Dane whistled a note. “I’m not sure which is crazier: meeting ghost children or burying their creepy dolls.” He whistled another note and looked down the length of the stick. “Are the ghost children going to give you a reward?”
Aren laughed as he stood up, brushing the dirt off his gray trousers. “I just want them to be at peace.”
They rode the gree back to the stables, talking about normal things like how their parents were doing, how quickly their nieces and nephews were growing up, and when Dane was going to ask Rieka to marry him. By the time they reached the town center, the sun had loosed her grip on the sky, leaving a melting trail of pinks and golds as she slipped over the horizon. The Fire god would be sitting on the highest peaks of Tennar with his bow soon, stringing his fire-tipped arrows and shooting them into the darkness to sparkle throughout the night.
After stabling the gree, they parted ways and Aren checked his pocket watch before making his way towards the town center and up the curving stairs. His vision was swirling with symbols and leaves and a bear-man ready to cut his head off. That explained the growing headache.
Looking up into the expanding blackness of night, he caught sight of the moon dangling high and far. He remembered that it was on these steps that he had been attacked. It was where he had been knocked unconscious, where a stranger had picked him up to take him to safety. He paused, looking around, trying to reconnect himself to that night, to the events that took place around him.
“Out of the way,” someone on a gree called out.
Aren pressed himself against the wall and let them pass. A Guard returning to the House for duty wished him a good evening, asked him why he was blocking the stairs. No one can feel it, he thought, watching everyone go about their business, a few raising their eyebrows at him for just standing there. It’s like a small fissure with a leak, like time and magic frozen in one spot. He swiped a hand through the air in front of him. Nothing happened.
Stars, he was going insane.
He continued the rest of the way up the stairs and went to the wall that overlooked the town center. He wanted to see the twinkling lights of the city spread out below him like a reflection of the night stars. He wanted to see the great gears of the city at work, find his place among the mechanics of it all, feel connected for once and not like the out-of-place oddity he really was.
“You must have a lot on your mind this evening,” said a woman sidling up to him.
Aren looked over at his company, and a smile overtook his face. “I was hoping I’d get to see you tonight. How are you feeling?”
“Better than earlier,” Lake said, imitating his posture on the wall. “How was your day? No monsters, I hope.”
Aren turned so that his back was against the wall. “No monsters other than the ones in my head.” Lake frowned, so he tried to explain. “Memories from my forays into Tiede Wood are coming back to me in strange, broken images that make no sense. The logical explanation would be that my mind is confusing reality with things I’ve read.”
“But there’s more, isn’t there?”
Aren’s head started to hurt again. “I was on the balcony talking to Lady Illithe when Selina came out to find me. I felt Selina take my hand, and when she did, the visions became vivid, scary.” Lake was looking at him with concern, and he realized he hadn’t told her everything about his odd connection to the Wood. “You and I never got to talk about my strange episodes. In short, I hear voices from the Wood. They call me and I’m compelled to obey. I understand if you want to say goodbye and never see me again.”
Lake turned back towards the city below, and Aren felt that something was off about her, though he couldn’t place it. She forced a smile to her face as if she knew he was watching. “Tiede Wood is a strange thing.”
Aren nudged her. “You’re taking my confession awfully well. Shouldn’t you be backing away from me?”
Lake winked at him. “You forget that I study celestial phenomena and things that most people find impossible—like the istoq. Did my notes help?”
“More than you know. I’m going to figure this out, find that creature’s weakness. Then, Gryf and the Hunters can kill it, and I will take you out for dinner to celebrate.”
“You have no idea how wonderful that sounds.” Lake was smiling but her eyes were full of sadness.
“Great!” Aren said, hoping to cheer her up. “Are you busy this evening? I could use your brain to help me puzzle through the symbolism.”
“Lying in bed all day has made a slug out of me. I don’t know how useful I would be.”
“I guess that means you missed the House event of the year.” Lake gave him a quizzical expression and he chuckled. “I was on the balcony overlooking the sea when out of nowhere, the wind grew so powerful that even the ocean seemed to be carried into the air. I rushed to get Lady Valine and Selina inside, but the wind was coursing throughout the House. Fires were put out and people had to seek shelter.”
Lake’s expression changed, her face paled. “What?”
“Everyone’s saying it was the Wind god. I don’t know that I believe it.” Aren shrugged. “A few of us spotted this massive falcon flying out over the Parthe. The Priestesses documented the event as a god sighting. I don’t know what hard evidence they have, but I will admit that I have never seen a bird so enormous—bigger than the golden cranes of Syrn.”
Lake choked on a sob as she hung her head. Then, she turned her face to the night skies, her eyes glossy, her fingers gripping the wall. He put an arm around her shoulders, wondering why she was so upset.
“Lake, is something wrong?”
ELEVEN
“Please talk to me.” Aren’s voice was soft and soothing. “Are you hurting? Or did I say something stupid?” He tried a little smile, but that only made her feel worse.
Kaila had to get this over with. The sooner the pain hit her, the sooner she could begin to heal. His arm was around her shoulders, and she turned into him. As naturally as breathing, he took her in his embrace, and she tiptoed so that she could take in his fresh, salt-tinged scent one last time. The light stubble on his jaw tickled her cheek, and she could feel his warm breath near her ear.
“Aren, we have to say goodbye,” Kaila whispered. His arms tightened around her in response. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t say anything, but she felt the quickened pace of his heart mirroring hers. Aren held her close and his body was so warm. She had wondered what it would be like to be in his arms like this, and now that she knew how perfectly she fit there, it hurt all the more to have to leave him. “I received a message from home and I’m leaving tonight,” Kaila said. “I only came to say goodbye.”
Aren loosened his hold so that he could look at her face. The hurt in his clouded green eyes was undeniable. “The first time you said goodbye, we’d only spent one evening together. I was disappointed to see you go but I accepted it.”
“Maybe I should’ve stayed away—”
“But you came back and we spent more time together. I felt like something clicked between us, and before I knew what was happening, you were in my head all the time. I promised I wouldn’t complicate your life, but—”
“As much as I’ve let you in, I’ve had to put up that many defenses,” Kaila said, and he wiped at her falling tears with a thumb. “You’re handsome, intelligent, and absolutely charming, but I can’t stay.”
Aren leaned over, put his forehead against hers. “I’ve never met a woman who didn’t make me feel like there was something wrong with me. Being around you is so easy. No one talks to me about books the way you do. You get my sense of humor…” His desperate fingers tangled in her hair, then moved to cup her face. “You kept coming back. I thought that meant something, that maybe you felt something more between us too. So why do I get the sense that I might never see you again?” He touched his lips to her forehead.
“There’s still Nikken, and he would be very angry if he knew about you,” Kaila said. “In time maybe everything will make sense,
and I’ll make things right by both of you. I don’t know what the gods have planned.”
Aren seemed to consider this, and she hoped that bringing up Alaric would help ease the blow. “I don’t know why it matters what the gods have planned,” Aren blurted out, irritated.
“Only they have any control over our fates.”
“Never mind the gods. Let me change your fate.”
Kaila felt his lips, soft and light as a feather, brush against hers, and her heart stopped. It wasn’t a kiss, it didn’t qualify. It could be labeled an accident. The fate lines fell in a massive tangle around her.
No one, aside from Alaric, had ever touched her lips.
Aren’s forehead was against hers, and his breathing was shallow, ragged. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wasn’t trying to…I want…”
Kaila took his hands in hers, placed a kiss in each palm, then pressed his hands against his chest. “In the Kailen Islands, it means I’ll keep you in my heart—”
“Until we meet again,” he finished for her.
“Goodbye, Aren.” Kaila wiped the tears from her eyes and ran down the stairs.
Friction
ONE
Aren was numb as he watched Lake leave him. He was convinced that she had cast some spell to keep him rooted to this very spot, destined to stand here for all time as his senses replayed over and over the sweet promise of her lips and the truth and finality of their goodbye behind her salty tears.
It had taken every fiber of will in his being not to kiss her; he wanted to satisfy the curiosity that plagued him every time he saw her face. Yet, he managed to stop himself, and he wasn’t sure whether he should feel proud or extraordinarily stupid. It wasn’t as if Nikken, Aren’s personal demon, was watching. He respected her too much to just take from her. If she had wanted him, she would’ve taken the kiss he offered, let him know that she felt the same way, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t, and her will had been stronger than his. He supposed he should just be glad she didn’t slap him.
He watched until he could no longer see her, then mapped out the path she would probably take past Guild Row, through the Harbor District, then down the multitude of steps to the harbor. The Harbor Master, charmed by her beauty and kindness, would let her break Vir’s rule and allow her to leave by boat.
He was sure she’d made arrangements for transport to the Rail. Maybe she’d hire a coach and try to get some sleep, or maybe she wouldn’t sleep until she was on the train which would take her as far east as Rose. She’d need supplies, food, a few new books to read. She’d hire another coach to take her to the borderlands of Tennar.
In his head, she was already a world away.
He turned to walk back towards the House. He’d bury himself in his research again, hide among the books and papers. He walked a few feet before he was knocked hard to the ground. He tried to get up, but something heavy had him pinned and was throwing punches at his face. He brought his arms up to protect himself.
“I brought ‘the big man’ like you suggested,” the familiar voice said with a smile. Mercer. Aren managed to block some of the punches, but he could feel the blood dripping from his nose.
“He’s not so tough,” the big man said, pausing to cock his head and look at Aren.
Aren felt numb, thought about moving, but let his head fall back against the ground. What was the point anymore? Nothing ever seemed to go right for him, and it was getting really old. He turned to the side, spit blood, then looked up at his attackers. He began to tremble. “What the fuck do you want with me?” he erupted, his senses and manners leaving him.
“Do it, Copen.”
The big man pulled a knife from within his robes, and Aren’s instincts made him squirm and try to get out from under his weight. He grabbed at the man’s wrists, trying to keep the knife away, but Mercer stepped in and caught his arms. Copen yanked at Aren’s collar, lifting him off the ground, then slipped the knife under the fabric of shirt and vest, tearing Aren’s clothes apart at the shoulder seams. Aren felt the blade bite his skin in the process, and he hissed as the blood burned and spilled.
“Nothing.” Copen shrugged, baring Aren’s shoulder to the night air.
“I don’t understand,” Mercer mumbled. Copen repeated the tearing on Aren’s other shoulder, exposing it as well.
“I told you I wasn’t marked.” Aren tried to slow his breathing.
“What does it mean?” Copen asked, as if Aren hadn’t spoken. “The beast smelled magic. He should be marked.”
Mercer indicated that Copen should cut open the sleeves. He did as instructed, and Mercer pushed the fabric away to examine Aren’s forearms in the biolight.
“I’m not marked!” Aren repeated, his agitation growing. “Has it never occurred to you that magic and all its properties might be a little beyond human comprehension? If you want to kill me, be done with it.”
“This wasn’t about you to begin with,” Mercer said, “but you got in the way, changed everything.”
“What do you want to do with him?” Copen asked.
Mercer spit. “Pompous pretty boy. Finish him.”
As soon as Mercer loosed his hold, Aren moved, his fist connecting with the underside of Copen’s chin. Mercer scrambled away, but Copen regained his balance and went for Aren’s throat. Aren struggled to pull the big fingers apart, and his abdomen tightened as he strained against the man’s weight. His vision was blurring and breathing was becoming difficult.
“Selina,” Aren whispered. He wasn’t sure why he thought of her in that moment. He seemed to fail her at every turn. He had assured her that she should never worry about him, yet here he was dying. Again.
And what could you possibly do to protect me, little one?
His strength began to leave him, and he dropped one of his hands, clawing at the ground.
“Let’s see how well you comprehend death, Apprentice,” Mercer said.
TWO
Aren’s legs continued to kick out as he suffocated. He imagined the Night god grabbing him by the ankles to drag him off to Aum. Part of him was ready to let go and be done with it. He never thought he’d be broken-hearted to the point that his will would shatter so completely. It wasn’t as if he and Lake were lovers. They had been friends, and on more than one occasion she had asked him not to complicate that friendship. He was a fool.
His fingertips were growing numb, but he continued to scrape at the ground. He imagined that he could feel the roots of Tiede Wood even here, tangling, reaching, creating its secret network of magic under the city. If he could just get some air, he could…
He heard a voice on the wind, different from the Wood—softer, colder. This death is kinder than the gods would deal you, the man said in a whisper. I warned you, did I not? If you want to live, let go of her.
You left the note, Aren thought, surprised at how clarity seemed to hit him when he was at death’s door, but the voice left him, carried off on the breeze.
Aren! Hold on! I’m trying to help…
Selina?
Stars, he had been so wrapped up in himself that he hadn’t considered the consequences of his death. He was a huge disaster, but Selina still needed him and he couldn’t leave her, not without a fight. He concentrated, making the most of the air left in his lungs. He summoned what little energy he had left, pulling what he could from the power he felt below him, from the tangle of roots that spidered like veins beneath the rock. A pulse of soft green light flowed up through his hand, warm and tingling. He thrust it at Copen’s chest.
“What—?” Mercer choked on his words as Copen was knocked back several feet.
Aren pushed himself up, gasping for air. His clothes were torn to pieces; he was bloody, dirty, and broken. The green light he had imagined was gone, but in its place was an anger so feral that he was even ready to challenge the voice on the wind that had threatened him.
Mercer sensed the anger, and he began to back away as Aren got to his feet. Aren could feel the sizzle of magic
like lightning over his skin, and he had to look at his shoulders to confirm that he had no marks. Copen was on his knees, holding tight to his midsection, wailing in pain.
“What did you do to him?” Mercer breathed.
Aren flexed his hands open and closed. He had no idea. His ears perked up. Footsteps hurrying towards them, slippers and boots. Priestesses and Guards. Selina.
He strode towards Copen, grabbed a fistful of the man’s dark hair, pulled his head back. “Look at me,” he growled. Copen sobbed, still holding his middle. “I said look at me!” Aren’s voice was loud and rough, as terrifying as any god. Mercer ran off, tripping twice over his robes.
Copen begged, “Mercy, please!”
“Mercy for information. Do you control the beast? Where is it? How do I stop it?”
“I don’t know,” Copen choked. “I…One person never knows all the details.”
“You must know something!” Aren seethed. “Why attack me? What is it you think I know?”
“Aren!” Selina called out. She and the others were closer now, running towards him.
“Look what you did to me!” Copen cried, releasing his hands from his chest and abdominal area. His robes and clothes had disintegrated, and whatever had burned through it was now eating away at his flesh. A fuzzy, moss-like substance covered the wound. Blood dripped through Copen’s fingers, fell to the ground.
Aren let go of his hair, and the man fell to his knees. Aren backhanded him, sent him sprawling onto the cobblestones.
“Aren! Stop!”
Selina, I can’t…
“Please, I’m an Unwanted like you, Unblessed. I lived with the Naspa until I met Mercer. I just wanted to belong to something.”
“I’m not like you.” Aren wrapped his fingers around Copen’s throat and squeezed.
The voices were calling him again.
THREE
Alaric rubbed his temples as he listened to Taia reading the evening’s reports. She sat at his desk, her papers laid out before her. Trum was going to fall.
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