Wilde's Fire

by Krystal Wade

“Morgandy Domhnaill,” Mom says at once, removing her hand from his arm.

  “Does it have any family meaning?”

  “It’s a name a Seer gave me to use.”

  Yes, my mom knows a lot. I’m curious to hear about myself, about my future, about her life here, and about so many things she has never shared. Morgandy Domhnaill. I wonder what it means, or if it means anything at all.

  After our short discussion, we enter the dining room for dinner, then take seats at the table in the middle. Flanna serves the food Enid prepared. We eat, but everyone is curious about the new arrivals. On my second bite of chicken, Saidear and Tristan walk up, eyeing Brit and Mom the way they did me when I first arrived.

  “Saidear, Tristan, this is my sister, Brit, and my mom, Morgandy.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I am glad you made it to safety.” Saidear offers his hand.

  Mom takes it, and he kisses her fingers, just above the knuckles.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” She smiles up at him.

  “Kate, your sister is identical to you. You are both beautiful.” There may be a little hope in Tristan’s voice. He looks from Brit to me. A relationship between them will never happen; he’s fifteen, she’s nineteen, and way too wild for him.

  I grin. “Thank you, Tristan.”

  The two men walk toward the kitchen and are met by Lann. All the soldiers in the room look at him. He whispers something to Saidear and Tristan, then motions for them to follow.

  Chairs creak. Bowls clack onto the tables. The soldiers vacate the room, trailing behind Lann.

  “Are they going to watch the perimeter?”

  Arland nods. “Yes.”

  I lean next to Arland’s ear. “Why isn’t Perth going?”

  “We do not trust him to fight.”

  Rubbing my hands together, I stare at the spot where Saidear and Tristan stood. He’s just a kid. Please take care of them, God.

  Arland places his hand over mine. “You are worried for Tristan?”

  “I’m worried for all of them … .”

  Marcus and Anna—who stayed in the dining room after the other children went to bed—run up to our table.

  “Do your mother and sister handle swords as well as you do?” Marcus asks, chest heaving, smile stretched wide across his face.

  Setting my concern aside, I lean forward and take his hands in mine. “They have not had the same good instructor, like I have, so we’ll see how well they do.”

  “Marcus, you know Kate is the best sword fighter around. No one could ever be as good as her,” my little cheerleader says.

  “I don’t know about that.” I pat Anna’s head.

  “Marcus, Anna, I think you two should get to bed,” Arland says.

  “Yes, sir. See you at training tomorrow.” Anna waves goodbye, grabs her brother, and they disappear.

  Perth makes his way over. When he steps in front of us, Mom and Arland both stiffen.

  The tension is so thick, I could make a wall with it.

  “I am glad you made it. The way Kate moped around without you, it was as though she had lost all hope. How did you arrive here?” my future husband asks.

  I shudder.

  “It was a difficult trip. A lot of lives were lost along the way, but we persevered and have finally reunited with our Kate.” Mom’s tone is lined with formality.

  She regards Perth with the same indifference the others do. I’m not sure how she recognizes him—he didn’t introduce himself—but from her pursed lips and balled fists, I’d say Mom knows who he is. I’m going to need to learn how everyone differentiates between the Ground Dwellers and our own kind. He looks like a regular guy to me—albeit creepy.

  “It is nice to meet you, Mrs… . ?”

  Mom’s face is cold, as she narrows her eyes. “Mrs. Domhnaill.”

  “Domhnaill?” He shakes his head. “You are from The Meadows?”

  “Yes, and we need rest, not questioning.” Mom turns away from him. “So, if you will excuse us?”

  Perth nods as he returns to his seat in the corner of the dining room. His cold stare pierces through me.

  Chills run up my arms. “I have to head up to the stables. We haven’t had a chance to feed the chickens or milk the cows today,” I say, bouncing my legs. I need to get away from my betrothed.

  “Can you excuse Kate for tonight?” Mom asks Arland. “I’d like to speak to you both.”

  Arland places a hand over my knee. “Of course, she may be excused.”

  I realize I should talk to my mom, but I made a promise to a friend. “If I don’t help, Flanna will be stuck with more than her fair share of responsibility. It’s already late. I’m not going to walk away from that.”

  “Thank you, Kate.” Flanna trills from the kitchen.

  Mom relents. “Go ahead. I will check in on Brad while you’re working. But when you finish, I really need to speak to you both … privately.”

  “Oh. Should I take you to Brad first? Is there something you can do for him now?” I push my chair back and get up, ready to run to my best friend’s side. My visits with him have been more and more difficult. Watching Brad stagnate in the same condition for weeks—barely breathing, not improving—is miserable. My mom offers him a chance to come out of this, and I want so much for Brad to heal.

  Mom stands, then rubs her thumb along my cheekbone. “I’m going to check on him, dear. Tonight is not the night to work on his illness. The healing will require a lot of time and energy. Go ahead and take care of the animals.”

  “Okay.” Hanging my head, I walk away, thinking of my friend and his smile, his laughter—how upset he’s going to be when he finds out I’m with Arland. I glance over my shoulder. “And I promise we’ll talk when I finish.”

  Flanna grabs the back of my shirt as I pass through the kitchen. “We have enough goat milk.”

  “Got it,” I say, continuing toward the corridor.

  I have my sister, my mother, and my Arland. I have friends, a purpose. Forcing a smile, I climb the stairs. This may not be what I had planned for my life, but I’m certainly surrounded by a lot more love than I ever have been. The only thing lacking is helping Brad and getting him home, but the way my mom spoke, that may not be as difficult as we thought.

  Once in the stables, I feed the chickens, give them water, and collect their eggs. I hum Flanna’s tune and dance around while I move on to the cows.

  Milk squirts into the wooden pail, filling it halfway. Smells of hard work—of home—set me at ease. Having Mom and Brit here takes away some of the emptiness, some of the concern.

  Straw rustles behind me.

  Looking over my shoulder, I see Arland approach, smiling. He wraps his arms around my waist, then puts his face next to mine. Warmth radiates from him, comforting me even more.

  Tingles rush down my arms and legs. “H-hi.”

  “Are you going to stop milking the cow, or are you going to make me wait?” he asks, enticing me to get up with his seductive voice.

  I keep milking the cow, but my concentration wanes; milk sprays the ground a few times. “I’m going to make you wait.”

  “I will check the horses.” Arland holds onto me for a moment longer, then unclasps his hands and leaves me with the cows.

  He mutters something to Bowen about helping me get through stable duties, and I laugh.

  Milk sloshes in the pail as I carry it to the shelf outside the cow’s stall. I set the pail down, then walk toward the goats. Flanna said we still have milk remaining from yesterday, so I don’t have to do anything other than check their food and water.

  Wearing a grin that says his mind is in places it’s never gone before, Arland blocks my entrance to their stall. “I have already taken care of them.”

  My heart races as he takes slow, exciting steps toward me and closes the space between us. He removes the feedbag from my hands, places it on the ground, then pulls me against him.

  I rest my head on his chest and listen to him breathe. “Thank you
, again.”

  “You are an incredible woman.”

  I lift my head and stare into his eyes. “You’re just saying that because I saved your life.”

  “I say that because you have no idea how strong you are.” Arland pulls away from me, takes my hand, and leads me to the corner between the goats and horses, where the straw is stored. “I have a feeling we will not be allowed much alone time, now that your mother and sister are here.”

  “We all have to share a room, but you and I can still find alone time.”

  Swarms of butterflies take over the free space in my stomach. Being with Arland has been important to both of us; I cannot imagine losing that. I suddenly want more of him, but what if I never get more? What if all there is for us is a cruel war and then death, or a forced marriage to someone who scares me? Thoughts I’ve never had while awake creep into my mind

  “We are alone now,” I say, almost too quietly for even me to hear.

  His lips graze my neck. “We are.”

  I let my hands roam up his chest, down his back, and to his waist. Tugging at his hips, I pull him closer. Breathing is almost impossible. I gasp for air. “There is no reason for anyone else to come up here tonight.”

  “No, there is not.” He whispers in my ear, then kisses it.

  Chills course over my skin.

  “I do have to talk to my mom, soon, though,” I say, from the logical part of my brain. It’s running through reasons why we shouldn’t be up here, doing this, right now.

  “So, we do not have much time.” He crushes his lips onto mine.

  In a hungry need for more, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean into him.

  “Not nearly enough.” I barely get out the words between kisses. All logic escapes me, replaced by desire, excitement, love.

  “We will have to hurry then.”

  We fall back into the fresh straw.

  Arland presses his body against mine.

  Drawing my leg up over his waist, I throw my head back as he kisses a line down my neck. He runs his hands down my shirt, finds and loosens my belt, and then works his way up under my clothes. He caresses my bare skin with the tips of his fingers. Tingles run down my stomach; my breathing becomes rapid. He grabs my thigh, securing my leg around him. Trailing my fingers down his chest, I find and tear at the button on his pants.

  Arland stops kissing me and smiles, so big, so warm, I cannot possibly wait any longer for this. I pull my shirt over my head, then pull his off.

  Arland’s eyes widen, then he kisses my chest softly, roaming down to my stomach.

  Fire rages in me. I look down at our bodies pressed against each other; we’re both glowing in warm, golden flames, and not the blue fire that engulfed us during the fight.

  Arland sits back on his haunches, teases his finger down the middle of my chest, but stops at my waist.

  I bite my lower lip and squirm from his tickling touch.

  “Is this okay?” he asks, arching his eyebrow as he hooks his finger under my pants.

  I nod.

  Smiling, he leans down, creating explosions of heat everywhere our bare skin touches. He nibbles my earlobe and fumbles with the button on my pants—

  “A-hem!”

  “Not now, Flanna.” Arland yells, voice raised and harsh.

  “I am so sorry to interrupt, but Mrs. Wilde is growing impatient waiting for Kate. I figured you two were very busy, so I offered to come collect Kate for her while you finish the remaining duties,” Flanna says, her voice heavily soaked in sarcasm.

  The muscles in Arland’s jaw contort; he wipes his hand over his face, erasing the angry expression.

  Warmth fills my cheeks. Grabbing my shirt, I drape it in front of me. “Please, tell her we’re finished, and I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Make sure you pick the straw out of your hair first, Kate.” Flanna turns on her toes and bounces out of the room.

  Arland pulls straw from my tangled locks. “What is it you were saying about alone time?”

  “That we are going to have to make a point of sneaking off as much as possible, now that my family is here.” I slip my shirt over my head.

  Arland does the same, and I tighten my belt, then kiss him one last time before we head downstairs.

  * * * * *

  The dining area is empty. Walking into our room, Arland and I find Mom and Brit sitting on the bed, waiting to talk to us.

  He closes the door and follows behind me.

  The way Mom looks at us, it’s as if she knows we were making out. I hope the chagrin doesn’t show on my face. Arland and I had so many opportunities to love, but now that we’re ready, we have roommates.

  This isn’t fair.

  “Kate, I have so much to tell you about yourself, and this place. I’m sure Arland has spoken a great deal about our history and your place in this war, as much as he could without knowing your entire prophecy.” She looks at Arland; he stiffens, then she re-directs her attention to me. “You see, Kate, I cannot even tell you all of your prophecy. If you know too much, it could hinder you from making the correct choices. There are some things I can share with you, and I will certainly always be here for you along the way, but in no way will I be able to give the full prophecy, until this war has ended.”

  “My father has shared my entire prophecy with me. Knowledge is power. He wanted me to have as much power as possible in this fight.” Arland’s tone is incredulous.

  “I highly doubt that, Arland Maher. Your father might have convinced you he gave your entire prophecy to you, but the Kimball I know would never have done such a thing. If you knew everything about yourself, it would not have taken you so long to figure out you were the key,” she says.

  Arland whispers Solas, then transfers his flame to another candle by the bed.

  Brit watches him, eyes wide.

  “Go on.” He takes a seat on the bed and leans against the wooden headboard. It’s clear Mom has his interest.

  I sit in front of him, then cross my legs.

  “I don’t even need to ask; I know the two of you are in love. I was aware of your relationship, prior to Kate’s birth. Your love was part of the reason her father and I made the deal with Kimball for you two to marry.”

  Oh, yeah, she definitely knows we were making out. My cheeks are so hot I need a fan.

  “Wait, what? You didn’t tell me anything about marriage, Mom,” Brit says, jumping up from her cot along the wall.

  “I’ll tell you about it later, Brit.” I don’t want to think about how I’m not allowed to be with Arland, and I don’t really want to tell Brit about it later, either, but I will. She deserves to know as much as I do—and more.

  “No, Kate, I will fill in your sister. You have too many other things to focus on.”

  “But—”

  “The dreams you’ve had have all been premonitions of your future. It doesn’t mean they’ll all come true, but portions of them might.”

  Abandoning my concerns for filling in Brit, I grip Arland’s hand tighter.

  My sister looks between us; she knows how much losing him would hurt me.

  She’s heard all the details, from me, about my dreams.

  “Are you telling me Arland is going to die? He died in almost every one of my dreams.” I know they can come true; I saw the vision of the hound in the forest only minutes before the daemon tried to attack Arland. What am I going to do? How will I protect him? I haven’t had a chance to love him enough, yet.

  He rubs my shoulders, and I lean into him for support.

  “Everyone dies, Kate, but when it will happen, your prophecy didn’t say. What I do know is that your pure, unbridled love is what fuels your power. It’s necessary for you to be together.” She pauses and smiles at the two of us. “Now, we’ve discussed it, and Brit and I are going to move in with Flanna and Lann and leave you two alone.”

  “What? Mom, you don’t have to do that!” What is it she and Brit think Arland and I have been doing? Actually, I know exactly
what it is, because we were so close to doing it in the stables. Mom wants me to be with Arland. Having her push me into a relationship doesn’t seem right, but he and I are both adults—and I have no doubts about my love for him.

  “I’ve seen how strong the two of you are together. You remind me of your father and me.” She looks well past me; her normal pink hue pales, leaving her as white as a snow-capped mountain.

  I’ve never heard her speak of my dad before. Sadness pangs in my gut. I don’t know anything about him … I don’t know anything about her.

  “Your sister and I are not going to do anything that might come between you.”

  I guess Arland and I won’t have to worry about our alone time. My cheeks warm from the memory of us in the straw; at least we have a bed, now.

  “Before I tell you any more about your future, we need to discuss what to do about Brad. His condition is not good, Kate, but there is still hope.”

  Hope. Thank God—or the gods—for it. “Arland said he’s never known anyone to live through an attack like that.”

  “It’s true. Brad should not be alive, but he is, and that’s a good sign. Kate, for years I prayed you would see you didn’t love him. I knew the day would come when you had to say goodbye, and I knew it was going to be hard, if you hadn’t figured that out yet.”

  “But I do love him, Mom.”

  Brit glares at me.

  ”He’s my best friend, and I do love him, for all the memories we’ve shared through the years,” I correct myself.

  The nasty looks don’t stop.

  “What?”

  Brit scoots herself to the middle of the bed, then crosses her legs, mimicking me. “I’m glad you’ve found someone else. Brad was too possessive of you. Do you remember that guy you had a crush on in the ninth grade?”

  “Mark Evans?” I ask, once again remembering my biology lab partner.

  “Yeah. His sister Lucy and I became good friends, over the last year. She asked me if I knew what Brad did to her brother. I had no idea what she was talking about, so I said no. Lucy said Brad approached Mark after school one day and asked if he liked you. Mark said yes, and told Brad he already asked you to the winter social. Well, supposedly, Brad punched him.”

  I cannot help but laugh. “So, you mean to tell me Brad fought off every guy who was ever interested in me?”