by Kara Jaynes
“Wasn’t that your job?” Bran arched an eyebrow at her, smiling.
Grace tried to toss her blonde curls over her shoulder, but they stuck to her neck and shoulders. She plopped herself down on the bank. “I can’t let Adaryn see me like this,” she groaned. “I’ll never hear the end of it.” She unsuccessfully tried to wipe some of the mud off her dress.
“Why does her opinion matter?” Bran sat down on the bank next to her, watching her face.
“Because it does,” she snapped. She sighed, turning her glare toward the stream. “You must think I look awful.”
Bran grinned. “I think you look downright smashing.”
Grace snorted. “That’s hardly a compliment for a lady.” She paused a moment, regarding him. “But I thank you.”
Bran looked up at the sky. The sun was setting. In another hour it would be dark. “It’s going to get cold,” he said. “You need to get back to camp to change before you freeze.”
Grace looked at him frostily. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time. I can’t go anywhere until it’s too dark for Adaryn to see me. She’s my rival,” she explained.
“Ah.” Bran nodded solemnly, an idea coming to him. “Perhaps it would help if you had a fire, here by the bank, to help you dry.”
“That would be marvelous.” Grace wrapped her arms about herself, shivering.
“Wait here.” Bran jumped up and ran around, picking up twigs and small branches. He brought the small bundle back. Calling the magic, he started a small fire by the stream.
“There.” He sat next to her again. “That should help keep the cold away until dark.”
Grace’s gaze shone in the firelight, and she drew closer to the crackling flames. “What’s it like?” she asked softly. “The magic?”
Bran frowned at the flickering flames, considering her question. “I don’t know that I ever stopped to think about it before,” he said. “It’s something we’re born with. It’s part of who we are. Having enchantment is as natural as breathing. It’s . . . life.”
Grace looked puzzled, so he tried to elaborate. “Losing the enchantment would be like losing an arm, or more. It just comes to us.”
“Do all nomads wield magic?” Grace asked.
He nodded. “As far as I know. We start learning how to use it around four or five years, though I think we can all sense it before then.”
Grace was quiet for a moment. “I wish I knew what it felt like,” she said quietly. “Just for a moment.”
Bran blinked, surprised. He held up a hand, palm facing up, and closed his eyes, forming a picture of his stallion, Star, in his head. He opened his eyes at Grace’s delighted laugh. There, on his palm, made of light, was a miniature form of Star, galloping in place. With his free hand, he took Grace’s and carefully slipped the horse onto hers. Her eyes sparkled with delight and a small laugh escaped her lips. “It feels . . . it feels alive.”
“It is,” Bran replied. “Flick your wrist.”
Grace obeyed, and the stallion galloped through the air before it shivered and disappeared. Grace sighed regretfully. “That was wonderful, Bran, thank you for showing me.” She looked up at him and Bran shifted to sit a little closer.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered. Night was coming on fast; he should try and get her back to camp. Only, he didn’t want to. Adaryn was right. Oppressors could be positively irresistible. He lowered his face until their noses touched. His lips brushed hers, sending a wave of heat through his body.
“Ah, Bran, there you are.” Aaric’s voice sounded behind them. “Adaryn wants to know where the water for dinner is, and I am having a devil of a time trying to get the other tent up. Oh. Am I interrupting something?”
Bran wanted to strangle the idiot, but sighed and looked over his shoulder. “We were on our way.”
Grace looked flustered, and she patted her curls self-consciously, standing. Bran hurried to stand as well, and kicked out the flames. When Grace refilled the bucket with water from the stream, he took it from her. “Allow me.”
Grace arched a slim eyebrow. “Aren’t you the gentleman?” She was herself again. She squinted up at the sky. “I don’t suppose anyone will notice how I look with the sky this dark,” she stated and trudged up the hill after Aaric.
Bran watched her a moment, then followed with a regretful sigh.
17
Adaryn
“We’re here!” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice, wrapping my arms tighter around Aaric’s waist. We had recently returned my horse Russet, to the field from where I had borrowed him, and I now rode with Aaric. It was dawn, and we finally entered the woods. I closed my eyes, breathing in the rich scents of the earth and trees. I’d missed my forest home.
Bran urged his stallion, Star, to follow us, until he realized Grace had reined her mare to a stop on the dusty road. He turned to face her. “Aren’t you coming, Grace?”
Grace bit her lower lip, indecision on her face. “I’m . . . I don’t know. I should probably go home.”
Bran rode back, taking her mare by the reins. “You should come, Grace. At least for a while. After everything you did for us down in Sen Altare, you’ll be a welcome guest.”
“If you’re sure,” Grace replied, but she eyed the woods nervously.
We traveled through the forest for the next few hours, riding on small deer trails. We would’ve moved faster but Grace insisted on dismounting every half hour or so to pick flowers. I tried not to snap at her in my impatience, as Bran seemed to find her behavior endearing. He liked her. I wondered if she returned the feeling. I doubted it.
Our clan was in the same spot as when we left. That was odd. It was rare for us to stay in one place for more than a couple of weeks or so.
The nomad sentries saw us about the same time Bran and I saw them. No welcome was made as we were traveling with outsiders. They melted into the foliage, no doubt to alert the clan of our presence.
We dismounted on entering the camp, and passed the horses’ reins off to two young boys. Tents were pitched without any order to them. Children chased one another, squealing with laughter, while women did camp chores. The men who weren’t guarding the camp were either out hunting or lounging around, talking to each other. A few clan members waved to Bran and me when they saw us.
We found the clan chief Oisin, in the middle of the encampment, sitting crossed-legged on the ground, hunched over an aged, tattered map with my father, Kenroc.
My father leapt to his feet when he saw me, and, covering the distance between us in a few strides, wrapped me in a tight bear hug.
“I thought I had lost you a second time.” He choked on his emotion. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“I’m sorry, father.” I buried my face in his chest, trying unsuccessfully to keep back my tears. I’d missed him.
My father released me, taking a step back to look down at me. “I hope there is a good explanation.”
I smiled. “Very.” I turned to Aaric, who came forward hesitantly. Oisin was standing now as well, watching us curiously.
Aaric held out the sky jewel to Oisin. “I have proved my love for Adaryn. Here is the sky jewel.”
Oisin took the jewel, his brown eyes widening in surprise as his fingers touched it. It was clear he could feel its power. “In all of my days, I never dared hope to think I might one day possess one.” His brow furrowed in concentration as he summoned the magic. The sheer force of the power he could call on was almost overwhelming, and my father and I staggered back.
Oisin released the enchantment and grinned at Aaric. “Looks like we have a new clan member.”
18
Bran
“You brought an Oppressor to our camp?” Oisin kept his voice mild, but Bran detected the anger under it. It’d been close to a week since Bran and the others had returned from their quest.
“She can hardly be called that, father,” Bran replied in protest. “She’s been an immense help in our travels. We wouldn’t
have been able to reclaim the sky jewel if not for her.”
Oisin didn’t reply, but glanced sideways at his son, a questioning look in his gaze. Bran coughed self-consciously. “She’s just a friend of Adaryn’s.” By all that was holy, what possessed him to say that? The two women acted like two wet cats in a bag when together.
“Aaric may be a clan member now,” Oisin’s mouth twisted; he was happy to get the sky jewel, but was less than pleased at the clan’s new addition, “but I won’t accept any other Oppressor into our clan, son.”
Bran bit his lower lip. He knew it wasn’t the time to argue. “I don’t think you have to worry about Grace turning on us. She wouldn’t betray Aaric.”
“I see.” Oisin didn’t look convinced, but let it drop, switching the subject. “There was another attack on our clan while you were away.”
Bran exhaled, clenching his fists. “How many were taken?”
“Five.”
That was more than usual. The Oppressors usually only claimed two or three on their raids, striking fast and hard, retreating before the clan could go on the offense. He glanced at his father. The clan chief looked outwardly composed, but his jaw was firmed, and there was a tightness around his eyes. Oisin was angry. He was better at keeping his temper than his son. Bran could only remember one time where he’d completely lost all control of his temper, and that had been when Bran’s mother was killed during a raid by the Oppressors.
“Do you intend to continue with the plan we discussed before I left?” Bran asked.
Oisin nodded. “Now that I hold the sky jewel, there’s nothing that can stop us. I will have my clan whole again.” He stared at Bran, his dark eyes expressionless.
Bran shifted uncomfortably. Aaric might be safe, now that he was considered to be a clan member, but Grace had no such protection. He turned and walked away. He needed to keep her close until all of this blew over. He hoped his father would come to accept her, in time.
19
Aaric
The past few days passed in a haze for Aaric. Kenroc, Adaryn’s father, gave him permission to marry his daughter, if somewhat hesitantly. Wedding preparations began. Nomads took celebrations seriously and the women in the camp needed time to sew Adaryn’s gown. Aaric would have rather skipped all the fuss and parties, but he didn’t want to step on any toes, being such a new member of the clan. The rest of the nomads, after hearing Oisin publicly declare Aaric a clan member, acted friendly toward him, though a touch wary. He couldn’t blame them. It would take some time for them to be used to having an outsider in the clan.
Oisin had not been happy to see Bran bring Miss Grace along, but didn’t press the matter, at least not publicly. Miss Grace spent a lot of time telling stories to the nomad children and playing games, so it didn’t take long for her to win the children over.
“We did it,” Adaryn said, holding Aaric’s hand. “You’re a nomad, and we’re going to be married.” She smiled at him, her gaze soft. They had finally found a moment to themselves, and were sitting side by side on a riverbank, not far from the encampment. Her blue eyes seemed to glow in the twilight, and she smiled at Aaric. He felt his breath catch, gazing at her. She was so beautiful. Aaric leaned over to kiss her. As their lips met, his blood warmed and he lifted a hand to caress her face. It hurt him to think he had once enslaved her. To think he had caused her misery.
Adaryn pulled away, her face puzzled. “There’s one thing I don’t get,” she said, her pale brow creased. “I suppose I should ask my father.”
“What’s that?” Aaric kissed her forehead. He didn’t want to think about anything or anyone at the moment but Adaryn. But the nomad absentmindedly pushed him away, her lips pursed in thought. Aaric sighed in disappointment.
“Our clan has been in the area too long. Not very nomadic of them, is it?”
“They were probably waiting for us,” Aaric shrugged.
“Nomads don’t stay put for anything,” Adaryn insisted. “We also move when the chief says ‘move.’ Why didn’t he?”
“You know he wanted the sky jewel,” Aaric countered. “He wanted it bad enough to offer me a place here. Maybe he wanted to make sure I’d find him again.”
Adaryn shook her head, only half listening to him. “And why was he looking at a map of Ruis?”
Aaric blinked. “Of Ruis? Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. He and Father were looking at it when we entered camp.”
“You should ask him,” Aaric responded. He watched the river rush by, his mind dwelling on what Adaryn said.
“I think I will.” Adaryn stood, brushing dirt off her skirt. She turned back toward the encampment and froze, staring at something. Aaric turned as well just in time to see someone slinking off into the woods.
“Bran!” Adaryn called, fists on her hips. “Come back here, I know you were eavesdropping.”
Bran walked out of the foliage. “I was looking for Grace. Have you seen her?”
Adaryn shook her head. “Grace isn’t important right now. Why hasn’t Oisin moved us on?”
Bran shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He was lying, even Aaric could tell.
“Bran . . .” Adaryn growled.
He sighed. “Fine. Oisin plans to go to war against Ruis.”
“What?” Aaric and Adaryn spoke simultaneously.
“Why not?” Bran asked. “They’ve taken so many of our people. But we have the sky jewel now.”
Aaric’s eyes narrowed. “How long has Oisin been planning this?”
“. . . A while.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Adaryn threw her hands up, clearly exasperated. “Oisin didn’t even think Aaric would be successful in his quest.”
“That was before you and I left,” Bran pointed out, arching an eyebrow. “We definitely improved his odds of succeeding. Plus, he was leaning toward war, anyway. They’ve taken too many of us. It’s time we fought back.”
“They will destroy you,” Aaric scoffed. “Your people won’t be able to withstand their superior weapons and the collars.”
Bran turned to him, his face flushed. “We have magic. And now my father has the ultimate weapon. We free our people.” He turned to Adaryn. “We can free Ember. You told me she was captive. Think about it. She was one of your best friends.”
“You knew!” Adaryn whispered, shock on her face. “You knew all of this before you even left to find us.”
Bran shifted, uncomfortable. “My loyalty is first and foremost to the clan, Adaryn.”
“I won’t allow this to happen.” Aaric stood and strode away from the river, in the direction of camp. “There has to be a more peaceful alternative.”
“He won’t listen to you, Aaric,” Bran warned, but Aaric ignored him. Oisin had to hear reason.
20
Adaryn
I started to run after Aaric, but Bran grabbed my arm. “You need to keep him away from the chief, Adaryn.”
I pulled my arm free, glaring at him. “Why should I listen to anything you have to say?” I said coldly. “Aaric may be one of us now, but you know as well as I that this will be unbearably hard on him.”
“Look, I know what I said when this all first started, but I’ve had time to watch Aaric. You were right. I know he’s different from the other Oppressors, but you’ve got to believe me when I say he needs to stay away from my father.” Bran’s eyes were worried. “The first opportunity Oisin gets to prove Aaric really isn’t one of us . . .” The unspoken implication hung in the air between us. Fear made my heart hammer painfully against my chest. I bolted after Aaric, calling out for him to stop. He didn’t pay me any heed.
As he reached the edge of the encampment, I caught up to him and grabbed him by a shirt sleeve. “Aaric, I think Bran is right,” I panted. “Let me handle this; you’re too new to the clan. Oisin won’t want to hear it.”
Aaric didn’t pay any attention to my words, and pulled me along until we reached Oisin’s tent. The chief was standing outside
it, talking to a few clan members. He glanced over as we approached, his face expressionless. The sky jewel was hanging by a cord around his neck.
“I’ve heard you plan to go to war against Ruis.” Aaric’s voice was even, but his gray eyes could’ve been made of stone.
Oisin crossed his arms, watching him. “Sounds about right. Who told you?”
Aaric shook his head. “Doesn’t matter who told me, what matters is—”
“Actually, it does. Only a few clan members were given that information, and were told to keep it a secret. I intend to find—”
“What matters is you’re not going to war.” Aaric’s voice turned flat, and his eyes glittered. “I understand your anger, but war isn’t the answer. We need to find a peaceful solution to the problem.”
Oisin took a step forward, anger in his features. “What do you care about the Oppressors? You’ve been adopted into the clan. You’re supposed to be one of us now.” The chief’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you really aren’t one of us.”
Aaric’s jaw clenched with frustration. “I didn’t bring you the sky jewel so you could use it for a needless war. I won’t allow you to do so.”
I covered my eyes with one hand in exasperated horror by Aaric’s words. They had the effect on Oisin that I suspected they would.
“I knew it!” Oisin’s dark eyes sparkled in triumph. “I knew it. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but once an Oppressor, always an Oppressor. You traitor.”
“Father, Aaric isn’t a traitor.” I hadn’t realized that Bran followed us until he stepped up to face the chief. I cast him a grateful look, glad I wasn’t the only one who would have to stand up to Oisin.
Oisin glared at him. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to go in the first place, son. When I saw you’d brought home that witch from Ruis, I knew she’d clouded your judgment.”