by Krystal Wade
“You are right. We should rest.”
My skin is cold. I’m exhausted, hungry, empty—so many different emotions I’m failing to control.
He looks down at me. “I am sorry. I was upset at the suggestion someone had turned against us … against you, Kate. I stopped thinking about what you needed.”
I lean into his side. “It’s okay.”
Arland puts his arm across my back, soothing me with his warmth.
“Kate, the magic you have been conjuring is powerful, and it can drain you … as it did your father. You must rest after using so much of it.”
“H-how much do you know, Mom? Is anyone else I love going to die? Is it even possible for me to fight against Darkness? How long do I have to rest? How long will this pain remain in my chest? Why does it hurt so much?”
“Your path is clear.” Cadman’s voice sends a shock through me.
I didn’t even hear him come up the stairs.
“Thank you, Cadman.” Mom calls over her shoulder, then returns her gaze to me. “The pain will go away, Kate. These things take time. And tonight is not the night to discuss your prophecy.”
Arland’s stomach growls. “We should eat.”
“Okay.” Although I’m hungry, the thought of eating brings on another wave of nausea.
Flanna and Brit serve us stew in the dining room.
Mom goes over the details of everything that happened with the others, while keeping them away from Arland and me.
Brit catches my eyes a few times as she walks around, performing various mundane tasks I normally do. I need to talk to Brit about her voice in my head, and about Brad. Even though she wasn’t his biggest fan, she must be hurting. But I can’t. I can’t think about him, or about what happened. I’m too tired, too sick of feeling depressed to grieve over him.
Arland rests his hand on my leg, calming, but not stopping, my shaking fits. His fingers are stiff, tense. I’m sure worrying about who betrayed us is driving him crazy, but he needs rest as much as I do. While I’ve been the one conjuring the magic, he’s been using it quite well when it envelops him. He appears lost in his thoughts; his eyes are focused on something across the room.
Pushing away my bowl, I think about my dad, while Arland dabs his spoon at his food.
My dad was able to conjure old magic, maybe not the same way I do, but he was capable. What other things do I share with him? What other things made him special that I should know about? I wish I knew him, wish I could talk to him now. What would he say, watching his little girl fight daemons he saw only a few times? Would he be proud of me, or would he think I needed to be doing more, be more fearless?
Arland rubs his hand along my leg; it bounces wildly. The more I think, the more tired I become. His warm, soothing touch creates goose bumps all over my skin.
Lifting my head from my hands, I look at his face.
He gives me the same longing gaze he had in the stables yesterday, or the day before—I’ve lost track of time.
I smile at him, heart thudding rapidly. I don’t know how it’s possible for me to feel this way, after everything that’s happened, but Arland somehow drowns out all the bad and makes me happy.
“If you do not mind, Mrs. Wilde, I would like to steal Kate for the remainder of the evening.” Arland regards my mom with formality.
She and Cadman came to sit with us after Flanna and Brit went up to the stables.
“You take all the time you need to rest. We can save our discussion for tomorrow.” Mom gives me a warm smile, then returns to her quiet conversation with Cadman.
Arland leads me out to the courtyard I almost forgot existed. We haven’t come here since the first day we met. Nothing has changed, although the chestnut tree appears to be leaning a little more, and the plants growing along the walls are dried up, and with the help of a little wind, will blow away any day.
“Do you remember what I told you about this place?” Arland asks.
“It’s protected by magic,” I say, void of my normal tone of voice, shocking myself with how monotone it is.
He laughs. “Well, yes, it is protected by magic. But do you remember why we come out here, Kate?”
“To draw, after bad battles.”
Arland wants me to draw out the scenes of what happened tonight?
I’m not going to do it.
I refuse.
“No!”
He holds my gaze, eyes pleading with me.
“Kate, you loved Brad. I know you are hurting in so many different ways, and I know he caused a lot of that pain. But what you felt for him was innocent, pure.” Arland rubs my shoulders. “You need to deal with this.”
I shake my head. I’m not ready to face reality. I’m not ready to accept Brad’s gone. I don’t want to think about death. Panic bubbles in my core. I want to flee. I don’t want Brad to go up on these walls. “No! Let’s go back inside, please? I’m tired.”
“Kate,” Arland says, lifting my chin, “it will help.”
“Fine!” I grab a small twig from near my feet, draw a stick figure of Brad, then jab the twig through his chest. I glower at Arland.
“Are you happy now?”
He takes me in his arms, and I bury my face in his tunic.
“I am sorry. I should not have pressured you.”
I try to push the thoughts of Brad being stabbed out of my mind. “I’m sorry, too.”
Arland and I leave the courtyard, hand in hand. He leads us to our room, but we only stay long enough for him to grab clothes and towels. “Will you take a bath with me?” he whispers.
We haven’t bathed in days. After all the puking, the fighting, the raw meat on my bruised face, I’m disgusting. My hair is painfully tangled, my clothes are dirty, and my skin is dry. “Yes.”
Arland lights candles in the dark washroom.
I stand in the middle, so exhausted that collapsing right where I stand seems like a good option.
He kneels to untie my boots. Arland holds my legs steady as he slides the boots from my feet, then unbuttons my pants. “I am sorry.”
I stare blankly at him. “Let’s not talk about it.”
He takes my face in his palms. “Kate, you cannot ignore the pain.”
Closing my eyes, I avoid looking into his, avoid a talk I’m not ready to have, a reality I’m not sure belongs to me. “I know I have to deal with it, but not right now.”
Arland pulls my pants from my legs. His warm lips graze my knees, my thighs, and my hips as he stands back up. Lifting my shirt over my head, he trails his mouth over my bare shoulders and neck, then removes his clothes.
Arland’s touch, his kisses, weaken me and make me stronger, all at the same time. I realize how empty I’ve felt since Brad punched me, how much I need Arland’s love, his tenderness, his tiny little affections meaning more than an I want you. They mean I love you.
Lifting me, he returns his mouth to mine, and I give in to his kiss, to his lips, to his love.
When Arland sets me down again, I’m a little more awake, a little more alive, and a little less empty.
On normal nights, we bathe with our undergarments on, to save a little of our modesty, but tonight I don’t care about modesty. Now, more than ever, I understand this could be our last night alone, our last opportunity to love each other. Brad’s life was so easily taken from him. There might not be a tomorrow, or a week from now, for Arland and me. I have to love him every chance I get.
I reach around my back to unhook my bra, but he stops me.
“Not tonight,” Arland says, fastening the hooks.
A tear betrays me. I don’t want to be rejected. I want to be loved, to make this emptiness go away. “There might not be another night.”
He pushes my tangled locks away from my eyes. “Kate, there will be other nights, plenty of other nights. Someone you spent your childhood with was murdered in front of you. I know how I felt when I lost my mother. I know what an enormous amount of pain you must feel, and I know you are trying to mas
k that pain.”
“I do hurt, but I love you. I won’t regret this. Please?” I try to seduce him with my eyes, but I’m sure I failed the super-model-sexy-look class years ago.
“You have no idea how difficult this is. Please, do not beg me.”
“Please?” I break his hold on me, kiss his chest, and rub my hands down the front of his sculpted abs.
Arland takes my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length. “Please, do not mix our love with the death of your friend.”
I open my mouth to protest, then snap it shut. Arland is right, but I do want him. I want to love him. But he deserves something special. A night dedicated to him, to us. Not a night full of sadness.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking at my feet and biting my lip. I should not have been so forward with him. Ever. My constant pressuring is unfair, but then again, this world needs us to be together.
“Do not be sorry for loving me.” He returns his lips to my neck, to my shoulders, then takes my hands in his.
“You are such an incredibly strong woman.”
I don’t respond. What can I say to that? Should I say he’s incredible, too? Instead of saying anything, I press myself against the bare skin on his chest, desiring more, but not pushing.
Arland lifts me, carries me up the stairs to the stone enclosure, then sets me in the water. It’s perfect, as always. He steps in after, pulls me close, then trails his fingers along my skin.
Resting my head on his chest, I listen to his heart. At first, it’s a normal beat, but then it speeds up, returns to normal, then speeds up again.
He lets out a few deep breaths, but his heart doesn’t seem to calm.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, moving to sit in front of him. I touch the side of his face, trying to read his eyes, trying to understand what’s upsetting him.
Arland is sad, tired. The youthful look that appeared on his face on the other side of the portal has been replaced with the same rugged, worn look he always carries here.
He wipes his thumb across my black eye, without causing any pain. “I was afraid I was going to fail you at the clearing. Between Brad, the bats, and the coscarthas, I fear I am not doing enough for you. We could have all been killed tonight, if the daemons tried. Yet you saved us again. I do not deserve your protection, and you deserve better than what I am giving you.”
A lump forms in the back of my throat. How could he think he doesn’t deserve my protection? Does he think I would be better off without him? Does he think it’s possible someone else could protect me better? Even after seeing how strong we are together—when we’re connected?
My jaw falls slack.
“Are you okay?” Arland asks, appraising my changed expression.
“No. I’m scared,” I say, thinking of all the different ways Darkness might use Brad against us, thinking of the horrible images of him approaching us, covered in blood, naked, and eager to kill.
“We will get through this.” Arland has said this to me so many times already. “What are your fears about?”
“I’m scared for many reasons: for me, for you, for us, my sister, my mom. But mostly I’m scared you’re going to tell me I should find another Coimeádaí.”
Arland chuckles. “Why would I want you to be with another? I did swear to stay with you until I die, did I not?”
“You did swear, as my Coimeádaí.”
He sits up and takes my face in both of his hands. His emerald eyes burn into mine. “Kate, I will stay with you as long as you want. However you want me.”
I move closer and kiss the side of his face, teasing him. “What do you want us to be?”
“Mmm. First, I am interested in hearing what you want,” Arland says, sliding me on top of him.
“That’s not fair!”
He smiles wryly, then kisses my neck, making it impossible for me to breath, impossible for me to think, and lifting my spirit, all at once. “I think it is fair.”
“I wish we could be somewhere away from this war, doing what we want to do, when we want to do it. I don’t want to worry about daemons, saving the world, or being given away for someone else to marry … .” The smile stretching across Arland’s face stops me … and my heart.
“That all sounds very good.” His voice is deep, raspy with seduction.
“And you?”
“I will tell you later.” He’s still smiling.
I splash water at his face. “Tell me now.”
Arland shakes his head, sprinkling me with stray beads of water from the ends of his hair.
“Please,” I say.
Our mostly naked bodies press against each other. The muscles in his forearms tense, and he pulls me closer. His heart pounds against my chest.
Fire burns on us, even in the water.
“Soon.”
His lips graze my jaw while his hands roam down my back, down my legs. My skin tingles with pleasure from his touch. My body cries out to be closer to him. He moves his hands up to my face and pulls me into his lips.
We ignore a knock on the door.
Another, louder knock … .
Arland growls.
“Give you two guesses who that is,” I say, breathless.
“I need only one to know it is Flanna.”
Arland climbs from the enclosure.
I watch him take every step—watch, while biting my lower lip.
He wraps a towel around himself, then opens the door.
Flanna pops her head in, waves at me, then drops a couple fresh towels on the counter. “Thought you might need these soon. You should both get some sleep.”
With a wink, she’s gone.
Arland picks up the towels, then uses one to dry his hair.
I leave the comfort of the warm water in the stone enclosure where we have shared so many intimate moments.
Arland watches me—eyes wide and full of yearning—as I descend the stairs to get dressed. He holds open a towel and wraps me in it, squeezing me.
“You are the most beautiful creature in any world. Please, allow me to love you forever.”
Standing on my toes, I kiss his nose. “Permission granted.”
He gives a little eye-roll, then helps slip my nightgown over my head.
I slide off my wet things from under the dry gown.
We bring a couple of candles from the bathroom and set them on the table next to our bed. I lift the blankets, but Arland grabs me around the waist and pulls me into him before I crawl under the wool covers.
“I owe you an answer,” he says.
I swallow hard. “You do.”
“The worlds we grew up in are very different, Kate. What we are doing right now, what we have been doing in the washroom and in the stables, it is not accepted unless it happens between a fear céile and bean chéile.”
“What does that mean?”
Our eyes lock.
“It means I want you to be mine, and me to be yours. I want what happens between us to be allowed, accepted. I wish for you to be buried with my people after living a long, happy life together.”
“Y-you m-mean you want your original future back?” I ask, not wanting to say the words Bound, marriage, wife, husband, or anything like that.
“We would make good Leaders, a good family.”
“We would.” I’ve thought, many times, of how good Arland is with his people, with children, with me. The idea of marriage has never scared me; the idea of marrying Arland actually excites me. It seems fast for people who’ve known each other for such a short time to want to commit themselves, but this is a different world; we might not live long enough to wait, might not have continual opportunities. Flanna said that by the age of fifteen, people here usually begin families. By Encardia’s standards, we’re considered old.
“Katriona, I want to be with you forever. I want to have a million moments like this one, but I do not want you to be killed for loving me.”
“Who would kill me?” This might be all I get of Arland, ever. The thought sends
a tear racing down my cheek.
Arland wipes my face with his thumb.
With my swollen eye, I can barely see as it is, but crying makes it impossible to see anything but blurs.
“As it stands, the Ground Dwellers will likely kill me when they discover who you are, and that I have been sleeping in the same room as you, but they might also take your life if we have made love. It means too much. I should never have allowed us to get this far, Kate.”
“Because of Perth? Because I’m supposed to be Bound to him?”
He nods.
“We’ll hide. And even if we’re caught, Arland, if I die having loved you, then that’s the best death I can wish for. If I have to live a life never having loved you, then I will feel as though I haven’t lived.”
“I have failed in every attempt to protect you; I will not fail you in this way, too.” Arland grips at my waist, pulls me closer to him, making me feel as though he wants to do exactly as he says he won’t.
I am not going to be told who, how, or when I can love. I will not have Arland living a life that could end in his death—both of our deaths—for loving me.
Reaching down, I grab the bottom of my nightgown then slip it over my head, revealing my naked skin to Arland. Sitting on the bed, I ease myself onto my back, never taking my eyes from his. I’m not doing this to mask the pain of Brad, I’m not doing this to defy the Leaders of this world; I’m doing this for love.
Looking at my naked form, Arland gasps as his eyes widen.
I wait for him to lie next to me, but he just stands there, with confusion written on his face … pain … desire.
“Do you know how weak you are making me feel right now?” His tone is uncontrolled, constricted, yet excited.
“I’m not trying to make you feel weak,” I say, trying to maintain a level of dignity. I didn’t think it would take him this much deliberation. “I need to make you understand I love you, and no matter what this world wants me to do, I’m going to do what I want to do.”
Arland mutters inaudible words, stands in place, then looks up and down the length of my body. Sitting on the bed next to me, he puts his hand on my face, leans in and kisses me.