by A E M
“Don’t look at me. Please.” She ordered him through her tears. He put his arms around her and lay his head on top of hers and let her cry.
“Lottie,” he whispered in her hair after she had ceased crying. “Do you want me to fly back and check on things?”
“Not without me.” She answered as she wiped her eyes and pulled herself together.
Beau sighed heavily and stared up into the sky. “I don’t want to leave you here alone, and I’m not sure when it will be safe to go back.”
The air was getting colder. Charlotte desperately wanted to know what had happened, but she also did not want to be alone. They sat back-to-back staring out into the night, unsure of what to do next. Beau’s wings were soft and warm and comforting. She leaned into his back and placed the side of her face against him.
“Are we cowards for leaving?” She clenched and unclenched her hands in her dress.
Beau turned his head to the side. “What exactly would you have done?” He asked with a gruffness she wasn’t expecting. She opened her mouth to reply, but he continued. “What chance do you think you would have against magic? Or is this about me? What was I supposed to do? Leave you to be harmed?”
Oh, so now he would fight. She sat forward. “I’m so sorry I don’t have magic, Beau. It’s really inconvenient for you, isn’t it?” She spat out.
He stood up and walked over to stand in front of her. “I don’t have magic, Charlotte.”
She stood up and glared at him. “It’s not about you, you know. You haven’t listened to a word of what I’ve said today.” She dropped her eyes briefly. “Not really, anyway.”
He stared at her then, eyes sharp and mouth thinned into a straight line. “It’s been awhile.” He said. “I’m not as well versed in your undercurrents of speech.” He glared. “And dumping ice water over my head doesn’t qualify as an adult conversation.”
Charlotte could have slugged him. She wiped away the couple of tears gathering in her eyes and turned away. All she had wanted was to spend some time with him and he had been off with a girl bird. She stomped her foot into the dirt. She had wasted an entire summer waiting on the people she loved to come home so she could be with them one last time.
“You don’t understand!” She yelled.
“I can’t understand what you don’t tell me!” He yelled back.
“You.” She spat out. “Were supposed to be home this summer! I hardly saw you for four years and when I got home nobody was here!”
He took a step forward. “But I’m here now, Lottie.”
She took two steps back from him. “Oh, Beau.” She shook her head at him. She couldn’t tell him. “I’m sorry.” She apologized.
Beau’s voice softened. “Me, too.” He squeezed her arms. “So let me be here for you. What happened tonight?”
Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She told him everything from the moment she had run into Philip. His tidiness. His perfectionism. His melting good looks. She told him of the dance and of the words he said to her as he pressed her into the stone.
Beau’s hands ran gently over her arms and back, as if he could smooth the scrapes and memories away with a touch. Charlotte shivered. She closed her eyes. “Do you think any of what he said is true?”
“No!” He responded immediately. “I think he sounds like a manipulating creep.”
“I can’t get his words out of my head.” She confessed. “I wish I could wash them away.”
“Say them again. Louder. Don’t hold it in and let it do damage.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You heard them the first time, Beau Winguard. I’m not repeating them! Once was enough, and I shouldn’t have done that much.”
“No, you are getting it backwards. By keeping it in you are giving him power. You may think that holding it in gives you power over him because that way it shows that he didn’t get to you, but you are totally wrong. Holding it in lets it fester and grow.” He scolded her.
She considered that for a few moments. Beau was never one to sugar coat anything or say something because it was what he thought she would want to hear. He paced in front of her while she thought. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. His wings ruffled from time to time.
Beau turned to her, eyes lit up. “Charlotte, do you think you puked it all up?”
She gave him a playful shove. “Okay, we are going to have to agree to keep that incident between each other.”
He pulled her close, put his arms around her waist, and lifted into the air. “Let’s go high enough that you aren’t so shy and then yell the words to the wind.” This time flying didn’t catch her off guard, and she proudly kept the contents of her stomach, if there were any left, inside. Beau had been right. Up in the clear cold sky she could yell those words and not feel as self-conscious. And once those words were out, she didn’t feel the emotional churning she had before over them. It was a little like puking the bad feelings out. She didn’t want it to happen, but she felt a lot better afterwards.
Their descent was leisurely. Charlotte wondered if she should tell him her plans, but decided against it. Once she left, they would suspect Beau of helping her right away. She couldn’t ask him to lie, and her father would be able to give him a truth serum if the council got involved. It was good that he had found Raven. She could be there for him. They landed and sat down on the ground.
Beau spread his wings out. “Come sit closer to me.” He wrapped his wings around them both.
She leaned against his arm. “Do you remember when we were kids and we would do this while we were playing hide and seek? We thought we were so clever.”
Beau chuckled. “I’m sure our parents got a good laugh out of that one.”
“It would take them so long to find us that we thought we had the best hiding spot in the world.”
“The whole time they were having tea and chatting.”
They both laughed, but the thought of not knowing what had happened at the castle was eating at her again. Charlotte slipped her hand into his hand. “Can we strike a compromise? How about we go back and you leave me somewhere safe close by while you check things out?”
“Do you know of—”
The sound of galloping hooves broke Beau’s sentence. They stood up and saw Zorach, a Clydesdale centaur who lived at the castle. Centaurs were routinely large, but Zorach was immense due to the Clydesdale half of him.
“Good, you are both safe,” he said in his deep, gravely voice. “We need to get back to the castle now. Beau, you go ahead and fly Charlotte back. It will be safer in the air at the moment. But pace yourself with me and always keep me in your sight. Do you understand? We are all still in danger.” He shook one of his hands at his side. “There is a magical shield around the castle. Meet me by the back gate and I will take you through.” He turned and galloped away.
4
The Price of Secrets
Isaac stared across the campfire at his companions.
Basil and Josef chatted about the week’s menu.
Barnabas sharpened his weapon.
Isaac cupped his chin in his hand and looked down at the map.
He had a crazy idea for their next adventure.
If they succeeded, then they would see what no other magani had seen in this country.
But if they failed…
The frosty night air swirled with a mixture of hope and fear. Who was this Philip and what did he want? Who was he working with? What had happened while they were away? Charlotte shivered against Beau and listened to the beat of his wings as they flew. Gusts of wind stung the scrapes across her back and her teeth chattered. She focused her eyes on Zorach, who was head of security at the castle. Only they had never really needed him to act on that job before. His large muscles rippled under his black skin, and Charlotte remembered how tiny she had felt around him as a child. Zorach had taught her how to ride a horse starting when she was barely old enough to sit on one. Then later, when she was still quite young, he
had handed her a pitchfork and taught her how to clean the stalls. She had balked. He had demanded. She had given in, but she had worn her swimsuit and tutu to the lesson. He had taught her, lips pursed and head shaking. He still shook his head at her from time to time. She still felt tiny around him.
Beau landed close to Zorach, who paced back and forth nervously in front of the glowing wall near the back gate. Covered in sweat, his muscles rippled and he breathed heavily. A long scorch mark ran down his left flank.
“You’re hurt.” Charlotte blurted out. She reached out to him, but he stepped back quickly. Charlotte frowned at him. Would she ever get used to the pride of the centaurs?
“The two of you get on my back. Quickly, quietly, and hold on tight.”
Beau grabbed Charlotte’s waist and boosted her up. She scooted forward and he got on behind her. Zorach handed Beau a loop of rope. Beau wrestled it around his own waist between his body and his wings and handed the two ends to Zorach to tie.
“We must be quite the sight.” Beau said. “I don’t know—”
“There are still intruders within.” Zorach interrupted harshly. “And I will be going faster than either of you are ready for. Keep your wings pressed flat. I don’t want you slowing me down.”
“I know how to not catch air, Zorach.” Beau hissed. “You know that.”
“Then let’s go.”
Charlotte’s right hand burned with pain as they entered the shield. She gritted her teeth and muffled a cry. The pain did not cease. She looked over her shoulder at Beau, whose face was drawn tight. He nodded at her. He felt it, too. Zorach took off with a speed that would have made a sane person leap from his back. Charlotte certainly would have thrown herself off had she not been tied to him. Zorach’s hooves thundered across the ground. Somewhere farther away a scream snaked through the trees at the back of the property.
Beau moaned behind her and put his head down on Charlotte’s shoulder. “I’m trying not to puke on you. I promise.”
“How can you handle flying but not horse riding?” Charlotte teased despite her own upset stomach.
“When I’m flying I have more freedom.” He chuckled in her ear. “And riding a horse and riding a centaur are two vastly different things.”
“Quiet.” Zorach commanded.
A flash of light sizzled through the air. The hair on Charlotte’s arms stood on end. Dirt exploded in front of them. Zorach stumbled to the side. Beau’s arms tightened around her waist. Shouts rang out from the trees and the air grew even colder. A tree flew through the air, nearly colliding with them. Charlotte froze with fear as she heard the sound of more hooves pounding the ground nearby. If there was another centaur out there, it was possible he could catch up with them. Zorach increased his pace until just before the kitchen door. The heavy wooden door swung out as he neared, and swallowed them all with a thud as soon as they entered. Zorach slowed by circling the huge table. The room was cold, the fireplace empty of crackling and warmth. Charlotte shivered while the rope was untied. The burning of her hand was a sharp contrast to the coldness she felt in the rest of her body.
“My hand is still burning.”
“Mine, too.” Beau added as he helped Charlotte down. “What is going on? Are we safe here?”
Zorach huffed and shook his head in disgust. “It’s obvious that we’ve forgotten to teach you young ones anything of real worth. We skipped over knowledge that would protect you from evil because we didn’t expect evil to happen.” He glanced out the windows. “Your talking out there made us an easier target. Now you nag me like little chickens clucking through the courtyard. Learn to keep quiet and observant until whoever is in charge is ready to tell you something.” He turned back to them and placed his hands on his human waist. “Not until you are in charge one day will you completely understand this, but it’s something you better learn. I fear that hard times will follow in response to tonight.”
Zorach nodded at their hands. “The hobs will have to heal our hands. The shield is set up for detection as well as protection. Anybody who goes through it will be marked on their hands and will remain in pain until the one who cast the spell releases the person. I believe the danes would refer to it as being caught red-handed. As for the rest, I’m afraid you two are going to have to wait for somebody else’s explanation.”
The door to the hobs’ library slammed open and Josef waved them in. “Hurry, children. We’ve no time to lose. Zorach, you must be in a lot of pain by now. Come; I will heal you.” Josef’s clothes were tattered and torn and burned. A deep frown creased his face under the layers of dirt and sweat that covered him.
“Suddenly we are children once more.” Charlotte whispered to Beau as they followed Josef and Zorach.
Beau nodded solemnly. “I have a feeling that we are going to feel like children again.”
“Don’t touch a thing,” Josef warned them as they entered the library. A glow, similar to the one around the castle, covered the bookshelves. “If you do, the consequences will make that little burn on your hand feel like a manicure in comparison.” He led them up the staircase while Zorach grumbled under his breath the entire way.
At the top of the stairs, Josef waved his hand in front of the large pocket doors. The glow slithered away from the doors. Once they were through and the doors were shut, he waved his hands again. Charlotte looked away from the glow that was spreading back across the doors. They were in a large room full of hobs and weavers and magani. She didn’t see her parents.
“Now for your hands.” Josef motioned for Zorach’s hands. The centaur shook his head and nodded to Charlotte and Beau. Josef flipped Charlotte’s hand over and placed his own over it. “Heal.” He repeated the process with Beau, and then moved on to both of Zorach’s hands.
“Thanks, Josef.” She tried to meet his eyes, but the hob only nodded and walked away.
Charlotte opened her mouth to thank Zorach. He had been in pain that entire time he was looking for them. But Zorach had already walked away, too. She looked over at Beau. He was frowning and scanning the room.
“Do you see either of our families?”
“No.” He patted her shoulder absently. “We better start looking around for them. Catch you later.”
Charlotte looked around the large room again, this time slowly. She had never been allowed to see inside the hobs’ home before. The walls and floor were a deep gray color, and there were no windows. Lots of white benches with multicolored designs etched in each one faced a white stage on the left hand side of the room. The stage had etchings in it, as well. Charlotte wandered over to the stage and knelt in front of it to trace her fingers over the geometric etchings. She stood back up and glanced across the benches to the guests in suits and dresses. They were covered with dirt, black marks, sweat stains, and blood. Her heart skipped a beat. She pushed the worry down. Her parents must simply be elsewhere tending to guests. Josef’s eldest son, Sebastian, was tending the wounded. Charlotte watched as he greeted each patient with a smile and held their hand as they spoke. He was wearing a cloak over his dress suit. Between each patient he would wave his hand across the front of the cloak, and any blood or tears from the last patient would disappear.
Charlotte thought back to when she had asked her father why they even needed a doctor at the castle since anybody with magic could heal. Her father had led her on a trip to find a book in his library. While they walked, he explained, “It is true that any magical being could use magic to heal. But not everyone knows how to fine tune their magic for healing properly.” He paused as he pulled a book down from a shelf and settled on a leather couch nearby. He handed her a book entitled To Heal with Magic.
“You have to have a precise knowledge of the body to properly heal. Let’s pretend that you have magic. You and Chime are out on a hike together when she falls. You both suspect that her arm is broken, and you decide to heal her on the scene. The bone will heal in general, but may not heal properly. She might be in pain and not be able to use her arm pro
perly until a doctor well versed in both magic and medicine is able to work on her. The doctor would not be performing surgery in the same way a dane would, but it’s a similar process that takes great care and precision. Sebastian is actually what we would call a uniweaver, as his magical powers are extremely fine-tuned for one specialty. Magic is more work than wishing. The danes don’t know that, of course. Does that make enough sense?”
Charlotte nodded. “It makes some sense.” She was fascinated by the drawings in the book and by her father’s insistence that magic could be work. “Could I borrow this book?”
“Is there anything more beautiful to my ears than a request to learn?” He smiled warmly. “You certainly may, my inquisitive daughter.”
“One more question, then.” She asked, her voice quieter this time. She fidgeted next to him.
Isaac tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. “Be direct, darling.”
“Why is Sebastian allowed to be a weaver?” She asked.
Isaac sat back a little. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Why is a hob allowed to be a weaver?” He looked deeper in her eyes. “Or why is he a weaver when you are not?” He added.
Charlotte’s shoulders had fallen. “Maybe both.” She answered honestly.
“Another time, dear Lottie.” Isaac said.
But that time had never come. Charlotte broke her trance with the old memory and glanced over at the back wall. Three open arches, decorated with more etchings, opened to a long hallway. The hallway opened into three more hallways with rooms off to the left and right of each hall. At the end of each hallway was a medium size open room.
Charlotte stepped into the hallway and caught her appearance in a large mirror. Hair windblown. Shoes missing. Makeup smudged. Dress dirty. What a night it had been. She thought it might be early morning by now, but it was impossible to tell. Hobs didn’t keep time the way danes did. They thought it hindered both productivity and relaxation, so there were no clocks anywhere in this part of the castle.