Wilde's Fire

by Krystal Wade

  He squeezes my hand as he leans into me. “Think about how much better you will feel when Brad is home.”

  I nod and return to concentrating on the fire, but all I think about is how much Brad hurt me, how many times he lied to me. Instead of feeling better, my chest tightens. Tears streak my face. I open my eyes and stare at him. My heart is heavy.

  Mom watches me snivel like a baby. “Will you all, please, wait outside for a moment?”

  Arland releases my hand and kisses my forehead.

  “Except for you, Arland,” she says.

  Cadman and Kegan follow Flanna from the room. She glances at me before closing the door, giving me a reassuring smile.

  “I know you’re upset with Brad, but Kate, you must learn to control your emotions. If you can control your emotions, you can control the magic,” Mom says.

  I sigh. “I’m trying.”

  But, I don’t know how to control my emotions. My best friend lied to me forever, but his actions don’t genuinely matter because I have Arland … and love.

  “You need to try harder.” Mom straightens her tunic, then clasps her hands behind her back. “I’ll be outside. Come get us when you’re ready.”

  She closes the door.

  I’m trapped, watching the boy who used to be my friend while he breathes.

  Arland observes me staring at Brad. “Would you like for me to leave, as well?”

  I lay my head in Arland’s lap, and he plays with my tangled hair. “No.”

  My grief over Brad must hurt. “I’m sorry if I’m being selfish.”

  “Kate.” Arland laughs. “You have not once acted selfishly. You trusted him. He took advantage of that trust, and you are hurt.”

  I stare up into his understanding eyes and thank the gods for giving him to me. I don’t want to hurt Arland, don’t want to make it appear as though I’m confused over who I love. I don’t ever want to lose what we share.

  “I have to do this.”

  Arland leans down and kisses my temple. “You can do this.”

  From some unknown place, a tiny bit of courage makes its way into my soul. I stand, ready to take this on. “Will you tell them they can come back in?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He opens the door and motions for everyone to rejoin us.

  I point at the chairs around the bed. “Sit around him. Just like before.”

  When everyone takes their places, I think, not about Brad, not about the horrible things he’s done, but about love. I think about my family, Arland, my desire to be alone with him—without distractions—and my desire for this war to be over, and for us all to be free.

  Please, God.

  On a gust of air, the sweet smell of honeysuckle drifts into the room, bringing the brilliant colors of magic. Thousands of sprites overtake the space above Brad’s bed. Their tiny faces observe his mangled body.

  Flanna and Cadman stare wide-eyed at the millions of little beings. They haven’t experienced old magic the way Arland and I have. It protected them before, but now, with the beings filling the room and moving in the air all around us, the soldiers are touched by magic.

  Blue flames cover everyone’s bodies.

  A few times, Kegan leans forward and tries to free his hands, as if he wants to reach out to touch the little beings—like I tried to in the forest—but Mom shakes her head, and he must think the better of it. I don’t know how she stays focused; the sprites are intriguing.

  “Will you heal him, please?” My question brings everyone’s attention to me.

  Sprites fly around each other, whispering things impossible for our ears to hear. Confusion fills their faces.

  I lock eyes with my mom. I’m worried this might not work, worried Brad really might die if magic cannot help him, worried he will die and I’ll still be mad at him, but her eyes remain hopeful.

  The beings stop communicating with each other. At least an hour has passed since they entered the room. A swarm of blue sprites, shaped like sheets of flowing silk, covers every inch of Brad’s skin and heals him before our eyes. The blisters covering his body, and the remaining fever, fade away, but he’s still not moving.

  When Mom first spoke of her plan, I didn’t think it would work. But I thought if it did, the process wouldn’t be this slow. The magic’s lethargic reaction stops, and, as fast as they showed up, the sprites disappear into the earth.

  Our group breaks our linked hands, and the fire on us diminishes.

  My shoulders slump. “They didn’t seem to know what to do.”

  “I don’t believe they did. They have been asleep since well before Darkness entered the land. Magic hasn’t had the opportunity to heal any wounds of this nature,” Mom says.

  “His fever and blisters are gone, though, ma’am. If we give him the antidote to the sleep he is under, do you believe he will be okay?” Kegan heads toward the dresser along the back wall.

  Mom lifts one of Brad’s eyelids, then takes his pulse. “It is possible that will work, but if he is not completely healed, it could cause him more trauma. We should take a break. We’ll let the magic rest for a while. I need to think some things over.”

  We all leave the room. Everyone looks somewhat deflated, me more than anyone else. It’s my friend who lies in that bed—someone who was my friend.

  He may not have ever been my friend.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I am going to retrieve your sister from the training facility.” Arland leaves me with Flanna in the kitchen.

  “Okay,” I say.

  I refuse to meet anyone’s eyes, refuse to talk, refuse to stop thinking about all the years of betrayals. Mom and Brad kept everything from me. At least Mom has some half-explained reasoning, but Brad? What explanation could he offer for beating up a guy I was genuinely interested in? What possessed him to hide his true feeling from me?

  Flanna hands me some tomatoes and asks me to chop them for stew.

  I grab a knife from the counter and set to work.

  “What is wrong with you this time?” she asks, pouring a bucket of water into the pot over the fire.

  “I think it’s me.”

  “What do you think is you?”

  “I’m so torn over Brad. I want him to wake up, and for us to be friends. At the same time, I’m mad at him, and want him to go home so I never see him again. I wonder if I’m the reason magic isn’t responding well.” I’m not really sure that’s the reason, but I’m trying to make sense of it all.

  Steam rises into the air.

  Flanna takes a deep breath. “I see. Get over it, Kate. I talked to your mother and sister last night. Brad has not been good to you. He is not from here. He has to go home. Besides, you have everything you need.”

  I slice off the tomato stem. “Before we arrived here, almost every moment in my life had Brad in it. So, every time I think of my past, he’ll be there.”

  Flanna gathers the chopped vegetables, then places them in a bowl. “Try to make amends with him before you convince him to leave.”

  If I talk things through with Brad, maybe I won’t feel so guilty about sending him away. He’ll have to understand we aren’t from the same world. Flanna always knows what to say to make me feel better. “Hey, what was your prophecy?”

  Flanna dumps the tomatoes in the pot over the fire. “It is about time you asked me that. The only part of interest to you is that I become Confidant to Light.”

  “Well, I didn’t need a prophecy to tell me you were my friend. What about the part you don’t think I’ll be interested in?”

  “I am still trying to figure it out.” She’s obviously not willing to divulge any more information.

  Seems to be a common thing. Everyone’s prophecies must be horrible. Arland’s father never gave Arland his entire prophecy. Mom won’t give me mine, and now Flanna won’t share.

  We have lunch ready to serve as the first waves of children enter into the dining area with Arland, Brit, and Lann. My sister
runs down the stairs and over to where I’m standing in the kitchen, excitement written all over her face.

  She’s breathless, but smiling ear-to-ear. “I hit the bull’s-eye five times in a row!”

  “That’s awesome. I couldn’t even get the arrow to the target.”

  “I know.” She looks over her shoulder at Arland. “He told me.”

  I scowl.

  Crossing his arms, he shrugs and smiles.

  As punishment, I send him away with bowls of stew to take out to the children.

  He sets the food in front of Kent and Muriel, who recently came to one of our private training sessions. They’re a couple years older than Marcus and Anna, and are fantastic sword fighters. Arland and I train Kent and Muriel a lot more often than we had expected. He said they might be ready to go out on scouting trips soon. I’m not as fond of the idea as he is, but it is the world we live in … as everyone always reminds me.

  When the children see Arland, their faces light up. He swipes at the air a few times, like he’s fighting something, and then falls over backward, gripping his heart. They laugh, and I find myself laughing, too.

  Kent leans his head around Arland and waves.

  I wave back.

  “Will I see you again in training tomorrow?” Lann asks Brit, bringing my attention to the people standing in front of me.

  Brit rocks on her toes, then smiles again. “Yep, first thing in the morning.”

  Lann bows. “Hello, Kate.”

  “Hello, Lann,” I say, mimicking his formal tone.

  He’s the only person here who treats me like I’m some sort of queen, but I’m glad Brit found something to make her happy. I couldn’t handle her being jealous of everything I do.

  Once Lann is about ten paces away, she gushes over him. He’s so cute, he’s a great teacher, he’s never seen such a natural shot, blah, blah. I would love to tell her to cool it, but what kind of hypocrite would that make me? Instead, I nod and agree at all the right times. Maybe something will happen between them, maybe it won’t, but all I know is, I feel uncomfortable around Lann.

  We finish lunch as Mom comes from Brad’s room to gather our group, including Brit this time. Flanna brought Mom a bowl of stew earlier, but I don’t think she ate much. Lost in thought, she didn’t even look up when Flanna opened the door.

  We leave the kitchen in the hands of Enid and go to try to save Brad, again.

  Arland takes my hand as we walk down the hall. “I do not think Brad is my only competition.”

  My heart races. “Who else?”

  The corner of his mouth twists into a wry smile. “I do believe Kent might have a crush on you.”

  “Oh! Well, then, you definitely have some competition. He is extremely handsome.”

  “I guess I will have to watch my back.” Arland puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. “Are you still nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  We enter the room and take our places around the bed, in almost the same order as before—Brit now stands next to Mom—then set to work again. Taking a few deep breaths, I close my eyes, calm myself, squeeze Arland’s hand, and squeeze Brad’s. I try to control my emotions, the way Mom said I should, try to control the magic without having to pray. I search inside myself, search for the strength, for the knowledge of how to control the power.

  I think of love.

  When I think of love, the magic comes to me.

  Please, help me forgive Brad for the things he’s done to me.

  The fire in my core begins slowly, then, as if someone opened a door to a burning building—feeding the oxygen it needed to explode—the magic moves into Arland, Kegan, Cadman, Flanna, Brit, and finally Mom. All at once, they speak their requests for Brad to be healed.

  I open my eyes as a flood of pink sprites enters Brad’s body; they swirl around us and fill all the space in the room, then flutter toward him. Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass, before anyone dares to speak. A few sprites remain hovering over Brad and work until the rest of his blistered skin is renewed.

  In the presence of the pink sprites, I’m happy, healthy, and warm. Tingles run along my arms. My stomach is full and satisfied, my thoughts excited. Tapping my toe, I hum Flanna’s song and lean against Arland’s shoulder.

  Sprites make their way back into the earthen walls, leaving the rest of us with smiles on our faces.

  “I have changed my mind, sir,” Cadman says.

  “About what?” Arland asks.

  “I no longer wish to stop at Willow Falls. I would like to journey with you and Kate to your father’s base. In fact, wherever the two of you go, I would like to serve.”

  Everyone bursts into laughter.

  The invigorating power of the healing sprites has made Cadman want to travel with us to Wickward? I don’t blame him. I feel like running a marathon. I think the sprites may have healed our spirits and tired bodies, as well as Brad’s.

  “What’s so funny?” His voice breaks into our laughter, high-pitched and shaking.

  His question only sends us deeper into our laughter, but we should be shocked Brad is awake and talking. Not even my mom can control herself. It’s like we’ve all been drinking.

  My side aches, and I gasp for breath. I know I must compose myself. Stifling the laughter, I force myself to speak. “We’ll have to be careful the next time we summon healers. That was very … intoxicating,” I say, drawing Brad’s attention to me.

  He sits up, lunges from bed, and lands flat on his face.

  “Let me help you up,” Arland says.

  Our laughing stops. The redness in our cheeks fades and everyone takes deep breaths.

  “No. No. I’ve got it.” Brad hasn’t moved his legs in weeks. The muscles are probably deteriorated from the lack of use. He scans the room and tries to stand again, but is still too weak.

  Arland and Cadman each take one of Brad’s arms and set him back on the bed.

  “You need to take it easy for the next few days or so,” Kegan says.

  “Kate, what’s going on? Where are we? Who are all of these people? Why do I feel so confused?” Squeezing his eyes closed, Brad presses his hand to his temples.

  Kegan reaches into a drawer and pulls out a syringe. Surely, he doesn’t think drugging Brad right now is going to help with anything. The Healer reminds me of a doctor in an old folk’s home; any time the patient gets riled up, along comes a nurse ready to knock them out again.

  “No, Kegan. What he needs right now is food, a bath, and information—not more drugs,” I say.

  Kegan looks to Arland for approval.

  Arland puts up his hands. “You should listen to her or Leader Wilde.”

  I freeze. My mom’s name is supposed to be secret. Arland just revealed who she is, and I’m sure Kegan now knows who I am, too. “Arland?”

  “It is okay. Kegan and your mother are old friends.”

  “Kate?” Brad asks, gripping my arm with a sweaty hand.

  “Brad, you have been in a coma for the last”—I look at Mom and Arland; I might as well start with the easy truths—”three weeks. We discovered how to heal you today, but it’s going to take some time for your legs to get used to moving again. Cadman and Kegan will take you to the washroom to clean up. I’m sure the water will help your legs feel better. The rest of us will get some food ready.” I have a lot more confidence than I did earlier.

  “Please, don’t leave me, Kate,” he begs, squeezing my arm harder.

  I cannot begin to imagine what it must feel like to wake up from a coma and discover you’ve been sleeping for weeks. So much has happened since he went under; some of it I don’t know how to approach.

  Arland and I meet eyes; he nods.

  “I’ll stay with you. Come on.”

  “Would you like me to carry him to the washroom?” Arland asks.

  “No, I can handle this.” I mean more than just taking Brad to wash up. I can handle being honest with my friend. He deserves the truth.

  “I
know you can,” Arland says, and I know he understands.

  Brad looks at us, but I don’t give him an opportunity to say anything. Cadman and I lean our shoulders under Brad and prop his arms across our backs.

  After a few failed attempts to move his feet, he gives in and allows us to carry him. But I’m too short to lift him high enough to keep his legs from dragging behind him.

  The washroom feels like it’s millions of miles away, with half of Brad’s body weight on me. I nearly drop him when we reach the rocks surrounding the tub. I undress him down to his boxers, then move out of the way. Cadman carries Brad the remaining distance. Once Brad’s situated, Cadman excuses himself to go find clean clothes and a towel.

  I sit on the last stone step and hand Brad the bar of soap. “How are you feeling?”

  He turns the bar over in his hands. “Confused.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Minutes go by before he speaks again. His brain must really be mush if he’s having this hard a time thinking of anything.

  He looks at me, eyes lighting up. “Kissing you.”

  Our kiss has replaced every other bad memory in his head. My spirits—which were so lifted a short time ago—slink down and out of me. “Do you remember anything else? Like where we are, or why we kissed?”

  “No, but I do remember how good you made me feel.” Brad puts his wet hand on my face.

  Water drips from his arm onto the stones.

  I pull away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  My apprehension is not going to be anything, compared to the heartache Brad will have when he finds out we kissed only because we thought we were going to die, and that I’m with someone else. So I lie. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

  Cadman enters with some fresh clothes; I could kiss him for this interruption. “Arland would like to speak to you. He is waiting outside the door.”

  “I’ll be back in just a sec.” Keeping myself from running down the steps of the enclosure and out of the room is the most difficult thing I’ve had to do all day. I don’t want Brad to think I’m fleeing.

  When I’m sure the door is closed, I throw myself into Arland’s arms. “This is bad.”