by Wendy Wang
When she reached the breakfast room, she found Sorrel sitting in the armed chair at the head of the table. Her knees were tucked up close to her chin and a sketchpad laid open on the table in front of her. Black shapes and strange words, Cilla couldn’t make out filled the page.
“You couldn't sleep either?” Cilla asked.
Sorrel glanced up at her then cut her eyes to the clock on the wall.
“It’s late,” Sorrel said in a raspy whisper. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Cilla said. “I think it's just an adjustment. I was hoping there'd be some sleeping tea.”
Sorrel pushed to her feet and walked to the cabinet by a steaming teakettle on a stand. She took a fine porcelain cup and saucer and placed it on the sideboard. Next to it she placed a gold colored tin. She opened the top and scooped a generous pinch of tea leaves into the cup. A metal stand next to the sideboard held a kettle. Steam rose from the tip of the spout and Sorrel wrapped a hot pad around the handle and poured hot water over the leaves. The scent of mint and chamomile and other herbs permeated the air.
“Honey is there,” Sorrel rasped, pointing to a small crock on the sideboard with a wooden stick protruding from it. Cilla reached for the crock, placing it in front of her.
“So what are you drawing?” Cilla asked taking a seat next to Sorrel.
Sorrel placed the cup of tea in front of Cilla and sat in the chair again, her hands brushing over the charcoal drawing. She turned the sketchpad so Cilla could see it. Images of faces screaming, fire blazing and a silhouette of the walled city in ruins stared out at Cilla. Panic fluttered in Cilla's chest. “Is this a vision?”
One of Sorrel's shoulders shoved up against her ear and her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I don’t know. Maybe. It was a dream.”
“Nightmare is more like it.” Cilla's hand drifted to her throat. So many questions tumbled through her head. When would this happen? Why would this happen? Wasn't the queen’s army one of the strongest entities in the whole realm? If they could not protect the city from row when, from being conquered, and what was she doing here? The queen had promised they would be safe.
Sorrel leaned forward, taking the corner of the page and turning it. The next drawing appeared and looked innocent enough but it struck cold terror through Cilla's heart. The image was a child walking away, with his back showing, he glanced over his shoulder with glassy tear filled eyes and his thumb tucked into his mouth. He held an adult's hand. A man's hand. It was Danny and someone was taking him away. Who?
“I never saw his face,” Sorrel said in a ragged whisper. Answering her question as if she'd read Cilla's mind.
“Does it happen on the same day as the first drawing?”
Sorrel's head moved slowly back and forth and her dark brown eyes became distant. “I don’t know.”
Cilla sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, hugging them tightly to her body. It was just a dream. Not real. Sorrel had told her once that her visions didn’t always come true.
“Does it scare you? The things you see?”
“Sometimes,” Sorrel whispered. Deep lavender smudges beneath her dark brown eyes gave away the toll her visions took on her.
“When was the last time you slept through the night without one of these dreams?”
Sorrel’s mouth drew up into a grimace and she shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
“The stress of your visions is taking too much of a toll on you.” Cilla touched Sorrel's hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Healers have a similar problem. It takes a tremendous amount of energy to heal a person and even though the energy doesn't really come from us we are still the conduit. That's why we learned a long time ago to take 10 maybe 20 minutes in the morning before we start our day and spend it on simple focused breathing.
“Maybe you can show me,” Sorrel said.
“Of course,” Cilla said. “I will be happy to. You'll be amazed at how much more centered you’ll feel.” She laughed. “Maybe I need to take my own advice.”
“Is that why you can't sleep?”
“No,” Cilla said softly. She shook her head. “I keep thinking of Egan.”
“Oh,” Sorrel said. Her pale face became pensive.
Cilla took the lid off the honey crock and swirled the stick around the sticky liquid. She drew it out and the thick amber sweetener drizzled in a stream from a carved ball on the end of the stick. She moved it over her cup, letting the honey trickled into her tea. When she had enough she stirred the fragrant tea with her spoon in slow circles.
“Cilla?” Sorrel asked. “Are you still in love with him?”
Cilla took a sip of her tea. The sweet hot drink traveled down her throat warming her whole body and in a matter of moments, her shoulders dropped, the muscles finally relaxing. She sighed.
“I know he's not a kind man, but he wasn't always so angry. When I first met him he was charming and funny and he made me feel —” She closed her eyes and remembered the first time he kissed her. He had called her beautiful. No one had ever called her that before, not even her parents. “Important.”
Sorrel’s brow furrowed with confusion.
“I guess some part of me will always love him.” Cilla fiddled with the spoon, clanging it against the fine porcelain. “He's the father of my children after all.”
“He would have killed you if I hadn’t intervened.” Sorrel’s voice grew strident and she grimaced with pain. Her hand pressed against the pink scar on her throat and she swallowed.
“It’s really none of your business you know.” Cilla stared into her tea. Her cheeks burned from the truth of Sorrel’s words.
“You’re right,” Sorrel whispered. “It is none of my business if he kills you.”
“I thought you forgave him.” Cilla challenged, not caring how defensive she sounded.
“I did. But that wasn’t for him, it was for me. I didn't want my rage to eat me alive.” Sorrel's voice shifted to a deep whisper and lines of concern darkened her forehead. “I didn’t want to become like him.”
Sorrel’s gaze fixed her to the spot and Cilla couldn’t look away. “It doesn’t matter anyway — he’s going to be executed.”
“Yes. He is,” Sorrel said. “But you’re still going to see him aren’t you? He can still get into your head.”
Cilla sniffed. “Don't worry about me. The only reason I’m going to see him is for the sake of the boys. He is still their father whether I like it or not.”
“Yes. But ultimately you have a choice Cilla. You choose how he interacts with the boys. You choose. Not him. I think maybe the question really is, are you choosing for the boys or are you choosing for you?”
Cilla traced her thumb along the edge of her cup and took another sip of her cooling tea. “I think I should go back to bed now. Try to get some sleep. I think that tea is starting to work “
Sorrel nodded, reaching for her sketchpad. She turned to a fresh page and sat back in her chair again, drawing her knees to her chest.
“You know I appreciate your concern but I have to do what is right for myself and for my sons. And I think having a father even if he is quick-tempered is better than having no father.”
Sorrel's mouth pressed into a flat line as she was trying to keep from saying anything more.
“Well, good night,” Cilla said firmly, rising to her feet.
“Good night,” Sorrel whispered.
When she lay down on her bed again she stared at the ceiling. Her eyes growing heavier. Sorrel was wrong. Just because she still cared for Egan didn't mean he could worm his way back in to her life. Just because he said sweet things and made her laugh didn't mean he deserved her forgiveness. Her eyelids closed and her breath became slow and measured. Still some part of her did love him and always would.
******
Egan lay on his cot with his hands laced behind his head. He stared at the gray stone ceiling. He'd gotten word that his wife was in the city. And that she wanted to see him. He didn't want to get his hopes u
p. She'd made it clear the last time they met how angry she was about his cheating. No matter what else might transpire between them he did love her and if he could get her away from her damn mother he could show her how much. The old woman hated him and had from the moment she met him when they were 15 years old.
I must say I didn't think you could carry it out.
Egan sighed and rolled his eyes as D’Raq’s voice drifted through his consciousness.
Glad I could prove you wrong.
So you’re ready to take on Codskl too?
I will take on whoever I need to get out of here.
That's good to hear. I think you're ready.
Ready for what?
Ready for the next job I have for you.
I'm done with jobs for you. I killed Mozelle. It's your turn to do something for me.
Is it? I thought you wanted out of here.
I do.
Good then you'll do what I ask.
Egan gritted his teeth and flexed his jaw. What do you want?
To escape I need my lifestone. I need you to help me get it.
Egan laughed out loud. His voice echoed down the corridor.
What's so funny?
You and your requests. Killing your enemies is one thing, but getting to prisoner storage? You may as well ask me to fly you to the stars and back. Impossible.
Well then I guess you can kiss that neck of yours goodbye because that's the only way we’re getting out of here.
Egan made a noise deep in his throat and his cheeks twitched with fury. Even if I could get there, there is so much security surrounding the storage room it would take days of planning and you know that I don't have days.
No you don't. What you do have is Toby Wyn.
Toby Wyn is full of dragon dung. He hasn’t even shown his face since the first time I saw him in the courthouse.
It takes time to put together a plan for attacking the palace.
Egan scoffed aloud. Now you're making excuses for him?
No. I'm not.
Why do you need it? What’s the lifestone going to be able to do for you in here?
You know that Ethavians are persuasive.
Yes.
If I pair my lifestone with the amplifying disk, I can do more than just let my thoughts be heard by someone who is not a Wood Kael.
Like what?
I can make a man see things, smell things and believe things I want him to see. In essence I can control his mind.
With the disk and your lifestone?
You don’t believe me?
I was in Ethavia for several months and I never saw anything like that. If it's possible then why isn’t the Emperor using it?
Because it's technology I invented and I would cut off my arms before I shared it with Peter Declan.
It's still impossible. We need to look at other alternatives.
There are no other alternatives. Except your death of course. There's an alternative for you. Interested?
I guess I'll have to take my chances on Toby.
Good luck with that. You'll need it.
You hate Toby too? Why?
I don't hate anyone. Except the Queen. I hate her and the whole Royal family.
I have no love for them either.
Then we have something in common.
Prisoner storage is on the other side of the prison.
Yes. I’m aware. Isn’t your wife coming to see you?
The hackles on the back of Egan’s neck raised and his jaw clenched.
What does that have to do with anything?
In his mind, Egan could almost see him shrug. Nothing. I’m sure.
It certainly doesn’t feel like nothing.
She’ll have to go through that part of the building won’t she?
Prisoner storage is down deep in the recesses of this place. She would never get that close to it and even if she did we’re not exactly on great terms. I could never convince her to do anything. Plus, she’ll have our children with her. She’s off-limits.
All right. It was just a thought.
A poorly executed thought.
Keep thinking about it. You help me with this and it’ll get us both out of here.
She’s an Earth Kael. There’s nothing she can do to help us.
You should never underestimate an Earth Kael. They were the first Kaels and some believe the most powerful.
You are not about to start spouting religious excrement at me are you?
A chuckle echoed through the corridor. Unlikely. But don’t turn your back on our history or our legends. There’s truth in all of it.
Sure. I’ll keep that in mind.
Seventeen
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tahlulah asked sounding irritated.
“Yes, mama,” Cilla sighed. “The queen said we would be surrounded by guards. And he's harnessed, Egan won't dare try anything.”
“I pray for the boys’ sake your right.” Her mother grumbled. She scraped butter across her toast before biting into it.
“That's too much Danny,” Tom said, drawing Cilla's attention to her children. Danny had taken a large spoonful of jam and slathered it on a piece of toast. He took a bite and jam oozed from the corners of his mouth.
“No, it's not,” Danny said with a full mouth. Cilla rolled her eyes.
“Danek Egan Crane,” she scolded, taking Danny’s toast from his hand. He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, his eyes following her every move as she skimmed half the jam onto his plate. “What am I going to do with you? Just look at you. Did you get any on your shirt?” She picked up a napkin and then wiped the sticky purple jam from his mouth. “I really wanted you to look nice for your father.”
“Stop, mama.” Danny shrugged away from her. “I can do it myself.” He took the napkin from her and smeared the prickle berry jam across his cheek.
“Yes, I see that,” Cilla said chuckling. She glanced across the table at Y'Ana. The girl stared at Tom and Danny. How could a child so young always have such a blank expression? Sometimes it confounded Cilla. Danny and Tom were always making faces. It took too much energy for them to stay still and she loved the expressiveness of their eyes and mouths. She wished she knew exactly what had been done to the child so she could help her. The only time she seemed to come to life was when she was playing with Tom or when she was so upset about something and couldn't control her feelings.
“Y'Ana,” Cilla said. “Do you need some help putting butter on your toast? Would you like some jam?”
“You might have a hard time getting Danny to share it.” Tom teased. Danny promptly reached over and pinched his brother on the elbow.
“Hey!” Tom shouted. He balled his hand into a fist.
“Tomblyn Gregor Crane if you hit your brother you are not allowed to go with me to see her father. Do you hear me?” Cilla said firmly.
Tom's arm lowered into his lap and he grumbled under his breath.
“What was that?” Cilla said narrowing her eyes on her son.
“Yes, ma'am,” Tom said.
“That's what I thought you said,” Cilla said folding her arms across her chest. “You two finish eating. I need to get dressed so we can go see your father.”
Danny turned his head and stuck his tongue out at his brother.
“Danny Crane. I will leave you here with Y'Ana if you do not straighten up. Do you hear me?”
Danny blew out a heavy breath and scowled. “Yes, ma'am.”
Y'Ana's wide gaze caught Cilla off guard. The child's bottom lip trembled.
“What's wrong Y'Ana?” Cilla asked.
“Can I go? With Tom?”
“Oh sweetie,” Cilla said. “Tom and Danny are going to see their daddy. I think you should stay here with your aunt. She has lots of things planned for you today. You have so much fun drawing and painting. I think you're going to see your aunt's art studio today. Doesn't that sound like fun?”
Y'Ana burst into tears. Cilla walked around the table, sat down next to the
girl and put her arm around her. The child climbed onto her lap and wept against her shoulder.
“I know you want to be with Tom. But we don't always get to do exactly what we want all the time. And I know how much fun you have with your aunt. I think you'll have fun today too,” Cilla said stroking Y'Ana’s white blond hair. The child wailed louder, inconsolable. “Shhh. Please don't cry.”
“Is everything all right?” The queen asked as she entered the breakfast room.
“Everything's fine,” Cilla said rocking Y'Ana and her arms. “Y'Ana’s just a little upset because she doesn't get to go with us to see Tom and Danny's father today.”
“Oh. Well, Y'Ana,” the queen said. “I was kind of hoping that you would help me with something. I need to go to the fishpond this morning and check on them. Would you like to go with me? I think you would really like the fish.”
“Are the fish not frozen beneath the ice?” Tom asked.
“No,” the queen said, giving him a smile. “They’re a little slower in the winter but they're fine in the cold. They like swimming beneath the ice.”
“Mama, can I stay here and see the fish?” Tom said.
“No, of course not. You need to see your father. It's important.”
Tom scowled picking at his food. Y'Ana sniffed back her tears and looked into Cilla’s face. Without warning the child pushed off of her lap and ran towards the door.
“Y'Ana!” Cilla called after her.
“It's all right,” the queen said. “I'll tend to her. You do what you need to do to get ready to see your husband.”
“Thank you,” Cilla said. “This may be harder than I first thought.”
“That's understandable,” the queen said. “Just don't be afraid to end the visit if it gets too intense.”
“Thank you,” Cilla smiled. “I will.”
“Well, I'm going to find Y'Ana and see if I can distract her,” the queen said.
Tahlulah sat quietly at the end of the table looking down her nose at her daughter. Her mouth curved down making the wrinkles of her upper lip deeper. “Well, I think I will go with the queen.”