“I heard of other things; glances, words spoken, things done that were not commanded.”
Aiden’s anger was replaced by an icy shiver. It worked its way up his spine, and rested somewhere near the base of his skull.
Tadraem whispered, “Nonsense. You see what you want to see.”
Aiden listened to Tadraem, but recalled the night in the sanctuary that the humans turned to face Garren. Had Tadraem forgotten, or had he not witnessed it?
“Speak with the others if you don’t believe me.”
Tadraem stepped away from the man, cautiousness in his smile. “The wardens, I assume?”
He nodded, pulling his worn sleeve back onto his shoulder from where Tadraem had taken hold of him. “They’ve found something now. I couldn’t get close enough to see what it was, but they’re hovering around it in the outer courts.”
Aiden pushed past the man, out to the hall. He heard Tadraem speak with the guard concerning Micah before turning to catch up with Aiden, both of them rushing to the human courts.
When they got there, Tadraem held out his hands and yelled above the noise. “Step aside!” The wardens shifted aside, making room for Aiden and Tadraem. Everyone eyed Aiden as they’d once eyed Garren, terrified of his power. The evening before had solidified that with Tadraem’s dramatic return from the dead, seemingly through Aiden’s powers.
As they came closer to the center, a hush fell over the crowd. Written almost illegibly, five letters were etched into the stone of the street.
Irial.
It couldn’t have been a human. Aiden kept repeating it in his mind as he shook his head in disbelief and confusion. What was Irial?
“What does this mean, my Lord?” A tall, thin warden leaned toward Tadraem.
“It means nothing,” Tadraem scowled. He grabbed the first human he saw, a fully grown man just a hair taller than Tadraem. The human’s muscles were well defined, likely from a much earlier raid.
Taking a dagger from his belt, Tadraem lifted the man’s hand, and delicately balanced the tip of the blade on his palm. “Let us see if he speaks of his own accord. If he says anything in his own defense, I swear upon Ciara herself, I will let him go.”
Aiden could detect nothing in the human’s expression indicating that he could act on his own. No fear. No malice. Nothing. Tadraem pushed the weight of the dagger through to the hilt. Some blood fell to the ground and pooled, while the rest of it traced the line of the human’s arm and dripped down his side.
Still, the human was silent.
Tadraem, pleased, jerked his dagger from its position and spun on his heels to face the wardens.
“Nothing. Can you not see that one small fragment of a memory means nothing? A human risks his own life to scribble nonsense in a place where no one will ever see it? Meaningless. Let them sing; let them suffer to give even the slightest grimace. They are still slaves. They are still powerless, sniveling, useless, pitiless creatures that cannot even bathe themselves without our approval.”
The wardens applauded at Tadraem’s words, but Aiden barely grinned, his chest still struggling for breath. He felt his tongue tingle as he remembered the day he’d questioned Garren’s decisions openly. He could still feel the burn, he could still taste the metallic salt of the blood in his mouth. They’d turned to him. The humans had felt his presence before he spoke, and turned to face him as he entered the sanctuary. Aiden had sensed something was amiss that night, but couldn’t put a finger on it. He didn’t know what had come over Garren since Palingard’s fall, but Aiden wasn’t even able to get a word in to warn him.
Garren is dead, what difference does it make?
Tadraem had continued talking to the crowd, but Aiden tuned him out. He looked up to see that everyone was scattering, and going back about their business.
“Stop looking so cowardly. The others may fear you now but they won’t continue to fear you if you don’t show them their rightful place — and their place is not to stand about reading into things that are of no consequence.”
Aiden almost asked him about the incident with Garren, but thought better of it. “I haven’t seen such things from the humans. Not when I’ve been in the outer courts to — ”
Tadraem walked closer to Aiden. “Do I look foolish to you? Please tell me that you are not under the impression that I am an idiot as well. You may have thought Garren ill advised, but don’t accuse me of such things. I know very well that Sara hasn’t stepped foot in the outer courts since she was brought to you. I have chosen to overlook that transgression for now, but do not try my patience by acting as though I cannot see what is plainly in front of my face.”
Aiden lowered his head. “I’m sorry my Lord, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Stop whining. One thing you will learn with me is that I will not tolerate juvenile behavior. I didn’t allow it with Garren, and I’ll certainly not bear it from you.” Tadraem walked over to the man who stood, still bleeding.
“Go take care of your wound. Hathride nortuk.”
Aiden couldn’t imagine what the humans would be like to manage had there not been a command created to instruct them to do whatever was necessary to survive. For most humans, that consisted of everyday things like hygiene, eating and sleeping. He found amusement in not giving Sara the command until morning, when he knew that he would generally be out of his chambers for the day. He would laugh to himself when he awoke to find her crumpled into a heap on the floor, her legs having given out on her in the night. This particular morning had been the worst yet. She was shaking so, he threw a blanket over her to spare himself from the irritation of seeing her. He supposed it was the chilled water that had done the trick. She would grow to appreciate his mercy when he chose to bestow it. When he did let her lie on the floor to sleep, she would be grateful, remembering the long, painful nights when she stood.
Tadraem left Aiden. Alone, he stood in the street for some time just staring at the ground. He knelt down to trace the letters with his finger. The stone was cold, jaggedly carved, each stroke of the instrument wrought with great effort. It looked like a child had written it, but there were no children in the outer courts. Only adults had been brought back to Eidolon, the children from the various regions were raised in captivity for servitude. No, definitely not by a child — if this word had been written by a human, it would have been an adult. He rose to his feet, and looked around.
Droves of humans walked past him. There was no need to separate males from females; they couldn’t act upon any feelings or instincts they might have harbored otherwise. They were randomly placed alongside one another, except for the breeders, who resided in an entirely different part of the outer courts. There was a section close to the dividing wall where each breeder was granted his or her own quarters. It really wasn’t for the human, but for the Ereubinian whom the human was married to.
Tadraem was right, he’d never stepped foot inside of the small house that had been set aside for Sara. It would have looked like all of the others to him, except that his name was etched onto the doorway.
He had started back toward the castle when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He pivoted to see what was behind him.
Nothing.
He surveyed the humans who brushed past him. Not a thing out of the ordinary. Aiden, feeling his temper flare, changed directions and walked further into the outer courts. Like a fish swimming upstream, he waded through the hundreds of humans going in the opposite direction. He pushed some of them aside, one or two falling as he began to pick up speed. Something was coming over him. He could feel it in every muscle — a prickly thing, piercing him in a thousand places all at once. Once he neared the edge, he slowed, then stopped next to the gates of the city. He stood there, his hands on his hips. His breath had started to come in halted pants and he cried out in frustration, running one hand through his hair. Again, he felt a chill race up his back. He turned, looking all around him. With wild eyes, he scanned the multitude of blank fac
es, searching for anything to explain what was raging in his head.
It was as if time slowed and the crowd parted to reveal, for just a hair’s breadth of a second, a face. The stare that met Aiden’s was enough to cool his blood permanently. The distinct jaw line and dark, knowing eyes had haunted him many times before, but not like this. Not in the light of day. Not outside of his conscious thoughts.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
STILL ALIVE
D
uncan trudged through the snow-laden woods, his mind alive with memories that he’d long buried. It was dark, and the sounds from the feast inside the castle echoed among the trees. He kept his head down as he continued on into the forest.
When he’d first returned to Adoria, he’d walked this particular route countless times. He could trace every step blindfolded. Every rock and root had become familiar. It was all he could do to keep from thinking of what he’d left behind. It had been difficult not to return to Palingard once Gabriel was dead. He could still remember the first few months he spent in Ruiari, mourning the loss of his friend. He’d never been married, and had never expected to fall in love.
He met her daughter first. Lilly was a very bright, outgoing child, full of life and imagination. She reminded him just a little of Ariana, with perhaps a tad more restraint. He was in the marketplace when he discovered her following him. He dodged in and out of several tents, just to make sure that she was indeed on his heels, and not just coincidently taking the same path. He finally felt her eyes right on him, and twirled to catch her. She was still a girl at the time, not quite eleven years old. She stopped, openly surprised at his speed, and started giggling.
“What is it that you find so fascinating about me?” he asked, bending down to see her better. Her eyes were a deep brown with little flecks of gold.
“You have something in your pack that’s moving,” she said it as though he were ridiculous for not having noticed it himself.
He looked at her, wondering if she were trying to fool him, before he remembered that he’d indeed taken his furry friend along. He smiled and pulled his satchel around to undo the clasp. A small, black- and brown-striped head poked its way through the hole in the opening. Her eyes lit up as Duncan pulled the ferret from the bag and held him out for her to hold.
“Will he bite?”
“Only sour little girls, but you don’t look sour to me.”
She laughed and took the ferret with both hands, cradling him to her neck. “He’s so soft. What’s his name?”
Duncan thought about it for a moment. He hadn’t named him, but the look in her eyes promised him utter disappointment if he didn’t come up with one.
“Why don’t you ask him?” He thought he would buy himself some time. He watched as the little girl leaned her ear down to the tiny cold nose and jerked her head up seconds later, a great revelation on her lips.
“Spoon!”
He laughed. “What?” He shook his head, not entirely certain that he’d heard her right.
“He said his name is Spoon.” She shook her head. “What a silly thing to name a weasel.” She then turned to address the ferret. “He should never have picked such a funny name.”
“Well, I suppose you will just have to give him a new name,” Duncan laughed.
She stopped stroking his fur and turned a serious glance toward Duncan. “Oh no. He says that he likes his name very much. I couldn’t take it from him.”
“Alright then,” Duncan sighed, wondering how he’d become such a soft-hearted fool. “I do have a favor to ask of you. Do you think you could do something for me?”
She nodded.
“Spoon doesn’t really have a home, and I think he would very much like to go home with you. You see I’ve been looking for a little girl, just like you, to keep him for me. Do you think you could do that?”
“Yes, I could. I would take very good care of him!”
Duncan patted the ferret on the top of the head. He would kind of miss him, having found him well over a year ago, but she took to him so well, that he didn’t have the heart to keep such a thing for himself, not being a grown Adorian. “Run along then and introduce Spoon to his new home.”
She smiled and threw one arm around him in a quick hug before running off back into the crowded market.
It was later that same day, well into the evening, that her very displeased mother found him and conveyed her disapproval for her involuntary adoption of the creature. He’d swung his door open with the idea that maybe the girl’s father had come to find him, to question why Duncan had felt it necessary to give his daughter anything at all, let alone something living. But instead of the tall, dark-headed man he’d imagined, there stood a woman with one hand on her hip, the other holding out the ferret, who was struggling for solid ground. She was so perfect. Her smile had a slight crook to it, leaning down a little more on the left than the right, and her skin was like that of a child’s doll. She opened her mouth to speak, but stuttered her words at first. She’d expected some strange, shady character to open the door.
“I meant no harm, my lady, and I’m sincerely sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.” He hadn’t meant to greet her that way, “lady” wasn’t a common term in the villages, but she’d struck him as having the regal nature of the Adorian women whom he’d grown accustomed to addressing upon his visits home. Aside from her clothing, there was nothing that could connect her to Middengard for him.
She smiled. “I just wanted to make sure that this wasn’t a beloved pet that my daughter has somehow convinced you that she can’t live without. She has a way of doing that.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “No. Not at all, but I should have asked permission before telling her that it was alright. Really, I am sorry.” Ironically enough Duncan had been moping about the remainder of the afternoon thinking about how he’d really grown quite attached to the little guy. Against everything in his usual demeanor, he reached out his hand for hers. “I don’t believe that we have met before. My name is Duncan.”
She smiled as he kissed the top of her hand. “My name is Jocelyn. I believe you have already met Lillian, my daughter.” As she said the little girl’s name, her head poked out from behind her mother, her eyes big and sad, and she’d no doubt been told that they were going to return Spoon to his rightful owner.
It was that night that she’d stolen his heart, that they both had. They didn’t come in, or stay much longer, but in the following days and months he learned much about them. Her husband had been part of the human cavalry that had come to Palingard’s aid in the siege that had killed Caelyn, Ariana’s mother. He’d also lost his life that day, leaving Jocelyn a widow.
Before long, she and Duncan were married and he took Lillian as his own daughter. They tried for several years to have another child, but weren’t blessed until right before Ruiari’s fall. She’d just told him several days prior that she was with child. She believed it to be a son. He never had the chance to tell her where he was really from.
The day that they died was frozen in his memory. He breathed in the cold air, and stopped walking for a second. Closing his eyes, he could still see Lilly’s face as she looked at him pleadingly from Garren’s hold. Duncan had been trying to find her all morning.
Duncan shook as he remembered holding Lilly lifeless in his arms.
Jocelyn was already dead. She’d kissed him lightly on the cheek, as he was in between consciousness and dreams, whispering to him that she was going to the market for bread and would be right back. He awoke shortly after to the sound of horses’ hooves and the screams of the Dragee.
Duncan never mentioned the unborn child to Michael. He would probably have never spoken Jocelyn’s or Lillian’s names again at all had it not been for Michael’s keen perception. He’d approached Duncan shortly after his return to Adoria. They’d always had a sort of strained relationship since Michael had become an adult. Despite this, Michael had known something was different with Duncan. And Duncan couldn’t lie to
Michael any more than he could’ve ever lied to Michael’s father. He told him of his marriage, and of their deaths and hadn’t spoken of it since, including when Michael came to him earlier in the evening to tell him that it had been decided that Garren would live. Not only that Garren would live, but that the elders were also presenting him with Jenner’s sword.
Duncan found his way to a large set of boulders that was fixed upright along the bank of a waterfall. Everything was pretty well iced over this time of the year, but it was still peaceful. He sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him. How could the elders be so foolish? What part of this didn’t scream deception to them? Everything about it felt wrong.
He stopped breathing as he listened to the sound of something stirring in the bushes beside him. Holding his hand on his sword, he rose from his seat and was about investigate further when, from out of the ice-covered thicket, Ariana’s dog emerged.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” Duncan asked, leaning down to pet him. “It’s just as well. All who walk on two legs have lost their minds. Good thing you’ve got four.”
Duncan returned to his seat as Koen lay down next to him. He noticed then that Koen was breathing hard and placed his hand on the dog’s chest. His heart was beating furiously, as if he’d been running.
“Where have you been?” Koen just looked up at him. “I suppose it’s silly to sit here and talk to a dog.” He shrugged. If everyone else was allowed to go insane, he might as well follow suit. “Since we’re speaking candidly here, what do you think Gabriel would’ve done?” Duncan let his hand lie still on Koen’s back. “No, I don’t suppose you can answer that, not having known him.”
Koen let out a soft whine, almost as if he were sympathizing with Duncan.
“It’s alright, friend.” He rubbed the dog on the head. “I wouldn’t have told Gabriel that his only son was being an idiot, either, even if he were still alive to hear it.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Son of Ereubus Page 29