The Bridge Beyond Her World (The Boy and the Beast Book 2)

by Brandon Barr

  Meluscia left her there and went to the basket of muffins and picked two.

  “Here,” she said, handing Praseme one. “Enjoy.”

  Praseme looked uncomfortably at the food in her hand and then at Meluscia. Clumsily, she took a bite of the muffin, cupping her hands under it as crumbs began falling on the table.

  A tiny smile slipped across Meluscia’s face. She took a bite of the bread in her hand. “Your muffins are delicious,” she said.

  “Thank you,” said Praseme, finishing another bite. Her eyes darted up to the beam of sunlight stretching over their heads. “I know it is not my place to ask, but Mairena, Prehn and I were wondering what you were going to do with all those muffins?”

  The number of muffins was arbitrary, Praseme. I only wanted to keep you busy long enough to slip into your bed.

  Meluscia stared at Praseme. The girl’s friendly eyes bore into her like sunlight. What could she say?

  “What did you think I would do with them?” asked Meluscia, returning the question.

  Praseme blushed. “Well, Mairena and I made jokes about that last night. But only because we didn’t know what you wanted them for.”

  “Tell me your jokes,” pressed Meluscia.

  Praseme looked like she wanted to flee from the room. “Alright, but please don’t be cross, My Lady, we were only joking amongst ourselves. Mairena fancied that you were giving them to a secret admirer. And that once they were delivered to your room, you would write out letters in frosting on each muffin and have them sent to your sweetheart with your message.” Praseme frowned. “I’m sorry. That sounded funnier last night.”

  Meluscia swatted her hand at the air, as if batting away her apology. This was the girl she knew from the spies’ passage. Kind and silly. Always light-hearted. It was fascinating, having her so close, experiencing directly the personality she’d grown to know from a distance. Though Meluscia felt a sense of guilt, she was surprised at how little it bothered her.

  “What did you think I’d do after eating all the muffins?” asked Meluscia.

  Praseme’s face reddened again, but this time, a smirk twisted on her lips. “Again, you promise not to be cross?”

  “I promise,” said Meluscia.

  “I told Mairena you’d eat all the muffins yourself and gain a finger width to your bust size.”

  Meluscia blushed slightly. “What did you mean by that?” she asked quickly.

  “You’re too good to us,” said Praseme. “Giving your meals away to the servants so often. I told Mairena the Makers would bless this one little indulgence by allowing the extra muffin girth to settle upon your bosom. I, of course, waited to tell Mairena my jest until after Prehn went to the orchard to pick more apples. Not something to say around a teenage boy.”

  Meluscia smiled. She was torn, whether to embrace this endearing girl, or to allow her jealousy to continue on, protecting the new brazen woman she felt growing inside herself.

  Another knock sounded on the door.

  “Who is it?” said Meluscia.

  “It is Heulan, I have urgent news.”

  “Come in.”

  Heulan looked flustered as he entered the room, his furrowed brow fading into his smooth bald scalp. Praseme rose from her seat, as if making to leave, but Meluscia put her hand on her shoulder, staying her. “What’s happened?” said Meluscia.

  “First,” said Heulan, “your sister arrived at the Hold early this morning, just before dawn. She was badly injured. A band of Nightmares came upon her and Captain Osiiun somewhere between the Opal Gorge and Hearth’s Scat. Savarah was nearly bled dry by a wound on her shoulder. Osiiun was killed in the fighting.”

  The news rattled Meluscia, her mind racing from the trivial to the sharp edge of the military implications in Heulan’s words.

  Never had a Nightmare raiding party ventured that far into the Blue Mountains, only the occasional lone monster, like the one who’d broken into her father’s paddock. And, even then, a lone Nightmare had never gotten as far as the Hold. Not once, not since the time of Isolaug’s taking of the Star Garden Realm. And the raiding parties, they rarely went further than the borderlands, where the wilds met the woods and the mountain foothills descended into the desert wastes.

  “Where is Savarah?”

  “She is with the physicker in the Sparrow’s Grotto. She is doing well. She stopped the bleeding with Osiiun’s riding pants tightly bound around her shoulder. The physicker was surprised she didn’t lose consciousness on the long jarring ride. But then, it is Savarah,” he said with a comforting smile. “Your sister was never one to regard pain.”

  Meluscia’s hand fell from Praseme’s shoulder. “I must see her.”

  Heulan nodded. “There is one more thing I must tell you. When your father heard of the attack just moments ago, he bid me to give you a message from him.”

  Meluscia steadied herself. Did her father have some further insult, something to obliterate her dreams with finality, though they were already ground to dust?

  “He has received a request from King Feaor, asking for another chance at peaceful negotiation. In the letter, King Feaor requested you by name. Your father wants me to relay to you that he has not made his decision yet on who should succeed him as Luminary. In the meantime, he wants you to lead the delegation to negotiate with King Feaor.”

  Meluscia’s legs went numb. She fell to her knees, reaching out and gripping the table beside her. The news felt impossible. Her letter! Her father—he reconsidered his decision!

  Her heart leapt.

  It was as if an earthquake had torn a rift through her despair, and all that she’d hoped might come to be was again possible.

  “Thank you, Father!” she said under her breath.

  “You can tell him yourself,” said Heulan, his eyes warm and full of pride. “He wishes to see you. Your delegation is to leave at once. Before nightfall.”

  Meluscia sprang to her feet, lighter than she’d ever been. Like she had birds’ wings lifting her from the ground. There was little time to prepare, but she embraced the challenge.

  “Your father hopes to hold on until your return from your trip to the Verdlands,” said Heulan. “To make his decision.”

  To make his decision? It was just as she hoped!

  Meluscia raised her chin. “I will not disappoint him.”

  She turned to Praseme. “I want you to prepare food supplies for the journey. Accost as many servants as you need to have the supplies ready by noon. They are to follow your orders.” She continued without forethought, surprising herself. “There will be only six of us going. You will be one of them.”

  “Me?” exclaimed Praseme. Her hand went to her belly, which revealed nothing in her loose fitted servant’s garb. As of yet, she and Mica hadn’t revealed their secret to anyone. Would she now?

  “Prepare enough food for fifteen days. I know your husband is one of the horse masters at the stables. Have him choose the best pack mules for our journey. Will it burden you to be gone from him for long?”

  “No, My Lady,” said Praseme, her expression one of utter shock. “No burden compared to this great honor. Thank you.” She bowed, then rushed from Meluscia’s room.

  Meluscia turned to Heulan. “Task a reliable man with gathering our provisions. Have them given to Mica at the stables. Tell them we are leaving at noon. We won’t of course, but it will allow us to leave well before nightfall.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” said Heulan. “And if I may be so bold in private…I pray it is you, my dear, who is enthroned by your father, and not Valcere. It is your heart and disposition this mountain needs.”

  Heulan bowed low, then left the room.

  Meluscia glanced up at the light that had shifted to shine against the wall over her bed. The two very different girls now living inside her stared across the rift in her heart, scrutinizing each other.

  One told her she could put the past behind and take hold of the throne. This same girl inside told her she could go back to Jona
kin for her strength. That her own imagination could satisfy the desire for companionship and the growing physical hunger she must now forsake.

  But the other girl inside reminded her of her burning needs. Of how much more satisfying it was to have that which was real, the possibility that Mica may realize the truth and want her. And this girl pressed her to imagine what else she might be capable of.

  The girl’s voice was very familiar.

  Just a taste. No one will know.

  The inner battle of who she was becoming would have to be sorted out amidst the excitement of her new hope. She would take any surprises as they came, for she was ready to fight for what she unanimously desired: the rule of the Hold.

  The power of Luminess.

  _____

  MELUSCIA

  “Give King Feaor this,” said Trigon.

  Meluscia took the parchment from her father’s weak grip. She noted the pleased smile he wore as he lay in his bed. His eyes now held signs of pride as Heulan’s had, but there was soberness there, too. She could not understand why he distrusted King Feaor so strongly.

  She read over the letter. It detailed her father’s proffered attempt at peace. Lowering the price of wood and ending the skirmishes between the woodcutters and the farmers. There was a plan to build a new road between their kingdoms to ensure direct access to the quarry at the Knot of Amythar, where extracted metals could arrive in Soravell, the Verdlands’ Castle province, after only a two day ride.

  Lastly, there was a condition upon which the above rested. King Feaor had to write down on paper every treacherous act and wrong he’d committed against the Hold and make adequate restitution for each crime, worthy of its magnitude. If her father was appeased, he would appoint Meluscia to rule as the next Luminess, and their kingdoms could live in peace. If not, Valcere would rule, and her father promised the vague threat of increased tension and enduring hostility.

  Scrawled in her father’s own hand beneath his wax seal was one last sentence.

  I promise to forgive even the darkest of wrongs committed against the Hold, but they must be written down. They must be repaid.

  Meluscia looked up from the parchment. Her father’s eyes searched her face. “I will deliver your message, Father. I will do my best to impress King Feaor and help him choose peace.”

  “Remember, if you become Luminess, hold him to every restitution he gives. Valcere can help you do this. He is my most cunning captain.”

  Meluscia nodded. “I will crush Feaor if he does not live up to his word.”

  Her father reached out and held her hand. “Mel, my beautiful daughter. Be cautious. Hurry back to me.”

  She left her father lying confident in bed. She was not going to surrender this opportunity for anything. Her father had to believe in her. Even if her promises to him were mostly hollow. She would woo King Feaor to her side, and she would use her father’s letter, but not as he intended.

  As she left the room, Heulan stopped her and spoke quietly into her ear. “Rivdon wants to meet secretly with you. Not all is right at the Hold.”

  _____

  MELUSCIA

  Meluscia navigated the side of the boulder that held within it the Scriptorium. In the stout ancient tree overhanging the cliff, she found the squirrel hole and pulled the lever inside. The knotted wood door swung open and she ducked within the dim lit recess.

  At the base of the stairs stood Rivdon and Katlel, both of their faces marked with concern.

  Quickly, she descended the stairs.

  “You wished to see me?” said Meluscia.

  Rivdon’s eyes grew tender, sorrowful. “My Lady, you must ride in haste for the Verdlands, so I’ll speak swiftly. I am not certain Valcere is in his right mind. Having tasted of your father’s throne, and having judged in his stead, Valcere is not ready to relinquish his power. He has been spying again, using the soldiers beneath him to keep their ears on you. One of his informants overheard what Heulan told you this morning. He knows of your father’s change of heart—that the Luminar is again undecided. You must know that Valcere is very well liked amongst the soldiers, and this too has gone to his head. If your father should pass before making a decision, you are the rightful heir to the throne. But I believe Valcere will try to usurp the Kingdom should Trigon die while you are away.”

  The heaviness of Rivdon’s warning pressed down upon her. Meluscia looked to Katlel. “What else can I do? I must go to the Verdlands. My father has given me a mission.”

  “Pray he holds on until you return,” said Katlel, he smiled at her. “If I must lose my beautiful young acolyte, I want to lose her to the throne, not because a usurper steals her away.” Katlel’s eyes squinted in anger. “I’d quit if he forced me to train one of his broodlings. They’d set the place on fire before they’d read a verse of scripture.”

  Rivdon’s strong hand gripped Katlel’s shoulder, calming him. “I will beseech the Makers on your behalf,” said Rivdon. “But in the case that Valcere does seize the throne, know this. Though I have been appointed Valcere’s councilor, I will remain faithful to you. You never need question whom my allegiance rests upon.”

  “Nor mine,” said Katlel.

  “Thank You,” said Meluscia, reaching out and taking both men’s hands in hers. “Both of you have guided and encouraged me. If my father should pass, I will not be without fathers in my life. And if am made Luminess, the two of you, and Savarah, shall be my councilors.” She put on a stern face. “And I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  “That is the privilege of Luminess. Not having to take ‘no’ for an answer.” Katlel grinned, his eyes squinting not in anger, but to hold back tears.

  “Ride like an ocean wind,” said Rivdon. “Return before your father enters the life after life. Spare us from Valcere.”

  BRIDGE

  Sanctuss Exenia,

  I believe Galthess’s special services are required at this hour…if the Oracle does not recant.

  -Sentinel Cosimo, sealed transmission to Sanctuss Exenia

  The closest our fleet can get to The Triangle within the Huntress constellation is the Star Portal Taeragostus. But only our smallest long range ships could make the journey to any of the three worlds there. Further, they would have only a matter of days to stay and perform any duties, needing to return to refuel.

  What possible mission could be worth such extravagance?

  -Jaurtice, Fleet Admiral, transmission from Bridge Fleet Docks to the three Sentinels.

  CHAPTER 18

  WINTER

  Winter held Aven’s hand as she stood before the portal, which rested atop a small hill of volcanic rock. She watched as group after group disappeared on one side of the portal, while other groups materialized on its opposite. Fourteen parties waited ahead of her, some accompanied by as many as five companions. Seven were solo travelers. Karience said some of them were probably Emissaries returning to their homeworld from a mission.

  Their party was the largest. Arentiss stood next to Aven and herself. Pike stood between Zoecara and Karience. She found Pike’s eyes were on her, a look of concern in them. She averted her gaze quickly.

  “How are you holding up, Winter?” asked Pike.

  The sincerity of his voice managed to touch her heart, despite herself.

  “I’m alive,” she said. She turned and hid her face against Aven’s shoulder.

  She wanted to tap things to him, but she didn’t have the words to express her feelings. Her thoughts were filled to overflowing with what had been said and what had happened.

  She remembered Sanctuss Voyanta’s body lying on the floor, the contorted expression on the Sanctuss's face at that moment she died. It was profound, but impossible to interpret. Had it been the highest elation, or the deepest agony imaginable? How could two opposite expressions teeter so closely together on a face?

  She did not talk when her brother first tried to comfort her. Not even with her fingers. She wanted to be alone in those early moments. She didn’t say
a word until more Consecrators arrived and begged her to stay with them longer.

  When the first Consecrators had arrived, they asked her if she touched the Sanctuss. Winter had nodded, and they explained why she died. When an Oracle undergoes a deliverance, they disavow the Makers and their calling, and the Oracle’s power fades away. However, if that former Oracle ever comes in skin to skin contact with an undelivered Oracle, her life is taken by the Makers. The Consecrators called it the burning vengeance.

  “I want to go home,” Winter had said, repeatedly.

  Karience came to her defense when they insisted she not leave. A compromise was made. A Consecrator would come to Loam. But Karience insisted Winter be allowed a week of rest before they arrived. Karience had become fierce in her defense of Winter, and had made it clear that Winter’s wellbeing be made a priority. Winter didn’t care enough to protest anything, as long as she could leave this horrible world called Bridge. Winter’s only unvoiced wish was that it wasn’t Theurg assigned to her. He was there among four others voicing their desire for the role.

  Dicameron was there, also, quietly watching the Consecrators as he oversaw the removal of Sanctuss Voyanta’s body. She hadn’t caught his eyes on her more than a few times, but when she did, she noticed a change in them. Something like fear.

  She didn’t blame him.

  She watched them take the Sanctuss's body away.

  Her picture of reality was shaken. It felt as if the Makers had silenced the kind, old Sanctuss. Why would they take her? She simply had questions, just like Winter. If they, the Makers, had come to the Sanctuss and herself before, why didn’t they come again? Why didn’t they come and answer their questions? If they made the universe, surely they had the power to fulfill this need.

  She thought of her brother’s words he’d spoken in the past.