Chapter Twelve
Kayla stared into Brant’s eyes, so happy to see him. After all the times she’d imagined returning home to his funeral, seeing him in the flesh was almost more than she could take, and she teared up.
“Hey, now, none of that,” he said, taking her in his arms.
Niefusu cleared his throat. “Duchess, me think it best if we moved the chariots off the road a wee bit, wouldn’t ye think? The travelers will be wanting a way past us in but a moment.”
She glanced up at him, then followed the turn of his head to the coach coming their direction. She let go of Brant with reluctance. “He’s right. Let’s move off the road. Here, Brant—why don’t you ride with Niefusu and I’ll take your horse until we get you fixed up.”
The two men competing for Kayla’s hand looked at each other warily, but she would have none of it. She pushed at Brant from behind, though she tried to be gentle with his injuries. She wasn’t sure if things were broken or sprained or something else, but he had both a leg and an arm that semed to be bothering him, the latter in a sling. Surprisingly, Niefusu reached out a hand to pull Brant into the carriage.
“Me name be Niefusu. Sarali’s brother,” he said, still holding Brant’s hand.
“Brant Domanta, son of Duke Brantalew Domanta of Dragonmeer, fiancé to Kayla Kalandra Felandian,” Brant said in his most formal tones, bowing his head in Kayla’s direction.
She wanted to roll her eyes, but resisted the urge. Instead, she clambered into the saddle of Brant’s huge white stallion, his half of a matching pair given as an engagement present from the duke.
“I’ve heard of ye,” Niefusu said. “Kayla has spoken much of her engagement to the duke’s son.” The way he said it made it sound almost an insult, and Brant stiffened. Niefusu continued. “She’s quite a catch, yer Lady Kayla. I would have claimed her for me own, but for yer prior claim.”
Kayla turned in the saddle to object and froze as Brant’s face turned red with anger. “If I were not so incapacitated, I would demand justice for that, sir.”
“From the son of a king?” Niefusu asked, a smirk plastered on his face. “Wouldn’t that be a bit presumptuous of ye?”
Brant pulled away from Niefusu. “What?”
“Me father be king of the sea people. The girl who played the part of yer maid for so long is the heir to that kingdom. Ye would demand justice from me?” His voice went from playful to offended. Brant sealed his lips, still red, though seemingly more embarrassed than angry now, and tried to climb down from the chariot, but Niefusu held him back.
“Now don’t be daft, me boy. Ye be injured. What does it matter if I be the son of a king and ye the son of a duke? We both be men, and servants of a king—and we both be wanting to impress a pretty lady, wouldn’t we?” He winked in Kayla’s direction. She ignored him and stared at Brant, imploring him with her eyes to stay put.
His lips were still tight, but he relaxed in Niefusu’s grip and nodded once to Kayla. For now he could ride easy, and just in time too. The carriage was nearly upon them.
Jihong pulled his chariot to the side of the road, and Kayla guided the stallion a few steps to the right until they were all on the grass as the carriage passed, the driver barely looking at them. Once the dust cleared, they pulled back out and headed to the crossroads.
There was a clearing there, purposely created for those who needed a resting place before going one direction or the other, wood already set in the firepit, ready to be lit.
T’Kato got out of the chariot before it even came to a stop and pulled Kayla aside. “What was that all about?” he asked.
Kayla shook her head. “A bit of not-so-friendly competition between the boys. I don’t know what to do, except let them battle it out for themselves.”
T’Kato nodded, as was his way, then added something more. “You are wise in this. When it comes to affairs of the heart, a man is not to be toyed with. Make your choice clear to them both by your actions alone. Don’t say anything to them about it. It will be easier for the loser.” T’Kato turned his back on her then and went to start and tend the fire. Niefusu and Jihong hobbled the horses near the sweet grass to feed and took care of the chariots. Kayla at last had a moment to tend to Brant’s injuries.
She marched over to her fiancé, who stood watching T’Kato feed the fire, took him by the elbow, and pulled him toward a copse of trees nearby. Brant yelped when she first took his arm, but then followed her willingly.
When they got to the trees, she turned around to talk to him, but he was already leaning forward and she moved right into his kiss. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to show him just how happy she was to see him.
When Brant’s breathing became ragged and she knew hers would soon be as well, she pulled away from him with a laugh, her fingers still twined in his hair. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” she whispered with all the passion she dared.
“And I you,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you for days. I was so afraid you were dead after the hounds found your blood at the top of the cliff by the sea.” He choked up.
Tears fell freely then. He had been as worried about her as she was about him. In her eyes, there was no greater sign of his love.
But she hadn’t come here to kiss him. She’d brought him to these trees to heal him. She pulled the Sapphire Flute from the bag slung at her hip and put the glowing instrument to her lips.
Brant’s eyes got huge, and she knew what he was thinking. She did her best to reassure him. “Don’t worry, love. C’Tan had her chance and lost it. I’ve fought her and won—for now. I can play the flute without fear.”
Brant’s eyes were still wide as she played, but shortly he began to relax as the pain she could feel flowing through him started to fade. Her mind went with the music of the flute, deep into his shoulder where the ball had come free of the socket. Into the bone below his bicep, where it had fractured in a spiral. Into the muscle of knee, shoulder, and arm, bruised and aching with rips and tears.
She started with the fractured arm and played, begging the flute to heal the bone, to fill the spiral with new bone. As the flute listened, she moved on to the dislocated shoulder and heard an audible gasp from Brant as it slid into place, then a sigh of relief as the constant pressure released. The flow of blood restored itself to normal, and she sent out a final swell of healing into the muscle of his shoulder, arm, and then down to his knee, much like a final pass over a frosted cake, and he was healed.
Kayla lowered the flute and sighed. If Brant’s eyes were big before, now they were huge as he took off his makeshift bandage and spun his arm in a circle, then flexed his bicep, and squatted down and back up. He looked at her with something akin to awe before he said, “Thank you, love. That was—indescribable.”
Kayla laughed, put the flute away, then walked to him. She was almost into his arms when T’Kato burst into the clearing, his sword out for war.
“You foolish child! Did you not see what your previous playing has done to Dragonmeer? Would you bring C’Tan down upon them once more?” He glared hard at her.
Kayla’s anger was immediate and fierce. “Of course I saw, and I feel terrible about it! I know it is my fault Dragonmeer is in ruins. I know it is my fault so many are dead.” She took three streps toward the tattooed man and stopped, shaking with fury. “But know this, disciple of Klii’kunn—I was given guardianship of this flute, not you, and I know when it is safe to use it. Your calling is no longer to guard the flute. It is in the hands of its master, and I will use it as the need occurs! You will trust me or you will leave. Do you understand?” Kayla’s breath came as though pumped through a bellows and a blue glow surrounded her like a sapphire flame.
T’Kato glared at her for another long moment, then he straightened and thrust his sword into its sheath. He brought his palms together in front of his heart and bowed to Kayla in the evahn gesture of respect and gratitude.
It was the last thing Kayla expected.
&
nbsp; “At last you have found your voice and have become the true guardian of the Sapphire Flute. I will challenge you no longer,” he said, then turned and walked back toward the flame that now cooked their lunch.
Stunned by his change in tone and acceptance of her guardianship, Kayla didn’t know how to respond, so she just let him walk away. Inside, there was a part of her that knew she’d won a great victory in gaining T’Kato’s approval, but she tried not to listen to it too much. She couldn’t afford to with meeting the wolfchild in the future. Who knew where that would lead where the flute was concerned.
Kayla could smell lunch on the breeze and her stomach growled.
Brant must have heard, for he laughed and took her hand. “Thank you, Lady Kayla,” he said, and kissed her knuckles where their fingers met. “I must say, that was the most wonderful healing I have ever received.”
Together they walked back to the crossroads, hoping there was food enough to share.
Then sun fell quickly behind the horizon with the afternoon’s activity. Kayla took the time to heal Brant’s stallion, and the boys vied for her attention every moment they had. Most of the time, the competition seemed friendly, but a few times she was afraid harm would come to one or the other.
One of those moments was at dinner. Rather than traveling on to Dragonmeer, where Kayla was sure she would get a mixed welcome, they camped in the crossroads clearing for the night. T’Kato brought more wood for the fire, and the smell of applewood tickled her nose every bit as much as the rabbit and root vegetables Niefusu and Jihong had found in the brush. Brant added dessert to the mix with cored apples stuffed with sugar and cinnamon he pulled from his saddlebags, and baked in clay from the riverbank.
Kayla had wanted to scream when she saw Brant slathering the fruit in thick mud, but his wink had calmed her a bit, though it wasn’t until the first taste that she finally understood. The clay formed a perfect bowl to hold the juices of the apple and melted sugar, sweet and sour together.
It was the perfect ending to the perfect meal—for everyone but Niefusu. He glared at Brant across the fire and refused the apple baked for him. Instead, he gnawed on the bones of the rabbits he’d snared and watched Brant and Kayla together. His eyes never seemed to leave their clasped hands or the small distance between them.
Brant broke open the apple Niefusu had declined and offered it up to Kayla with a flourish. “My lady?” he said, wafting it under her nose. He knew her too well. The smell of the cinnamon apple was irresistable.
Kayla leaned forward. “Why, Brant, are you trying to tempt me?” she asked, laughter lacing her voice.
“But of course,” he said. “Is that not the duty of one’s love?” He said it flippantly, but his eyes showed just how much he meant it.
Niefusu made a gagging sound. Kayla was offended—he had seemed so much more refined than that. She refused to look at him and instead gently took the wrapped apple from Brant and answered him with a kiss. When she finished, she said, “Yes, it certainly is.”
She could see the confusion in his eyes for a moment. There had been a long pause between his question and her answer, and she had addled him with a kiss. She liked knowing she could do that to him. She took a small bite of the apple and gave him another kiss, this time a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you, love,” she said so low none could hear. Then she looked straight at Niefusu and took a big bite. She sighed and licked her lips. “This is so good.” She proved it by eating every bite and drinking the syrup from the bowl.
He stared at her with annoyance that quickly turned to longing as he watched her and Brant, and shortly after, he left the warmth of the fire. She was actually grateful. She hoped he would stay gone for a while—not that she didn’t appreciate his hospitality and all that he and his family had done to bring her home, but he was making things so very difficult. Despite her love for Brant, there was no denying what she had felt during Niefusu’s kisses. And he was a prince. The son of a king. And the world he came from was so very fascinating, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
But here was Brant, her best friend since childhood, and now her love. His kisses brought every bit as much pleasure, and there was much to be said for loyalty. She was promised to Brant, and Kayla was not one to break promises easily.
Before she knew it, the apple was gone, the clay broken to pieces and ground into the earth. It wasn’t until T’Kato approached them with blankets that Kayla realized both Niefusu and Jihong were gone. “Where are the princes?” she asked. She was afraid he would be angry after her harsh words that afternoon, but he was as amiable as ever, though for him, that was something to be measured in teaspoons. He was loyal, but not very friendly.
“They decided to sleep in the river,” he said before turning from them and setting up a place for himself on the other side of the fire.
“Sleep in the river?” Brant unrolled blankets for them side by side. Kayla was unsure where the blankets came from, but for the moment, she did not care. She wanted only to sleep.
“Well, they are members of the sea court. They live in water by nature,” she answered, plumping pillows for them both before sitting on the blanket closest to the fire.
“But how do they breathe?” He threw himself down on the other blanket and tucked his hand under his head.
“They have gills.”
“Like fish?” He seemed genuinely interested.
“A bit like that, yes. The gills allow them to breathe underwater. T’Kato has some. So do I, for that matter.” She didn’t even think as she said it, but suddenly Brant had her face in his hands and was turning her head back and forth. He was going to break her neck if he didn’t stop.
“Wait, wait! I’ll show you, if you wish.” Brant removed his hands from her face and looked at her, worried and perhaps a bit angry. At least, that’s what she read from his face and actions.
She pulled her hair back from her neck and tipped her head to the side. “See? Just below and behind my ear? Those are my gills.”
Brant approached her more carefully now and touched the feathery slits, then shivered.
“Did it hurt?” he asked.
Kayla’s heart melted. He didn’t ask why or how she’d received them, but only if it had caused her pain. She took his hands in her own and looked down at their fingers locked together. “A little,” she admitted, “But only for a moment. It was worth the pain to be able to breathe under the water.”
He sat back, letting go of her hands and leaning against the huge log they’d been sitting on most of the day. “I can’t even imagine. What a strange world it must have been. I wish you would take me there someday.”
She grinned and leaned forward on her hands and knees. “Then we’ll go! What adventures we’ll have. Oh, Brant, the kingdom under the sea is like nothing you’ve ever imagined. Their walls are built with coral and pearl, the clams stuck to the walls with their mouths wide open. I have never been anywhere more beautiful,” she said, knowing the awe she felt would be heard in her voice.
Brant was silent for a long moment, fidgeting with something in his hands before he blurted out of nowhere, “Do you love him?”
He didn’t need to tell her who he meant. She knew.
Kayla sat back on her heels and looked at her fiancé. “Brant,” she said quietly. “How could I love him? I barely know him.”
“But he kissed you, didn’t he? I can tell by the way he looks at you.” Brant’s voice was slightly bitter.
She turned reached a hand up and caressed his hair. “I will admit, he kissed me under the pretense of giving me air, and he gave me the gills. He was trying to tooth his mark upon me, because he didn’t know I was already taken, and though I have told him time and time again, still he tries to claim me for his own.” Kayla sighed, and now both hands held Brant’s face, forcing his eyes to meet her own. “But Brant, do not ever doubt that I love you. You are my one true love. There will never be another.”
That seemed to be what Brant needed to hear.
He smiled, then lowered his face to press his lips to her forehead. “Thank you,” was all he said.
In short order they had settled down on their blankets, he with his back to her for propriety’s sake, and she, flat on her back, staring at the stars. One would think she would be lost in thought over her conversation with Brant, or the challenge Niefusu had become, but no, the thoughts that plagued her were the words she’d spoken to T’Kato in the clearing that afternoon. She had told him that she was the guardian of the flute, that she was the master and he was no longer needed. Was it true? She’d been told that she was just the temporary guardian, the holder for the player, whom she assumed would be the wolfchild. But if that was the case, why had she told T’Kato she was the master of the flute?
Even in her sleep, the questions continued to haunt her.
Chapter Thirteen
Ember’s dreams were back. The blonde woman she assumed was C’Tan fought with Ember and Demunth in his radiant armor. Fighting against C’Tan was also her step-brother Aldarin, who was covered with glowing orange symbols, and the girl with the flute was there again, as was Uncle Shad, and strangely enough, Lily. Six of them against C’Tan. It was odd. The people kept changing, but the dreams were becoming more clear, and once again, the blonde woman stumbled back into a stone altar, collapsing in a heap, and the battle was won.
And then a dark shadow grew from C’Tan’s body and the fight was on again. The darkness fought like the Shadow Weavers and devoured magic like it was nothing more than candy. Ember was in full panic mode, helpless in the grasp of this dark being, when a hand on her shoulder shook her awake. She sat up with a start, hitting her head against Lily’s as she surfaced from her dreams. Nothing like a little pain to truly wake a person up.
“What did you do that for?” Lily held her brow.
“I didn’t mean to. Why are you waking me? Is it morning already?” Ember rubbed at her forehead, hoping their collision wouldn’t leave a mark. She had enough scratches and bruises from stone-sculpting class the day before.
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