Wilde's Army

by Krystal Wade

  Arland claps Cadman’s shoulder. “No. Thank you. Be safe. I will see you soon, my friend.”

  Arland watches his best warrior walk through the double doors, then returns his gaze to me. “The music is dying down, the people are returning to their seats. A kiss will be expected. Promise not to enjoy it?”

  “Enjoying it is impossible. I will think of you and only you.” I place my fist over my heart in the same way he did for me. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  “I’m coming back,” I think.

  “I know. And you’re not stupid; I’m sorry for saying it. I don’t know why I keep saying so many mean things.”

  “I know you’re sorry. It’s okay.”

  My connection to Brit, and Arland’s warmth, disappears. I’m floating through the great room again. I return to my body, and the strength of Arland is replaced by Perth’s small, cold fingers laced with mine. Finding my love in the crowd, I see Brit showing him some of the same affections I just did. I don’t know if she’s trying to keep consistent with how we love him or what, but it doesn’t make me feel good to watch. In fact, her head on his chest makes my heart hurt, my body ache. How will I survive two weeks of this? How will I survive another day of this?

  Perth tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Stop staring at him, Katriona. People will notice.”

  “Sorry.” First I’m apologizing to Arland for having too much fun, now I’m apologizing to Perth for looking at Arland.

  I’m done.

  “Can we go back to our rooms now? I am exhausted,” I say, leaning my head on Perth’s shoulder.

  He rests his head on mine. “My father has a speech planned, and my uncle wishes to meet you.”

  I sigh. “Is it going to be like this every night?”

  “Speeches, meeting people, and dancing—probably. You are the key to my father’s success, remember?”

  “Arland said he went off with Rhoswen and the guards after we talked to him … are you sure she is not on our side?”

  “I do not doubt my father will punish her publicly just to make you cave and speak against him. Do not fall for his tricks.” Perth lifts his head then draws my face toward his with his finger. “Shall we go meet my uncle?”

  “I guess.” I take his hand then follow him out into the crowd.

  We approach his Aunt Maura standing with a man who looks more like Perth than Perth’s father.

  The thin man frowns when he notices us. “Perth, I was wondering when you would introduce me to your prize. Nice of you to finally bring her over.”

  Perth puts his arm around my waist, drawing me near at the hip. “I apologize, Uncle Lorne, it has been a whirlwind of an evening. Katriona, this is my Uncle. Uncle Lorne, Katriona.”

  I offer my hand but the same courtesy is not returned.

  Uncle Lorne’s eyes have no visible iris, and his skin is closer in color to the gray coscarthas than that of a normal person’s. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh, the pleasure is all mine.”

  Jerk.

  He tips his head toward Arland and Brit. “What do you think of your sister and her affections for that boy who did a terrible job protecting you?”

  Noticing their linked hands, I scowl. “I cannot control who my sister loves.”

  Lorne laughs. “Good answer. I like her, Perth. And to think your father thought he would need to force his hand to get her to marry you. Apparently you have inherited some of his charms, no?”

  Disgusting.

  Perth smiles at me. “It appears I have—and a good thing, too; Katriona will make fine children someday.”

  I have to force myself not to blurt out who those children’s father will really be.

  “Speaking of my father and his charms, would you happen to know where he is? I expected a speech of some kind, and Katriona is exhausted—I told her we would rest after he releases us.”

  Lorne straightens and uses his eyes to exchange some unspoken agreement with Maura. “Your father will not be available for the remainder of the evening. Go on to bed.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, I will return Katriona to her room then meet up with my father.” Perth tugs my hand.

  Lorne grabs Perth’s arm, yanking us back toward him and Maura. “On second thought, you should meet with him now. Say goodnight to Katriona then have Arland return her to her room. I will have Deverill and Cyric accompany them as well, so you or your father will not have any concerns.”

  Perth turns to me. This is it, the moment where I have to make my Broadway debut, the moment where I find out how willing I am to do this.

  “Are you going to be okay without me?” He strokes my cheek with the back of his bony fingers.

  I nod. “I wish we had more time to spend together, but I understand you must speak with your father.”

  He cups my cheek, sending chills across my face, sending a shock to my heart and knees. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I wrap my arms around him and imagine the brave man I’m watching him become, the man who wants honor and a family and to do the right thing. Then I imagine Arland and pretend I’m going to kiss him, because I can think of nothing else to make me want to do this. Strong Kate is gone, replaced by weak Katriona who only cares about her heart.

  Perth closes his eyes and leans into me. Our lips meet. He parts mine slowly rather than sweetly, like he’s never kissed anyone before. His mouth doesn’t open, but the longer we’re connected, the closer he pulls me into him, the harder he presses against me and then—

  Everything is black. My stomach twists and rises into my throat. I’m going to be sick. Smoke from burning bodies fills the sky, making the air foul with the scent of charred hair and skin. Cries ring in my ears. Death is littered on the ground for miles. I look down at my feet and see Brit, gurgling, blood draining from the corner of her mouth and open wounds over her chest and arms.

  “B-B-Brit.” I fall to my knees then press my hands against her cuts, apply pressure to stop the bleeding, but I’m too late.

  She’s dying.

  “Who did this? Who killed her?” I scream but receive no response.

  Body trembling, her eyes roll back in her head.

  “No … .” I ball my fists and look up.

  Daemons approach by the thousands, led by Brad who’s naked and covered in crimson. The Brad I knew struggles against Dughbal, stopping every few steps, slowly placing a foot forward, then making a considerable effort before moving another.

  “K-kill him, Kate,” Brit says, eyes returning to the here and now. “You have to kill him. C-come b-back for m-m-me.”

  Arland rests his hand on my shoulder—his warmth and smell give him away before I turn around. “You must leave her, Kate. Dughbal is your kill, and he is waiting for you.”

  We’re surrounded.

  “Foolish boy, do you honestly believe this pathetic Draíochtan woman can kill me?” The sadistic voice coming out of the guy with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a football player build, screams out insanity.

  A tear falls from my chin then lands on Brit’s cheek. Closing my eyes, I think only of her and the life stolen from her, I think of all the times we spent sleeping, laughing, and crying together. I imagine the life she would have had if it weren’t for this god standing in front of me in my best friend’s body. She could’ve had Brad, she could’ve had love, she could’ve had everything she ever wanted.

  Flames grow from my core and spread like wild fire. Arland ignites as well as Perth on my left and Cadman, Flanna, Saidear, Tristan, and so many others who still live and fight with us.

  “Your ancient magic will not be enough to save you. Fight and you will die a horrible death, Katriona.” Dughbal licks his lips, the lips I’ve tasted, the lips that loved me once. “Give up and I will make it painless. Where you are going there will be peace.”

  “There will be peace until you steal our powers and ruin the Heavens, too. I will not give up, I will fight you and I will kill you.”<
br />
  “Very well. I rather enjoy a fight. Choose your death: swords, magic, or daemons?” Dughbal smiles, arms out at his sides, the tall, mangled coscarthas inching closer.

  I toss my sword to the ground, glowing bright enough to illuminate miles of surrounding forest. “Magic.”

  “Wonderful choice,” he says, raising his arms above his head. “Mharúgrá.”

  Black fog stretches from Dughbal and engulfs Arland’s body, making him invisible against the night. He cries out, muffled but gut-wrenching.

  “Not Arland, no, no, no … .” I run to him and close my eyes. “Save him. Save him, and kill Dughbal. End this now.”

  Light fills the sky, bursts from the ground, descends from the trees and spirals around Arland and the billowing fog. The closer the magic gets, the dimmer the sprites become.

  Drive the sword through his chest like you do his daemons. Griandor’s words replay themselves in my mind. I glance at my sword lying on the ground near my feet, pick it up and abandon my love to kill Dughbal—it’s the only way.

  “You no longer wish to use magic?” He laughs and reaches out his hand, sword flying into his grip.

  Marching toward him, I draw my claymore back and think of Arland’s love and my sister’s smile, then focus all my pain and anger into my heart. This will not continue. I will not lose anyone else.

  Dughbal holds his arms out to the side and tips his head back. “Go ahead, child, strike me with your sword. I am a god. You cannot kill me.”

  It cannot be this easy.

  I run to him then ram the blade straight through his chest. Thick black fluid oozes from his wound. He looks down himself, stumbling back a bit.

  Dughbal’s weapon falls to the ground with a thud.

  With two hands, he pulls my sword from his chest then drops it. The metal clanks off his blade. The wicked god drops to his knees. “I do not understand.”

  I pick up my claymore, lift it over my head then drive it into his chest again. “You are a god, Dughbal, but your father took away your immortality a long time ago. You can be killed, and you just let me.” I twist the hilt, ensuring his death is painful.

  Over and over I remove the sword, plunge it into him and watch as more of his evil seeps from him and into the earth. The red dirt stains black around him.

  “He is dead, Katriona,” Perth says, clamping his hand on my shoulder and tugging me back. “We need to go.”

  “Arland … .” I turn, but Arland is nowhere to be found. “W-Where … ?”

  Perth shakes his head. “He is gone.”

  “No. He’s not gone. He can’t be gone.” My vision clouds, my knees tremble. “No. No. Not my love. Not—”

  Perth’s cold hands cup each of my cheeks now. His mouth is wide open, and I’m almost positive I’m kissing him in a way I never imagined I would. My eyes are closed, but everything appears blue—I’m glowing.

  Pulling away, I offer him less of myself and drop my hands from his waist where I had my nails dug into his skin.

  “That was … .” Perth whispers.

  I spare a quick glance at Arland—his mouth hangs open, his eyes don’t meet mine. He leans beside Brit’s ear.

  She nods and they turn and walk away.

  No.

  No.

  Not Arland.

  I lost him in my vision and in reality.

  The wooden doors slam closed behind them. A piece of stone falls from the wall and crumbles on the floor.

  No one watches Arland or Brit though; everyone stares at my body covered in blue flames. No one can possibly understand why my magic displayed itself. Arland cannot even understand why it happened.

  But he must think I enjoyed kissing Perth.

  And now I’m not protected from Dughbal. My heart sinks to my stomach. If Arland ever forgives me, I could lose him anyway. I hate this. I need to make the list of my visions, the list Brit suggested. I need to prepare for all Arland’s possible deaths. I need to find a way to save him, and I need to end this war.

  Lorne glances around the room. “Where has Arland gone off to? It is a good thing your father has other soldiers to help protect Katriona, Perth.”

  “I am sorry,” Perth says, tearing his gaze from me to look at his uncle.

  “Arland. He is gone. Deverell will have to escort her to her room. I will keep them posted outside her door tonight in the off chance Arland does not return.” Lorne shakes his head. “Your father will have him executed for this.”

  “No, Uncle Lorne, my father will be very happy Arland ran off. Let him fall from grace publicly.” Perth reaches for my hand again. “I will escort Katriona back to her room then meet my father.”

  Lorne laughs. “After that display, I do not understand why you do not go through with the Binding right now. You could have a very interesting evening.”

  I squeeze Perth’s fingers between mine as hard as I can manage. He cannot believe I enjoyed that, or his uncle’s comment.

  Maura jabs the perverted Ground Dweller’s ribs. He smirks, rubbing his side. “It was a mere suggestion, Maura.”

  She and I meet eyes; hers are the faintest shade of brown, like coffee with way too much creamer. “I believe Katriona needs rest, and Perth needs to meet his father. There will be no Binding tonight.”

  ”And you know my father will get more enjoyment the longer we string this out and hurt the Light Lovers. If you see my father before I do, tell him I will meet with him shortly.”

  Perth rushes me out of the great room—everyone must assume we’re going for more of what they watched, but in private. Once in the hall, he slows his pace then lets go of my hand. “What happened?”

  I gasp, afraid to admit what happened, afraid to admit death may be Arland’s fate. “I had a vision.”

  “That much I could decipher, but you went cold on me … you barely moved and I thought you had decided not to go through with the lie. Then you whispered ‘No’ in my mouth and kissed so … passionately. I have never experienced anything so wonderful in my life, Katriona. Please, kiss me again.”

  He pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around my waist, stealing my air, my hope, me … .

  “I know you do not love me, and I know you never will, but please, one more time, kiss me like that.”

  Tears stream down my face, and I cannot stop them. Wriggling free from Perth’s embrace, I run away. He follows, but I don’t stop until I reach my room. I push through the door, slam and lock it closed behind me, then throw myself onto the bed.

  Pounding comes—first in my head from crying too much, then at the door. I ignore whoever it is.

  Dreams haunt me all night long. Sitting up in bed, I realize I fell asleep with my clothes on. I reach out for the sun to see what time it is—four in the morning, according to the position of the stars and moon.

  My head still throbs, and my throat is dry. Someone laid out a baby-blue silk nightgown for me, so I slip from my ridiculous velvet dress and into the more appropriate one. I tiptoe to the door then unlock the top bolt, praying Arland is out there.

  The hinges protest, echoing down the hall. Only the guards Deverell and Cyric stand outside my room.

  “Can one of you get me a glass of water?”

  I don’t know which is which, but the same Ground Dweller who held open the door for me and Perth to enter the great room, is the same one who nods then walks up the stairs.

  “Will you be needing anything else?” the other, short, blonde man asks.

  “What is your name?”

  “Cyric.” He grins, looking me up and down with his beady, white eyes.

  I hide myself behind the door. “Well, Cyric, can you bring my sister to me—and where is the other guard? I was told he had to remain in sight of me at all times.”

  “No one has seen Arland Maher or your sister since the celebration in the great room, but if I see either of them, I will be sure to send her your way.”

  My insides shake, but I remain calm on the outside. I know I can’t keep th
is up though. “And Arland?” I purse my lips.

  Cyric clears his throat, wearing an expression saying he doesn’t care. “He will return, but whether he is put in charge of you again is up to your future husband.”

  “Thank you.” The water no longer important, I close the door, go back to bed, then crawl under the covers.

  Staring at the ceiling, I replay the events of the evening through my mind, but the disappointment on Arland’s face haunts me more than anything else. His eyes, full of sadness, couldn’t even meet mine. His expression, blank, empty, didn’t reveal any of the warmth I’ve grown used to. If he ever wants to see me again, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do—a lot of making up.

  Someone knocks on the door.

  I bury my head under the pillow and hum the song Flanna sang for me when I was afraid at Watchers Hall, her peaceful melody of words about Griandor and the sun, and try to sleep.

  Another knock echoes through my head, adding to the pounding ache.

  “Go away.” I throw my lumpy down-filled pillow across the room then flip onto my belly. Unless Arland is outside my door, I’m not answering it. Considering how dangerous that would be and after what happened tonight, there’s no way he’s knocking.

  Once the person outside my door gets the hint, I curl into a ball and sob myself to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Thump, thump, thump.

  People banged on my door all night long. No one around here seems to learn. I’m sure if whoever it was had pressing matters, they would have barged in, but no one did.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  “Fine. I am coming. Just stop pounding my door.” I throw the blankets from my legs then step onto the cold, stone floor with my bare feet. Wrapping my arms around myself, I pad over to the prison exit then turn the handle.

  “Good morning, Katriona.” Rhoswen holds up a tray of food with her left hand and carries multiple garments in colors of wine, blue, and gold with her right. Her face is swollen, black surrounds her eyes, and her lips are cut open.

  “I brought you breakfast and clothes. Are you going to tell on me for something else today?”

  I suck in a sharp breath, bringing my hand to my mouth, not sure what to say about her appearance. “I … .” I think about what Dufaigh told me, about how if anyone disgraced my family I should punish them immediately. As much as I hate to do it, taking in her wounds, I know I must. This has to be another test.