by Day Leitao
“We’ll never see each other again.”
“Of course we will. I’ll come back. I’m not going far. Things change. Times change. Who knows? Your father might change his mind or something else could happen. I’ll come back.”
She smiled. He wiped away her tears. She squinted and said, “You’d better not forget you said that.”
Darian laughed. “There. That’s more like you. I don’t like to see you sad.”
“My father threatened to kill you. Do you have any idea how I felt?”
“I can imagine. But it’s over now. And I will come back for you.”
Cayla smiled. That smile. Darian could live off that smile. A crazy idea came to his mind. He didn’t care about his plans, his father, his brother, defeating the evil king or anything. He said, “Come with me. Let’s run away together. You won’t be locked in this castle anymore. We can hide with my people.”
She looked at him—her eyes said yes—but then she looked down. “We wouldn’t be happy. We’d have to live on the run. And you’d risk getting killed.”
Darian exhaled. She was right. “I know. We can wait.”
He hoped she wouldn’t forget him, He hoped they would stay connected. He pulled one of the necklaces from under his shirt. “I know this is not as beautiful or precious as your jewelry—and you don’t have to wear it—but I’d like you to have it. To remember me.” He showed her the other one. “One of these used to be my mother’s. I don’t know which; they are twins.”
Cayla took it and looked at the black stone. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. Of course I’ll wear it.”
She put it around her neck and leaned forward while Darian closed it. When he looked at the stone again, it was a clear yellow. He gasped.
Cayla was surprised as well. “It changed color.” She looked at Darian. “Yours too.”
It was true. His stone had turned a clear yellow. More distant words from his mother came to him. These are twin necklaces. For people who love each other, or they’ll hide their beauty. You can use them to communicate. I’ll give you mine when you’re old enough. You’ll know if she loves you.
Cayla loved him. He knew it, and yet…
Cayla asked, “What is it? What does it mean?”
“It means we’re connected. That’s why they changed colors.”
Cayla looked down and smiled. He couldn’t get over it. She loved him. He leaned forward, pulled up her chin and kissed her. Her lips tasted salty from the tears.
After a second, she turned her head away. “Darian, please. We need to be friends and friends only. Your life depends on it.”
He sighed. He understood she was still afraid, so he hugged her instead. She leaned her face on his chest. He squeezed her as tight as he could. He wished they could remain like this forever, that he’d never have to let her go.
Darian’s shirt dampened from her tears. He heard a knock on the door and knew his time was up. He kissed the top of her head. “I have to go. The stone—we can use it to communicate with each other. You press it and think about me.”
“I’ll do it all the time then.”
He laughed. “You can think about me all the time, but only press the stone when you’re alone and nobody sees you.”
She looked at it. “Is it magic?”
“It’s old, forgotten knowledge.”
She nodded and looked into his eyes. “I’ll wait for you.”
He kissed her forehead. “And I’ll be back.”
9
Cayla’s Resolutions
Cayla hated balls and hated dancing. She hated pretty dresses and stupid earrings. She crossed her hands over her chest. Cleavage. She felt naked. She hated the prince of Arlenia. But here she was at a ball being given in his stupid name. And he’d been dancing with her.
She wanted to puke as she remembered his slimy hands on hers, while staring at her as if he were a starved dog and she a steak. Arlenia was a stupid tiny kingdom. She didn’t understand why her father was doing this.
Another song was about to start and she hoped with all her heart that someone other than the prince would ask her to dance. A hand was extended to her. She looked up and saw Sian. As much as she disliked him, she felt happy, wondering if Darian had sent him.
They walked to the dance floor. When she was sure nobody could hear them, she asked, “Have you seen your brother?”
“Not yet. It’s been only three months. I don’t want anyone to suspect I helped him.”
Helped him. How dare he? But she decided to comment on that. “So you don’t have any news?”
“Why? Do you happen to care if he lives or dies? I doubt it. I warned you and you didn’t care. You didn’t care if there was any danger, and didn’t care to check, as long as you had a puppy to play with.”
Cayla rolled her eyes. “I had to say that. I was trying to save his life.”
“Not sure if you noticed, but I’m the one who saved his life.”
“Oh, after you had him imprisoned and almost killed? How noble of you.”
“I wasn’t expecting thanks, you know. But you do realize I risked my life, my position, my rank, everything, for my brother. Why would I have planned it?”
“Because you knew you could get everything you wanted. Darian was sent away. You came out a hero. But I see through you.”
“Right. I planned to fight an experienced soldier.”
“That fight was a joke. You were pretending the entire time.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. And how do you know that?”
“I was hidden, but I watched the audience and observed your footwork. I know fighting techniques.”
“True. I saw you training with my brother.”
Cayla stopped and stared at him. She wished she could slap him, punch him, something.
“What? I don’t see anything offensive in what I just said. If anything, I might be the only person who didn’t draw wrong conclusions about you two on the ground.”
Cayla sighed. Maybe he was right. Sian was annoying because she never knew when he was being sarcastic or just saying the truth. She looked at him. “I still think you planned it.”
“I am a good strategist, I’ll give you that. But no matter what you say, you are the one who kept seeing him and didn’t care. Accusing me won’t wash away your guilt, girl.”
“And acting outraged won’t make me change my mind about you. Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“No. I might see my brother in a couple weeks and I want to know what to tell him.”
“You don’t have to tell him anything.”
Sian had a smug, unpleasant smile. “Oh, but I must. I noticed the smiles and favors you give the Arlenia prince. I noticed how often you danced. I’m not stupid.”
How dare he? As if it was her fault. Cayla rolled her eyes. “If you think I was smiling at the prince, you need to have your eyes checked.”
“I’ll be straightforward with you then: don’t break my brother’s heart. He’s young and innocent. I know you were just using him to pass the time. And now you turned your attention to the prince.”
“You’re disgusting, Sian. Tell your brother whatever you want. You’ve always wanted to break us apart. But he’ll know what you’re trying to do. And he’ll know you were the one who meddled.”
Darian would know how she felt and his stupid brother wasn’t going to break them apart. Or so she hoped.
“Well, he’ll know you’re fickle, and that you were bound to disappoint him. Love is poison. That’s what women do, isn’t it?”
Cayla laughed. “Why—disappointed that no girl loves you?”
“That would be impossible. I can’t be disappointed in what I don’t expect.”
She laughed again. “At least you’re realistic. That’s one good quality.”
“That’s a great quality. I am realistic—and rational—but my brother isn’t, and I won’t forgive you for what you did.”
“I won’t forgive you either, Sian. Does that mak
e us even? I wonder how you’ll talk to me when I’m queen.”
“Queen of tiny Arlenia? How wonderful.”
“Queen of Whyland, you stupid. Did you forget who I am? Is that why you hate your brother—you’re jealous he’ll marry the queen?”
“Marry? I wasn’t told about the engagement. But if you’re serious about it, maybe you should reconsider the attention you’ve been giving to the prince. I see the way you look at each other.”
“The way he looks at me. It’s not my fault.”
“You didn’t seem too bothered.”
“Sian, you’re being disgusting and making false assumptions. I’ll make a formal complaint against you if you continue.”
“You’re going to make up lies against me? Like you did against my brother?”
“I didn’t. Stop it.”
“I’ll stop. The music is almost over anyways. Do you want me to tell my brother anything?”
“No.”
“So you just don’t care.”
“I don’t care what you say, that’s all.”
The music stopped and Cayla walked outside. She hated Sian, but he wasn’t completely wrong. She had been careless and almost caused Darian’s death. Now he was away with the army, in a dangerous region, risking death again. But then she knew it had been Sian’s fault. And how dare he mention the prince? She hated him. She wished she could remain in her bedroom. But she needed to obey her father. At least for now. But she was tired of being told what to do, of being confined within the castle walls. She wanted to scream, run, but she couldn’t. Her hands touched the place where Darian’s twin necklace should be. She missed it. It was the one thing that brought her comfort.
She worried what Sian would say, though. Would he make up lies about her? Would Darian be jealous? But he’d never been jealous. She wished she could be with him, but knew she had to be patient. It was one of the reasons she didn’t want to contradict her father. Maybe one day he’d understand. Maybe he’d allow them to see each other again. She was hopeful. But for now, she had to wait.
Cayla was also afraid of contacting Darian while inside the castle. It had something that blocked the necklace, so she had to go to the gardens. Still, she had the odd feeling she was being followed and that her gardens were no longer safe. She didn’t want anyone to know what her necklace could do, and to know she’d contacted Darian. It could cost him his life. She would never put his life at risk again. She closed her eyes. She had to wait.
Odell had been telling her she would need to defeat Lylah, that it was her duty. She lived in a castle on an island on the Black River. Cayla would defeat her, and would gain her father’s trust. That would mean freedom. And there was something else as well: she’d need to leave the castle to defeat Lylah. She imagined herself stepping out into the world and tasting freedom. Meanwhile, all she had to do was be patient and wait, and shut down the desire to run away and scream.
10
Darian’s resolutions
Darian watched the flames grow as the village burned. He wondered how many stories and memories were being consumed by the fire. Favorite chairs, favorite books, pans that had cooked many meals, toys, cribs… All lost. But he showed no emotion. At least the villagers were safe. They had been warned the previous night and escaped before commander Sarris could find and question them. As revenge, their village was set on fire.
Darian watched, thinking about his own village, and that one day the army might find it and burn it down just like this one. At least if they were alive they could rebuild.
Sarris laughed. He had some sadistic pleasure in seeing people suffer.
In the last three months, Darian had learned what the army did in the South; they destroyed and killed. He’d spoken to his father about it, and unfortunately wasn’t surprised to learn that Keen supported these tactics. His father believed the people were assembling against the king and the army in support of Lylah, and that it was their duty to rid the kingdom of any act of disobedience. But the list of acts of disobedience was huge and illogical. More and more members of the army were deserting at the risk of being killed. Darian didn’t desert. He wanted to use his position to do good and he was doing it.
While before, there were people organized here and there against the king, this time they could join their efforts for a great uprising. Darian was just with a battalion for now, but hoped he’d have the chance to go back to Siphoria to the communication center. From there, he could coordinate these different groups. When he met dissatisfied members of the army, he spoke to them. They were forming an alliance within its ranks to take power from within. There was a lot of work ahead of them, but he was sure they would be able to achieve their goals. These thoughts made him feel less guilty for standing alongside war criminals.
Sarris, Darian, and seven other soldiers walked back to the encampment. Darian did his best to seem satisfied and relaxed as if he’d enjoyed destroying innocent people’s homes. As they walked among the trees, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left arm, and a little blood started dripping. It was a dart. A little blood was dripping from the puncture. He knew what was happening; the villagers hadn’t run but were rather ambushing them. A few more well-placed shots could do a great deal of damage. Maybe they could even kill Sarris. But with superior weapons, the odds were in the army’s favor. Those villagers would be slaughtered.
Darian looked down, hoping nobody had noticed when another soldier yelled, “We’re under attack! Ready all weapons!”
The soldiers formed a circle, standing back to back, but they didn’t see anyone. Darian looked up and saw a human figure on one of the trees. It was a boy, no more than thirteen. His eyes met the boy’s eyes, which were filled with fear. Darian looked away, hoping nobody else had seen him, hoping the boy could escape. A loud noise squashed Darian’s hopes. The boy’s small body fell on the ground.
Everything around Darian blurred. Sounds and images stopped making sense. All he felt was cold dread and guilt. The boy could have been Darian not long before, fighting for freedom, defending his people, daring, hopeful, brave. Now he was gone. Everything turned black.
Darian woke up in Sarris’ lift. His arm was bandaged, but the surrounding skin looked blue and purple.
“We called a doctor from Siphoria,” Sarris said. “You were poisoned, son.”
Son. That word gave Darian shivers. He knew it was just an expression, but it reminded him of how much he was related to all that was cruel and unfair in his kingdom.
Sarris continued, “Your brother and father might come by, for a farewell.”
Farewell? Darian looked at his arm. The poison was spreading. He knew there was a solution. “Can’t we cut off the arm?”
“Your father forbids it. And the poison has already spread.”
Darian couldn’t believe it. Was it that his father didn’t want a lame son? Maybe he should try to cut off his own arm—he wanted to live–but he didn’t say any of that. He only asked, “Why have a doctor then?”
“We need to identify the poison.” He looked at Darian. “I’m sorry, but that’s the price of war. At least you’ll die in peace knowing you were fighting to defend your kingdom from rebellion and disobedience.”
Darian swallowed hard. He couldn’t come to terms with the news. Dying? But he was so young. He hadn’t even started everything he planned. He hadn’t seen the king defeated. It couldn’t be. How ironic that he, the only one who had tried to defend the village, would be the one to die. The price of war. But no. He was going to fight. He was going to find a solution. Sarris might have given him up for dead, but Darian wasn’t going to simply lie down and wait for death to take him.
He got up and asked, “Permission to go for a walk?”
Sarris shook his head. “Not in your state.”
“It might be my last time.”
The old commander exhaled and said, “Go. But come back.”
Darian walked outside. His colleagues were sitting in a circle and didn’t notice him. H
e walked to the woods. There, he removed the bandage and cleaned up the thick balm from the wound. He saw the place he had been punctured, cut the skin around it, and rebandaged it. Darian had no idea what the poison could be—they didn’t have that stuff in the village he’d grown up in—but he knew the best place to find an antidote was with the poison makers. He walked hoping to find someone, hoping they’d know he was not on the army’s side. He had some idea of where the villagers had gone. The hills. He gathered all his strength to walk in that direction. Before he went much farther, he fainted again.
Darian wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or awake. He lay on a pile of hay in a cave while two women took care of him. They had blond hair and blue eyes like Nia, the king’s wife. He heard fragments of conversations, and couldn’t quite be sure who said what or if it was his imagination.
“And what if he can’t stand it?” one said.
“Look at his necklace. He’s from the lost people in the North.”
“He doesn’t seem to have learned any magic.”
“It might be for the best. His path is different.”
“His magic might be amplified with this.”
“If it is, it will help him. It will help us as well.”
“What is his magic?”
“I saw him when he convinced the village leaders. He’s a whisperer.”
“Spell speaker.”
“What?”
“They call them spell speakers in the North. If he is one, he’ll become even more powerful.”
“Should we allow a boy to have such power? We could let him die.”
“We found him. There’s a reason. If we turn away now, we’ll be murderers. And he’s one of the lost people.”
“But he’s a boy.”
“But he doesn’t know about his magic and he’ll never have the training. He’ll just be a natural leader. If he wants to bring down the army, it will help him, and help us.”
Darian woke in the same place he had fainted, in the woods, not far away from the lifts. His arm wasn’t bandaged and there was a scar where he had carved it. He started to think the conversation he’d heard had been real. The women had cured him. It was day, but he had no idea how much time had passed. Days? Months? He walked back to the encampment. The lifts were still there. Nobody was outside. He went into Sarris’ lift. The old man sat at a table, reading.