.” She looked at Gabriel, then back to Scarlet. “So…what’s the problem?”

  Scarlet looked at her. “The problem is that there are all these weird Laura puzzle pieces and I don’t know what to do with them!”

  Heather looked taken aback as she raised a palm. “Re-lax. No need to be dramatic.”

  Scarlet sharpened her eyes at Heather. “Says the girl who thought she was going to die in Mr. Brooks’ cellar because she’s blond.”

  “Hey.” Heather pointed a finger. “I have a lot of supporting evidence for that.”

  “Whatever.” Scarlet shook her head with a sigh. “I’m really confused. Laura stares at my eyes and she knows Tristan’s name. She bought a bunch of weapons from a weird old guy and has a mysterious flower p
acked in her suitcase. It’s just…so….”

  “Strange,” Gabriel said.

  “Yes!” Scarlet turned desperate eyes to Gabriel. “What should I do?”

  Gabriel looked deep in thought. “Why don’t you just ask Laura about everything? The weapons? The flower?”

  Scarlet made a face. “Because that would be weird. Hey Laura, I was going through your personal stuff last night and I found your secret flower. What’s up with that? Yeah, no.” Scarlet shook her head and took a deep breath. “I don’t trust Laura.”

  Saying it out loud made Scarlet’s stomach hurt. Not because it was a heavy statement.

  But because it was the absolute truth.

  ***************

  Later that day, Gabriel sat alone at one of the back tables in the school library. His class was supposed to be doing research for their history project today, but instead, Gabriel was chewing on the end of a pencil and looking through some books about Georgia.

  “Hey, partner.” Heather appeared in front of him. “Is this seat taken?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “It’s all yours.”

  History was the only class he and Heather shared and, so far, their history project was coming along nicely. Gabriel knew the history—he’d lived it, after all—and Heather was good with words. They would definitely get an A plus plus.

  Heather sat down and the scent of vanilla wrapped around the small table they shared. “So…” she began, “how’s the breakup going?”

  Gabriel slanted his eyes at her, not in the mood for girl talk.

  Heather continued, “It’s been, what, a week since you guys broke up? How are you doing?” She casually opened her history book and started rooting through pages.

  “I’m fine.” Gabriel looked back at his book.

  She turned a page. “You guys seem to be getting along well. As friends.”

  They were getting along well. At first it had been a little weird. But after a few days and jokes and conversations, they had started to relax around each other.

  Somewhat.

  “Yep. Everything is fine.”