Wilde's Army

by Krystal Wade

  “When we win this war, Griandor will heal his heart and then maybe there will be a chance for Brad and Brit,” Arland says. “Would you like to speak to your sister alone?”

  Looking up, I see Brit sitting by the tree, arms crossed over her chest. She leans her head back, eyes closed. “No. She’s an expert at hiding things, and we need her advice.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  My sister’s advice for hiding things is ridiculous, but considering how well it’s worked for her, I have no other choice but to take it. From now on, anytime I look at Arland, I’m supposed to think of Perth or Dughbal or anything that generally displeases me.

  Knowing her secret explains all the sour faces she’s given Brad over the years. It also explains why he used to ask me if he smelled bad when we were preteens. I used to think he was self-conscious about puberty, but now I understand he was noticing Brit. I don’t want to be mad at her about who she loves, but there’s a significant part of me still crushed by her inability to trust me.

  “So I’m gonna go back inside and talk to Mom now.” Brit doesn’t move away; she looks down and kicks a patch of pine needles over with her boot.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  She raises her head, but she doesn’t meet my eyes. “No. I’m sorry I never told you. I just thought one day you’d wake up and see how wonderful he is and want to be with him. And I guess … I guess I was just scared I’d get my heart broken, or I’d ruin your life or—”

  I wrap my arms around her before she can apologize for anything else.

  She squeezes back, nearly expelling all the air in my chest.

  “Brit, if I’d known you cared for him so much, I wouldn’t have stood in the way,” I say after refilling my lungs with the dank, rotten air. “I do realize how wonderful he is. I love him dearly. Life wouldn’t have been so much fun if Brad wasn’t around, but you both deserve to be happy. I can’t provide that happiness for either of you.”

  Brit hides her face on my shoulder. “You’re wrong, Kate. You can provide happiness for Brad. You are the very thing that makes his world spin.”

  I step back, staring at her swollen face, her broken expression. “If I made his world spin, I’d be with him, and that’s not going to happen. You may have been right when you said he was obsessed with me. Not stalker obsession, but unwilling to see the truth that there is no future between us. I hope once he does see that, he’ll be open to your feelings.”

  She looks at Arland then to me. “I hope so, too, because I want what you two have.”

  I hold her anguish filled gaze. “One day you will have it because Griandor will bring Brad back, then he can be all yours.”

  Brit bites her quivering lower lip, then turns and heads toward the canopy of sumac.

  Something festers in me as she walks away—something dangerously close to panic. My hands shake, and I wipe them on my pants. “Just remember, don’t say anything.”

  She stops but doesn’t turn around.

  “I won’t.” Her words are soft-spoken, an unusual tone for my witty sister.

  Brit told me she wouldn’t say anything about Dughbal, and now I’m telling my sister I don’t trust her. And I don’t. I’m sure my request hurt, maybe even broke, her ego. Forgiveness is something I’ve already given her, but I cannot forget she kept a secret from me for so many years while I told her so much about myself. She knew my deepest secrets, my love for someone I dreamed of, my every fear, and yet she couldn’t tell me hers.

  Arland takes my hand, lacing his warm fingers with mine, leans down then places a gentle kiss on top of my head. “You no longer trust her?”

  His eyes, they radiate with knowledge and questions all at the same time. “Yes … no … I don’t know. Of course I love her and she’s my sister, but Arland, she lied to me. I understand why she did it, and maybe I would have done it, but she knew everything about me.”

  He shakes his head. “She omitted more so than lied.”

  I step away from him. “Are you defending her?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  I ignore the smile and the you-are-acting-childish look on his face so I can scold him. “How could you possibly defend lying or omitting or whatever you want to call it?”

  “What good would it have done for her to tell you? You would have tried to pair the two of them together—to their dismay. Brad would have felt awkward because he was there for you, and Brit would have lost the ability to remain casual with him. Even if you had not made an attempt to pair them, you would have known her feelings and, therefore, you would have felt awkward when Brad made attempts—”

  I clench my hands at my sides. “It wasn’t like that. He only ever made an attempt once.”

  “Katriona,” he says, pleading in his voice, “I took his memories from him; not all of them were tainted. You may not be aware of the other attempts, but he loved you for a very long time. There must have been hints or clues or affections shared between the two of you he never shared with any other.”

  Arland insinuates I’m naïve. Instead of the normal calming affect he has on me, I’m furious. “We were just friends. Or, I was just his friend. We never did anything until we came here.”

  Arland steps toward me, eyes locked with mine, making me want to run away or smack him for pushing my emotions, but I fight the urge. I love him and don’t want to argue, don’t want to raise my voice, don’t want Brad of all people to come between me and Arland.

  He takes my hands then closes the space between us. “So Brad never held your hand?” Arland asks, dragging his thumb across my palm.

  “Never allowed you to rest your head on him? Never touched your hair? Never hugged you or held a door open for you?”

  “No.” Knowledge that I’m lying hits me with the weight of a wrecking ball slamming into a house. I’ve been lying to myself since I found out Brad loved me … no, before that. I knew on our trip, from the moment I rested my head over his heart and heard the rapid thuds of his lies. But the friendship we shared was so genuine, so pure, so perfect—or so I thought. Instead of being my best friend, he made me look like a fool, and I let him. Everyone knew … even Gary.

  Tears blind me, but there’s nothing I need to see. I’m right where I need to be, in Arland’s arms, head resting on his chest—not Brad’s or Perth’s or somewhere it doesn’t belong. I close my blurry eyes and listen to Arland breathe. Allow him to soothe me. He’s like a healthy dose of medicine, taking away all my frustrations with just a touch.

  He rubs my back then pushes hair from my face, tucking the tangled locks behind my ear. “Why do you cry?”

  “I was so blind. I mean, when we first got here, I questioned myself. Asked myself why I was blind, but I just chalked it up to his affections not being obvious. B-but they were. We took almost every class together. He held my hand at concerts, played with my hair when I was stressed, hugged me every time I saw him. I’m so heartless, Arland. I let Brad treat me like a queen and never … . What if … what if it really was Brad who punched me? He had every right due to the kiss and him professing his feelings for me and me moving on, but what if he really hit me for everything I’ve put him through over the years?”

  “Stop. I did not ask you to think about this because I wanted to see you upset. I was trying to help put you in your sister’s shoes, and yet I have failed. Miserably I might add.” Arland chuckles, shaking his head, then takes me by the shoulders.

  “Listen to me, Brad did not hit you. Griandor told you that himself. And if a person is not honest with you, how can they expect you to reciprocate their affections? Think, Katriona, when I wanted you to know how I felt, what did I do?”

  “You told me—and you kissed me.” And it was unbelievable, and you nearly died for it.

  “Yes, I told you, and you were given the opportunity to share your feelings. However, Brad waited until he thought death was upon the two of you. It was unfair and put you in a position to make a decision you clearly were not prepared to make.”r />
  When Arland puts it that way, my actions don’t seem nearly as awful. “But—”

  “There is nothing you should feel guilty about. Promise me not to stew over him again?”

  “Okay.” I bite my lip, but I’m not convincing anyone.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Arland narrows his eyes. “Katriona, promise you will let him go. We will save his life, then you will be able to make any choice you desire for your future. And while I am asking you to promise things … forgive your sister. She needs you, and you need her. Remember how lonely you were without her?”

  “I have already made my choice for my future.”

  Arland smiles. “Then you have nothing to worry about where Brad is concerned.”

  “And I have forgiven my sister, but forgetting … . “

  “She lived in the exact same position I am about to find myself in at Willow Falls. However, she has had to live the lie many years while I will only have to suffer for a short time.”

  “That’s why you support her? Because you will have to go through what she has?”

  “Her situation was much more difficult than what mine will be.” Arland’s smile fades.

  “I am at least aware of your feelings and know when you make strange faces at me, it will really be because you love me. Brit did not have her feelings reciprocated, and she watched him adore you when she knew you did not feel the same while she did. Put yourself in her shoes, Katriona.”

  “I’ll try. I promise to try. I just”—I glance in the direction of the hideout—”I’ve never been very good at giving people second chances.”

  Touching my jaw with his fingertips as though I’m a delicate flower, he turns my head toward him. “Then you need to work on that. You seem to be doing a fine job trusting Perth. Did you not say he tried to kill you when you first met?”

  “He never lied to me though.”

  Arland grazes the back of his fingers across my cheek, looking into my soul with his knowing eyes. “He was never honest with you either. He knew who you were from the moment you met, yet you are telling all of us to trust him.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know.” Arland pulls me against him and laughs. “Now, we need rest and food. I am surprised Ogilvie and Gavin have not returned. They are both expert hunters.”

  He steps back, glancing around.

  Arland once told me our eyes adjust to the lack of sunshine, and to some extent mine have, but here, nothing can be seen except for the nearby scraggly, dried up trees. The light provided by the gods’ gift to us must have made our vision weak again.

  “I’m sure they’re just having trouble finding food to catch. Did you notice all the dead animals on the way here?”

  “I did.” Arland takes another look around.

  “I am concerned without food, trips away from bases will become too difficult for anyone to endure. This war must end soon. We should go back under the tree. We can wait for Ogilvie and Gavin there.” Pulling me toward the sumac at the pace of a sprinter, he doesn’t wait for me to respond.

  Fearing the worst, I glance over my shoulder but see nothing. “Are you okay?” This question is beginning to give me déjà vu. I’ve asked so many others if they’re okay. At some point, I know someone will tell me no. I wonder who that will be.

  “I am fine. Concerned for everyone’s safety, but I am fine.” Arland’s voice carries a hard edge, and I gather he’s more than slightly concerned for everyone.

  We’ve been out here for at least an hour without signs of Ogilvie or Gavin. The forest has been quiet with no noticeable noises—other than when my sister snapped the twig under her foot—so we cannot be sure whether the others are okay or not. Plus, we have hungry and tired soldiers and children with us, and the horses are missing.

  My concerns have come full circle.

  Thoughts of sitting under the sumac send a tingling of guilt through my chest. How can we sit and rest while others may be in danger? How can we talk of food while the animals are missing?

  I stop in my tracks, and Arland nearly makes me topple forward, pulling me with his strength and speed.

  He turns around, eyebrows pinching together, then rights my unstable self. “Why have you stopped?”

  “We can’t go in there.”

  He flashes a concerned glance in the direction of the shrubs. “Why not?”

  “It’s been at least an hour. Why aren’t they back? And where are the horses? The others should rest, but you and I need to find Ogilvie and Gavin and the horses.”

  “I do not like this,” he says, shaking his head. “We cannot leave the soldiers here alone, not without setting protections. But look at them”—Arland points toward the hideout—”they are all asleep. Three hours are not enough rest for the distance we have walked today, and certainly not without food.”

  Some soldiers lie sprawled out on the ground, snores erupt from their massive chests. Children rest their heads on Mom, Flanna, Brit, and Shay. While the four women prop themselves up with branches and trunks, their faces are tight, revealing discomfort.

  “We can set the protection around them, then we’ll come back after we find the others.”

  Arland looks me over as if he’s my doctor and I’m his dying patient. “You are tired, as well. Your mind dwelled on images of food and beds on the trip here. We can set the protections around them together, but I will go alone to find Ogilvie, Gavin, and the animals.”

  “No. I won’t let you go alone.”

  “Be reasonable. I can handle myself and know this forest well. I would feel a lot more comfortable if you would allow yourself to rest.”

  “And I would feel a lot more comfortable if you allow me to come with you—”

  “Sir?” The faint call makes Arland flinch and sets him on alert.

  Narrowing his eyes, he looks around. “Did you hear that?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, listening for another sign of the others.

  “Sir?” The voice is louder, but the origination remains indiscernible.

  Arland stares at something behind me then puts his finger over his lips.

  Pins and needles poke at my skin, making my movements stiff and slow. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder and receive another shock.

  “Mirain.”

  Taking a couple steps forward, she whinnies, then Bowen and Euraid appear behind her. All the animals have cuts covering their bodies, are caked in mud, and have vines tangled around their legs.

  Holding out my hand, I move forward. “How do you think they found us?”

  Arland grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me away. “Check for signs of daemons.”

  “You think she’s a shifter?”

  He puts his arm in front of me then pushes me back. “I do not know, just check them.”

  Closing my eyes, I see nothing. “They aren’t shifters.”

  “Thank the gods.” He drops his arm then lets me pass.

  “Sir?” The voice calls louder, coming from behind the horses.

  “Stay here.” Arland rushes down the hill and disappears into the shadows, leaving me alone to care for the animals and protect the soldiers.

  “How’d you find us?” I ask, leading the horses to the pine where Arland and I sat before.

  Mirain snorts.

  I’m sure of two things: she can understand me, and I cannot understand her. Tying Bowen and Euraid to the tree, I glance over my gift from Griandor and her lack of reins. “You going to be a good girl and stay here?”

  She bobs her head then moves closer to the tree.

  “Thank you. I’m going to go wait for Arland.” I rub their foreheads, then leave the animals to rest.

  “Kate.” The familiar and unwelcome voice causes me to pause in front of the sumac, feet afraid to move forward, instinct telling me not to run, stomach turning in knots.

  “So you recognize me still, huh?” Brad’s tone is so cold, so not Brad.

  Swallowing hard, I close my eyes. He is just an appari
tion. He cannot hurt me.

  “Oh I can hurt you. I know where you are, where you all are. Your precious lover is out there chasing daemons he believes to be his soldiers, but his soldiers are clueless there is anything wrong. Those fools are still trying to catch dinner. The animals are dying, Katriona Wilde. The soldiers will not catch anything for days—if that. Who knew Griandor’s creatures needed light to live?” A maniacal laugh resounds in my ears.

  My lower lip quivers much like Brit’s did when we spoke of Brad earlier, but our reasons are much different. I refuse to open my eyes to see my friend, to see the boy my sister loves, to see the struggle I know will be in his eyes.

  “Oh, Katriona, I assure you he is in here. He fights so very hard to save you. The boy loves you. He is even aware of your love for the Draíochtan, but cares not of this betrayal. All he desires is a simple touch of your repulsive skin, a mere greeting with your lips.”

  Shaking, I clench my eyes tighter, try to think of anything but what’s happening around me. The trembles move into my chest, down my thighs, into my knees. I am weak.

  “Yes, dear, you are very weak.” An ice-cold finger trails my cheek, pulling warm tears out behind the touch I know so well.

  “You should feel how he calls for you. I am almost intoxicated by what this makes him scream on the inside. Delightful really.”

  Brad. I cannot believe this is happening to him. He doesn’t deserve the pain, doesn’t deserve to be forced to fight against someone he loves with everything in him. Dughbal is so cruel, so heartless, so senseless. Why does he punish an innocent person? Boredom? Ignorance?

  With balled fists and courage derived from somewhere deep inside, I face the god who seeks to destroy all. His wicked smile, stretched halfway up my best friend’s face, melts all my resolve. I see Brad, the tension in his blue eyes. Dughbal may have Brad’s body, but the fight has not been won. He blinks over and over, paces toward the trees, then back to me.

  “Brad?” My voice comes out like a whimper. I don’t know why I call to him. I’m not sure what good it’ll do, but I have to know he’s there.

  His pacing comes to an abrupt standstill, hands straight by his sides.