by Krystal Wade
In a matter of minutes, I empty my plate. Camlin sets another one in front of me.
“No thank you,” I say, wiping my face with my napkin.
“Go on, child. Eat. It is clear Arland not only failed to keep you safe, but he failed to feed you, as well. I promise you will never go hungry again.” Leaning in front of Perth, Dufaigh pushes the dish closer to me.
One look at the Leader’s oversized belly tells me he isn’t lying.
“Thank you for the offer, but I have already eaten more than enough.” While I have his attention, I should probably find a way to tell him about Rhoswen. I hope Perth was right about her; otherwise I fear for her life. Thinking about what I should say, I bite my lower lip.
Perth leans next my ear again. “Let go of your lip and talk to him. Do not wait much longer, or I am afraid he will think poorly of you.”
Our faces are close, too close. Perth’s breaths dance across my cheek, sending my neck hairs straight on end. He squeezes my sweat-drenched hand. I feel the eyes of his father on us—of everyone on us—and know this must be the perfect time for a kiss. Focusing my thoughts on what I love, on what this means, on why I’m doing this, I send magic out from my heart to—
“Perth, do not force the girl to display affections for you in public so soon. It is obvious the two of you care for one another, but you have just announced your courtship. Do not be so forward,” a woman says, standing behind Perth.
He lifts my chin and smiles. “Public affection is not something she is fond of, Maura, but I am working on her.”
I swear his eyes appear greener than before.
“Yes, well she is a smart woman for wanting to keep her affections private.” The Ground Dweller squeezes between our chairs then offers me her hand. “My name is Maura.”
Ignoring the chill in her skin, I stay firm in my grip. “Katriona.”
“I have heard a lot about you, Katriona. I am Perth’s aunt. If you have any questions about the family and our history, please, come to me. My brother will be too busy to answer most questions, and as a High Leader in training, Perth will be fairly busy as well. But of course, there will be scheduled visits and nightly dinners, so you will have time to ask him questions.”
“Scheduled visits?”
“Oh yes, Katriona. You will need alone time, but not too much. We would not want you two to do anything before your Binding.” A blonde lock falls in front of her eyes, and she swipes it away as someone might a gnat.
Part of me wants to laugh and the other part wants to vomit. I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from smiling.
“Maura, if the children decide to do something before the Binding, it does not much matter,” Dufaigh says, waving.
She turns on her heel and faces him, hands propped on her hips. “What is the purpose of the courtship then? Why not just allow them to consummate the relationship so you can strip her and the Maher child of their titles?”
“Maura, you make it sound like I am evil. Is this not what you want for our people?”
“It is, Brother.” She pats my shoulder then works her overly plump self back through the chairs. “We will discuss things later.”
“Thank you.”
Maura stares at me as if she’s never heard those words spoken to her, shakes her head, then returns to her seat next to her brother.
Should I not have said thank you? Should I not be nice? The more I talk, the more I feel like I’m digging holes. I need to speak to Dufaigh about Rhoswen now. “Leader Dufaigh?”
“Yes, Child?” he asks, gnawing off a piece of chicken from its bone.
“May I speak with you in private?”
He tears at another piece of chicken then shoves it into his mouth using his fingers. “Whatever you need to say, you may say here.”
“No, sir, what I have to say needs to be spoken in private.”
Dufaigh slams his fist on the table, ending every conversation in the room. “Perth, what is the meaning of this?”
Perth stares at his plate. “You need to hear what she has to say, Father.”
“Guards.” Dufaigh claps his hands over his head.
The two guards from outside the hall rush up to him. “Yes, sir?” they say in unison.
“Are you two capable of controlling her if she gets out of line?” he asks, pointing his disgusting, greasy finger at me.
They look at me with their milky-blue eyes and smile. “That one poses no threat to us, sir.”
“Good. Come with us, but do your best not to listen.” Dufaigh stands, grabs the chicken leg from his plate then heads toward the exit on the side of the room. He looks over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
Perth and I stand then trail behind the Leader and his guards. We pass through the small door leading to the area where I met Vanora. The door squeaks closed on its hinges.
Everyone turns and looks at me.
“I … I need to … to—”
Licking his fingers, Dufaigh laughs. “You said you needed to speak to me, at this rate we will never have a conversation.” He smacks his lips, turning my stomach in the process. “Get on with it.”
“Rhoswen approached me before the celebration.”
He stops eating, then hands his chicken to one of the guards. “Leave us.”
“Yes, sir.” The men don’t even flinch at the disgusting behavior of their Leader; they just turn and walk away.
“Go on.”
“Well, she said everyone is sick of you and Perth and your evil ways, and that I should leave and end the war.”
He growls, narrowing his eyes, and walks closer to me. “And what did you say to her?”
“I told her I have the power to end the war, but I stay for love.” When said that way, it almost sounds like I’m on board with this idea, and she won’t be able to deny I said either of those things.
“Is that all?”
”Yes, sir.”
“You are powerful, Katriona. The next time someone disgraces your family, I expect you to deliver an immediate punishment. I will handle Rhoswen.” He brushes past me and back into the great room.
Perth stares after his father.
“That is it? Will he test me again? Is he going to—?”
“His reaction was strange. I do not know what to make of it. Give me time to think, but he will test you again, count on that.” Perth takes my hand.
I squeeze his fingers; his support is priceless.
“Do you dance?” he asks.
I smile, remembering all the dancing lessons Gary tried to give me. “My sister is a better dancer than me, but my feet do not get in the way like they did when I was a child.”
Perth pulls me close to him then wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Will you give me one dance before you trade places with your sister?”
Something about the tenderness in his voice, about the gentle way he wraps his arms around me, makes me sorry for him. “Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dancing with Perth in a room full of people—all with different expectations of me—is not as bad as I imagined it would be. The music is light and most of the candles have been snuffed out, creating a romantic ambiance, and almost everyone is smiling and having a good time.
It’s fun switching partners, pressing hands together and dancing around each other. The room echoes like there are a million drums all playing the same beat. With each step I take, my hair falls loose around my face. I hike up my dress with one hand and laugh and kick my feet, then spin around to the next person.
We were only supposed to have one dance, but this is the most fun I’ve had in what feels like forever. Growing up I’d always dance around the family room with my mom—some of these same steps—and we’d laugh so hard we’d wear our stomachs out long before our feet.
I catch Mom smiling at me from the end of the table—from her position of disgrace—and thank the gods she’s been allowed to live. Of course, Dufaigh probably intends to kill her as soon as I’m Bound to his son.<
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Lucky for her that will never happen.
Weaving my way around people, I continue to dance, continue to allow my hair to fall, continue to have fun … until I meet hands with Arland. His light touch, his radiating warmth—everything about him calls me to be near. The smile falls from my face. My laughter gets caught in my chest; I should be having fun with him, not Perth. I should not be having fun at all. What are we doing? The world is dying and we’re dancing the night away.
Someone presses their little hands against my back, nearly pushing me over. “Oh, I am sorry,” a young girl says.
I straighten myself. “It is okay.”
So not to make my sudden mood change any more obvious, I dance my way back to Perth, take his hand then tug him toward our table.
“Tired?” he asks, breathless.
“Very.” I take my seat. “And thirsty.”
“Camlin”—Perth calls, mimicking his father’s cold tone—”bring Katriona something to drink.”
“Yes, sir.” Camlin frowns at me then stalks off.
I wait for him to pass through a door leading into what I presume is the kitchen, then glare at Perth.
“Have I done something?” he asks, batting his blonde eyelashes.
“Is it impossible for you to show kindness to your own people?”
“It is possible … if I want to have my head chopped off.”
Looking around, I check for his father or anyone who shouldn’t hear our secrets. “He is heartless, Perth. You are ten times the man your father will ever be.”
Perth’s head snaps in my direction. A genuine smile grows on his face, and for once, he looks warm. His hand tightens around mine, and the chill fades away. “Those are the kindest words anyone has ever spoken to me.”
I lean closer to him. “They are the truth.”
We lock eyes, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest—this is another one of those perfect moments, but this is almost too perfect. I fear a kiss would mean too much to Perth now.
“Thank you,” he says.
I laugh, high-pitched. “Ahh, so you do know the meaning of those words.”
“I lie well,” he says, cold returning to his features.
Camlin sets a golden goblet filled with a burgundy liquid in front of me. “Your drink.”
“What is this?” I sniff the sweet, fruity fragrance wafting toward me.
“It is wine. Very hard to come by these days. Enjoy.” Camlin tips his head then returns to his place along the wall with his hands linked in front of him.
“Wine?” I bring the goblet to my lips then smell one more time.
Perth slides his finger along the rim, pushing it away from my mouth. “Take one very small sip, then turn your nose up at it.”
I do as he instructs, then set the goblet down. “Why?”
“It is poison.”
“Poison?” I bring my napkin to my lips then wipe my tongue on it. Good thing the room is dark.
“Not that kind of poison.” He smiles, watching me frantically lick the fabric. “It is something my father gives people when he wants information from them. He does not trust you, though I am not sure why. Are you positive Rhoswen did not say anything else to you?”
“I told you everything.”
Perth caresses his finger down my cheek, tormenting my insides. “We are not putting on a good enough show.”
“Kate, can you hear me?” Brit asks, invading my thoughts.
Finding her in the crowd, I nod.
“Good. Do you still need to talk to Arland?”
“Yes.”
“He says you should talk now. After dancing comes some stupid speech by that asshole, then it’s everyone to their rooms—according to Arland at least. So anyway, I think you’re doing great. Well, you were until you got near Arland while you were dancing . . . are you stupid?”
“No,” I blurt then press my hand to my mouth before I say anything else.
“No, what?” Perth asks.
“Nothing. Sorry.”
“Oh. I understand.” He scans the crowd then stops when he sees my sister. “You are speaking with her?”
“Yes.”
“I will remain quiet. Will she be visiting soon?”
“Yes.”
“Apparently you are stupid. You’re supposed to be the smart sister. Anyway, you ready to switch?”
Without answering, I focus on her, on connecting to the thoughts streaming through her head, on being inside her veins and controlling her muscles. My head tingles, my arms and feet do as well. The room darkens then everything fades to black.
I’m floating on air, drifting through the room toward my sister. People dance around me, through me. When I pass, they reach for something they cannot touch, smile up at me as though they can see me, then dance with more energy as if my presence is a drug.
My spirit floats into Brit’s body. I wiggle my fingers and toes then look back at the table where Perth sits—he’s laughing and talking to me, or Brit as me.
“You feel strong right now, do you not?” Arland takes my hand and laces his fingers with mine.
“How—?”
“Because every time you get near me, I feel it, too. This place—being surrounded by evil people, being forbidden to be near one another—it makes us stronger.” He tugs me closer to him. “I would kiss you, but it would be unfair to use Brit that way.”
I rest my head on his chest and breathe in the scents I’ve grown to love as much as the man who wears them. The dry leaves, dew, pine—earth—all these smells settle my nerves and calm my soul.
“I miss Flanna. She would find a way to make this all fun. Where is she?”
He caresses his hand up and down my back. “She and Shay are together. I believe Flanna is grieving for Lann now. Without having anyone to lead, there is no reason for her to be strong. Honestly, I believe that is where most of the soldiers from Watchers Hall are … grieving.”
Pulling away, I look around the room. Arland is right; our soldiers aren’t here. “I need to be with them, with her.”
“She would like that very much. However, there is no other person in Encardia who holds more contempt for Dufaigh than Flanna. If you were to be nice to her in any way, he would become suspicious.”
“Why do they hate one another so much?” I ask, resting my head on his chest again.
“Her mother should never have been attacked by daemons. Dufaigh made a poor decision that held our families in The Meadows too long. She blames him for her death.”
“I think he is to blame for a lot of things,” I say, realizing I haven’t seen the man since we spoke. “Where did he go?”
“He grabbed Rhoswen and his door guards then left shortly after you and Perth came back in. Although, I think you were enjoying yourself a bit too much to notice.”
I stare into his emerald eyes. “Sorry. I—”
He smiles and traces my cheek with his finger, forcing me to close my eyes. “Please, do not feel guilty. I rather loved watching you dance and laugh. I cannot wait for the day we have a celebration like this.”
“Will we get one?”
“When we end this war, my love, we will have a celebration bigger than this one. The guest of honor will be the sun.” Squeezing me, he kisses the top of my head.
Cadman bursts through the double doors then rushes up to Arland, creating an entrance so loud everyone turns their heads to see. “Sir, I need to speak with Katriona.”
Arland drops his hold on me. “Lower your voice. She is right here, using her connection with Brit to speak with me. What do you need of her?”
Cadman draws in deep breaths, chest heaving as if no amount of air could help him recover. “I believe I have discovered why Wickward was infiltrated.”
“And that reason is … ?”
“Shifters, sir. The very same problem we had at Watchers Hall. Katriona was able to see through their disguise, and I need to know how.”
I glance around the room, hoping no one can hear
us. “Cadman, I have no idea how that works.”
His red brows furrow, enhancing his wrinkles, reminding me how old he is. “You do not understand how it works, but what do you do?”
“Close my eyes and pray their forms are revealed to me.”
Arland laughs. “Have you prayed a lot recently?”
“More than you will ever know,” I say, smiling.
Cadman gets down on one knee then takes my hand, looking at me with utter desperation. This is the kind of fight I expected to see in High Leader Maher, in more of the people here, but everyone is complacent to rot to death.
“It is your magic … no, it is the old magic which belongs to every Draíochtan that makes you able to see through them. You must teach me how to use it. We leave in six hours. Will that be adequate time?”
“Stand up,” Arland says, narrowing his eyes and looking toward the head table. “Now.”
“Yes, sir.” Cadman stands. “I apologize for causing a scene, but I must know, I must save these people and bring them here—we need them for your army.” He tugs my hand, eyes wide and palms sweating.
“Close your eyes, Cadman, and focus on everything you love—not just the sunlight as you wished for on the top of that cave so long ago, but for everything. Concentrate love over your heart, let it grow inside you and turn to anger, anger toward Darkness and his daemons, toward whatever it is you seek to destroy. When that anger grows so big you cannot contain it in your heart any longer, allow it to spread through your chest, down your arms and legs, then command it to do what you want.”
“And that will help me see the shifters?” he asks like an eager student.
“No, that will be how you control old magic. To see the shifters, you must use the old magic, close your eyes and ask the gods to reveal the shifter’s true form to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I will practice this now. If it works, I will teach the others. Thank you.” He turns my hand over then places his lips in the center of my palm. “I will be in contact, sir. Watch over her.”