To Dream of White & Gold (Death Dreamer Legacy Book 1)

by R. K. Hart

  Lida did as she was told, wrapping herself in her blankets and falling back into a sleep that was blissfully her own. For the first time in what seemed like an age, she found her beautiful green rock pool and she twisted through the water in a way that she had almost forgotten.

  When she woke again at noon, someone had dug a path to the tenat and brought them two baskets of food, enough for many days.

  ‘Does this happen often?’

  Alys was making a pot of tea. ‘Every winter.’

  ‘What do we do?’ Lida sat and stretched.

  Alys flashed a wicked grin. ‘Why do you think so many Brinnican babies are born in autumn? There’s a lot of time spent inside over the winter months.’ She laughed at Lida’s face. ‘They’ll dig a path to the springs eventually. If you have any reading or weaving or knitting to do, now is the time. Other than that, you’re about to get very good at card games.’

  Lida felt like she could finally breathe freely again, which, she reflected, was odd, given that she was more penned in than she had been for months and there was nowhere she could run. No training and no Aaron meant that her time was her own, and she could spend it how she liked, so long as what she liked was within the confines of the white tent. She still went through l’salut on her mat next to the fire, and enjoyed it far more with no one barking insults or orders at her. Alys taught her how to knit with her fingers, and Lida sat for hours listening to stories of Andastra and Yoss and Kali, while she clumsily mimicked Alys’ quick movements and made the beginnings of a scarf for Cathan.

  The next day, Alys demanded Eilin stories, so Lida told her the few tales of Eianna that everyone knew. Cathan was not one for religion, and neither she nor Maya had been interested in attending the temple, except during festivals, so Lida’s list of stories was not long. She knew more about the fae and she told Alys of them instead, though the telling made her chest ache.

  On the third day, Alys taught her a Brinnican card game named blanc. It was a betting game, though neither of them had any coin; the object was to trick an opponent into thinking the player possessed a hand of cards that they did not, so that the opponent would bet on their own hand and the player would win their money at the end. There were endless combinations of cards and Lida soon forgot which suit was higher and which cards trumped the rest; she was glad they were not playing for money, as her pockets would have emptied embarrassingly quickly. Alys was a master.

  Ella knocked on the outside of the tenat on the fourth day, half scaring the life from Lida as she read; she’d grown so used to the quiet. Ella had brought them more tea and coffee, and she held up a towel with a questioning look.

  ‘They’ve finished the path to the springs,’ she said. ‘Do you want to come?’

  Alys was on her feet in a moment, grabbing two towels and pulling on her boots.

  ‘In the dark?’ Lida said.

  Ella smiled. ‘It will not be dark there.’

  When Lida was ready, Ella led them through the maze of white tunnels dug through the packed snow. The sky overhead was clear and the moons were both close to full; they didn’t need any more light than that. When they emerged at the springs, the snowy walls falling away behind them, unable to hold near the warm earth, they were greeted with a forest of torches. The springs were packed with people. Entire families watched small children splash in the shallows; greetings rang out across the rock and water, the happiness of reunion after four days apart almost tangible. Some simply sat with their faces to the sky, enjoying the warmth of the water and the beauty of the night.

  ‘Which spring, Lida?’ Alys asked.

  ‘A big one,’ Lida said immediately. ‘I want to swim.’

  They indulged her, leading her to a spring larger than the Kingstown public pool and almost empty of people. They set their towels aside and slipped like seals into the green water. Alys and Ella were content to stand near the side, but Lida swam to the middle where the spring’s rocky bed was so deep she didn’t dare try to find it. She was so glad to be in the water again that she splashed and somersaulted and dove like a child, letting the water flow around her and over her until, seemingly hours later, she tired and lay floating on her back, her skin brimming with illae she didn’t remember drawing. She stared up at the stars and let their light wash over her too, basking in their soft glow.

  I thought you might like the springs. It was your mother’s favourite place.

  Lida jerked in surprise at the unfamiliar illae-call, spitting out a mouthful of bitter water. The voice was gone as swiftly as it had come, with no hint of echo left outside her mindshield. She coughed to clear her throat, the power on her skin settling, and then she dove under the water, slipping back to Alys and Ella.

  Aaron was waiting by the side of the spring when she surfaced. His hair was wet, liquid silver in the moonlight, and he wore nothing but a towel around his waist. He held out a hand and Lida took it, sighing, letting him lift her from the water. She waited for him to tell her she had training, and waited for him to let her go; he did neither, instead weaving an arm behind her waist and pulling her closer, brushing his lips over hers.

  Lida stilled and let him kiss her, feeling how tightly he was grasping her and knowing that she’d get nowhere by struggling. The force of his arm was unsurprising, though his lips were unexpectedly gentle, and the kiss was sweet. She waited for her body to respond, waited for her heart to beat faster and her breath to quicken and her blood to catch alight, almost as if she was watching from afar.

  She waited, and after a moment she realised that she didn’t feel anything, except vaguely angry.

  She placed her hands deliberately on his chest and tried to shove him away; it made no difference. She clenched her fingers into fists and held them stiffly at her sides as his tongue flicked against her lip and he pulled her hard against him, forcing her back to arch as her head tilted.

  Get off me, Aaron, she thought furiously.

  He either didn’t hear or didn’t listen, pressing his lips more firmly down, taking the parting of hers as encouragement. The spark of anger in Lida grew and spread until she felt like it ran to the ends of her hair. She closed her eyes, and she started to draw.

  She drew illae until it danced over her, and she kept drawing. She drew until her skin began to heat, and then she drew more, more than she ever had before, and then more again, channelling power to her hands until they felt as if they were burning hot. Then, with an almost tender gentleness, she placed one of her palms on the side of his face.

  Aaron jerked back, dropping her as his skin blistered, a red print of Lida’s small hand clear on his pale cheek. He stared at her, shocked, his sapphire eyes very wide. Lida heard Alys cry out wordlessly and she lifted her chin, daring Aaron to respond. She held his gaze as she childishly wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

  He laughed.

  ‘I wondered where you’d gone,’ he said, and reached to grab a handful of snow from the ground, holding it to his burned cheek. ‘You might have just said no, Alida.’

  Lida registered that it was the first time he’d ever called her by her name as a voice came from behind them.

  ‘I think she just did, ma bebe lapiun.’

  Aaron froze. A blush spread up his neck as he spun around and fell smoothly to his knees on the rocky ground, his hair escaping his braid to fall in a silver sheet as he bowed his head. Lida blinked in astonishment. Aaron bowed to no one, and the expression on his face looked awfully like shame.

  ‘Venere mather,’ he said.

  Shock rippled through her; she turned to see Katrin, dressed in leggings and boots and a tunic of white fur, smiling slightly at Lida’s bemused expression.

  No. Not Katrin.

  This woman had Katrin’s face - or, more fairly, Katrin had hers - but there were lines around the mouth and eyes, and her irises were Aaron’s sapphire, not Katrin’s icy blue. Aaron’s hair must have come from his father, Lida thought idly, for the Kali’s braid was the colour of fire, the tones sh
ifting gently in the light of the torches around her, threads of silver snaking from both her temples into the red. Lida stood statue-still as the Kali studied her, unable to look away.

  A light brush of fingertips on her elbow brought her out of her shock; Lorcan had appeared at her side from nowhere, fully dressed but his hair shining wet from the springs. He bowed deeply, one hand on his heart, the other stretched out and empty to the side, palm facing forward. ‘Lady,’ he said respectfully. Lida flushed with embarrassment and hastened to copy him.

  ‘Dar-Oidre,’ the Kali said, inclining her head to him. ‘It has been some time since we have seen you. You are back to see your sister? Her son is very handsome, is he not? Very like your father.’ Her Eilin was fluent, barely accented, and spoken without hesitation.

  Lida’s breath left her lungs.

  ‘Very handsome,’ Lorcan agreed. ‘I am here to see Rose, and to accompany Alida d’Cathan.’

  The Kali’s eyes settled once again on Lida, who wrenched her own from Lorcan’s profile to meet them. ‘You should have brought her sooner.’

  ‘I regret that was not in my power, lady,’ Lorcan answered smoothly.

  The Kali’s gaze roamed over Lida, searching her face, taking in her dripping hair, and lingering on Siva’s ring upon her hand. Lida straightened her shoulders in response, very grateful that she had not yet mustered the courage to swim naked.

  ‘And how are you enjoying the cold, Sivasdotter?’ the Kali said, after a long moment.

  Lida cleared her throat. ‘The snow is very beautiful, lady. But I do not think I am made for northern winters.’

  The Kali laughed. ‘Your mother was the same,’ she said warmly. ‘But she grew to love it here, despite that.’

  Lida bowed her head. ‘As I do, lady.’

  ‘But you will not stay.’

  Lida wasn’t sure whether it was an observation or a question; the Kali’s voice was measured. She opted for the truth. ‘I think my heart belongs in Eilan, lady.’

  ‘For now,’ the Kali said, nodding.

  Lida bit the inside of her cheek and didn’t respond.

  The Kali turned back to her son. ‘We will have words on this another time,’ she said. Her voice was calm, but the disappointment in it was palpable. ‘The aine have convened. T’devra dormi, lapiun. Ce va prevor a aurore.’

  ‘Yah, venere mather. A aurore.’ Aaron’s eyes were fixed on the rocky ground before him.

  ‘Sivasdotter, Dar-Oidre,’ the Kali said, nodding once more to Lorcan. ‘I will speak with you soon.’

  Aaron lifted his chin to watch his mother walk away, his shoulders oddly tense. Without thinking, Lida offered him her hand. He considered it warily for a moment, then took it, though he needed no help; he climbed back to his feet with reluctance.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Lida said.

  He ignored her, searching instead for Alys. ‘Go to her,’ he said roughly.

  Alys and Ella nodded as one and gathered up their clothes, walking back towards l’Cour du Kali.

  ‘Aaron?’ Lida said anxiously.

  Aaron brought her hand to his lips, then gently dropped it. The red mark on his cheek was stark in the flickering torchlight.

  ‘See you tomorrow, little bird,’ he said, and he turned away, walking into the night.

  Lida spun to Lorcan. ‘What is going on?’ she demanded. ‘What is happening at dawn?’

  He didn’t look at her. ‘l’Batile. The Kali’s heir must battle the best warrior of her tribe to prove her worth. It is the first step in a number of tests she must pass.’

  Lida shook her head. ‘Katrin can’t fight,’ she said. ‘She’s almost six months pregnant!’

  ‘She must. She will forfeit her position if she does not.’

  Lida stared at him, shocked by his calm. ‘What does Aaron have to do with it?’

  His eyes finally flickered to her; they were decidedly not calm, full of something Lida could not name, and nor were they warm. ‘Who do you think the best warrior of the Snow Leopards is?’

  She gaped at him, unable to find the words to answer. She had openly admired the way Brinnicans chose their Kali, with tests of strength and cleverness and negotiation and leadership; this was something different.

  She cannot, Lida thought. She shook her head again. He will not.

  ‘Of course he will,’ Lorcan said, hearing the thought. ‘His mother wills it, and her will is law. She herself is bound by the decree of the aine; Bethan has pushed for this - it does not take much thought to see why - and the aine have agreed. The Kali has no recourse to protest. It would have happened months ago, but for her soul walk. Katrin is the only one with a choice. And her choice is between losing her birthright and risking her baby.’ He gave a half-shrug, belying the weight of his words. ‘Katrin will have a sleepless night before her, as will the Kalisson, I imagine. More than their lives are at stake.’

  Lida pressed her fingernails into the palms of her hands. ‘Could they not just pretend?’

  ‘To fight, you mean? Non. The aine will be watching, and they will send the next best warrior if they deem Aaron unfit to fight.’ He paused. ‘That would be Bronwyn.’

  ‘And she wants to be Kali.’

  He nodded, examining the cut birchwood of a nearby torch as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. ‘It would be exactly as Bethan wants. And though Bronwyn is fond of Aaron - or was - she holds no love for Katrin. Nor, I would think, for her unborn cousin.’

  Lida was silent for some time. The noise of the springs lapped back in, but something had changed: the air was heavy, the joy gone. ‘What do we do?’ she whispered at last. She shivered, suddenly conscious of the cold cutting against her skin.

  Lorcan frowned, and bent to pick up her towel, settling it around her shoulders impersonally, as though she was some lady at court and he was compelled unwillingly to a mechanical courtesy. Lida wrapped it around herself, though it offered scant warmth.

  ‘We cannot do anything,’ he answered. ‘We sleep, we wake up, we watch. We hope.’ He inclined his head to her, then walked away into the forest of torches. Lida watched until she could no longer see his dark curls, then found her way back to the empty tenat and her cold bed. She tossed and turned uncomfortably for hours before falling into a nightmare of her own devising, where she searched frantically for something she’d lost, something unnamed but desperately precious, and in the dream she swore over and over to herself that if she found it she would never let it go again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Sivasdotter

  Lida lay awake for some time the next morning before she finally forced herself from her bed. Alys had not returned and Lida had forgotten to stoke the fire before she slept, so the air inside the tenat was freezing cold. Instead of changing her clothes, Lida simply pulled more over the top of her leggings and shirt. The water in the jug had frozen over; she broke the ice with the heel of her hand and gasped when she rubbed the frigid water over her face.

  There was no hint of light from outside, so she fed the remaining embers of the foye fe and braided her hair across her head, the plait hanging over her right shoulder. She didn’t pin it up, but she pulled Ava’s ribbon from underneath her pillow and tied it somewhere in the middle, her fingers toying nervously with the bunch of curls beneath the bow. The green reminded Lida of home, and she ran Ava’s skilled embroidery over her cheek, as if the silver roses might bring her comfort. She felt too sick to eat, making a cup of tea instead with the last of her chamomile. She sat as close to the fire as she could, hands wrapped around her mug to keep them still.

  When she heard voices outside the tenat, she pulled on her coat and boots and gloves, settling the fur-lined hood over her head and her hands deep in its pockets. Her feet dragged as she pulled back the tenat door and walked into the dark. She didn’t know the way now that the Kali’s Court was a maze of snow tunnels, but she knew she simply needed to follow the voices. Everyone was going the same way.

  A sizable crowd had already gath
ered in the dark of the amphitheatre. They ringed its sides, speaking in subdued tones. Lida spotted Alys’ fair braid amongst a group and pushed politely through to join her, taking her arm. Alys was pale and the skin under her eyes looked bruised.

  ‘Did you sleep, Aly?’

  Alys shook her head and sniffed. ‘Katrin did not. How could I?’

  Snow began to fall as the crowd grew. Ella appeared next to Lida, and a few moments later Lorcan stood to the other side of Alys. He ignored Lida completely, but she felt a rush of gladness at the sight of him and hid her face in her hood.

  Lorcan watched her from the corner of his eye; all he could see behind the fur was the tip of her sharp nose. Alys had taken his hand and was attempting to crush the bone to pulp, or so it seemed; he wanted to protest that he needed that hand for a number of things - nocking an arrow not the least of them - but Alys seemed to need it more, so he endured the grinding pain and turned his face to the dais.

  As the sun started to crest the mountains, the quiet chatter ceased completely. There was utter silence as the air turned thick and the crowd held its collective breath.

  Aaron chose that moment to enter the amphitheatre. Lorcan almost snorted aloud; it was no surprise that he would choose to enter with the sun. The Kalisson shone in the new light, fair and beautiful, the picture of strength in a sleeveless tunic of white fur. He always liked theatre, Lorcan thought, as Aaron stood before the rocky dais, looking like a star made human. Lorcan was vindictively pleased to see the bright red handprint on Aaron’s cheek, the mark of Lida’s displeasure at the forced kiss; it was the only thing that marred Aaron’s carefully-curated vision of savage perfection, but Lorcan thought it fit, somehow. The Kalisson was not a god, no matter what his ego said, and the Myrae girl’s brand proved it. Let Katrin also remind him of it, Lorcan half-prayed.

  She and her mother arrived a minute later. Katrin’s outfit mirrored her brother’s; her arms were also bare, but Lorcan realised that Aaron wasn’t the only one with a flair for drama. Katrin had laced her tunic uncharacteristically tightly, and the swell of her belly was shockingly evident outside her slim form, eliciting a sigh from the crowd. She had braided her red-blonde hair into a crown, pinned tightly down.