Oriana's Eyes

by Celeste Simone

  “And you’ve been planning this for how long? Is that why Dorian talked to me in the first place? Is that how I got here?”

  “Not at all!” Finley replies. “This wasn’t a long-term idea. You came to us, not the other way around. Dorian has no idea what role you play. In fact, he’s been trying to protect you and keep you out of it.”

  “He has?”

  “It’s a difficult task trying to persuade Dorian to allow you to come. One that I won’t have anything to do with.” Finley turns back to gaze at the fire. “Personally I agree with him: it’s too dangerous for a girl like you to come along. Someone who is not used to sneaking around Odon’s guards. It’s bad enough Azura insists on coming.”

  “Well, I appreciate your concern, but it’s going to be my decision, and as far as I know”—I take a deep breath, and I feel a courage bloom within me—“if facing danger is what it takes to bring Odon down, then I’m not being left behind.”

  “That’s very brave of you.” Finley smiles and places a large hand on my shoulder. “But when it comes time, you’ll be facing a formidable fear like the rest of us.”

  I sigh. “So be it, but at least let me know what exactly you expect me to do.”

  “Yes, I knew you were waiting to ask.” Finley pauses and thinks the question over. “It’s better if Falda tells you the rest. I’ve said enough already, and Falda has a calming way with words.” He laughs as the disappointment forms on my face.

  “Fine, I understand, I already feel like my mind is about to explode.” I stand, brushing my dress downward with my hands. “I guess I can wait until tomorrow.”

  “Wait, one more thing.” Finley stands and leans close. “Don’t tell anyone what I told you. Not even Dorian.” He glares at me sternly.

  “Yes, I know, I got the same speech from Falda,” I retort sorely. I begin to head away.

  “Where are you going?” Finley calls after me.

  “To bed. Don’t worry, I’m not heading to confess anything,” I reply brusquely over my shoulder. I hear the snort of his dry laugh and continue forward into the night.

  I hear him run toward me. “Maybe I’d better walk you back.”

  I stop, pivoting to reply, “Why’s that? You don’t trust me?” He begins to walk next to me. The others seem to be too involved in Jagger’s tale to notice us leaving.

  “Not entirely, you may decide to throw yourself over the edge in a bout of insanity.” He grins, and I see the glint of his teeth in the diminishing firelight.

  “You wouldn’t want your last savior to die,” I remark sourly.

  Finley stops abruptly. “Is that all you think you are to us? We’re all worried about you, especially since you came back from the underground of the University with that injury …” His voice trails off, and he tries to casually study my face to discern if I have been listening.

  “What do you mean, injury?” I retort.

  “Listen … it’s better if you didn’t know. In fact, forget I even said anything.” Finley tries to walk faster and avoid any response.

  “Forget it? But if everyone is so worried, how can I just forget it?”

  He grabs me by the shoulders and looks hard into my eyes. “I can’t explain this to you, but for some reason it’s been having effects. Just trust that we’re discussing it.”

  “Wait a second. You mean something’s wrong with me, and no one knows what?” I fall to my knees and clutch my head. It has suddenly exploded in light and pain. I’m able to recover, and Finley helps me to my feet. His eyes are wide with concern. Is that what he meant by having effects? Fear keeps me from saying anything more. I decide to trust the others to figure it out for now.

  We pass the rest of the way in silence as I try to forget what I’ve heard and concentrate on getting to sleep. Maybe by tomorrow this will all seem simpler; maybe I’ll become stronger or discover it was all some strange dream. Perhaps I’ll wake up in the University—Lenora awake and ready for classes, sitting upright in her bed beside mine. For a moment I will imagine I have dreamt something but then lose interest and begin to dress for class. My concentration directed toward a test or the proper behavior of a pureblood.

  We make it to my shelter, and Finley wishes me a good night. I return the favor, giving him a slight wave as he heads further down the platform. As I step into my room, it becomes darker, and I immediately notice a firefly is caught within. It winks on and off, floating above my head and landing on the wall behind me. When I move to reach it, it takes off again, letting its light be seen every other moment, when it appears slightly further from its previous glow as it continues its flight.

  Finally I cup my hands around it and bring it close. I feel its soft wings as it flies against my palm, and my hands light up briefly. I pass through the flap door, set it free into the night, watching it disappear among the surrounding trees, and turn my head upward. The stars above are distinct and bright; they hold their illumination in permanence. Alone they are small pinpoints in the sky, but together they could outshine the full moon.

  Letting the flap fall behind me, I climb into bed and fall asleep in a final moment of calm. I wake several times throughout the night, only to fall back into a light sleep, tossing from side to side and reaching out at every corner of my bed.

  I wake to find it is early morning. Although my eyes are open, staring up at the ceiling of branches, I do not move. Something seems to weigh me down, and my body does not fight it. Instead, I let it push me farther into the mattress beneath. I feel as though I’m sinking, first at my stomach, followed by my numb limbs and next my head.

  I have been dozing slightly when Piper and Lily pass my cottage. I hear their chatter halt when they are at my doorway; perhaps they are listening for any movement. They do not peer inside but continue on, whether at an inkling that my energy is failing me or because they were warned against disturbing my sleep.

  I sigh once they are out of range, grateful to be left in peace. Yet serenity is not completely easing its way inside me. The quiet isn’t entirely welcoming. It only makes it easier to focus on what feels like my impending doom. I don’t have the will to address this thought, and before I know it, I’ve already entered another superficial slumber.

  I wake with a start, sensing that I have heard something but cannot remember what, and there is no sign of it within my room. The sun sheds an orange glow on the thick cloth that covers my door, telling me it is midday. I feel overly rested, and it makes me sluggish as I sit up and slide my legs over the side of my mattress. I hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

  There is a knock on the side of my doorway, and I beckon for whoever calls to enter. Tor slides inside, his head nearly reaching the top of the doorframe and a disrupted curl just brushing it. “How are you feeling?” he asks with a hopeful grin.

  “Not myself,” I reply.

  At this, I notice a frown, but it vanishes quickly and is soon forgotten, “Falda was hoping to meet with you today. But if you are not well …”

  In an instant I am to my feet and heading toward him. No manner of illness could hold me back from finding out more. “Please, I would still like to go if that’s all right.”

  “As you wish,” Tor answers with his accustomed wink. His long strides carry him out the door, and I struggle to keep up with him, my feet feeling like heavy weights.

  By the time we reach Falda’s cottage, my spirits have lightened. The sunlight, although it disappears every few moments behind a large white cloud, has given me some much-needed energy. I notice that the biting of hunger has risen in my stomach, and it rumbles softly. As if hearing it, Tor turns and says, “You must be hungry. My mother will have something for you.” I grin in thanks, and he flicks my hair as he passes me and heads away.

  When I enter, the scene before me is much like the one witnessed yesterday. I notice that the lavender dress, in its last stages, is now laid across Falda’s lap as she rocks slowly in her chair. She smiles at me warmly. I nod and say, “Good afternoon.” />
  “Indeed we have, although I believe tomorrow may bring another storm. The winds have been guiding large clouds our way.” This does not seem to bother her though, and she merely shrugs at the thought and continues stitching a line of the dress with shaky hands. I wait, watching her, trying not to feel the impatience rising at the back of my throat. She reaches the end of the line of fabric, gathers it up, and puts it on a side table that is woven like a basket. Reaching further past, she lifts a cloth-lined basket and beckons me to her. “Here, dear, have some.” I get up from my seat to peer over the edge of the basket at a cluster of fruit scones. I reach in and pull out two the size of my palms. Returning to my seat, I begin to gradually pick at them, feeling the hunger fade but a pit of anxiety remain.

  With a sigh, Falda replaces the basket and rests deeply into the cushions of her chair. She nestles softly in to them like a bird, a plume floating from the side of her chair to glide neatly to the floor. She doesn’t notice. Her blue eyes have focused on me, and her eyebrows have drawn together like a stitching pulled too tight, “What is the matter, dear? I only just saw you yesterday, and yet you look very different.”

  “One can learn a lot in a short time, and the knowledge may be heavy.” I know she can hear the irritation in my voice.

  “Tell me what you have heard.” Falda rests her fingers together in her lap, and there is a soft forbearance in her tone. It’s in this moment that I think to myself, this must be what having a mother is like. Her desire to listen eases my frustration, and I tell her of my talk with Finley last night: explained the previous attempt to defeat Odon and finally the discovery that I play a part in the Great Oak’s future, yet he would not tell me exactly what it is.

  She says nothing until I am finished and then nods her head. “It is all true.”

  “Then you can tell me? What is expected of me?” My demeanor brightens, and I move to the edge of my seat.

  Falda’s mouth opens, but no words escape, the breath she has taken slides out between her teeth in a low hiss. Looking down, she shakes her head. “I believe it is best that you figure that out for yourself.” She pauses as if deciding whether or not to agree with herself; then with a nod she continues, “If I were to tell you, it might affect your reaction in the moment of need. You will know when the time is right.”

  I lean back in my chair, somehow realizing that I knew all along I was not ready for the information. Still, I am not satisfied with the answer.

  “Oriana, I know you must be upset, but your visit is not for nothing.” Falda presses her lips together. “It should gladden you to learn I knew your mother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “You knew my mother!?” I nearly leap from my seat but hold back, only just catching myself and maintaining a level of composure.

  Falda nods solemnly, and I fear the story will not leave me so elated.

  “What was her name? What was she like?” I fall silent, my attention solely fixed on absorbing everything Falda has to say about her.

  “Her name was Sonya, a brave young woman indeed. You resemble her strongly, which is probably why the memory of her comes back to me so clearly. She had just received her wings and shortly later given birth when I met her. Both are turning points in a female Winglet’s life, yet she seemed to carry the responsibilities well. We were from separate clans of Winglets, yet the danger of Odon had been causing what Winglarions were still alive and free to gather together. We were all sharing information of neighboring areas and searching for news of family members.

  “She came to me as many others did at that time. I was a well-known member of the rebels. Word had spread of a sanctuary in the forest that was being slowly built within the arms of a magnificently ancient tree. Sonya was one of many seeking my help. She was desperate but not without direction. I could see the determination burning in her eyes. She was one of the few purebloods who had come to me that day, asking for a way of escape. In her arms she held two baby girls. Both from the same birth and crowned with similar gold sweeps of hair on their small plump heads. Yet I noticed clearly they were not exact copies, and I could see the differences of their souls from within their large blue eyes.”

  “Two babies …” I whisper. I have a sister? But instead I ask, “Did she mention my father?”

  Falda shakes her head, “I assumed he had already been captured, as many young Winglarion men had been at that point. Odon’s first goal was to form an army, as well as create his elite soldiers, which you know as Odonians, who are most closely bonded to Odon’s will.

  “Now Tor was just a young boy then, but he and I led the people of the Great Oak to rebellion. Part of which began as secret guidance and escape, for anyone willing, to the protection of the Great Oak. We would leave in groups, spreading word of our encampment and offering passage there. You said you met Finley?”

  I give a short nod.

  “Then you’ve met his band of ruffians as well. They are never far behind him.” The corner of her mouth lifts, displaying a single dimple. “They helped as well, Tor and he being of the same age, and of course Kadin was right beside them. They were all such close friends back then.” Her eyebrows rise, her abstracted gaze shifting to other memories. “Amazing how quickly we are swallowed by time, pulled from people we once knew so well. Perhaps this ancient Oak truly suits us. It will live to see many generations, growing new branches with each year, adding to its girth. I only hope the young ones rise with it to greater heights. It is our intention that, if not in our lifetime, then a future generation will bring freedom to all our people, no matter their lineage.”

  Falda brushes at a silver thread of hair by her eye, but I see she is actually wiping at a tear.

  “Excuse my ranting; my old mind wanders into digression.”

  I wave a hand, dismissing any need for apology, and she bows her head in return before her pale irises rise toward her furrowing brow.

  “Now where did I falter? Still at the beginning of the tale, I believe. When your mother Sonya sought me in hopes of reaching the Great Oak, I was only too willing to supply her with the meeting time and place, which was to be that night at the edge of the forest. I had one final word of warning to offer her: ‘Dear girl, please heed my words with severity. No matter what threatening situation you find yourself in, do not take flight. Remain on the ground.’

  “My words were swept away by the wind, and we were forced to part quickly as others moved around us. Odon’s spies were growing in numbers, and it was never certain when one could be watching. It was probably for the best that our conversation was brief, as it was never safe to talk openly anymore, and we did not want to be seen together for long. However, I believed she’d heard my crucial words, as she gave a short nod before disappearing among the others.

  “That night, many part-bloods arrived at the cover of the forest’s edge. They were all young, none older than Tor and most younger. I tried not to think of how many fathers and mothers had sacrificed their lives or freedom to allow their children to escape. The future of the Great Oak relied on the survival of these children. Although they did not realize it, their parents’ lives had not ended in vain. I would not allow them to.

  “No purebloods had showed. It became a common occurrence for myself and the other rebels. We might speak with a few, tell them of the meeting place, but never had they made it there. Somehow Odon’s men were always able to intervene in their escape. There was no telling what happened to the Winglarions who never showed, whether they lived on or were terminated. It was Odon who made decisions on who best suited his purposes.

  “That night I didn’t turn away, that night I was certain at least one Winglarion would arrive. It was late, but I refused to lose faith. I thought for certain Sonya would be seen any minute making her way through the clearing to the protection of the forest. Her silhouette in the glow of the moon revealing two young girls held firmly in her lean arms.

  “I tried to keep the younger ones quiet, as they were getting impatient an
d the waiting only brought thoughts of their lost loved ones. Yet although the hour was now well past the appointed time, I was certain that young Sonya would make it. I had seen the force behind her blue eyes. It was a refusal to fail, if not for her own sake, then for her offspring.

  “Finally, just when I thought my hope would fail me, I saw her running desperately toward us. Her daughters were caught snugly, one in each arm. One wailed at the top of her delicate lungs while the other remained silent, her eyes wide in anticipation. Sonya held her wings folded behind her, I could see they were weighing her down. Like birds, Winglarions are made for the air and face a disadvantage on the ground. Despite this, Sonya hurtled forward, the sweat dripping off her porcelain brow and her cloth skirts soiled with dirt.

  “Not far behind her, I gasped to discover, was a group of guards running at top speed. They did not shout or show any expression but focused their blank gaze on Sonya. It was this lack of any soul that was most frightening about them. As the guards closed in on the frail form of Sonya and her two children, she did what a Winglarion knows to do best. In a state of panic, Sonya’s wings spread and, despite my warning earlier, lifted her into the sky with the elegance of a swan.”

  I clasp my hands together, palms going hot as I try to prevent the impending danger that I know has already occurred and been buried in time.

  “My stomach sank, and I closed my eyes as I heard the thud of an arrow into flesh. I looked up to watch Sonya’s fast but graceful descent. Her wings extended and her body curled into a protective circle around her two most precious treasures. A second arrow found its mark in her wing, embedding itself among silken feathers. Her body struck the ground in a sickening crunch of feather and bone, and only once she had ended her fall did her tense figure open to reveal two lovely infants. They were terrified and wailing but unharmed.”