Aerenden: The Zeiihbu Master (Ærenden)

by Kristen Taber

  “And what about the prophecies?”

  “Ignore them.”

  “I can't,” she said and pressed her hands to her eyes to keep him from seeing her tears. “They're going to take me anyway.”

  “They will if you keep putting yourself in danger,” Artair said, then sighed. “Listen to me, Meaghan. If you're meant to die, it will happen no matter what you do. If not, there's no reason to make it happen. You need to keep fighting for your life as you always have. If your resolve slips on that, keep Nick in mind. Talis told me you don't love him, but I know you care about him.”

  She looked up at him, but did not say anything. He kept talking.

  “I'm glad you're not going to deny that, at least. You've refused to talk about him the whole trip, which I found odd at first, but then I noticed you kept wearing these gloves.” He lifted one of her hands. “When it was cold, that made sense, but even after we built a fire, you kept them on. It wasn't until Cal used that plant on Talis that I understood why. Cal's gloves look like yours, which means these were also a gift from Nick.”

  A tear splashed onto the leather, darkening it in an expanding circle where it landed, but still, she said nothing.

  “That's when I realized why you don't talk about him. You miss him more than you can stand, so it's easier not to think about him. But you need to if you're going to make it through this mission.”

  Meghan dried her cheeks with her cloak. “What was her name?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “Your girlfriend, the one who died in battle.”

  “How did you know about her?”

  “Talis,” she said. “It appears he can't keep a secret.”

  “It would appear that way,” Artair agreed and withdrew his hands into his pockets.

  “If you don't want to talk about it—”

  “Ondine,” he interrupted. “Her name was Ondine. I grew up with her. There's no doubt in my mind that we would have wed eventually.”

  “Her village was attacked,” Meaghan guessed.

  Artair nodded. “It was my childhood village. The Elders transferred my father to the village where you met me before the attack and I went with him. About half of the villagers lived. She wasn't one of them.”

  “I'm sorry,” Meaghan whispered, and since she could not think of anything else to say, she stepped forward and offered him a hug.

  He accepted, and then pressed a kiss against her cheek. “Try to stay alive for Nick, all right? He doesn't need to know what it feels like to lose you.”

  “I will,” she promised. She moved to step out of his embrace, but before she had the chance, he flew backward, ripped from her arms with such force that the wool of his cloak scratched her skin.

  He landed several feet away, and Meaghan knew by the sickening crunch that his hand made when it hit a rock that he had broken it.

  He did not cry out or nurse the injury. Instead, he jumped to his feet and scrambled in her direction. Half-way to her aid, he froze. When Meaghan caught sight of their attacker, she understood why.

  She had never seen Cal's face so red. A vein bulged along his temple, pulsing in rapid rhythm. His fists looked like solid boulders. And his eyes were no more than pinpoints of hot anger as he glared between her and Artair. He seemed uncertain who deserved his wrath first, but then he settled on Meaghan and assaulted her with the same vehemence he had used to rip Artair away from her.

  “Did you think I wouldn't notice?” he growled. “Did you think I wouldn't care about what you're doing to Nick?”

  She blinked several times in confusion. “What on Earth are you talking—”

  “Don't play innocent with me,” Cal snapped. “I wondered why you kept defending Artair in spite of his insubordination. I thought it was just him that had feelings for you and not the other way around, but I guess I was wrong.”

  Artair's eyes grew wide. “I don't—”

  “Shut up,” Cal barked and spun on Artair. “You're lucky there's no wind tonight or you'd be at the top of the highest tree.”

  Artair's mouth snapped closed. Cal whirled on Meaghan again. “Don't bother denying it. This isn't the first time you've snuck off in the middle of the night. How many times have you two met like this? How long have you been betraying Nick?”

  “I haven't—”

  “Forget it.” He waved her off. “We'll talk about this in the morning when you're feeling more honest. And you,” he tossed the word at Artair like a punch. “You'd better be gone by morning. If I see you again, I'll kill you.”

  Without waiting for a response, Cal turned from them and charged into the forest, soon lost to the black night. Meaghan focused her attention on Artair.

  “You'd better not come close,” he said when she took a step toward him. “Just in case Cal's still around.”

  “But your hand,” she protested. “You're injured.”

  “You can't help me with that, so you might as well not get into trouble for trying. I'll find Élana and see if any of the tribe members can heal me. Stay away for now, okay?”

  “All right,” she agreed and waited for him retreat toward the village before she let out a frustrated breath. She ran a hand over her brow, and then pressed her fingers to her temple as a headache exploded fireworks behind her eyes. This fiasco had happened because she had wanted solitude, but now that she was alone again, she felt worse than she had before she sought it.

  Dropping her hand, she turned to head back to her blanket, and then paused when she realized she was not alone after all. A man stood in the shadows of a nearby tree. Though she could not make out his features, she recognized him from his height and stance.

  Faillen had watched the whole thing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “I'LL LIGHT a fire,” Faillen said.

  He turned and headed back to camp, leaving Meaghan no choice but to follow. In silence, she sat on her blanket while he collected wood. The fire he built more resembled their typical campfires than the bonfire that had blazed the previous evening. She felt more comforted by the familiarity of it than she did by its warmth. Clutching her hands together at her feet, she let it hypnotize her. Yellow folded into orange, and then melted into red as the fire grew hotter. She sweated beneath her cloak. Her hands roasted within her gloves, but she did not move. She waited for the lecture she felt certain Faillen intended to give. Though her conversation with Artair had been innocent, Cal's reaction had made it clear it did not appear that way. She doubted Faillen would take any more kindly to it than the Elder had.

  Faillen sat next to her. She tensed, but he did not speak as she had expected. Instead, he lifted one of her hands and then the other, stripping off her gloves before unclipping her cloak and letting it fall from her shoulders. Night air chilled her, though she knew it would only be a moment before her body adapted to the normal temperature from the sweltering cocoon her cloak had created.

  Faillen set the gloves in her lap. “I heard your conversation with Artair,” he said.

  Meaghan stiffened her shoulders in anticipation of his anger, but found nothing but compassion on his face.

  “I didn't know the prophecy weighed so heavily on you,” he told her. “Why did you hide that from Cal and me?”

  She lifted her chin and her lip trembled. “I shouldn't have told Artair about it,” she said. “It was weak of me. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be—”

  “Who you are,” Faillen said, and gazed at her so intently she felt as if he could see her soul and her fears instead of her skin. “You remind me so much of my son sometimes. You've both been given duties that would weaken the bravest warriors. They weigh on you in ways many people can't understand.”

  She closed her eyes to prevent renewed tears from falling. If he had meant for his words to ease the burden she carried, he had failed. Discussing her duties, rehashing Ærenden's expectations of her, only added to the weight, crushing her lungs so she could not breathe.

  “I understand, though,” he con
tinued. “I've watched my son over the years and I see how it affects him. He struggles with the knowledge that his power can bring grave destruction, but he has yet to realize the good he can do. I think you do the same with your position as Queen. You see only your mistakes. You don't see how much you've grown. You don't see the leader you're becoming.”

  “I'm not a leader,” she objected. She opened her eyes, and brought them to the gloves she now held tightly between her hands. “It's always been Nick who's led, and now Cal runs this mission.”

  “Whose idea was it to ask me to help train the villagers? That wasn't Nick's, was it?”

  She drew her eyes to his, but did not answer. He had known for some time the idea had been hers.

  “Who came up with the plan to seek Ed's tribe, and in doing so, gather forces Stilgan would never expect? Who devised the plan that convinced the Elders to accept this mission? Cal followed those plans, but they weren't his.”

  “No, they weren't,” she admitted, and released her grip on the gloves. “But the prophecy convinced the Elders. I didn't.”

  “The same prophecy you think predicts your death?” Faillen asked. She nodded. “I was there, Meaghan. I heard the prophecy, but I don't recall it being clear enough to draw that conclusion.”

  “I'm not the only one who interpreted it that way.” She passed a hand over her brow and sighed. “But even if I'm wrong, it doesn't change the fact that Nick's the one everyone follows, not me. He's the reason that half the Guardians are here. They're protecting me for him.”

  “Perhaps,” Faillen said. “But that's not why I'm here, and that's not why Cal is here. I know you feel otherwise, but Cal's love for Nick has nothing to do with his decision to join this mission. You're a natural leader and he recognizes that. You may not have grown up here as Nick did, and you may not have had the advantage of learning your role from your parents, but you grow stronger in it every day.” He brought a hand to Meaghan's shoulder, commanding her unwavering gaze before he continued. “I see them in you. In your prudence, I see the woman who ignored her advisor's recommendation to destroy Zeiihbu, bringing peace to its people instead. In your courage, I see the man who risked everything to save his tribe, who braved the wilderness alone to meet a Queen who wanted him executed. But more importantly, in you I see their wisdom, and it's that same wisdom that would make them proud to have you ascend the throne in their stead.”

  Meaghan closed her eyes again, but this time, she failed to prevent her tears from falling. They coursed down her cheeks and dripped onto her hands.

  “Yet you still believe Nick's the true ruler. It seems to me you're using the prophecy as both a noose and a shield.”

  She pushed away her tears with the palms of her hands. “I don't know what you mean.”

  “You've given it power over your life,” Faillen said. “You use it to block the truth from your heart and to convince yourself Nick should be the next ruler of Ærenden. You say it's why you took his place on this mission, but it's not the real reason. It's not the reason you protect him.”

  Her eyes slid again to the gloves in her lap and she lifted a finger to trace the burgundy stitching. “I protect him for the reasons I've said.”

  “You lie to yourself,” Faillen responded, and lifted her chin with his fingers so she looked at him again. “And you lie to us as a result. You need to face the truth, Meaghan, if you want to avoid having people react the way Cal did tonight.”

  “You think I deserve his anger,” she whispered.

  “Not at all. I think Cal's actions were regrettable. Élana is right. There's something from his past that's haunting him, but your continued insistence you don't love Nick brought Cal's ghosts into the present.”

  “I'm not lying about that. I don't know how I feel about Nick. I haven't had time to think about it since I came to Ærenden.”

  “Then how did you feel about him before?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek as she fought the urge to avert her eyes from Faillen's demanding gaze once more. She did not know how to answer his question. It had not been that long since she and Nick left Earth and the desires she felt for him behind, but it seemed like years ago.

  “I don't remember,” she whispered.

  “Then let me tell you what I remember,” Faillen said. “When we first met, you hid what you felt for Nick well, but you couldn't hide the caring in your touch or the trust you handed to him in your words and in your actions. You followed him to a world you didn't know and through a wilderness that had to be terrifying to you, yet your belief in him didn't waver. Some would say that's because he was your Guardian, but you didn't extend the same trust to the Elders when I saw you with them, nor do I think you would have with Artair, despite your friendship. Your trust came from something deeper, something Ree and I recognized because we knew it so well. You gave your love freely when it was forbidden, but now that it's allowed, you deny it. Why?”

  “The wedding,” she admitted. “I wouldn't have called it love before the wedding, but I cared for him. After it happened, I felt forced into it. Nick and I didn't have time to build our relationship, and now it's become one more thing I have no control over.”

  She set the gloves aside and stood. She wanted to pace. Her muscles felt coiled, ready to leap from her bones. She wanted to run again until exhaustion hit and then push further until she collapsed. She stared at the fire.

  “On Earth, I had no real obligations. I could make my life into what I wanted. I had a plan. I was getting my college degree and then my masters. I was going to help people make their lives better. And when I'd established my career, I would fall in love, get married, and have children. It would have been my choice, when I wanted it, how I wanted it. But here, I have no choices.”

  “Instead, you have predictions,” Faillen said. He rose to stand beside her. “You have a Seer's vision you think foretells your death, a prophecy that seems to reinforce your belief, and a sudden wedding which erased the romantic future you had painted in your mind.”

  She shrugged and knotted her hands together behind her back. “That pretty much sums it up.”

  “But you have so much more, Meaghan. Why do you only see what you've lost? Why not focus on what you've gained?”

  “It's not that simple.”

  “Maybe not,” Faillen said. “But that doesn't mean you can't try. Start with your wedding. In Zeiihbu, we don't have magical weddings. My people wed through ceremony, in much the way I suspect you do on Earth. Those with powers often wed those without them, keeping their powers a secret their entire lives. The thing about wedding that way, by choice, is that it's difficult to know if you've chosen the right spouse. The people of Ærenden never have to worry about that. They know they won't wake up ten or twenty years later and regret their choice.”

  Meaghan frowned. “You can't be certain of that. Powers join people based on how their relationships are in that moment. People change. Do you honestly think every single couple in Ærenden is happy together for the rest of their lives?”

  “I've never met an unhappy Ærenden couple,” Faillen said and smiled. “Of course, I don't know everyone. I do know being able to wed that way would have made things easier for Ree and me. My father couldn't have argued against our wedding if it was beyond our control. Just as the Elders weren't able to argue against yours.”

  “I'd still rather have the choice.”

  “But Nick wasn't one of your options before,” Faillen pointed out. “That lack of choice you hate so much made him available to you. So the question you have to ask is which lack of choice do you prefer? The one with Nick or the one without him?”

  Meaghan stared at Faillen, and then swallowed the lump in her throat preventing her from answering. What would it have been like if the wedding had not happened? She had felt a strong connection to Nick soon after they met. If the prophesied wedding had not happened, would that connection have gone away? She doubted it. She suspected it would have grown stronger, making it harder for th
em to resist. In the end, it would have cost Nick his life or they would have had to end their friendship. She may not like the lack of choice she had with her wedding, but the alternative seemed worse.

  Faillen leaned down to pick up her gloves and handed them to her. She clung to them like the last bit of air for the drowning.

  “If you love Nick, it shouldn't matter how you came to have him as your husband. It only matters that he is.” She nodded and he raised a hand to her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I'll leave you to think. I'm going to find Cal.”

  He turned to leave. A faint screech streaked across the still air and he froze in his spot. “Did you hear that?”

  “Yes,” Meaghan said. “But I'm sure it's not Scree. We told them to keep her hidden.”

  “Unless there was an emergency,” Faillen reminded her. The screech came again. “That's definitely her.”

  “It could be another bird.”

  Faillen shook his head. “I know her call. She'll be here soon. Hand me your cloak, please.”

  He stepped away from Meaghan. She did as he asked, grabbing her cloak from the ground and handing it to him so he could drape it over his extended arm. No sooner had he done so than a large, hawk-like bird descended from the sky. The gildonae came in fast, appearing to dive for Faillen in attack, but swooped at the last second and perched on top of the cloak. She leaned over to nibble on his hair.

  “I missed you too,” Faillen said, trailing his fingers over her gold tufts before seeking the paper wrapped around her leg. A message, Meaghan realized, and closed her eyes over the fear it brought.

  She heard the sound of the paper unraveling, then silence. A long minute passed before she dared open her eyes. Faillen's face had turned white.

  “Is Nick okay?” she whispered.

  “He's fine. He had May send the message.”

  “Get on with reading it then,” Cal's voice demanded, and both Faillen and Meaghan turned toward it. Cal stood close by, worry shadowing his face. “I heard Scree,” he told them. “What did Nick say?”