Tempest (The Scribes of Medeisia)

by R. K. Ryals

  “I heard you with Frenda,” Kye said, his eyes on mine. “People die for freedom. They die so others may live.”

  He’d heard me repeating his own words.

  “I believe in them,” I said.

  Kye nodded. “Hold on to that, Stone. Hold on tight to it.”

  He released me then, and I left the tent with Oran at my side. I didn’t look back.

  “People die for freedom, Drastona. They die so others may live.”

  I clung to the words.

  Chapter 3

  We spent the next two days in the forest foraging and hunting. Ena had emptied most of her dried food supplies for our use, and dozens of water skins had been filled, along with a barrel that Lochlen promised to carry. It wasn’t enough We all knew it. There was an oasis in the middle of the desert, or so Kye had heard, and we based our hopes solely on something we weren’t sure existed. It seemed oddly right. This whole war was based on hope, on ideas. Why not the journey across the desert, too?

  It was the night before our trek into the Ardus when Kye came to me. The moon was high in the sky, bathing the clearing in silver, and I lay on my bedroll, my eyes on the tent’s roof. A shadow moved beyond the fabric, and I sat up, my pulse quickening. I knew who it was before his hand parted the tent flap.

  My gaze met his in the dark. He didn’t say anything, just offered me his hand, and I took it. There was no hesitation in his touch, and when his fingers closed over mine, I inhaled. The sensation was different each time he touched me, more intense. Tonight, his touch was hot, a burning inferno I had no desire to douse.

  His clothes looked black in the moonlight, his shirt open, his hair tousled by a strong winter wind. How he withstood the temperature was beyond me. I wore two shirts under my tunic, and I was still cold.

  I raised a brow, my mouth parting, but Kye placed a finger gently against my lips and shook his head before guiding me toward the forest. I didn’t fight him. The trees murmured. I wasn’t sure if they were chuckling or singing a love song. The forest was quirky. It considered most human emotion beneath it, but there were times when even it was affected. The forest had its own kind of love, its own kind of grief.

  “Does it always speak to you?” Kye asked suddenly.

  We’d moved far enough from the camp our conversation couldn’t be overheard.

  I looked at him. “It murmurs mostly. Sometimes it sings.”

  Kye smiled. “Does it sing now?”

  I smiled back. “To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s a gentle sound; like wind, but with more substance.”

  We were near the tree cave, and Kye tugged me toward the hollowed trunk, pulling back the vines before ducking beneath its cover. I ducked after him, blinking in the darkness. Kye lifted a glowing dragon orb from a crevice in the ground and placed it somewhere above our heads. It rested on a jagged part of the tree and lit most of the chamber. It was a dull light. It looked exactly like moonlight trapped in glass. Everything turned silver.

  My gaze found Kye’s. “Why did you bring me here?”

  Kye looked young for the first time since I’d met him. He was twenty-one turns, young to be a king of rebels, to be a leader. He was young for a man. I was old for a woman. Most women in Medeisia were wed by the time they were fifteen. I was only a couple of months away from my seventeenth birthday.

  “I was seven years old when I discovered I was the son of Raemon,” Kye said carefully. “My mother was a proud woman, a lady-in-waiting who’d been summoned by the king. She was overjoyed when she discovered she was pregnant. She wanted me to have everything a prince should have. She succeeded. My father didn’t particularly care for me, but he knew the importance of an heir. My mother and I lived in riches.”

  Kye inhaled, the sound loud in the tree.

  “When I was ten, my mother contracted a fever. At her bedside, before she passed away, she left me with only three parting words.”

  The look in Kye’s eyes made me step toward him, but he stopped me, his hand up.

  “It wasn’t words of love or encouragement. No. Instead, she looked me in the eye and said, ‘you must prevail’. They are mighty words. You must prevail.” Kye laughed darkly. “But I’ve come to learn with age that she had wanted the same things as my father. She had wanted power and money.”

  This time when I stepped toward him, Kye didn’t pull away.

  “And you?” I asked. “What did you want?”

  Kye’s eyes searched my face. I wasn’t sure what he saw there, but he took his own step forward, his boots meeting mine in the dirt.

  “Not power,” he whispered. He lifted his hand, his fingers playing with the short curls around my face. “Nor money.” His hand went to the back of my head, his fingers tangling in the curls. “This.”

  And with that, his mouth slanted over mine, the soft press of his lips the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted. Like honey. I smelled lye soap and pine needles, and reveled in it. One hand went to the side of his face as he deepened the kiss, finding his cheek rough beneath my palm, as if he’d forgotten to shave before he came to me. The slide of my hand against his skin did something to him, or maybe to me, but suddenly the kiss changed. It grew deeper, more urgent.

  He tilted my head, his mouth almost warring with mine, and I moaned, the sound strangled. I’d heard girls at Forticry talk about kissing, but they’d never said it could be like this; painful and beautiful all at the same time, full of both tears and laughter.

  Kye’s hand tightened against my back, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. It was a hungry kiss, full of need. I stood on my tiptoes, my body instantly melting against his.

  It was all the invitation Kye needed. He lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he pushed my back up against the tree’s trunk.

  His hands were everywhere; on my back, against my hip, his lips moving from my mouth to the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder. I arched against him, and he paused, his breathing hard.

  “Stone,” he breathed. I didn’t want him to talk, but I felt the fear mingled with desire in my pounding pulse, and I let him speak.

  One of his hands came up to rest against the bark beside my head, and his eyes met mine.

  “Stone?” he said again. It was as much a question as it was a statement.

  Stone. It was a strong name. I’d always liked it even when my stepsister, Mareth, made fun of it. It was too male, she’d say. But right now, in this moment, I loved it. I loved the way it sounded coming from Kye’s lips, loved how utterly unmanly it made me feel.

  Kye stared at me then, and I stared back. I don’t think either of us blinked.

  “Stone.”

  I placed my palm against his lips, silencing him, my fingers dancing their way up to the scar on his face. It wasn’t a large scar, but it was an angry one, puckered and silver in the light. I traced it, and Kye closed his eyes.

  “One,” I counted.

  The corner of Kye’s lip lifted. He tried to open his eyes, and I stopped him, my free hand covering his eyelids.

  My fingers danced gently from the scar on his temple to his chest where his tunic splayed open, the ties loose. I loosened them even more.

  “Stone,” Kye said again, his voice strangled.

  I ignored him, my fingers trailing the scar that started just below his neck and ended just below the breast.

  “Two,” I counted.

  Kye laughed then, the amusement mixed with pain and urgency. I grinned, my fingers finding a third scar. This was a long scar. I’d seen it once when he’d stood outside my tent after we’d returned from Aireesi just before he’d taken the marks on his wrists. This scar ended at his waist.

  “Three,” I murmured.

  Kye exhaled. “Stone,” he warned.

  I didn’t listen. Aigneis had always said I was a stubborn girl.

  Somewhere during the night, I lost count of Kye’s scars.

  Chapter 4

  I was pretty sure the trees were singing when I woke. It was a low sound t
hat reverberated up my spine and back down again. It sounded just like I imagined a mass of falling colored leaves would sound. Beautiful and heartbreaking.

  I wasn’t in the tree cave anymore. Sometime during the night, Kye had woken me, and I’d dressed quickly. I was drowsy and sore, and he’d carried me through the forest, murmuring things against my hair I couldn’t remember now. It was the last thing I recalled. I’d fallen asleep before he’d ever made it back to my tent.

  “Phoenix,” a voice growled, and I looked over to find Oran curled up in a corner of my tent, his ebony eyes watching me curiously. I rubbed my arms with my hands, trying desperately to warm myself up.

  “When did you get here?” I asked him.

  Oran lifted his head. “Last night.”

  I wasn’t feeling so cold anymore, my cheeks heating.

  Oran chuckled. “I am a wolf, little Phoenix. We do not adhere to human standards. You will find no censure from me.”

  He rose, stopping to lick his paw before moving to the tent flap.

  “But remember, wolves mate for life. And you, my dear, are as much a wolf as I am. I sense it in you. Come, the group gathers.”

  I stood, cringing at the stiffness in my legs as I rolled my bedroll up before stuffing it into a pack Kye had given us the day before. Only six of us were making the journey across the desert. Warwick, despite his disdain and lack of respect in the tent two days earlier, would be left in charge of the rebel camp. Even if we didn’t make it to Sadeemia, even if our plan failed, the marked folk still had a chance. They’d have to live their lives in hiding. Kye had met with Feras, and the dragon rex had promised protection against the king inside the Mystic Mountains. It would be the rebels’ last option. Their last hope if we failed.

  I took one final look at the tent that had become my home for the past five months. It seemed I was always saying farewell to my homes.

  “Stone,” a feminine voice called, and I ducked out of the tent before throwing the pack on my back.

  Maeve stood just outside, a bow and sheath of arrows dangling from her fingers. Guilt swamped me when I saw her, but I tamped it down.

  I took the proffered weapon from her and smiled.

  Her return grin was forced. “Seems almost sad, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  I nodded. Kye’s words from the night before came back to me. His mother may have been a power hungry woman, but her final words made sense right now.

  My eyes met Maeve’s. “We will prevail.”

  “I am apt to agree,” a voice responded.

  It startled me, and I jumped, turning so that I was looking up into Kye’s face. His gaze was soft, questioning. I nodded. It was enough.

  He sidled up just close enough to me his fingers brushed mine inconspicuously before marching to the center of the clearing. It was scarcely after dawn, and the sun had just begun to make its trek across the sky, the faint light turning everything grey.

  Brennus, Daegan, and Lochlen stood waiting, arms crossed. Warwick was kneeling next to the main fire, stoking it as Ena stepped forward, holding out a brown cloak for each of us. It would keep us warm in the forest while the hoods would protect our faces in the desert.

  “Go safely,” Ena whispered as I took the cloak from her.

  She did the same for Maeve before clasping the girl’s hands, tears glistening in the corner of her eyes. The older woman had known Maeve much longer than me.

  Several tent flaps were cracked, the rebels peering out of them curiously. It didn’t seem right for them to join us in the clearing, to tell us goodbye. Goodbye seemed too permanent a word. But staying abed as if the farewell was just another day ... that was safer.

  One particular tent caught my eye, and I focused on it, my gaze finding the sad eyes of Frenda Brenner. She lifted the flap when she saw me looking, her hand rising. In her fist, she held a piece of parchment. That surprised me, and my eyes widened. Parchment was becoming increasingly rare.

  There was a shriek as Ari moved across the sky, lowering so that Frenda could place the paper just inside her talons. As the falcon rose, Frenda flashed me her wrist. A busted inkwell. Frenda was a scribe.

  I opened my hands, and Ari dropped the parchment within my palms. The paper was slightly crumpled, and it was dotted with water stains. I opened it just as the first pinkish ray of sunlight entered the clearing.

  My husband believed in you. I believe in you.

  For the first time since being told I was the phoenix, I felt the responsibility of it settling heavily over my shoulders. I inhaled before looking up, my gaze meeting the widow’s eyes, and I nodded my head.

  The tent flap lowered.

  “Keep close, and have your weapons ready,” Kye commanded.

  His words took the attention off of me, and I slung the sheath of arrows onto my back while lifting my bow. We were only a day’s walk from the edge of the Ardus. The rebel camp had been strategically placed, surrounded on each side by desert, mountains, and forest. My old home, Forticry, was three additional days away if you kept to the edge of the Ardus and walked without rest. I wondered now about the manor. Did anyone still live there?

  Kye exchanged words with Warwick as Brennus and Daegan lifted a water barrel. Each of us carried packs filled with food supplies and water skins with only one extra tunic and trousers besides. Food and water was more important than clothes.

  “We march,” Kye called out, and we all fell into step, melding into the forest as the other rebels slowly emerged from their tents.

  Lochlen let Kye take the lead. The dragon may be a prince in his own right, but he knew what Kye represented to the rebels. Kye represented a future leader, a just and peaceful sovereign. He had as much responsibility on his shoulders as I did.

  My thighs protested somewhat as we moved, and I thought of the tree cave the night before. In that moment, I had not been a Phoenix, and Kye had not been a prince. There had been no war. There had been nothing but two people bathed in the silvery light of a dragon orb.

  “You okay?” Maeve asked me suddenly.

  Her question brought me out of my reverie, and I looked up before nodding. Maeve had a strange expression on her face, but she accepted the nod before turning away from me.

  “One day to the Ardus,” the trees whispered.

  Their bare limbs shook. The other rebels looked up, their gazes wary, but I knew what the trees were doing, and it saddened me. With each step closer to the desert, the trees cried.

  “I thought trees did not grieve,” I whispered, a wry smile playing on my lips.

  A branch lowered and Maeve jumped, glancing back at me before rushing to catch up with those in front of us.

  “We don’t grieve now,” the trees said.

  I looked up, my eyes narrowed.

  “You don’t?”

  This time when the trees shook, we all paused.

  “We don’t grieve,” the trees insisted. “We rejoice.”

  Chapter 5

  We did not talk much the first day, traveling solemnly, each of our thoughts preoccupied by the journey ahead. Only Lochlen was cheerful, his low melodious whistling both annoying, and weirdly bolstering. And then the sun set on the first day, and we ate, keeping our rations small, our conversation minimal.

  The fire Kye built and Lochlen lit was warm, and we all sat huddled inside our cloaks, our weapons near us around the small pyre. Fires still haunted me, even as they gave me comfort, and I stared into the flames, my heart heavy. I missed Aigneis. I missed having someone with me who understood me better than anyone else. I missed her affection. I missed her.

  “We enter the Ardus on the morrow,” Brennus grumbled, throwing a small bone into the blaze, his eyes heavy. Sparks flew up into the air.

  “Aye,” Daegan replied.

  No one else spoke.

  “We’ll sleep near the fire tonight,” Kye said.

  We pulled out our packs, drawing our bedrolls free before unrolling them close enough to the pyre for warmth but far enough we wouldn
’t risk catching anything ablaze.

  Lochlen moved toward the trees. He didn’t need the warmth the same way we did, and he didn’t sleep well with others. I’d learned that in the past when Kye had asked him to sleep at my back before our trek into Aireesi.

  The trees welcomed Lochlen, and I lay carefully on my bedroll, pulling my cloak up to my chin. Oran materialized out of the woods and flopped onto the ground against my back. We slept head to foot. All of us except Kye. The prince sat near my head before the fire, his eyes on the woods.

  “I’ll take first watch,” he offered.

  There was no real need for anyone to sit up. The trees, the wolves, and Lochlen were guard enough, but Kye knew, as well as I, that people generally felt more comfortable depending on each other, on their own species. No one argued.

  Exhaustion was strong, but I fought it as everyone else drifted off to sleep. Brennus snored and Daegan mumbled softly. Maeve was a mostly quiet sleeper, a tiny whistle escaping every time she exhaled. Oran shifted behind me, one of his legs kicking irritably in slumber. His fur was warm against my back, and it lulled me into a drowsy state, my eyes growing heavy.

  “Sleep,” the trees whispered.

  My gaze drifted to Kye. He leaned forward, one arm resting on his knee, his gaze on the flames. Plucking a twig from the ground, he drew circles in the dirt before throwing it onto the blaze. Sparks rose, drifting upward toward a navy sky dotted with stars. The scar on his temple glowed. It made my cheeks heat, and my body warm.

  “Sleep,” the trees whispered again. “Sleep.”

  I knew they were right. I should rest, but I stared at the prince instead. I had lost a part of myself when Aigneis was killed. I’d lost yet another part of myself when I’d had to kill to protect the rebels. A new Drastona had been born then. I didn’t know this new girl yet. I was still learning who she was, but I knew one thing. I’d already lost part of my new self. I’d lost her the night before. I’d given her to Kye.

  Kye’s gaze moved from the fire to me, and our eyes caught. There were so many words in a stare, silent moments no one else would know.