“Me too,” Cal said. He smiled at her, though tears shone in his own eyes, and Meaghan caught her breath. In the near darkness, he looked like his younger brother. His fatherly expression only solidified the impression and it brought a bittersweet smile to her lips.
“Remember one more thing for me, won't you?” he asked.
“What's that?”
“As far as your relationship with Nick is concerned, it doesn't matter what Talis thinks and it doesn't matter what May believes. All that matters is that Nick understands.” Cal pressed his lips to her forehead. “Believe me, he does. Use the word 'candle.'”
“You lost me.”
“Instead of the word 'orb' in the light spell, use 'candle.'”
“Oh,” she said and laughed. “I didn't realize I could alter spells.”
“You can't. The spell has three versions. If you use the word candle, you'll get a small amount of light. It shouldn't show from underneath your sleeping blanket.”
“That's good to know,” she said. “What's the third version of the spell?”
“One you don't want to use unless you're in a large area or you want to blind your enemies. In those cases, the word is 'ray.'”
“As in sun ray?” Meaghan asked.
“Not quite as strong, but you get the idea.” Cal stood and looked down at her. “Go back to pretending to be asleep, all right?”
“All right,” she agreed. She watched him walk away and then recited the spell as he had instructed. A light no bigger than the beam of a small flashlight appeared in the palm of her hand. She used her power to float it under her blanket and then crawled in after it, cutting the world off from sight.
She waited, counting Talea's breath once more before she fished the Writer's book from its hiding place inside her pillow.
Although several stories had appeared and disappeared within the book for reasons Meaghan had yet to understand, one story retained permanence in the front of the book. She had intended to seek its comfort tonight, but her eyes drifted to the back instead, coasting over several blank pages that had once revealed the reason she needed to travel to Gormand's Gorge.
She checked the pages at least once a day, hoping the story would return, but so far it continued to elude her. Tonight was no different. She flipped through the pages one more time, and then turned to the front of the book. She found only white space where her parents' wedding story had been. Certain it had to be a mistake, she closed the book and reopened it.
White greeted her again. Panic set in and she slammed the book closed, opening it again to the same result. She held back the urge to scream and flipped the pages, one after the other, looking for something, anything to hint that words had once splashed across the pages. She found nothing.
She closed her eyes, squeezing out the ache that burned behind them. It had to be there. The story had kept her company week after week and night after night. It made no sense that it would disappear now. She turned the book over in her hands, and then opened her eyes, holding her breath before she lifted the cover.
Black ink greeted her and she exhaled in relief, then sucked in a breath again when she realized the words had been written upside down. She had not opened the book to the beginning, but the end. A new story had appeared.
She turned the book around and found the beginning of the chapter. Afterward C, she read, and then lost her mind to the past.
§
COURAGE TAKES practice. Élana placed one foot in front of the other, reciting the mantra with each step. Although her brother had taught her a lot in his short life, he had foremost taught her that lesson. She held it day after day, dreamed it night after night. It stole her thoughts and designed her plans. She needed to be brave and she would be.
She hoped.
Her hand fluttered to her stomach. She felt nauseous. Everel would not take her words kindly, but by now, he had to realize she would not make a good ruler. Fortunately, her father had understood that when she was young and had raised her brother for the task instead. She was first-born, but the discretion was her father's by law, as it had been when her great-uncle chose her father over his own sons.
Her father's cousins had been furious, of course, but they soon saw the wisdom in the choice. Her father had been a great ruler. His power of intuition had helped him find the best hunting and fishing grounds and the most lucrative growing spots. The tribe had never seen such prosperity.
Until the Zeiihbu War, anyway. Their distant relatives from the north had flooded these lands. Some sought peace and refuge and were welcomed into the tribe. Others came to destroy. They burned forests and ravished streams, killed animals and decimated plants. They left behind a wasteland so devoid of life, even her father's power could not find sustenance.
He grew desperate as he watched his people waste into skeletons and it changed him. The once proud leader she knew became a marauder. He taught his people to steal in order to survive and soon some of them went further, killing those they robbed. When the war ended, their habits did not change, nor did their troubles. They died for another reason, a disease created as punishment for their crimes. Her father paid for his decision to become a thief with his life, as did many of the other tribe members. But her brother found a way to save the rest.
She drew her hand from her stomach to her eyes to rub away the tears that filled them. Her brother had become the great leader she always knew he would, but in the end, she had lost him too. Every day she found reminders of that loss. She could not pass by a tree without thinking of the time he had taught her how to climb. She could not cross a stream without remembering the summers they had swum until their fingers and toes turned white and wrinkly. She could not listen to the trill of a bird without hearing the whistle her brother had used to call for her in the middle of the night. He had insisted she explore the world with him by moonlight to see what dared not face the day. Though she had lectured him about the dangers inherent to his midnight missions, he still dragged her along behind him, pointing out what her closed mind refused to see. Because of him, she had learned about owls and dusk rabbits, fireflies and singing bats.
And because of him she had discovered the flying white fish. She had been frightened the first time she saw one of the rare creatures hopping from a lake, but then she realized its beauty. It had coasted along the top of the water, shimmering bright like the full moon, and then disappeared below the surface without causing a ripple. The way it broke from the comfort of its element to explore the newer realm reminded her of her brother.
Though she had not seen the fish in years, she sought them out again after Ed's death, just to remember what he had taught her. She had yet to see the elusive creatures. The mountains held more lakes than she could count. But she had no doubt she would find them someday.
She sat down on a log overlooking the southernmost lake closest to their camp and scanned the water. It reflected back the trees, undisturbed as the finest glass. Suddenly weary, she pressed her head into her hands, letting her dark brown hair cascade over her fingers. Her brother had often told her she needed bravery more than anything else, and he vowed that one day he would give it to her.
He had, but not in the way he meant. Through his death, she finally understood what she must do. So she gathered her courage and she held it for one purpose.
Someone sat on the log beside her. She did not have to look to know who it would be. She had asked him to meet her.
“Élana,” Everel's voice came on a sigh of worry and remorse. “You shouldn't be out here alone like this. It's not safe.” She felt his hand on the back of her neck, brushing away her hair before stilling. The warmth of his fingers drew the cold from her exposed skin. “I'm concerned about you. You haven't been home in days, not since that woman came to speak to you. What did she want?”
“Nothing,” she answered and dropped her hands. She stared down at them. Her fingers were long and graceful, a dark shade of olive that matched her brother's.
“It wa
sn't nothing,” Everel responded. He brought his other hand around to take one of hers. He held onto it as if she had fallen into the lake and he needed to save her from drowning. Maybe he did. “She returned your grief to you. You were getting better after Ed's death and now…”
Now she had become a hollow wanderer, a body with a broken soul that traveled the woods chasing memories and running from them at the same time. She squeezed her eyes shut, but tears escaped anyway.
“She said I had to finish it,” Élana whispered. “She said his daughter would need it.”
“His daughter is dead,” Everel said.
Élana fought her instinct to argue against his harsh words. She knew she had to hear them. She had to face reality. Even if the woman had promised hope.
“She died with Ed,” Everel continued. “You know that. We must let the past remain there.”
“I can't. You know I can't.”
“It's your curse, Élana. I understand that, but I also know you can control it. You must. You can't continue to live his death.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but only a sob escaped. Everel drew her tight against him. He touched his lips to the top of her head.
“I don't mean to hurt you,” he said. “I just don't want to see you like this. Ed wouldn't want it. He would want you to celebrate him by living your life.”
“I know,” she said. “But—”
“No buts. We all loved him. We all miss him, but he's gone. Now that he is, the war belongs to Ærenden, not us. We must go deeper into the mountains and preserve our people.” He released her. “You know it's time.”
Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to speak, then lost her courage and closed it again.
“Élana,” Everel's tone warned. “You can't be selfish. These are your people now. You must lead them to safety.”
“They're your people,” she said. She looked down at her hands, but her voice found strength and grew louder. “You would be in line if your grandfather hadn't chosen my father to rule.”
“But I'm not,” he insisted. “You are. You need to take your place.”
She swallowed the panic rising within her and faced him. He looked a lot like her brother. He had the same crystal blue eyes, the same dark hair and handsome features. His face was slimmer, his shoulders less broad, but that did not stop the women in the tribe from flirting with him in the same way they had her brother. Ed had taken advantage of that attention more than he should. Everel was less careless with the women's affections, but that did not change his need for them. There was one woman in particular who Élana guessed would wed him before long. She would be a good match for him. Élana was only sorry she would miss the traditional tribal celebration that would follow their joining. She wondered what else she would miss after she told him her decision.
“Élana,” he tried again. “You know my leadership was only temporary. Your brother wanted you to take over when he wed Adelina. He only asked me to take his place because you convinced him you weren't ready. Now that he's dead, you have no other choice.”
“There is another choice,” she corrected him. She knitted her hands together. They shook, but she kept her eyes steady on her cousin's face. Courage takes practice, she reminded herself and spoke the words she had recited all day. “I have discretion.”
His eyes grew wide. “That's irrevocable. That's—”
“The right thing to do,” she interrupted. She sat up taller. Her shoulders tensed, but she pushed forward. “These are your people. You've led them for years.”
“They're your brother's,” he argued. “That makes them yours.”
“They were my brother's,” she countered. “In the past. And as you wisely advised, we must let the past remain there.”
“No,” he said. He stood and walked to the edge of the lake, then faced her again. “No,” he repeated. “I have to agree to this for it to work. I won't.”
“The law is clear, Everel,” she said. “You have no choice once I decree it. Of course, you are welcome to use your own discretion as the official ruler to hand the rule to someone else, but it can't be returned to me.”
“I won't let you decree it,” he told her. “It would be a mistake. I know you're having a hard time right now, but you'll be better in time. Your grief will pass. We'll become established higher in the mountains and you'll see how good life can be there.”
“I'm sorry,” she responded. “I can't rule the tribe.”
“You can,” he insisted. “Ed had faith in you, and so do I. You're meant to lead.”
“Maybe I'll lead some of them,” she said. She drew her hands together again and pressed them tight, squeezing fear from her body with the motion. “But not all of them.”
“That doesn't make any sense.” He crossed his arms and turned to stare at the lake.
She followed his gaze. The water remained unmoving in the moonlight, depthless and empty, and she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Was she being brave? Or was her plan a route of cowardice?
“You're not making any sense, Élana,” Everel said, turning back around. “I think you should see the Healer. The stress might have—”
A streak of white launched into the air behind him and she lost track of his words. She held her breath. The white floated along the water before disappearing into the emptiness from which it had come. A second fish followed the first, and then a third. When the last slid beneath the surface of the lake, she turned her attention back to Everel and his stony silence. She did not know how long it had been since he had stopped talking, since she was supposed to have provided an answer to whatever question he had asked, but it had been long enough to anger him.
He stepped forward. “I'm taking you to the Healer and I don't want to hear any argument. You need rest.”
“I'm leaving.” She rose from her seat, feeling weightless like a fish over the water. “There's a village at the foot of the mountains that was abandoned in the beginning of the war. I'm going to live there. My brother loved Ærenden. It was what he died to protect and I want to be a part of it. I no longer wish to live as a nomad.”
Everel stared at her, and then dropped his arms to his sides. “Are you trying to tell me you intend to take some of the tribe members with you?” he asked. “Is that what you meant when you said you'd be leading some of them?”
She nodded, faking calm when his eyes widened and anger mottled his cheeks.
“I won't let you go,” he insisted. “I won't let you break up the tribe. We're weak enough already.” He took a step toward her, and then another until he stood in front of her. He brought his hands to her shoulders, his grip as insistent as his face and voice. “You can't do this, Élana.”
“It's done,” she told him. “The tribe members who wanted to come with me have already started down the mountain. They left while you were hunting this afternoon. I invoked my discretion at the same time.”
His hands slid from her shoulders.
“I'm sorry, Everel,” she whispered and laid her palm flat against his cheek. “I hope you'll forgive me for this, but it needs to be done. You belong as the ruler. You know it, but you need to be brave and take the role for your own. And I need to be brave and find my own way. I don't belong here anymore.”
“Then go,” he said. His voice carried the chill of a winter storm. He snapped his head back, removing it from her touch. “If you don't want to be here, then leave, and never return.”
“Please, Everel.” She reached out to touch him again. He latched his fingers around her wrist, stopping her mid-air.
“No,” he barked. “You're as dead to me as Ed.”
He tossed her hand aside and walked away. She stared down at the red marks his fingertips had branded into her skin and tried not to cry again. She had expected this reaction. She had known how much her choice would hurt him. But she had not been prepared for the sting of his grip or the loneliness that descended over her with his words. She could not breathe.
Her decision was fi
nal, the road ahead of her uncertain. And courageous or not, she was scared.
She took a deep breath and stared at the lake one last time. Through the blur of her tears, she watched a single fish jump from the water—white coasting through the black sky—before she turned and disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MEAGHAN RETURNED her book to its hiding place and extinguished the light. She had intended to try to sleep after she finished reading, but she could not seem to settle her racing heart. Her mind catapulted through the details of the story, repeating them until she had memorized the face of the woman in the woods, until the impact of the conversation caught up with her. The woman was her father's sister.
She had an aunt.
Although Cal's words had consoled her and she valued him as the uncle he considered himself to be, this was different. This was her first blood connection to the parents she never had the chance to know.
She counted down the minutes until morning arrived, and then rose with the intent of speaking to Cal about her discovery, but paused outside of her tent when worry broke through her excitement. As Ed's Guardian, Cal should already have known about the King's sister. Yet he had never mentioned her to Meaghan. She hoped Cal's silence did not mean Élana had met the same fate as her brother.
Thunder rolled overhead as Meaghan made her way to the center of camp. Whatever Cal's reason for not telling her, she needed to find out the truth. The book had showed her the story for a reason and the clue might be in Cal's memories of the King's sister.
The campfire still burned as steadily as it had the night before. Talis and Cal remained at its side, but despite the early morning hour, Eudor and Malaki stood with them. The father and son team had held the guard shift before Cal and Talis. They had discussed how tired they were when they went to bed and Meaghan had not expected either of them to be up already.
Cal raised an eyebrow at her when she approached. “Did we wake you?”
She frowned. His tone conveyed disapproval and she wondered what she had done to earn it. “What do you mean?” she asked.
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