by Brindi Quinn
“I never saw her myself, but one night I sneaked into the records office and checked the log of living prisoners. Illuma’s name was among them.”
“Oh.” I was disappointed that he hadn’t actually seen my sister, but his account was better than nothing. “How do you know she’s the one to be sacrificed?”
“She’s the only prisoner that was listed as a songstress. All the others are laymen Elves.”
“Plus,” said Grotts, “if they’ve kept ‘er fer a decade, they must have big plans for ‘er.”
Ardette nodded. “It seems we were right to assume that the sacrificial lamb must be ‘readied’ before the ritual can be completed, for there was also talk of The Mystress growing restless as she waited for ‘the day’ to come. The guards have been referring to it as ‘ad’ai’.”
Ad’ai? Then that’s . . .
“When’s this ad’ai supposed ta happen?” asked Grotts.
“I was unable to find an exact date. The higher-ups are very secretive, you know, but I do know that it’s coming soon.”
“That is all you found out?” asked Rend, her tone condescending. “Not even a specific date?” She rolled her eyes in disgust. “Some mole.”
“Ah, yes. If only I’d been promoted or something; but alas, I never reached said promotion. Seems I didn’t make the best impression on my commanders. I suppose it might have had something to do with my intolerance for figures of authority and lack of respect and the like, but who knows, really?”
“Repugnant Daem.”
But while they were bickering, I was thinking . . . about ad’ai.
“I know what it is!” I said abruptly. Miss Danice had taught me that much. “Ad’ai is an ancient term used to refer to a songstress’ coming of age.” I was extremely glad I’d been paying attention that day.
I looked over at Nyte. He was rubbing his chin, forehead furrowed in contemplation.
“Aura, you mentioned that Illuma was your older sister,” he said. “If it was your coming of age ceremony that we,” – he winced – “took you from, then are we not out of time? Illuma must already be of age.”
“Illuma was my elder, yes, but she was also my twin. She won’t reach the end of her second decade until I do.” I ran my finger along the tattoo on my wrist. “The Rite of Discovery is performed in accordance with the position of the moons, specifically when the western moon is at its lowest stage during the year that the songstress in training reaches maturity. Due to that technicality, my Rite was actually before I came of age. Sometimes it just works out that way.”
Ardette smiled, a far-off look in his eyes. “Twins . . .”
“Pig,” spat Rend.
“When is your birthday, Miss Heart?”
“When the western moon is at half-pass, in accordance with Farellah’s moon cycles.”
Kantú seemed to be calculating something. “So we have like . . . under a month and a half to stop the end of the world?” Her tail swished about apprehensively. “What happens then?”
“The Pure Heart’s sister will be sacrificed, and the Evil Heart will gain the Song of Destruction,” said Ardette, but he didn’t sound very concerned.
“We’ll leave for Yes’lech tomorrow,” said Scardo. “Once there, we’ll inform the officers of this and formulate a battle strategy. Miss Heart, you will need to discover your song if we hope to stop this disaster from happening.”
I felt ashamed at his words. Didn’t he understand it wasn’t so easy?
“But how do I do that without the Rite?”
“The original prophecy. We’ll retrieve it.” Ardette had been staring at me for some time, and his eyes now filled with longing . . . or maybe it was lusting. “Don’t fret, my cherry pit, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Ugh.
“Have you found the location of the prophecy?” Nyte directed his question at Scardo.
“The original prophecy, known as the Inscription of Ulan, is at a location only known to the officers of Yes’lech.” He looked at Ardette. “The ‘higher-ups’.”
“The Inscription of Ulan?” The Spirit of In-between. It was always one step ahead of us. The other now searches. Was ‘the other’ The Mystress? The Mystress . . . the evil queen.
I wondered if Ardette could shed some light on the Druelcan ruler where the others had been unable.
“Ardette?” I said. “Were you able to find out anything useful about The Mystress?”
“Ah, her. The rest of the Daems swoon over her, of course, but she is an utterly despicable woman. I’m not drawn to such darkness, so I find her to be quite annoying and demanding.”
Annoying and demanding? I’d been expecting brutal and wicked.
“Did ya see her face?” said Grotts.
“No. That damn veil. Though she must be hideous if she hides herself away; I’m certain I have no desire to lay eyes upon a woman like that, anyway. You’re much more my type, Aura.” He practically purred my name.
Nyte gripped the arms of his chair.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t forget about you, dear Rend. You’re also my type.”
Kantú leaned forward. “Boy, I sure love the sun! Wouldn’t you know; I’m actually afraid of the dark?”
I cracked a smile. Could she be any more obvious?
Ardette shot her a dazzling grin. She looked ready to faint.
“Were ya able ta figure out for sure this time if she’s an Elf or a Sape or what?” asked Grotts.
“Hm, yes a most peculiar issue. She’s undeniably a songstress, but on several occasions I watched her cast Elven magic. It’s quite odd. I’m not sure what to make of it. Maybe the officers will know?”
“You’ve done well, Ardette.” Scardo smiled thinly. “I’m certain the officers will be pleased with your findings. They should be able to formulate a plan with the new information.”
“How far is it to Yes’lech from here?” asked Nyte.
Ardette’s eyes narrowed slightly at the question, but he said nothing.
“On osterflit-back we should be able to reach headquarters in a week,” said Scardo.
Grotts grumbled, still apprehensive about the osterflits.
Ardette let out a bored yawn. “If that’s all, let’s turn in, shall we?”
Scardo nodded and stood up. “Yes, let’s.”
Just like that?
But it was late. I felt a spasm of guilt in realizing I’d cut into our precious meeting time.
“G’night then,” muttered Grotts, standing beside Scardo.
One by one the rest of us exchanged equally unenthusiastic goodnights and started for the bedrooms that didn’t have corpses.
I followed behind Kantú, but Ardette grabbed my arm when I started up the stairs.
“Go on ahead,” he said, nodding to Kantú. “I have something to discuss with my pit.”
Kantú looked at me inquiringly, so I nodded to her. I had some things I wanted to ‘discuss’ with him anyway.
Ardette pulled me next to the fire. He looked even more handsome with the firelight lighting up his pale face.
“Why?” I asked, earnestly staring him down.
“Why what?” He stared back.
“Why are you acting so cruelly towards Nyte?”
He sighed and drew his finger seductively along his jawbone. “Just a little friendly competition, I’m sure.”
“Bull.” I said, ignoring his attempts at distracting me. “That’s not it.”
“Is it so hard to believe that I want you for myself?”
“Actually, yes. You don’t even know me, and . . . well . . .” But I couldn’t finish. Want . . . me? Ridiculous.
He stared into the fire. “Haven’t you heard of love at first sight, my cherry pit?”
But I wasn’t convinced, and it reflected on my face. I stared him down, daring him to continue on.
His red eyes studied me for a moment before he turned away and looked glumly over his shoulder. “Ah, why must you torment me so?” His expression was
pained, but I strongly suspected it wasn’t at all genuine. “How about we make a deal, then?”
“A deal? What kind of a deal?”
“One kiss.” He breathed the words.
K-kiss?! I was a little shocked by the proposal, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see any sort of reaction from me. Instead, I looked only a little perturbed.
“One kiss and I’ll lay off your dear Elf. What do you say?” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close.
I pulled away. “Not a chance.”
Despite the rejection, he remained cool. “Do you enjoy seeing me suffer?” he asked, raising a brow innocently.
I knew for certain then that this was all part of his game.
If that’s how you want to play . . .
“Would you stop if I said ‘yes’?”
He smiled back, delighted I’d interpreted the situation. “Not a chance.”
I started to grin, but then I cut it off and sighed. It was fun like this, but the grief he’d given Nyte just wasn’t fair. That was what I’d wanted to talk to him about, wasn’t it? I couldn’t let myself get lost in his game.
“Well, whatever your deal is,” I said, “could you just leave him alone?”
Again he studied my face, and this time his pain looked real. “Do you wish to know my secret?” he said, leaning close to me.
Do I . . . ?
I nodded, surprised and saddened by the pain that had invaded his eyes. It’d happened so suddenly.
“Very well. I will observe the situation a while more before I disclose the secret. If Pietri . . .” He started to say something but stopped. It seemed he was struggling with something. “Never mind; he must have his reasons.”
The situation? What situation? And what was that about Elder Pietri?
He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it softly.
“Leave him alone, you say?” Then all at once, the sadness left his face and he smiled brightly, way too abruptly reverting to his old swaggery self. “I apologize for my actions, my cherry pit, but I’m afraid I will not change.”
What? I stared at him, concerned. How quickly he’d changed back! How quickly he’d erased that hint of pain.
It was in that moment that I first began to understand Ardette. He had real pain. Real masked pain. Was that demeanor all a front to conceal the secret, or rather the burden, he was carrying?
I squeezed his hand. “Alright then, I accept the current ‘you’, though I’m certain it’s not who you really are, and . . . I’m sorry for the pain your secret is causing you.”
I was sincere.
An odd look passed over his face. He blinked and dropped my hand, opened his mouth but then closed it. I waited.
“My, my, what’s this? It seems you are the one affecting me. How strange . . . yes, a rather rare occurrence. I shall just have to try harder, then.”
He pulled me to him and brushed the hair away from my neck. With short breaths, he brought his lips to my ear.
“Goodnight, my cherry pit.” This time his voice quivered a bit.
He left me standing by the fire, bewildered by his reaction.
What a strange person. I rubbed my neck where he’d touched. It was so intimate, yet I felt nothing.
Why? Nyte . . . Your warmth . . . Was that it? Was Ardette right?
I shivered though the fire was warm.
I pulled myself away, too tired to contemplate the situation further. Was that true? Was I too tired, or was it all too complicated? Either way, I headed to bed.
Kantú was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.
“No fair,” she whispered. “You got to be alone with him!”
“You still think he’s dreamy after all that?”
“What a Pervy Irving . . . but yes, so dreamy!” She giggled.
I rolled my eyes and followed her into the bedroom.
Chapter 11: The Terms
“Aura, come see!” Kantú burst through the ranch’s washroom door while I was still getting dressed.
“Ah! Hold on!”
But she didn’t wait for me to finish getting ready. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down the stairs behind her. I struggled to pull on my shirt before anyone else could see.
“What is it?”
But Grotts’ loud grumblings alerted me to just what it was before she could answer.
“DAMN BIRDS!”
We ran through the front door and found Grotts being chased by one of the creatures. It appeared to be pecking at his fiery red hair.
“We’re going to be riding on those!?” I asked, eyes wide and staring around the pen that was now filled with a dozen or so large osterflits.
They weren’t like any birds I’d ever seen. They didn’t even have real wings, just miniature, stubby ones that looked way too small for their massive, white-feathered bodies, which were nearly twice my height. They each scurried around on two skinny legs that must’ve been remarkably strong to hold up such a large body, despite their feeble appearance. These knob-kneed limbs were a pale blue color that matched the osterflits’ towering, curved necks. Atop each gangling stem sat a tiny head sporting a pompous tuft of blue feathers.
Several more birds flocked to him. Kantú ran to help.
“Grottsy! Are you all right?”
“Careful, Kantú!” I braced myself to run to her rescue, but none of the birds charged her.
Is it just Grotts they’re after?
“It is his hair,” said Nyte. The stealthy Elf had once again crept up beside me.
I spun around, startled.
“Jumpy today, Miss Havoc?” He grinned slyly.
“Can’t you make some noise as you approach or something? You’re too sneaky!” I tried to look cross but ruined it with a grin. I was relieved to see he’d recovered from Ardette’s batterings.
“Maybe you are just too oblivious to your surroundings.” He tapped me on the nose. I wrinkled it in return.
“Get back, ya dumb birds!”
I looked back at Grotts. He was now waving his arms wildly. Kantú seemed to be trying to distract the flock, for she scooted around the grounds, wiggling her tail. The birds ignored her. They just pummeled after Grotts.
“Why are they after his hair?”
Nyte struggled to hold back his smile. “An osterflit’s favorite food is a plant called tangeroot,” – he paused; an amused gleam filled his eyes – “which looks remarkably similar to poor Grotts’ hair.”
“They want to . . . eat his hair?”
The bird at the front of the pack made a nip at Grotts’ head.
I felt bad for him, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the enormous man scrambling away from the birds, calling out insults like they could understand him. There I was, witnessing the very scene that had played in his head all those times he’d ranted about the osterflits. No wonder he’d been so apprehensive about riding them.
Nyte chuckled behind me, and I laughed harder. I tried to stop, but it was just too funny. We turned our backs and hid our faces – so as not to alert Grotts, who was now cowering behind a frenzied Kantú – to the amusement we felt at his expense. We laughed and laughed, and my stomach started to hurt from flexing it so hard. But the hurt felt good; because it meant complete, senseless release without reservation.
It’d been a while since I’d let my childish side out.
I grabbed Nyte’s shoulder and struggled to gain composure, but my heart pounded at the touch, and I immediately quit laughing.
So warm.
I looked up at him, and his face became serious. Breath-capturingly serious.
Is Ardette right? Is Kantú right? Are you . . . mine?
We stayed like that for a moment. The wind swept past him. It brought me his cherry blossom scent.
My meadow.
I let my arm fall, but he caught it around the wrist. He opened his mouth to say something.
What is it? Tell me. I waited, but the words weren’t delivered.
“Aura! Come he
lp!” Kantú called to me, interrupting whatever it was he’d been about to say.
“Er, right!” I peeled myself away from the gaze and ran to help Grotts.
But Nyte was faster. “Grotts, over here!” He waved his hands toward the stable door. Grotts rushed to it, barely outrunning the horde of hungry birds.
Nyte pointed to a rope ladder hanging from the loft of the stable. “Up there!”
“Thought I was done with those blasted ladders!” But he climbed it anyway, leaving the birds to pace angrily on the ground.
Nyte climbed up after him. “Here.” He handed Grotts a brown piece of fabric from somewhere on his person. “Conceal your hair in this.”
Begrudgingly Grotts tied it around his head, caught his breath, and then cautiously descended the ladder. The osterflits were entirely unintelligent creatures. They left him alone now that his hair was out of sight.
“Phew, thanks.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and uneasily eyed the birds. They pecked stupidly at the ground.
“Grottsy, did you know that would happen? Why did you go outside in the first place?” Kantú examined him for scuffs. His sunburned cheeks became even redder.
“Yeah, I knew somethin’ like that would probably happen, but I didn’t know the birds had already been released when I went outside. They came ‘round the corner when I was at the bottom of the stairs.” He shivered in reliving the moment.
“Apologies. Terrible timing, really.” I turned to see Ardette. He was clutching a saddle in the doorway. Scardo and Rend weren’t far behind, both also holding saddles.
“Naw, it ain’t yer fault. The buggers are always after me.” Grotts narrowed his eyes at the birds. They were now quite oblivious to him.
The scene replayed in my head. I grinned and shot Nyte a knowing glance. He grinned back.
“Good morning, my cherry pit. Shall I saddle up your osterflit for you?” asked Ardette.
“That would be . . . nice. Thanks.” I eyed him with caution and tried to gage his mood. Would he attempt to cause trouble this early in the day?
“Splendid! Which one would you like?” He pointed to one standing next to Nyte. “Will it be the lanky, brooding one over there?” He dropped his point and placed his hand on the back of the one standing right next to him. “Or will it be this good-looking bird here? He seems to be a real charmer.”