Frost: An Otherworld Tale (The Otherworld Tales Book 1)

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Frost: An Otherworld Tale (The Otherworld Tales Book 1) Page 22

by Chelsea Clemmons Moye


  Kieran stared at me, dumbstruck and clutching his cheek where my angry red handprint throbbed. I plunged ahead with no regard for how my words might affect him. "She’s not to be trusted, and you’re too much of a fool to see it! You’re blinded by your attraction to her. Hell, with the level of loyalty you’re showing to her, maybe it’s love. I don’t care what you call it, though." I was pacing back and forth in front of him as I berated him. "All I care about is you keeping her away from anything that could be important to the survival of everyone in this fortress, and I hope you stay the hell away from me while you’re at it. I’m done being a pawn for you or anybody else in this godforsaken world!”

  I spun on my heel and charged headlong up the hallway with hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them from falling, so I just let it happen. I managed to keep from sobbing until I reached the courtyard by the armory, but when I saw Captain Burns waiting on me, I just crumbled. Anguished sobs poured out of me, one after the other, and I ran to him because he reminded me of all the things I loved about my family. The protective concern on his face just made the sobs come faster and harder as he pulled me into a soothing hug.

  “What in the world happened, Lauren?” He stroked my hair like my dad used to when I was a little girl and nightmares woke me.

  I shook my head because I couldn’t find the right words yet. I buried my face in his shirt and cried until I no longer had the physical strength to keep crying. He stood there the whole time, and God bless him, comforted me until I was ready to talk. “Kieran’s a complete idiot,” I rasped, my voice raw from crying so hard.

  “Well, we all knew that,” Burns quipped. “Can you be a little more specific, so I know what to yell at him for while I’m beating the tar out of him?”

  I shook my head. “It’s crazy. Ever since I came here, he’s been so familiar. I thought, for a while, that he might be a friend of mine who disappeared 11 years ago. I was so sure he was somehow Noah, but the Noah I knew would never be as mean to me as Kieran just was.” I wiped tears off my cheeks with the backs of my hands. “He decided to remind me what an outsider I am now that he has Adele here, and implied that I’m jealous because she’s more beautiful than I am, among other things.”

  Captain Burns’ lips pressed into a grim line and he shook his head. “The boy can’t think straight when the she-elf is near him. I think she uses some sort of magic to manipulate him. I haven’t been able to prove it yet, but I guarantee you it won’t stop me from speaking my mind about it when I speak to Rolf in a few moments.”

  My stomach squirmed with nervousness as the first thoughts of the potential repercussions of my outburst occurred to me. “You’re going to see Rolf? What about my training session?”

  Burns shrugged. “This discussion won’t take long. You can go ahead and get started with the dagger and the training dummy, if you want. I won’t be long.”

  “Sounds good,” I nodded. “See you soon.”

  I was too angry and distraught to stop and think that maybe messing with weapons when I was feeling so emotional wasn’t a good idea. I also didn’t stop to put on any kind of protective gear. I just focused all my emotional energy on stabbing and hacking at the training dummy with the dagger I’d been given. It was nothing short of a spectacular temper tantrum, if I’m being honest. I poured all my rage and disappointment into the dummy, and I was surprised when the dagger hit the solid wood post at the center of the dummy. I hit it so hard that the dagger glanced out of my hand and slashed across my wrist before clattering to the ground.

  At first, nothing happened, and I thought I’d gotten away without being cut, but then I felt the sting, and a whole lot of blood welled up and gushed out of the wound at once. I’ve never exactly been great with blood, and I have always had a low pain tolerance, so I panicked. I tried to scream for help, but no sound would come out. I got clammy and queasy, and held pressure on the wound with my free hand, but I couldn’t look at it. I knew I’d throw up if I did. I started moving toward the fortress’ massive oak doors, trying my best to stay calm. As I shuffled toward the doors, squeezing my wrist as hard as I could, I heard a familiar voice calling to me.

  “Lauren...what’s wrong?”

  I looked to my left, toward the blacksmith’s forge, and spotted Tamara jogging in my direction. “Accident,” I called, still shuffling toward the massive oak doors.

  She instantly snapped from a jog to a flat-out run until she caught up to me. “Let me look,” she demanded. It wasn’t rude or sharp, as was her usual way with me, but gentle and calm.

  I took my hand away from the slash across my wrist, and blood gushed out and dripped down my hand and off the ends of my fingers. She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “Put pressure back on it. We’re going to Wynne, all right? I think she’s probably going to have to sew you up.”

  “Stitches,” I moaned, swaying on my feet as my knees turned to jelly. “I don’t want stitches.”

  Tamara slipped an arm around my shoulders and propelled me forward at a steady pace. “I understand that sentiment, but what you want and what you need are two different things right now, and I’d rather you have what you need. Can you work with me on that?”

  “Yeah, I understand,” I mumbled. “But I might throw up. Don’t get mad at me if I throw up.”

  Tamara laughed and shook her head. “Why would you think I’d get mad at you for being sick?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Sometimes Dad gets mad at me when I get sick because it’s always really inconvenient for him and Michelle.”

  Tamara’s expression darkened to a disapproving scowl. “Really? As if you can help when you get sick! Parents are supposed to take care of you, no matter what. I find it disgusting that your father has the gall to treat you like it’s your fault when you get sick.”

  I let out a weak chuckle. “My Granny Betty tends to agree with you.”

  Tamara shot me a slightly confused frown. “Your grandmother? What about your mother?”

  I shrugged again. “I only see my mom on holidays and during the summer. My parents are divorced.”

  She shook her head, as if I were speaking an alien language. “Divorced?”

  “Yeah," I nodded. "Marriage didn’t work out for them, so they ended their marriage legally. Mom married this ex-military guy, Brian. I like him. He’s responsible and level-headed, not like my Dad. My father plays games for a living, parties a lot, and just married a girl who’s only 4 years older than I am.”

  She shook her head and suppressed a shudder. “Your world must be a very strange one, indeed. Here, when you marry someone, you’re with that person until one of you is dead. I assume that’s why so many people end up murdering their spouses.”

  I let out a short, slightly hysterical giggle as Tamara led me into Wynne's cavern. I heard Tamara call out for Wynne, but it sounded distant. The room spun, and I swooned as dark dots danced in front of my eyes, expanded, and my vision completely blacked out.

  When I came to, my wrist was already bandaged, and Wynne was waving something with a pungent floral scent under my nose. A burning tickle instantly overtook my nostrils, and I sneezed five times. When I was through sneezing and my eyes stopped watering, I looked up at Wynne and Tamara's concerned expressions.

  "Did I have to have stitches?" My voice sounded funny, and I noticed that I had a violent case of dry mouth.

  "No," Wynne shook her head. "I just cleaned the wound, put some of my signature ointment on it, and bandaged you up."

  "Oh, thank God," I muttered.

  Wynne chuckled and winked at me. "A lot of people would prefer to avoid stitches whenever possible. Tamara made that sentiment quite clear on your behalf."

  I shot Tamara a grateful, relieved grin. "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

  "I get the feeling you would do the same for me," Tamara shrugged. "If you're all right, I'm going to go check on the you-know-what in the you-know-where."

  I chuckled and nodded. "Yeah. I'll b
e fine. I'll catch up with you later."

  Wynne narrowed her eyes and shook her finger at me. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to rest and drink plenty of fluids after an injury like that. Go straight to your room. I'll have soup and water sent to you."

  I opened my mouth to argue, but she shook her head and cut me off. "Don't even bother arguing with me. I'll supervise you myself, if I have to."

  I shook my head and waved my hands in a placating gesture. "That won't be necessary."

  "I have eyes everywhere, Lauren. Just know that if you don't listen, I will find you." Her voice was laughing, but her eyes were hard and serious.

  I nodded and grinned. "I promise I'll be good."

  "Right," she nodded. "Off to your room, now."

  I ambled out of her cavern and forcibly ignored the slight lightheaded dizziness I was feeling as I climbed the stairs to get back to my room. I was surprised when I bumped into a sans-Adele Kieran in the stairwell. I wasn't sure whether or not I should speak, but he solved that problem for me.

  "I heard you hurt yourself. What happened?" His voice was surprisingly quiet and concerned compared to his cold attitude during our former argument.

  I shrugged and murmured. "Small training accident, no big deal."

  He frowned at me and shook his head. "Tamara said you lost a good bit of blood from a pretty deep gash. Is there a particular reason you don't want to discuss it with me?"

  I chewed on my bottom lip and wrung my hands, trying to find the right words for my situation. “I’m already such a burden. I didn’t want to make things even more frustrating for you, and I didn’t want you to think less of me than you already do.”

  Kieran stared at me for a long moment before he spoke, sounding stunned at a little hurt. “Am I really so foul that you put not angering me above taking care of yourself?”

  I waved my hands and shook my head frantically, not wanting to fight with him again. “No! You’re not foul at all.”

  “Liar,” he grumbled.

  I sighed and threw my hands up. “Oh, stop it. It’s not about you at all," I snapped. "I’ve been nothing but a screwup ever since I got here. I was finally doing something well. No one was yelling at me or trying to stick my head on a chopping block. An aching arm didn’t seem all that important in the current grand scheme of things.”

  “Well, it is important," Kieran huffed. "We’ve got to make sure that your arm is well enough that you can use it properly when the time comes.”

  I stared down at the floor. “I feel like this whole crazy war is all my fault, somehow.”

  Kieran shook head as he lifted my chin and forced me to meet his dark gaze. “It isn’t. This war began long before you even existed. I’m sorry you’ve been thrown into this mess, but the prophecies can’t be about anyone but you. Mack confirmed that much."

  “I know.” I sighed and tugged my chin out of his grasp so I could go back to staring guiltily at the floor.

  When he continued speaking, his tone was stern and growing impatient. “Stop blaming yourself. The only way we’ll make real progress is if you step back out of your own way. Keep working, but take yourself out of the equation. Self-pity and wallowing in self-doubt never helped anybody advance.”

  “How?" I snapped, borderline hysterical. "How do I take myself out of the equation when everyone else keeps sticking me right in the middle of it? The whole prophecy issue seems to be pointing a great, big finger right at me.”

  I watched him sigh and shake his head with frustration. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  I crossed my arms and frowned at him. “How did you mean it, then? Explain it to me.”

  He shook his head and spoke through gritted teeth. “Nevermind. Your feelings are hurt and I don’t know how to explain what I mean to you.”

  “You must think I’m an awfully big idiot,” I snapped.

  “Why do you do that?” He barked, his fists clenched, and face flushed with frustration.

  “Do what?” I cocked an eyebrow, daring him to say it.

  “Put words in people’s mouths!" He was talking with his hands, gesticulating violently to accentuate every exasperated word leaving his lips. "I never called you an idiot. I can’t even fathom where you got that idea, but you’re allowing it to undermine all the progress you’ve made since you came here. That inferiority complex you have is weighing you down. Let it go, or I'm afraid we’ll all be dragged down by it.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?" I defended, feeling sullen and attacked. "I just look around here and see people who are smarter and more capable than I am everywhere I turn. It’s hard not to feel inferior.”

  “You’re using your imagined inferiority as a crutch," he raged. "You want to feel smart and capable? Drop that attitude of inferiority and work to become smarter and more capable. You have the ability. I’ve seen it. The problem is that you’re reacting to your situation like a spoiled, scared child. Why don’t you try getting your shit together and acting like an adult? You’ve got a brain. Use it for something other than coming up with excuses for why you’re not good enough.”

  I felt my eyes fill with hot, stinging tears. “I don’t mean to make excuses!”

  “But you do!" He was in full-on rant mode. "You make them all the time. Every time something goes wrong, you wave excuses around like giant, white banners of surrender. ‘I’m not good enough, so I can’t. I’m not smart enough, so I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing, so I can’t.’ It’s a load of swill! You absolutely can; you’re just choosing not to because you’re afraid!”

  I glared at him, utterly frustrated because I'd been told how I was supposed to feel for my whole life. “So I’m not allowed to be afraid now?”

  “I didn’t say that!” He was bellowing at me by that point.

  “So what are you saying?” I bellowed right back.

  Kieran started to stomp off, but turned back around and re-engaged with me. “I’m asking you to stop using your fear as a crutch. Let it go and help us!”

  I shook my head and forced my fingers through my hair, trying to soothe my frustration. “I don’t know how to let it go! It’s just there, Kieran. It’s not like I can sit down with it and tell it ‘Sorry, buddy, but I don’t really have time for you right now--would you mind terribly coming back later on,’ is it?”

  Kieran grabbed me by the shoulders and gave her a firm shake. “I don’t know how you can do it, but you had better find a way or we’re all ruined!” He turned away and shoved his hands through his hair in frustration. “Go get some rest. I’m late for a meeting with Rolf.”

  17

  Spilled Beans

  I had just finished the vegetable soup Wynne sent to me when there was a soft knock at my door. I was surprised to find Sam on the other side of it, looking concerned. "Are you okay?" he blurted in a rush. "Tamara said you had an accident."

  I chuckled and shrugged. "More like a rage-fueled spaz-out that resulted in self-injury, but yeah. Wynne ordered me to rest for the rest of the day, which has me going stir-crazy, if I'm being honest."

  Sam nodded and grinned. "I know. She and Tamara sent me to make sure you obey her orders and recuperate."

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes with a grin. "I shouldn't be resting. I should be helping with the evacuation and other preparations. I should be in the loop. I want to know the second that Sigrid tries to make contact, if she does so at all." I paced restlessly as Sam stepped in and shut the door. "I want to find Mack and my dog, and see how things are going."

 

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