“Fale?”
“I heard you,” she snapped.
“Are you thinking about it?” he asked incredulously. “How many boys have you kissed that you can’t remember the first?”
“It’s not that I’ve had many…” she said quietly.
Keron thought about it. “You don’t mean… In the alley?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Okay?” she said. “You were my first kiss, alright? Oh stars, I am so embarrassed.”
“Why would you be embarrassed?” He tilted her chin up with his finger.
“First of all, I’m eighteen. And you don’t even like me-”
Keron snapped. “Say it again.”
“Say what? You don’t even like me?”
He leaned forward and kissed Fale hungrily. Keron cradled her shoulder under his right arm and dove his left hand into her hair, holding her head to his. Fale could smell his clean scent, hear his breath, feel his lips, her every sense heightened at once, as if awakening from a coma. He might be fantocci, but the way he kissed was all man. His lips caressed hers with a tenderness that made Fale ache. He nipped her bottom lip and pressed her mouth open to deepen his exploration of her. Fale was drowning in him. She sunk deeper with every pull of his kiss. His touch electrified her skin. When he leaned away, she was breathing heavily.
“Now say it again.”
“You don’t…”
“Do you believe it?”
“I don’t want to. I must. I- You said before-” she stammered.
“Forget before.” He brushed his scarred knuckles across her cheek.
“How?” she asked, her eyes wide. She wanted to trust him, but how could she just forget everything he’d said before?
He growled. “How do I convince you?”
“I need- I need- More? More than a few kisses.”
“Give me time to show you things are different?” he asked.
“I’ll give you all the time I have,” she promised.
“Done." He pulled her face to his and kissed her until she stifled a yawn. Then he laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her in his arms. “Go to sleep,” he said. “We can talk more tomorrow.”
“I think I like this better than talking,” she murmured.
His chest rumbled with laughter, “Me too.”
“Goodnight.”
Keron kissed the top of Fale’s head. “Goodnight.”
~*~
He lay awake thinking about how wrong he’d been about Fale. She wasn’t simply a spoiled kid who was lucky enough to grow up free of the Control Agency, and egocentric for being a Takanori warrior in training. She had definitely “sprouted.” The more he thought about the young woman in his arms, the harder it was to keep his thoughts pure. He held her to him, and she snuggled closer, trusting him to keep her safe and warm. He liked the feeling. A lot. It almost made him feel like he had choices, like a free man. That was it. Being in the little house made him feel like a real man, not a fantocci, and Fale was at the center of it all. He was surprised to realize she was the reason he felt so happy. She never had this effect on him in the past. Before now, she had just been another off-limits girl to a fantocci like Keron, one he desired but couldn’t have. Fale had come to mean something to him and he stood on a road he never thought he’d choose to travel. She turned her face toward him as she fell asleep and Keron brushed her hair back. His heart thumped heavily. When had she become so lovely? When had he started to care? Could it be she’d been what he wanted all along? He decided to stop fighting his control and see what it felt like to try to make her happy. She deserved to be happy.
Keron brushed his lips across her forehead. Maybe he deserved to be happy, too. For the first time in his memory, he was excited for tomorrow.
Chapter 9
Fale woke to the whisper soft caress of Keron’s nose tracing a long figure eight along her jaw to her ear. She smiled and stretched out her legs. The mouth at her ear nipped her lobe. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she said, surprised to find him so affectionate. She was not going to complain though; in fact, she would take advantage of whatever she could get.
“You slept late, but you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping.” He held his head up on a propped elbow.
“You were watching me sleep?”
“Not long.”
“Good. Because that’s creepy,” Fale laughed.
Sunlight shone through the window of the little bedroom in their tiny house. It was too easy for Fale to pretend she lived here as Mrs. Palmquist with Keron.
Whoa. This is so “not happening” as Izzy would say. Fale tensed slightly and smoothed the quilt over her stomach.
Keron sensed her abrupt change in demeanor. “Should we find coffee and flatcakes?”
“Definitely,” Fale agreed.
After getting dressed and gorging themselves with breakfast, Fale walked around the house. “I don’t know what to do,” she lamented. She felt awkward being alone with him in the small house. Married. What was Izzy going to say? She’d probably be mad she never got to be the maid of honor at their wedding. Fale sighed inwardly, Nelson would never be able to give her away now.
Keron mumbled from the kitchen, “Gonna fix this stupid faucet.”
Sitting in front of her weapons, Fale tenderly unsheathed her long sword from its saya. Her injured right hand shook, but she held on, using her bicep to bear the weight, and swung. Her sword clattered to the floor. Fale picked it up quickly, touching the new divot in the dusty wood flooring with her toe.
Oops.
She got out her wiping cloth and cleaned the blade from guard to tip. Then she used the same motion with her oiling cloth, careful not to touch the blade with her fingers. Nelson said finger oils would rust her blades. She did the same with her short sword.
Then Fale took a weapon in each hand. She stepped out into the room where she had space to move. The long sword in her right hand and the short sword in her left, she sank into a low crouch. Meeting an imaginary on-coming offender, she began to circle her swords slowly, feeling their weight as an extension of her arm. Fale made downward arcs with one arm and upward sweeps with the other one; coming back around with her own momentum to slash diagonally in a ballet of jewel steel. She pulled her deadly long sword from her hip straight out, cutting upward, twisting her hips back slightly and finishing her opponent with the short sword. Fale’s body began to heat up as she moved faster and pushed herself harder. It felt so good; when had she last trained? She moved lithely and with purpose, her routine speeding up as she moved to more powerful strikes and cuts. Her anger grew as she imagined practicing deadly strikes on the ones who took Nelson from her. Fale pushed on. She became so engorged by the rage of the past few days, she barely felt her grip faltering. Finally, a powerful swing threw her sword from her hand. The vibrations rang like a dark melody throughout the small Palmquist house as the deadly weapon stuck several inches in the wall.
“Damn.”
She stood, feet apart, shoulders back with her short sword, breathing deeply like a warrior on the battlefield. Fale looked over to the kitchen to see Keron watching her. “You know that’s creepy, right?" She laughed at him.
He smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Never seen you with swords before.”
“They were always used in the training center,” she said. “I didn’t carry them.”
“I can see why." He looked at the sword sticking out of the wall.
“Yeah. Be glad it wasn’t you," she said dryly. “I have an injury, you know. I don’t usually do that.”
“You should let me see your hand.”
“I have to clean my blades again and put them away.”
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“No.” She looked at him incredulously.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, putting his hands up.
Fale retrieved her blade from the wall and wiped it down, nearly dropping it twice more and finally got it into its saya. She put the rest of her
weapons away while Keron checked drawers and cupboards. Even though she wondered what he was looking for, Fale was feeling proud and didn’t ask.
“Aha,” he said. “Wanna play some cards?”
Fale managed to look mildly interested. She really didn’t know if she had the coordination to hold a hand of cards after the strain of sword training. “If you want to,” she said.
“You’re acting weird. Let me see your hand.”
“No, it’s healing fine. You’ll just mess it up.”
He laughed. “How can I possibly mess it up?" Keron sat down on the couch next to her and demanded her hand. “Give it to me.”
“Fine,” Fale spat, thrusting out her bandaged hand. He unwrapped the gauze to find her two middle fingers looking like purple and blue sausages. The torn skin on her knuckles was angry and red around yellowish scabs.
“Your fingers are still bruised, and they’re getting infected,” he said.
“Really?” she asked sarcastically. Crap. She had been hoping it would heal on its own. Being taken care of wasn’t so bad, but it stung her pride.
Keron ignored her. “You need to soak your hand to get some of the infection out." He brought her a bowl of hot saltwater and made her immerse the hand for thirty minutes. After cleaning it with some clear alcohol, he smeared what little salve he could find in the kit over her knuckles and re-wrapped her hand.
“Better?" he asked.
“I’d rather drink the alcohol,” she said sourly.
Keron laughed. “I know a few drinking games,” he said mischievously.
Fale smiled. “Maybe a few…”
They had a few drinks, but Fale was restless. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Let’s make a plan. Nelson is gone and we need to find him. Where could he be?”
“It would be easier if we knew who had him.” Keron stacked and shuffled the cards alternately with the ease of a gambler.
“I guess you’re right, but I have to do something. I’m going to make a list of all the places I can think of that Nelson went to, all the people he knew, and the students he told me about.” Fale got paper and graphite from her bag. “There’s gotta be something there, a connection I’m not making.”
Keron took the paper from her. “You talk and I’ll write.”
They spent the afternoon together, the two of them coming up with ideas and trying to connect one to another. They had a meager lunch of fruit, meat, and crackers, then were at a loss of things to list.
“What now?” Keron asked.
“Now we figure out how to inconspicuously search these places,” Fale said. “We should go at night, I think.”
“Fale. Nelson said you were in danger. Can we afford to go back to the city?”
“We have to. There is no choice. This is why we have fake bands. Lucien knew we would need them,” Fale’s impassioned speech echoed through the house.
“Okay.”
“Okay? So, what now?” she asked.
“You’re the one ready to bound out the door. I think we should wait to see if these people show up. How can they find us, if we aren’t here?”
Fale felt awkward. It was suddenly quiet, and she remembered they were here alone together, married. She didn’t have the first idea how to do this. She was never taught to be domestic. Never having a mother, she was at a disadvantage. There hadn’t been any women around the house to watch or learn from.
Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door. Fale and Keron stared at each other. She felt instantly vulnerable. Keron held up a hand and nodded to her, then went to the door.
“Who is it?" he called.
“The coterie representation. We’re here to see Brock and Bryla Palmquist." Keron opened the door slowly. There stood two unassuming- looking men of similar height, both with brown hair, one graying. The one with deeper brown hair wore horn-rimmed glasses and a black suit with a bow tie. The other man had silver streaks in his hair and wore a distinguished navy pin-striped suit with a red tie. He held his hand out to Keron. “Hello. I’m Lucien, and this is Ash.”
“I’m, ah, Brock,” Keron said.
The man smiled. “Very good. May we come in? We have a lot to discuss.”
“Sure." Keron opened the door to let them in.
Fale came out of the kitchen and looked the men up and down. How were they not muddy? Lucien and Ash walked comfortably to the living area and sat in two chairs facing the couch. “Do sit, my dear,” Lucien said to Fale.
“Did you know my father?” Fale decided to forego manners and get to the crux of why they were here.
“He was my brother in the coterie.” Lucien smiled warmly at her. Like he knew her.
Fale sat next to Keron on the couch, “What’s a coterie?”
Ash looked taken aback. “They didn’t tell you anything?”
“No,” Fale said irritably. “No one told me anything. Kinda like now." She crossed her arms.
Lucien’s face softened. “You’re just like him. Your father. He was a stubborn mage. A family of mages is called a coterie. Make sense?”
“Kind of,” Fale said.
“No,” Keron said.
Lucien was patient. “What don’t you understand?”
“What is a mage?” Keron asked.
“Tell me more,” Fale pleaded.
“Your father was a master mage and was tasked with an important destiny. I’ll get to that later. When he was found out, your mother’s life was taken from him, then he sacrificed his own life to make sure you and your key remained safely together.”
“So, do you know who killed them?" Fale’s voice shook.
“Yes, but first you must know who you are.”
Relief swept over Fale. At last she would be getting some answers. She’d waited years to know her heritage and who was responsible for destroying her family.
“I must be part-mage if my father was. It must be why Lisle says I have dormant power.”
“What the hell is a mage?” Keron asked.
“Someone born with natural magic abilities,” Ash offered.
Keron laughed. “Like hocus pocus?”
Ash’s smile fell. “Like this.” He held out his hand and flames danced in his palm.
“Don’t be arrogant, Ash,” Lucien admonished. He looked back to Fale. “You are a mage, yes, but in a most unusual way. Are you familiar with the stories of Princess Effailya? She was also a mage, an immensely powerful one, who lived a long time ago," Lucien said.
“Yes, I’m named after her. And I read a little," Fale said. “She lost a political battle and was banished, right? My key starts a machine to free her people somehow?”
“I’m afraid you’ve been reading the ‘accepted’ version of the story. The old fairy tales are actually closer to the truth.”
“Oh, I have one, but we never really paid attention to the part about the princess because we were so focused on the key." Fale got up and dug through her bag by the door, finding the notecards in the pocket. She brought them back and handed them to Lucien. “Is this right?” she asked.
He read the story and nodded. “It’s a good paraphrase.”
“What does it say?” Keron asked.
“You’re the one who wanted to skip it,” Fale said.
“I was falling asleep from exhaustion,” Keron said sharply. “It’s been a busy couple of days.”
Ash cleared his throat.
Lucien said, “If I may: ‘Once upon a time there was a princess of mages, named Effailya, who loved science. She was beautiful and enraptured a wizard named Gryndoll. As the best of friends, together they explored different dimensions with a device she invented, but she did not love him.
One day, Gryndoll asked the princess to marry him, but when she said no, he was so unhappy he created and proposed a set of laws to rival hers. Though she was the princess, the people divided between them and Gryndoll sent Effailya and her followers to another dimension to st
ay forever.
On her deathbed, Effailya used her gifts to return to Algea and try to free her people. She would have to reawaken the mechanical device she created when the time was right to fight for her people. Some say Effailya found the key to the machine, but her people remain in Garrith. No one knows what happened to the key. Without it, her people might remain banished forever.’ But it is not the end of the story, is it, my dear? What’s your first question?”
“I didn’t know other dimensions existed. Was it common to travel to those ‘other’ places?” Fale asked.
“No, I don’t believe so, but it was a time of magic and Effailya was a pioneer.” Lucien watched her.
“You don’t think it’s my destiny to free her people, do you?" Fale understood a need to help the ones trapped in a dimension not their own, but she didn’t feel responsible for being their hero.
“Is Fale a direct descendant or something?” Keron asked suspiciously.
Lucien and Ash looked at each other. “Fale is Princess Effailya.”
“Not possible,” Keron said. “No way.”
“Wait a minute,” Fale said, holding her hand out toward Keron’s chest. “How?” She shook with the knowledge that it could be possible. Could it be why she felt so old sometimes? Could it be why her heart ached for unknown reasons? She wanted to know. It could explain the deep desires she had for unknown dream places.
“When the princess returned to Algea, she became an infant to a family of mages who knew she was coming. They made sure she knew her destiny. Essentially, Effailya returned to Alloy City as Vivyan and found the key to the machine from the wizards, but the time wasn’t right; so, she left it for her great- granddaughter Corrine, who was herself, but the time still had not come. Then Corrine passed the key to her great granddaughter Fale, who was herself,” Ash said.
Lucien continued, “Every life cycle, Effailya lives in a new body. I know this is a lot to understand in one conversation. Each time you turn 18, you gain the gift of sight and it is our job to inform you of your heritage; especially now, since you have not been brought up in our ways. So, you will know when the time is right to set free the prisoners in Garrith.”
The Key of F: a young adult fantasy romance (Freedom Fight Trilogy Book 1) Page 13