Wilde's Fire Page 13

  “So … we are witches?” I ask with caution.

  “No. Not witches, although the witches of that world may be descendants of our kind. Long ago, Kate, the human world called us by another name, but one we did not give ourselves: Álfar.” Arland says the word as if it’s offensive.

  “What does that mean?” I hope not to sound ignorant, but I don’t remember learning about anything called Álfar in history.

  Arland grits his teeth. “Elf.”

  Imagining Santa and The North Pole, I laugh. “No way. Elves have pointed ears and are short people who make presents at Christmas time,” I tease, but I can tell by Arland’s scowl, he does not find this funny.

  “Many people died because of narrow-minded humans. They could not see the magic and confused the willingness of our people to help them with a daemonic plaguing.”

  I think about the Salem Witch trials and realize just how cruel people can be when they’re scared.

  “So I’m an elf?” It’s really hard to keep myself from laughing right now.

  He shakes his head. “No. You are a Draíochta. You will find no one here calls themselves an Álfar; it refers to a tragic time in our history, and it is not a name we had given to ourselves.”

  The term Elf must be extremely offensive, if Arland is not even willing to say it in English.

  “If the Leaders closed the portals forever, does that mean my dad broke the law?”

  Arland’s face softens, and he returns to rubbing Mirain, watching me from the corner of his eyes. “Multiple laws. They also banned those who were familiar with the old magic—the force used to operate the portals—from conjuring it to go to any other world.”

  “What would have happened if he’d been caught?” I ask, picturing my mom and dad sneaking off into the night, an infant bundled under their arms.

  “Laws of that magnitude have rarely been broken in Encardia. I am positive an example would have been made out of your father, because of his status.”

  “What was his status?”

  “He was a Leader of Encardia. A powerful one. Many people loved your father; a few hated him. Those who envied him would have seen him severely punished for breaking any law.”

  “And my mom? Would an example have been made of her?”

  He nods. “She was also a Leader.”

  “If we get to her, should she stay away from here?”

  “No, not now. I cannot see her being punished for protecting hope. If your parents had not done what they were told, we would be doomed.”

  An image of my mother in shackles, bound to some dirt wall in the ground, fills my head. I shake the thought. “If I’m magical, then why don’t I know any magic?”

  Arland smiles. “The magic is in you somewhere. We just need to help you figure out how to use it.”

  “So far I’ve been unable to replicate regular magic. How am I supposed to save everyone with the forbidden magic no one knows how to use?”

  “I do not know,” he says, with an air of exasperation.

  “And Darkness? Where did it come from?” I’m disappointed he doesn’t know more about me.

  “For many years after the portals were closed, everything appeared peaceful. As time wore on, and those who knew the old magic died, it began to sleep, too. Old magic upheld barriers of protection that kept us safe from the evil of other worlds—only those with pure hearts could pass through portals. When magic slept, the barriers came down, allowing Darkness to enter.”

  Mirain snorts.

  I pat her shoulder. “How many other worlds are there?”

  “There were nine, including The Heavens.”

  “Were?”

  “One disappeared long ago. A few Draíochtans passed through the portal to Elysia, but found themselves floating in a black abyss. Everything was gone. They were lucky to return.”

  “Do you think Darkness attacked there?”

  “We are unsure of what happened.”

  “Who commands Darkness?”

  “We do not know that, either. No one has come forth as a leader. We only fight off the daemons when they attack, or when a scout has found a hiding place,” he says, sounding as frustrated as I am.

  “Or when stragglers get too close?”

  Arland nods.

  “So you don’t even know what it is I’m supposed to save everyone from?” My voice is filled with irritation.

  “No.” He narrows his eyes; Arland’s probably worried I’m so frustrated I’ll storm off.

  “Who is Perth?” I ask, trying to get off the subject of me.

  Arland’s eyelids constrict into slits; his jaw hardens. “Tomorrow, I will tell you about Perth. We should head back downstairs. If we are going to the clearing in the morning, we need rest.”

  His sudden mood change has me wishing I never asked. “Okay.”

  Taking deep breaths, I calm myself. I don’t want to press Arland with questions now, not on the eve of riding out to potentially traveling home for help. Arland and Lann have both shared the same reaction to Perth. I’m afraid the tension runs so deep, if I keep asking about him, I will upset Arland.

  He holds out his arm for me; I happily hook mine through his.

  “I have to go now, Mirain, I’ll be back soon.”

  She whinnies when we’re out of her sight.

  “The poor girl is in love with you already,” Arland says, lightening the mood.

  “She’s very sweet.” I try to smile, but the tense muscles in my face probably make it look more like a grimace.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Arland and I leave the stables and join the dinner crowd. Having both missed lunch today, we don’t let food remain on our plates long. When we’re ready for second helpings, Marcus and Anna rush over to our table, then ask to sit.

  “Of course.” I’m glad the children don’t look at me the way some of the adults do.

  Arland takes our plates to be refilled, while the children gush over the details of today’s training session. They explain how some of their friends, who missed it, were jealous each of them was able to fight with me.

  “You shouldn’t try to make your friends jealous.”

  Anna glares at Marcus. “We did not mean to.”

  “Tell you what—if you each bring someone with you to training tomorrow, I will reward the four of you with a private session, but only if Arland will excuse you from your other duties,” I say, meeting Arland’s eyes as he returns to the table.

  He nods.

  Marcus and Anna dart from us to a group of children. They talk amongst themselves, and, every now and then, look in our direction. After some quiet debating, a couple of children smile widely at me. From their elated expressions, I know which two I’ll be training first.

  “You have a way with children, as well as the horses.” Arland looks at me with what I think may be admiration.

  Something tells me he has a harder time relating to them than the adults. He had to grow up fast; children may not make sense to him. “I love them. On our farm, I worked with kids in the summertime. I would give riding lessons. It was really win-win for me. Not only did I get to spend time with the children and the horses, but I got paid for it, too,” I say, smiling to myself. All those wonderful summer days, riding through the pastures with little kids who were almost too excited to pay attention, make up some of my fondest memories.

  “I bet you would have done it even if you were not getting paid.” Arland shakes his head.

  Somehow, he knows that about me; I absolutely would work with children without getting paid, but Gary would never allow that. “This is a business. We are not giving out any freebies,” he used to say with a stern voice when I’d ask to take on a couple kids whose families couldn’t afford what he charged.

  I’ve been yawning all throughout dinner. I’m more than done for the day.

  “Tired?” Arland asks, standing to hold my chair out for me.

  “Extremely.” I yawn again.

  We make our way into our
room after the dinner rush. Luckily, the dining area is empty, so no one watches us go in together.

  “Turn around,” I say, then tear off my dirty shirt and pants. I look down at myself and realize I, too, am filthy. “I can’t go to bed like this; I’m disgusting.”

  Arland turns back to face me, but quickly returns his gaze to the wall. “I am sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Can you hand me my towel from the chair? I’m going to take a bath.”

  Without looking in my direction, Arland picks up the towel, then hands it to me. Our fingers brush; his skin warms mine.

  “Would you like to join me?”

  “That would definitely not be appropriate,” Arland says, as though he’s not entirely sure he means no.

  “We can keep our underclothes on. Please?”

  I dress, then stand next to him. He clasps his hands behind his back and looks at me with one eyebrow raised. I can tell part of Arland wants to come with me, but the decision is tearing him up inside.

  What’s gotten into me?

  His reaction makes me regret confusing him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Will you please wait outside the door for me?”

  “Kate, did you not mention earlier how you feel the others look at you differently?” Arland asks. His eyes burn into me, making my heart pick up its pace.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Do you understand, if we go into the washroom together, the others will not only look at you differently, but also think more about us than what is truth? Quite a few of them already suspect more than what has happened.”

  “People will believe whatever they want, no matter what the truth is; why should we let that bother us? You and I know what’s happened, or not happened, between us, and we’re all that matter,” I say, hoping to make him feel better—even though I know in my heart it won’t.

  What is it that’s happening between us? We’ve shared a bed, trained to fight, cleaned a few stalls, but all of a sudden, I feel it might mean something more. It’s as though the relationship we had in those dreams is coming into fruition, but how can that be? A few days ago, I hadn’t kissed anyone, never had a boyfriend. Now I’ve kissed one guy, and am hopefully becoming closer than I’ve ever been to a relationship with another man.

  The difference between Brad and Arland is, with Brad, I never thought this way about him, didn’t accept he had feelings for me. My heart hasn’t rushed for Brad the way it does in this moment, while I stand next to Arland and await an answer that might say he feels the same. Before crossing into this world, I thought something was changing between Brad and me. But growing close to him didn’t have the same excitement as growing close to Arland does. Brad was familiar, friendly, and comforting, but if what we had was anything more, I don’t recognize the feeling.

  “Flanna is going to give me hell.” Arland grabs a towel out of the top drawer of the old oak dresser.

  “You don’t have to come,” I say, desperately hoping he still does.

  “You are attempting to make me feel less guilty, but if you wish for me to join you, I will.” He shakes his head.

  I check on Brad before going to the washroom. Kegan looks excited when the door swings open, but then he sees me and frowns. His eyelids are heavy, and he stretches his arms above his head; I hope Shay will replace him soon.

  “There has not been any change,” he says.

  “Thank you.” I close the door.

  The washroom is empty. Arland slides the lock across the door, so no one—Flanna—can accidentally come in. Arland turns his head while I slip out of my clothes again, then he takes off his. We leave on only our undergarments.

  Climbing in first, he holds his hand out for me while I step in. The water is still the same perfect temperature it was when I bathed yesterday. We submerge ourselves to wash off the dirt.

  Our bath together doesn’t feel wrong or rushed. I find it comparable to sitting in a hot tub with someone; I’m enjoying myself. I cannot help but stare at Arland’s flawless figure sitting across from me. He leans against the edge of the enclosure, keeping his distance.

  Arland is well built for battle. He’s much taller than I am—about six-foot-two—has broad shoulders, well-defined muscles on his arms and abdomen. His slightly wavy, dark brown hair hangs straight past his ears, and is dripping wet. Even in the dimly lit room, I can tell he’s blushing. I must be staring at him with too much intensity.

  “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” I ask.

  “Only my mother, when I was a child,” Arland says, looking down at the water.

  Moving to his side of the enclosure, I sit next to him. “Well, now I have, too.”

  Arland puts his arm around my shoulders, eases my head onto his chest, then caresses my back with the tips of his fingers. His heart thuds rapidly.

  I’m making him nervous. The thought makes me smile.

  We do nothing but lie here in silence, until our skin prunes from staying in the water too long. I take the bar of soap from next to the enclosure and run it all over my body. Passing the bar to Arland, I fumble it in my hands.

  He laughs.

  The closeness we share is simple and pure. I don’t want Arland to feel as though he’s taking advantage of my vulnerability, like he said yesterday; although, I might be taking advantage of him. If Arland only knew the details of the intimacies we share in my dreams, how close we have been, or how close I want us to be … .

  After we finish washing, Arland steps from the bath, then holds my hand while I walk down the stairs behind him. We face away from each other, take off our wet undergarments, then replace them with our nightclothes. We sneak through the empty hall to our room.

  Arland lies in bed first and holds the blankets up for me. He doesn’t even glance at the chair he tried to sleep in yesterday. I climb in next to him, and he wraps the covers over us.

  “I will not leave you tonight,” Arland says, his voice soft.

  “Where did you go last night?” He never did explain to me where he had been, not that he had to.

  “I checked in on the Watchers.”

  “The Watchers are the night soldiers? The ones who guard the perimeter and shoot at stray daemons?”

  He wears a crooked smile. “Yes, and I have put Keith on duty again for tonight. They will come for me only if there is a problem, and I will awaken you if anything requires me to leave.” Arland pushes a strand of hair from my face, sending heat rushing to where our skin meets.

  I suck in a sharp breath. “Keeping you from your work is not my intention. You should do whatever it is you need and not worry about me.” I don’t mean what I say. I need him here with me, and I don’t know why. There is no explanation.

  “You are not keeping me from anything someone else cannot handle. You, Kate, are my main concern, now that you are here.” Putting his arm over me, he pulls me closer.

  Our legs touch. My heart races. His dewy scent fills my nose. I close my eyes, take a deep breath of Arland. Enjoy his soothing presence.

  “But the others don’t know that.” I keep my hands clasped together in front of me, for fear a touch would chase him out of the room.

  “They do not require knowledge of my affairs to follow my orders,” he says with authority. “My father is anxious to meet you.”

  I’m thankful for the change of subject. “Is he?”

  “Yes. He was excited to learn of your return. As we speak, he is mobilizing his army to prepare for our arrival.”

  My muscles tense; desire runs away. “His army?”

  “He became the High Leader of Encardia a year after the war began.”

  I feel faint.

  “Relax. Why are you tense?” His voice is soothing, but doesn’t help calm me.

  “The thought of being introduced to someone who knew my dad so well, and helped save my life, makes me a little nervous.”

  “Not the fact he is our world’s Highest Leader?” he asks, his words layered with doubt.

  “Tha
t doesn’t seem as frightening as having to impress one of my dad’s friends.”

  Arland laughs. “You are very interesting.”

  We don’t talk about anything else; we lie here, staring at each other. I think about my dad and what life would have been like, if he lived, about Arland’s father, and about all the sacrifices people have had to make for me. After what feels like hours of gazing into Arland’s eyes, sleep consumes me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Wake up,” Arland whispers.

  I feel him pushing hair from my face before his words truly stir me.

  “Hmm?”

  “We are leaving in an hour for the clearing; I thought you might like to eat first.”

  “I’m awake,” I say, eyes closed, body unwilling to move.

  “Kate? Brad needs you. Do you want to see your sister and mother again?” His words are like daggers, even though he speaks kindly.

  I open my eyes to the dark room. Arland’s face is an inch from mine; he watches me. His chest rests on mine, but he holds himself up by his arms. A flood of emotions pumps through my veins. If emotions were colorful, I’m sure they could be seen covering every portion of my body right now, especially over my heart. Building up the courage to kiss him, I close my eyes … .

  He sits back. “You are not easy to wake up.”

  My stomach twists with nervous anticipation. “It’s been so long since I’ve slept without dreams; my body must be making up for lost time.”

  Arland smiles. “Then you should be well rested for when we see your mother and sister today.”

  “I can’t wait,” I say, jumping from bed.

  The thought of seeing Brit and my mom is overwhelming. I rush to get dressed, then run from the room for breakfast.

  Flanna raises her eyebrows when I come barreling toward the kitchen. Whatever she’s thinking, I’m sure it’s not the truth. That’s all I know. Even if I wanted to do something with Arland last night, I don’t think it would have happened.

  “Kate, are you forgetting something?” Flanna asks.

  Following her gaze, I look at my feet. “Oh, my boots!”

  I turn back for the bedroom, but Arland carries my boots to me. I sit at the closest table and slide them on, fumbling with the laces.