Chapter Twenty-Eight
When I wake, the room is grey and the sky outside is almost dark, the last slither of golden light disappearing on the horizon.
When I see the figure at the end of the bed, a scream catches in my throat, and I reach for the bedroom lamp with my heart hammering in my chest.
“Acacia, it’s just me,” Aimee jumps up as the light snaps on. “Sorry. My father and I came to check on you while you were sleeping, I offered to stay with you until you woke.”
When my heart returns to a steady beat, I find myself able to form words again. “What did your father say?”
“He said you were showing signs of exhaustion and that you were probably still feeling the effects of the portal. Nothing to worry about.” Aimee smiles widely and I feel myself relax.
“I don’t think Displacia agrees with me.” I say.
Her smile falters.
“I’m joking.” I say hastily.
She laughs then. “We all feel exhausted the first few times we travel between the worlds, even when we wear our compression suits. Anyway, dad said you need to eat, build up your strength. Dinner is being served downstairs if you’re feeling up for it?”
My stomach suddenly growls at the mention of food. “Can you join me?”
“Sure, Vedmak food is much better than back home.” Aimee says.
I shift my legs out of bed. “It is? How come?”
Aimee tucks a short lock of platinum hair behind her ear. “At the Haler Household, all of our meals are carefully measured portions of foods that promote our health and wellbeing, in other words, totally boring.” She wrinkles her upturned nose.
“Sounds like the food back at my school.” I say.
Aimee shifts off the bed and starts rifling through the closet. “I heard about your school, it sounds amazing.”
“It used to be.”
Aimee pokes her head around the closet door. “It’s not anymore?”
“I lost someone. My…friend.” I don’t know what made me tell her, but I feel lighter once the words are out, even if it’s not the whole truth.
She pauses with a soft-pink dress clutched in her hands. “Oh, Acacia. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine, it’s just… things weren’t the same after that.”
Aimee hands me the dress along with a pair of sandals, placing her hand on top of mine and radiating warmth. “I wish I could take it away for you,” she says. “The sadness, I mean.”
I blink away tears as I head to the bathroom to freshen up and change.
When we head out of my quarters, I’m more than a little disappointed to find that Haydn has been replaced by an unfamiliar Smith soldier outside my door, and I look for him at every turn as we make our way downstairs.
Aimee leads me to a cafeteria filled with small wooden tables, each covered with a lace tablecloth and decorated with a single candle. It’s much less grand than the banquet room, but it’s cosy, like a quaint little restaurant back home.
It’s pretty quiet; just a few Smith soldiers are seated at a table in the far corner. They turn to watch us when we walk in, but they pay us no further attention as we make our way over to a counter laden with food.
“Where is everyone?”
Aimee starts to examine the selection of food. “What, you thought the Vedmak’s partied every night?”
“I guess not.”
“Most of the time, people eat at their own homes,” Aimee says. “They only come to the main building for special occasions, I hear your Aunt loves throwing parties.”
We fill our plates from silver trays laden with a variety of meats and tureens of colourful vegetables, and then we find a table at the opposite end of the room, away from the Smith soldiers.
Once we’re seated, Aimee leans towards me looking serious. “My father told me the Khuulsu attacked you last night.”
I nod and Aimee shudders. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but my dad was really worried.”
I push my food around my plate. “He was?”
She nods firmly. “You’re one of the last Foundling’s, you have no idea what you mean to people here.”
My stomach pitches uncomfortably and I hastily change the subject. “What do you know about the Khuulsu.”
Aimee looks thoughtful. “Me and my friends used to tell each other scary stories about the Khuulsu, about them sneaking into people’s bedrooms and draining them dry. I never thought they would really do it. They usually feed on animals, keep themselves to themselves.”
“Wish they still were,” I say, stabbing impatiently at a piece of potato. “I heard someone call them demons at the council meeting, why don’t the leaders deal with them?”
Aimee shrugs. “The Khuulsu aren’t bad, not really.”
“They incapacitate their victims and then they drain their blood.” I say, incredulously.
“Yeah, but they don’t usually attack people. Dad thinks it’s just a group of them that have joined the Shadows.”
“But why are they even allowed to exist? They’re dangerous.”
Aimee frowns at me. “You have dangerous creatures in your world, but you still protect them because they can’t help themselves.”
“This place is just so different from my world and just when I think I’m beginning to understand…” I shake my head. “I don’t know; I guess no two places are the same. At least you all speak English here.”
Aimee snorts and claps a hand over her mouth.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s not English,” she laughs. “It’s Old-Displacian.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, we were surprised too,” she says. “We found your world and discovered nine percent of its inhabitants spoke our language.”
“But it’s English,” I say. “We have people on Earth who study its origins, and of all the languages on Earth…”
Aimee shrugs. “Didn’t your guardian tell you anything before you got here?”
“No, I only found out I was Displacian just before I was brought here. There wasn’t much time.” My cheeks flush, but she seems to accept this.
“Our legends say that Displacia was born from Earth, that’s why our worlds are linked,” she says. “We have two languages, Displacian and Old-Displacian.” You want to hear some Displacian?” Aimee rests her hands on the table and leans forward.
“Sure.”
“Well you already know one word. Khuulsu, that roughly translates as ‘dark demon’ in Old-Displacian, or English.” She says, looking at me pointedly.
I shudder involuntarily. “OK, say something else.”
Aimee glances over at the soldiers. “Sunhur Smith reduhum bersu erih.”
I watch her mouth forming the unfamiliar words. “What does that mean?”
Aimee leans over the table and lowers her voice. “Those Smith soldiers are hot.”
We both laugh, causing the Smith soldiers to look up disapprovingly. It just makes us laugh harder.
I think of Haydn, wondering what his mouth looks like when he speaks the exotic language.
“Aimee, what do you know about Haydn?”
She smirks a little. “Why do you ask?”
“He’s training me to fight, but I don’t know anything about him, he gives nothing away.”
“Yeah, he’s got that whole brooding thing down, hasn’t he?” She laughs.
“So what’s his story?”
Aimee considers me for a moment, her lips pursed. “One that is only his to tell.” She says with a smile.
“Come on,” I say. “I thought Displacia was supposed to be big on gossip. Half of this place knew I was here before I did.”
Aimee smiles. “That’s true, but sometimes we know when to keep our mouths shut.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Haydn lost someone, just like you. I can only imagine what that feels like, and talking about it behind his back would b
e insensitive, to say the least.”
Haydn lost someone too. The pain I felt from him, the sadness. Haydn’s grieving.
“Are you going to eat that?” Aimee says, pointing at my plate. “I have to report back to my dad what you ate.”
“Seriously?”
Aimee nods earnestly. “He won’t let you continue training if you’re not eating right.”
I hastily shovel down the rest of my food. “Satisfied?”
She pulls a face, but there’s a smile around her lips. “I guess so. Anyway, I have to get going. Mum and Dad are expecting me home.”
“You want me to walk you?” I say, looking out at the dark night, eager for an excuse to leave the confines of the Household.
Aimee shakes her head as she rises from her seat. “I’ll use the fountain. My dad said you should have an early night, wake up refreshed tomorrow.”
“I wasted the day sleeping, I could do with a little training.”
Aimee considers me for a moment. “OK, I can do something that might help, but you can’t tell anyone, especially not my father.”
“OK.” I say, warily.
“Not here.” Aimee hustles me out of the cafeteria. She scans the corridor and once she is satisfied that we’re alone, she presses her fingers to my temples and my skin starts to prickle. I feel heat radiating from her finger tips, sending a shower of warmth from my head to my toes. “There,” she says, releasing me. “It’s a trick we use when we need to wake someone who is unconscious, or move injured people away from danger. You should be able to get some more practice in, but just a couple of hours, and then rest.”
I blink a few times, my head feeling much clearer, as though I have just woken from a long, restful sleep. “Thank you.”
She smiles and pulls me into a swift hug. “Don’t tell anyone I did that.”
“I won’t.”
She waves and then takes off along the corridor. “I’ll see you later.”
As I watch her leave, I feel something rush through my body, a sudden burst of energy that makes me feel like I could do backflips, or scale the building. Exhilarated, I set off at a run towards the training room.
Once inside, I extract one of the blunt swords from the chest and I turn it over in my hand. I start to move around the room, ducking and swerving, slashing the sword through the air like I am fighting an invisible army. I feel strong, powerful, like I can do anything.
I look up at the jagged wall, dropping the sword with a clatter. I take a breath and then I run at the wall. I jump into the air and plant my feet against the rocks, then I start to climb, easily finding the grooves between each stone.
When I get closer to the top, where the grooves are narrower, I side shuffle until I find a better foothold, my muscles stronger, allowing me to cling safely to the rock, then I hoist myself up over the edge.
I did it. I give a hoot of delight that echoes around the room. I can do anything. Whatever Aimee did, it made me feel invincible. I take a deep breath and then I jump.
I realise that it’s a bad idea the moment I leave the platform. As the ground comes up to meet me, I bend my knees, ready to take the impact, and I hit the floor with a smack, rolling forward at the last minute and coming to a stop on my front.
I try to breathe, but I’m winded, pain searing through my body. I roll over and tentatively move each limb. Nothing seems to be broken, but the pain is almost unbearable, searing through my body like fire.
I hear footsteps and then Haydn’s face appears above me, his face set in confusion.
I think how strange I must look in a heap on the floor and a laugh bursts from my lips.
Haydn looks bewildered. “Are you OK?”
The pain in my chest starts to ease and I push myself up from the floor. “I’m fine… I made it to the top of the wall and then I thought I could jump, you know, like the Smith’s, but I fell and…” I dissolve into giggles again.
Haydn looks over his shoulder at something on the ground. I follow his gaze and the laughter catches in my throat. The sword that I cast aside earlier is hovering inches above the ground.
“Are you doing that?” Haydn asks.
“I-” But then I feel it, it’s connected to me, connected to the sudden burst of joy that still radiates in my chest.
“Try to move it.” Haydn whispers.
I close my eyes and take a breath, trying to hold on to the feeling, pushing it from my chest to the tips of my fingers. At first nothing happens, then the sword starts to glide slowly across the room, straight into my outstretched hand.
Haydn smiles as I hand him the blade and my stomach flips.
“Not bad,” he says. “How do you feel?”
“I feel great.”
“Good,” he says. “Now let’s see what else you can do.” He steps back, scraping the tip of the sword across the stone floor menacingly, his eyes burning into mine.
I still feel a tingle all over my body, my palms vibrating with energy. I launch myself towards him; he sidesteps and strikes at me with his sword. I duck under the blade and run towards the wall, planting my feet against the rock. I bend my legs and spring backwards, my body arching into a perfect somersault as I pull another sword from the crate and land gracefully in the centre of the room.
I am so surprised that I almost forget about my sparring partner who spirals towards me, his blade slashing at my chest. I lean backwards and the blade skims my cheek.
We whirl around, dodging each other’s blades. I move faster than I ever have before, energised by Aimee’s magical touch.
Haydn takes small steps backwards until he is almost touching the wall behind him. He dodges under my arm and then holds up a hand.
“I yield,” he says, panting for breath. “You did it, you fought like a Smith. Better than some of them.”
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever paid me a compliment.” I smile.
“Maybe I underestimated you.” Haydn reaches for my sword, and his fingers brush mine as they close around the hilt. He pulls sharply, drawing me closer, then he leans in. He smells like soap and something masculine, musky. He kisses my cheek, which surprises me, and then his lips trace my jaw until they find mine. His kisses are soft and light, but his grip on my hand tightens and I feel his desire rippling through the loneliness and despair. It flares up between us like an electrical storm, and startled, I pull away.
His dark eyes burn into mine. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I-”
But he’s already returning the swords to the chest. He stalks out of the room and I watch him leave with an ache in my heart.
Where Foundlings Hide Page 28