“Healer,” Aila whispered. She backed away from me, knocking over a chair. The four boys holding down Sebastian released him and backed away.
They all looked at me like I was some kind of monster.
“No, please,” I said. “I have no idea what’s happening!”
I collapsed into a chair behind me, which creaked so loudly I thought it would give way.
Aila, the den mother of sorts I assumed, snapped out of her shock faster than the rest. She began throwing out orders.
“Take him to my chambers and let him rest on the mat. Daniel, you stay with him.” One of the boys nodded, and they hoisted Sebastian up as best they could. They struggled for a moment and I gasped, fearing they would drop him. They disappeared behind a broken wood door at the far end of the large room.
With Aila’s help, I dragged myself over to a worn stool, and leaned over the table, my head in my hands.
“Dare I ask how you are covered in blood, but not a scratch on you?” Aila asked softly.
“I’d tell you,” I lifted my head and met her gaze, “but first, Do you know what is going on? I’m so...”
She patted my head in a motherly fashion, even though she had to be two or three years younger than myself. “You’re a healer,” she said.
“What is that? Like...” I trailed off, not wanting to reveal Sebastian’s powers to these strangers.
“You must be Alayna.” She leaned over the table.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“The news of your arrival has reached us, even in this place.”
“I’m not sure, but from the ancient texts, they predicted a healer would be born to the throne who would free the kingdom.
I groaned. Awesome, even more prophecy. I fought to control my resolve. Sebastian and Dinga had traveled a long way to get me and convince me to come here. Although I still wasn’t sure I was the hero they needed, I knew this was my place.
“A healer has not been seen in many rells,” Aila continued. She reached under the table to a hidden shelf and pulled out a dusty, leather bound book. “Look.”
I flipped open the heavy cover. A wide family tree spread over the first two pages, filled with unfamiliar names and roman numerals. On the very bottom was a name carved in ornate writing: Alexander Bartholomew, King of Elestra.
My ancestors.
An oval next to the name marked his wife, my grandmother, Alayna Gestelle, of Aramark. Below that, Lydia II Queen of Elestra, and next to it, a square that had been crossed out in black ink. A small, faded oval below my mother’s name made my breath catch in my throat: Alayna Marie Winston.
How did they know my name?
Chapter Twenty: Family
WHEN I WAS YOUNG, I thought my mother was born in a cabbage patch.
Really.
All the children at school were often picked up by grandparents, taken to the park, driven to the movies, spent the weekends. A few went on summer vacations to see these foreign people, a family unit that I never had, and failed to comprehend.
I remembered asking why I didn’t have grandparents at a young age. “Daddy’s mom died when he was in high school,” my mother had told me, standing at the kitchen counter doing the dishes. “And my mama? She was never around. My Daddy, he was always there, but he’s just been distant lately. Someday you’ll understand, Alayna.”
“I don’t understand,” I said to Aila, using the table to help me stand on shaking legs. I pulled out a chair and sat heavily onto it, bracing myself for its demise. It held fast but offered little comfort besides the stool.
Aila pushed back from the table and leaned forward.
“Do you have to stare?” I turned the page to the first line of text, which read, The first age, the coming of the God of Gears.
Aila leaned back and blinked. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen a princess, not up close. I only saw the queen once, and that was a very long time ago.”
“Well, here I am,” I tried to smile.
“Yes,” she admitted.
Daniel came back in the room followed by Wyatt. Thank God, because her staring was unnerving.
“He’s resting,” Wyatt announced.
“I’ll just check on Sebastian,” Aila told him.
“Wait, how do you know him?” I said as she got up to leave.
She turned to look at me. “We were children here once. Surely he told you?”
I nodded. “He did.”
“Wyatt,” she turned to him, “go see to the other children in the great room, it sounds as if there was a commotion on the arrival of Sebastian and Alayna.”
Wyatt rushed out of the room.
“Daniel,” she addressed the young boy standing behind me, “Fetch water, and black bread, if Adam has any left in hiding from this morning.”
Daniel nodded once and ducked out of the room the way we had come. “There is a basin there, to clean yourself.” Without another word, Aila disappeared behind the broken door.
I stood and wandered to a basin on a crooked shelf on the far wall, and poured dirty, black water over my hands. A cleanish rag hung over the side, and I decided it was better than nothing. I wiped my face and neck, trying to clear Sebastian’s blood which had sprayed after the shot. My shoulder and arm still ached.
Daniel appeared with bread and water but ducked out of the room before I could say anything. I tore off a chunk, but it was gritty and hard, so I didn’t bother. The water was yellowed and smelled faintly of eggs. I missed Bailia’s red tea.
Aila appeared then. “Do you want to come sit with him?”
I nodded, following her into the back room. It was barely big enough for a thin mat, stuffed with straw, and two stools. Even the storage closets back at Bailia’s were bigger. I kneeled next to Sebastian’s form, his eyes closed and his chest moving in solid, deep breaths. Aila handed me a damp cloth, and I placed it on his forehead.
“Why is he still sleeping?”
Aila shrugged. “You’re the healer.”
Her disinterested, flat voice grated on my nerves. She sounded tired, but also callous. I tried to dismiss it as the hard life of the mines. Hadn’t Sebastian warned me?
“Are you ready to tell me why you share a bond with Sebastian?”
I inhaled sharply, her question catching me off guard.
“How did you figure it out?”
“I’m the only one who can read here.” Her voice softened a little. “So, I read the old text to the boys sometimes. There is a story of angels who bound the first king to his queen, so they always could feel each other’s pain. The God of Gears cursed the angels for giving humans such power.”
“They became Zespars, didn’t they?”
“I believe so, yes.”
I thought about Dinga. What would Edwin do to him? What would the Keeper do? I struggled to fight back tears, and focused on Sebastian. He was so much braver than I.
I wondered how much to tell Aila. We’d told Edwin all of it, and he’d betrayed us. But I had just watched this young girl help me save Sebastian’s life, and they were connected from the past somehow. I figured a brief version would be okay.
“It’s a long story, really.” I inhaled sharply. “But the Keeper has my mother, the queen. We escaped to the Zespar village where they did some weird ceremony with these leather straps and—”
“Ah, The Binding,” Alia was nodding. “I’ve read the story so often I have it memorized. I barely remember the Zespar. Tell me, are they still so glocky and britty?”
I frowned. “I have no idea what that means.”
Aila thought about it for a minute. “Small and excitable?”
I smiled, thinking of Dinga’s hyper jumps and speech. “Yes, yes they are.”
“My father knew one, he said the Zespar talk a great length and possess boundless energy.”
“I met one, named Dinga. He’s strange, for sure, but has a heart of gold. He did indeed have the gift of gab, and often hopped on one leg.” My heart hurt to think
of him in Edwin’s clutches, and I couldn’t continue. “Not that it matters now.”
“Most of them do,” she replied softly. “Where is this friend of yours now?”
“By now, the Keeper probably has him.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It is, especially since I’m stuck here.” I rocked back on my heels.
“It’s not too bad of a place, really.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. She studied me, and then looked away. Metallic commotion from the cave behind us was muffled, but still echoed off the stone walls. Finally, I told Sebastian’s sleeping form, “Why did you bring me back here?”
“I think you are meant to be here.”
I turned to face her.
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me show you something.” She stood and pushed the half-door open. “Come with me.”
I followed her to the main room, where the tattered black cloth hung on the wall. Aila threw the cloth back and revealed a portrait. A regal and imposing figure stared back at us, with curled blonde hair and stern blue eyes, both so much like my own. She looked much younger than I, a face in the midst of transforming from a child into an adult, with rounded cheeks and high forehead, and a sharply squared jaw. The corners of the picture were frayed and crumbling, the frame missing the right side. The bottom right corner of the portrait was blackened and bubbled, her pastel blue dress burned beyond recognition.
Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. “Mother,” I whispered. This wasn’t the strong woman I knew now. She was a teenager, like me, who struggled with her place in the world. I’d never seen her so young.
“The text tells us she was King Alexander’s only child, and he loved her.”
I turned back to her. “What else does it say?”
“It called her ‘child of joviality,’ roaming the halls of the palace. Everyone loved her—staff, dignitaries, even mercenaries sent to do harm fell for her charms.”
“What happened?”
Aila let the tapestry fall back over the portrait. “The text was damaged at the very end. On her 17th birthday, she disappeared.”
I remained silent. I knew where she went.
“There’s a little more, but it’s very obscure. Let me show you.” She reached for the book and turned to the last page:
This section was typed, in an old font I’d seen at school when I was very young, from a typewriter of some kind:
On the eve of the princess’s disappearance, she was seen with a young man by the name of cross, who carried his fancy for her on his sleeve. The King disapproved of their union. The palace guards reported an argument between the young lovers. When her disappearance was discovered, the guards followed the skyball to the edge of the forest, where she was not seen for three rells.
“But she came back,” I looked at Aila. “And somehow got pregnant with my brother.”
“Brother?” Aila looked shocked. “The text does not mention that?”
I trailed my finger along the last passage:
The Princess Lydia returned, heavy with child. On the tenth month of the rell, an illegitimate daughter was born, named Alayna. Thus, marked the passing of Alexander, High King of Elestra, on the same night.
“Me?” I breathed.
“You were born within those palace walls, Alayna.” Aila admitted. “That’s why I said you belong here.”
“I don’t understand why she would take me away from all this.” I rose to my feet.
“Keep reading,” Aila motioned.
The next line sent chills down my spine.
In the third rell of Queen Lydia’s reign, a son was born,
Prince Edwin the Mighty, heir to the throne, born of the line of Cross, protectors of the King and all his decedents, since the days of the wild. Leaving the babe behind, Queen Lydia was never seen again.
The final section was handwritten:
In the tenth rell of Queen Lydia’s reign, the people grew restless. The monarch had not been seen for seven rells. The Cross dynasty had no claim to the throne but through the babe, Edwin. Then appeared the long-lost brother to Queen Lydia, a man who called himself the Timekeeper. Thus, the first rell of the reign of the true heir began.
“It just ends there?” I looked up at Aila.
“The day we were all sent here,” Aila closed the book.
“But according to this, I’m not even a princess, or whatever they think I am. Edwin is more of an heir than I am. He’s the rightful king. And the Keeper is my uncle?”
“It appears so.”
So many unanswered questions. My mother was divided between Victor and my father. The Keeper was kin to the queen—my uncle. I tossed that name around my mouth, fighting the bile that rose in the back of my throat. This was too much, I couldn’t even deal with that information, not yet. I was still focused on my mother. Why had she made the decisions she did? “I don’t understand why she went back to my father,” I blurted, “he was an abusive asshole.”
Aila stared at me, not understanding the cursing.
I felt a little burden lift from my shoulder. It was good to finally tell someone that. My school counselor probably would have been impressed I was able to express it.
Aila patted my leg. “I’m sorry.” She frowned. “Any man who hurts a child is not worthy to be called a man.”
Sebastian had said the same thing, in a little tent in the Zespar village, what seemed like ages ago. I nodded; my throat choked with emotion.
“I just don’t understand why she didn’t take me with her, even after Edwin was born.”
“It is strange, to tell truth,” Aila admitted, “especially since boys are rarely born with power.”
“What do you mean?”
Aila hesitated. “Magic users are rare, except for royalty. There have been stories of children being abandoned. That might solve the question of where the Keeper came from.”
“I wonder where he was before,” I mused.
“I can’t answer that, but it might have something do with the dagger.”
I looked up. “Sebastian!”
Aila smiled, but her eyes were sad. “I will leave you to check on the children,” she said quietly, and disappeared into the main cave.
Chapter Twenty-One: Musings
SEBASTIAN LEANED AGAINST the broken door. “I remember being shot, but I must have dodged it. I have a hell of a headache.”
I ran into his arms. “You were shot! I healed you.”
“What?”
I held up my hand. “You’re not the only magic user, apparently.”
He wrapped his previously injured arm around me with a wince. “That explains the stiffness, then.”
“The dagger,” I declared, jumping up, “Edwin has it! We have to get to him before he gives it to the Keeper!”
“Sit,” Sebastian said, “before you excite yourself too much. My head is pounding. We need a plan to get it back.”
I obeyed him.
“What is this about an ancient text?”
I pushed the manuscript toward him. He flipped through the first few pages, then to the end. I let him read silently.
“It explains many of the things we wondered, before,” he mused, closing the heavy cover.
“Like?”
“I never knew Edwin was your mother’s child. Victor always had a wife when I was younger, and she raised Edwin. I always just assumed she was, well, Edwin’s mother that birthed him. I was too young to know anything else.
“I’m starting to see how this played out,” I told him, “If my mother came back and found Victor was married, that explains why she left Edwin with him. She abandoned her kingdom from a broken heart.”
“It would seem so, yes.”
“How horrible.”
“And,” I continued, “Victor was so terrified of their secret child, he sent Edwin away with the midwife, and when the Keeper came, he ended up here, with other orphans, when he was a young child.”
“Un
til Victor found him again.”
“And Matthias found you at the same time.”
“We were raised together,” Sebastian mused, looking thoughtful.
“I knew that bit.”
“He liked to take risks, and always dreamed of fame and riches,” Sebastian added. “I’m sure he never knew his birthright, Victor and your mother kept it from him, probably to keep him safe from the Keeper. There’s one other thing, Alayna,” he looked at me.
“What’s that?”
“Edwin’s mother, Victor’s wife, she died a few years ago. About the time your mother...”
“Died in my world,” I finished sadly.
“So, she came here, after the accident that ‘killed’ her,” Sebastian added.
The car accident.
Brief memories floated back to me. She won’t be able to walk, the doctor had told my father, down a starch white hall where I peeked around the corner, if she survives. My father had told me, sternly, a few days later, she was gone forever. I never knew he meant literally, and how had they covered up her disappearance at the funeral? It had been closed casket for a reason. Many reasons now, I supposed. I wondered if my father knew her body never made it into the ground.
“Sebastian, if she came here, she must have been injured, why do people – even you – remember her ‘grand return’?”
Sebastian reached for one of the goblets of water, and slowly chewed a few crumbs of the bread. “I don’t know. The Keeper was already here, and we know he has the power to stop time. Maybe he can mind control people, too.”
“The guard outside the piston didn’t help us.”
“That’s exactly right.”
“I remember the day the Keeper arrived,” said Aila, who ducked back into the room then. “I remember the queen’s entrance, too, although that is a little fuzzy.”
“Aye,” Sebastian agreed. He looked away from her. “It’s fuzzy for me, too. Like a dream, a dream while I was awake. But I have no memory of when the Keeper arrived.”
“What do you remember?” I asked Aila, “About the Keeper?”
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