“It’s pretty,” she said.
“It’s ours,” Krishani breathed. She furrowed her brow and glanced at the village. He let out a short laugh. “Oh, not the village. I meant the cabin.” He jerked his head towards the door. “I told Elwen I didn’t want to stay in that stuffy room anymore.”
Kaliel’s expression was a challenge. He pulled her to the door, opened it, and stepped inside. Outlines of a large bed lingered out of the corner of his eye. There was a desk in the corner, a wicker chair in the other.
“You don’t like castles either.” Kaliel broke eye contact and glanced around the dark room. Krishani felt uncomfortable. He closed the door and leaned against it, his heart thudding. He was really alone with her–no interruptions, no doom surrounding them. They had all the time in the world. He thought back to what Elwen had said about courting and marrying her, and while the latter made him feel like he was made of sunlight, waiting was impossible. He already waited, almost ripped himself apart because he thought he’d never see her again. Getting between him and her was like trying to stop an avalanche.
For once he wasn’t afraid of her seeing the disease on his hand, it was too dark now. After the battle it streaked across him like paint, forever marking him with the threat. The Vultures would always be his downfall. She traced the contours of his face with her eyes and he knew the distance between them was too much. He broke her gaze and moved to the bureau, snapping his fingers and setting a candle ablaze. He smirked at the trick and turned to her. She sat on the edge of the bed nervously looking around the empty cabin.
“You don’t like it?” he asked, sitting next to her. He put his infected hand in hers and pressed his lips to her shoulder.
She shook her head, her green eyes unreadable. “I like the forests,” she admitted as she stood and paced to the other end of the cabin. Krishani followed and slid his arms around her waist, drawing her against him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pressing his mouth to her ear. He couldn’t be so close to her, heat rushing through him, without wanting everything he missed. Her cheeks warmed, blood rushing to the tips of her ears. He smiled at the subtlety.
“I’m nervous,” she mumbled.
“Why?”
She turned in his arms and brushed her fingers against his hips. He stifled the urge to cover her mouth with his and waited for her to answer.
“Everything feels different in this body. When you touch me … it’s not the same.” She looped her arms around his neck, caressing the base of his head with the tips of her fingers and threading them into his hair. He lowered his lips so they hovered above hers.
“Does it feel different when I do this?” He kissed her, vigilant, supine, measuring her reaction. Her lips parted and he tasted honey on her as he stepped back involuntarily at the pressure. His lips broke off hers for a moment and she stared at him, a pulse in her green eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered, but her eyes looked starved.
He frowned. “Is that a good thing?” Touching her was like every nerve ending in his body standing on end, burning down to the embers until nothing but a satisfied lull ensnared him in bliss. Reaching for him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling her cheek in his shoulder. His fingers trailed down her arms, and she shuddered and shifted, her eyes on him. She walked him to the bed and he tripped, landing unsteadily. Her mouth hovered over his and he stifled the recalcitrant urge to pull her down. Her eyes shifted, the amethyst curling in her irises catching him off guard. They were like their own orbs of storms, crackling with white violet from the pupils outwards. He had never seen her eyes like that before.
Every thought in his mind left as she unhooked her arms from his neck and ran them down his shirt. His pulse pounded in his ears, every part of him coming alive at the slight sensation of her touch. She reached the hem of his tunic and ran her hands underneath it. His fingers splayed on the bed to brace himself. He wanted to tangle his hands in the laces of her green dress, rip the fabric off her form. She stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. Tingles ran down his thighs as the tips of her fingers grazed along his breeches. He took an involuntarily breath in as her fingers traced his abs. It burned in a way that was so good. She pushed the tunic over his head and dropped it on the floor before climbing onto his lap and running her hands up his chest. She stopped when her fingers traced the contour of his lips. He wanted to taste her so badly he could barely think at all. She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully and dropped her mouth to his ear.
“I missed making you want me,” she whispered, taking his earlobe between her lips. “It’s never been this intense. Every time I touch you I want more.”
He couldn’t speak. Pitching forward he cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to him, his lips exploring hers with a rough hunger he had denied for moons. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, locking it in a vice grip until she moaned. He reached for the knot of fabric at the back of her neck and untied it hastily. She grated her hips against him and he gasped, unable to stave off his desire. He pressed his forehead to her chest and his lips clamped on her nipple as he used his strength to force her up. He wanted her naked and underneath him. She followed his lead, the dress pooling at her ankles. Instead of doing anything he expected, she wrapped her legs around him and he pivoted, falling on top of her as he hit the bed, burying himself inside her. She had her hands everywhere on his body and he had his everywhere on hers.
Being with her made him lose track of time, of stars, of everything except the energy surrounding them. She wasn’t like anyone he had ever known. She was an all consuming need, an unyielding demand, a fiery necessity. Love like this paled everything Across the Stars. It was a love so powerful he would destroy everything in his path to keep it, protect it, and make sure it lasted forever.
• • •
Krishani glanced at the ceiling as Kaliel nestled herself in the crook of his arm, her body pressed against the length of his. His heart thrummed loudly, alive with passion. He stroked her hair idly, warmth washing through him like a summer day. She traced patterns on his chest with her fingertips and he tensed. He sighed, guilt lancing through him. “I’m sorry I was late,” he began.
He felt her shoulders contract as she flattened her hand on his stomach. “Don’t—it wasn’t your fault.”
He avoided the topic for so long he didn’t know how to explain what he felt anymore. The memory of being on the ground, fighting with Istar moments before the mountain exploded was excruciating. He’d never get over it, put it behind him and move on. It would always be a constant reminder that while they didn’t die, she burned, and it was just as bad as anything that had happened before that. Worse than anything the prophecy in her journal warned about. He couldn’t bear to look at it again, the symbols etched on his skull.
“You were alone,” he whispered gently, pulling his stomach muscles taut. He tried not to feel heavy, but he couldn’t help it.
She let out an exasperated breath. “You lived, and that’s all that matters.”
“You didn’t.”
She furrowed her brow and traces of her tears fell on his shoulder. He sighed and ran his hand along her bare back in circles trying to comfort her. “I don’t blame you,” she choked.
“What happened on the mountain?” His voice came out haggard. He cleared his throat and tried to stay calm. It didn’t work, he wanted to jump off the bed and pace in a circle, but that would mean not being in her arms, and that wouldn’t help him stave off the anxiety.
“What happened after the mountain exploded?”
Krishani stopped mid-caress. He hadn’t expected her to ask him what he did after she died. It was a blur in his mind. He reacted, did the only thing he could think of doing. He stifled a breath as she propped herself on one elbow, her gaze knifing into him. He was defeated and couldn’t ward off telling her forever. He cleared his throat and met her gaze with a guilty expression.
“Avristar wanted to sentence me to death or exile.
” She gripped him tighter, shock cascading over her features. He regretted the truth but he had to tell her something, if not everything.
“Mallorn said that we should leave before I faced the Gatekeeper. We came here to find Elwen and ask him about my duty as the Ferryman.” He almost choked on the word Ferryman. His heart raced and not in a good way. Spasms of panic crawled up his arms; threatening to crush his insides with the same blinding pain he had known when she had been dead.
She settled in his arms, trying to conceal her sobs. “I’m sorry I died.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered while stroking her back.
She was silent for a long time, thinking about all the things that could have happened. He knew she was scared, that she wanted to know more. Her curiosity was always one of her worst traits. There were some truths she wouldn’t be able to handle.
“I miss Avristar,” she said.
“I do too,” he said as gently as he could.
She pulled the blanket over both of them so it was up to her chin. She settled on the pillow and glanced at him sideways. “I wish we could go back, even if it’s only for a day. There were so many people I never said goodbye to.” Her eyes pleaded, like something inside her was broken.
Krishani tried to blot out the cruel stab of envy at the word goodbye. She hadn’t said goodbye to him; the only person she said goodbye to was Pux, and that made his insides crawl. It was something that would always eat at him. He failed her, he betrayed the land, and he couldn’t take it back. He looked at her with a vacant expression. “I can’t leave. I told Elwen I’d be the Ferryman.”
She scowled. “I know, but the war is over. And this land is so dead inside. There’s no spirit of the land on Terra is there?”
Krishani shook his head and twined his fingers with hers. He wanted everything to be perfect. She deserved happiness after everything she had been through. He closed his eyes. “If there’s a way, I’ll find it.” He thought about vortexes, lanterns and sea shells as he drifted to sleep.
* * *
11 - Swamp Water Girl
Kaliel woke in a bed of brambles. The land was quiet, the moon hanging above her like a marionette on strings. A thick mist settled around the thickets at her ankles, shifting like a living fog. She pushed herself up and tiny thorns cut into her hands. Droplets of blood oozed out of the wounds and she instinctively wiped her hands on her ivory dress. The color startled her and she stood, thorns digging into the soles of her feet. She looked to the left and then to the right but the brambles continued into the horizon. She wanted to run but she couldn’t, wanted to kneel but the thorns would scratch her shins, wanted to escape but there was nowhere to go.
Hooves thumped in the distance. A thick wall of tumbleweeds and sand clouds kicked into dirt devils, twisting backwards into the sky. Her mouth hung open as she pressed her hands to her chest and went to scream but a young girl appeared. She had a swamp-soaked nightgown to her ankles, raven’s hair brushing the ground, skin as pale as Kaliel’s birthstone, lips bruised blue.
The hooves hit an apogee as the riders and the storm hit them, circling, brambles shooting up into the sky. Kaliel crouched instinctively, her hand flashing out to grab the little girl’s hand, but she stopped short.
The girl turned like she was floating and faced Kaliel, her deep black eyes crackling with lightning–the same kind of lightning that split Crestaos’s eyes like glass. She fell on her knees and tried to catch her breath.
Blood caked the girl’s hands a thick, soupy red that slid between the cracks of her delicate fingers and dripped onto the brambles. She grinned charismatically as the pandemonium reached a deafening sound. Thorns raked across Kaliel’s arms, cheeks, legs. She screamed. Her eyes squeezed shut as she crouched, trying to avoid them, all of her instincts telling her to run, hide. She didn’t know how to fight them off.
“Are you afraid of the Horsemen?” the little girl asked. Kaliel didn’t look at her, but she nodded in response. “You should be. Morgana brought them.” Her voice was syrupy sweet.
Kaliel carefully lifted her head from her knees. The little girl’s eyes knifed into her, crackling with jagged lines of lightning. The Horsemen kicked dust into Kaliel’s eyes and she recoiled, blinking rapidly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Why did she bring them?” Kaliel asked, scowling at the girl. Blood dripped off the little girl’s hands. She held them palms to the sky, like offering the blood to the stars.
“Because she’s coming for him,” she said.
“Who is she?”
The little girl smirked. “She’s me of course.”
There was a loud gust of wind and Kaliel fell on her hands and knees as laughter erupted from the little girl. The sour sound of chimes rose into the tornado of brambles and dust. It pierced Kaliel’s ears with the fortitude of a thousand bells ringing all at once. The sound made her cover her ears, trying to muffle the noise. “What do you want?” she shouted through gritted teeth. Her hands splayed across either side of her head to protect her eyes from the threat of the thorns but it was no use. They whipped her body with needles, the fresh scent of blood rising into the air as her skin broke open.
“I want him,” Morgana whispered. The lingering sound twisted into the tornado and Kaliel gasped, choking on a mouthful of sand and twigs. She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered where she had seen eyes like that before. The image of Crestaos’s white lightning eyes, his pallid face covered in black moles, and slicked back white hair permeated her vision. She cried out but no sound escaped her lips. She tried to bring herself to her feet and look at Morgana but when she opened her eyes nothing but darkness and silence surrounded her.
Her heart beat wildly as she sat and hugged her hands to her chest. Krishani slept soundly beside her. She frowned, remembering what Morgana said and drew up her knees. A loud sob erupted from her, followed by another, and another, her shoulders shaking with the force and pressure. This couldn’t be happening again. After all they had been through, she wanted him? What could she possibly want from Krishani?
He stirred at the sound of her sobs. She tried to quiet them as he rolled over and opened his eyes. His expression was disoriented and confused. He wordlessly covered her with his arms, pressing his forehead against her temple. “What’s wrong?”
Kaliel curled the sheet in her hands, tangling it in her fists. She didn’t want to talk about nightmares. There weren’t supposed to be nightmares anymore. They were supposed to be happy. “He’s still alive,” she whispered, unable to comprehend what Morgana was or what she was after. Krishani pulled his face back, his mismatched eyes digging into hers with a sharpness she hadn’t seen in them before.
“I promise you, Crestaos is dead.”
Kaliel took a deep breath. “Something is coming.”
Krishani seemed too calm. He wrestled the sheet out of her hands and made her put them on either side of his face. His eyes met hers, his expression resolute. “Nothing is coming for you. You’re safe.”
The crippling fear of the dream abated her extremities as she tried to remember the things that were true.
The Flames were in the village.
Krishani killed Crestaos.
The Daed died in the battle.
There were no more enemies she should be afraid of. Morgana was only a child, and it was only a dream. She exhaled and lay down. Krishani followed and nestled his head in her shoulder.
“Everything has changed,” she muttered
Krishani curled his lips up in a faint smile. “Not everything,” he began gently, running his hand along her torso to comfort her. “I still love you, and that won’t ever change.”
Kaliel didn’t say anything. She nodded imperceptibly and closed her eyes, letting sleep wash over her again.
• • •
Morning was a smoother start, the sun reaching afternoon by the time Kaliel decided to move again. She had lain there with her eyes on the ceiling for what seemed like forever, listening to the
deep rhythmic breathing of the boy next to her. She kept smiling to herself. She couldn’t hide the happiness inside of her if she wanted to. She heard footsteps on the porch and sat, self consciously pulling the sheet around her. She waited as the footsteps retreated. Relaxing, she scooted to the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet tighter around herself and moving to the door. It swung inwards and just outside the door were a heap of garments, the bags from Avristar, and a plate with bread and a mug of thick white liquid. She took the things inside, happy she had another dress to wear. She fit the black dress over her form and fumbled with the strings in the back.
As she cleared her hair from her eyes she caught Krishani staring at her. “You were awake the whole time?” She gasped, still trying to tie the dress.
Krishani nodded and moved to the edge of the bed, pulling her to him. He ran his fingers through the strings and pulled them taut. “I wasn’t awake long,” he said softly. He sounded like he was living in a dream. She remembered the bread and white liquid, bringing the plate and mug over and sitting on the edge of the bed. She stared into the cup and scrunched up her nose. “What do you suppose this stuff is?”
“It comes from the goats,” Krishani answered lightly as he broke the bread in half and handed her a chunk. She squished it into her mouth and bit down hard, chewing the grainy dough. It didn’t taste much better fresh. She looked into the mug again but Krishani took it from her and took a sip. “It’s not that bad,” he said handing it back.
“There aren’t goats on Avristar,” she said, wrinkling her brow. She carefully took a sip and noted the sweet but chunky flavor. It didn’t really satisfy her but she was thirsty enough that she tried more.
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