Wilde's Fire Page 18

  “While it is possible for my father to do that, he will not. Our people do not need a reason to war with each other while Darkness is here.”

  “But—”

  “He has to maintain peace, Kate. There is nothing he can do—no matter what he knows.”

  “So, he’ll let the Ground Dwellers make decisions for him and allow the world to die?”

  “He is not controlled by the Ground Dwellers, and the world will not die. But another war would give Darkness the opportunity to finish us off.”

  “Did your prophecy mention anything about you dying?”

  “No. And Perth does not know, and cannot find out, who you are.”

  “But you told him I’m from The Meadows. Won’t he be able to put it together?” I ask, suddenly concerned about everything I’ve said and done and every step taken since I’ve been here. Would it be enough for Perth to realize who I am? He stared at me for the longest time while I sat in the dining room yesterday; does he already know?

  “He would not be expecting you to say you are from The Meadows. Your family has been missing for over twenty years. But I am sure his father has told him of your prophecy. If we discover your magic, we will have to keep it from him. I will not allow him to be Bound to you, even if I have to fight everyone to protect you.”

  “Why would you do that for me?”

  “Tell me something. Do you feel different when you are around me?”

  “Y-yes,” I stammer. I’m afraid I might have a heart attack if this rapid pace keeps up.

  “You fight better around me, you can see the sun when you are near me—”

  “Do you think you have something to do with my magic?”

  Arland smiles nervously. “My prophecy said you would be safe and powerful in my arms. I believe I might have something to do with it.”

  If I had to describe every feeling coursing through me right now, my explanation would come out all confused—which is probably the best way to sum them up. I get the sinking suspicion I’m not the only one with emotions here, but he still resists getting any nearer to me. I’m shaking; anticipation, frustration, fear, excitement, anger … I’m not even sure why.

  Arland puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls my head onto his chest; his heart pounds.

  “I am sorry,” he says.

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “That I had to bring you out here to tell you this. I did not feel comfortable talking about it where someone might overhear.”

  “It was for the best; if you told me back there, I might have hurt someone.” I try to make light of the situation.

  “And I am sorry for what Anna said.”

  “She’s a child; they know nothing about secrets.”

  He laughs.

  “So, in order for you to become High Leader, you have to be Bound to someone?”

  “Yes.”

  I bite my tongue, afraid to ask if he’s been promised to someone else, the way I have. His response has the potential to break my heart.

  “Perth watches you.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  Sitting alone in the dark on a huge rock by the rushing river, we both fall silent.

  Arland caresses my arm, fingers trailing lightly over my skin. Even in times like these, he makes me feel different, happy, strong. The thought of him being killed for spending time with me—for helping me figure out how to save this world—angers me. He has been so kind, honorable, and honest.

  Bowen trots over, stands next to us, then grazes on the grass. The jingles of his gear make me think about church bells, weddings, white dresses, cakes, Perth.

  The sound makes me want to vomit.

  “If the High Leader had not promised me to Perth, would I have had the choice of who I wanted to marry?”

  Arland shifts on the rock. “No.”

  “If not Perth, then who?”

  “Me. But I would not have allowed the Binding if you did not wish to marry me,” Arland rushes the words out on one long breath.

  “Interesting.” I would not have enjoyed being forced to marry anyone, but the thought of being Bound to Arland is not a bad one. I already know what sleeping with him would be like. We’ve spent happy and sad moments together—my dreams as well as my time here have shown me these things. He will make a good leader; his people here love him. By the way he acts around the children, I can tell he would make a good father.

  “The plans for restructuring were never adopted, leaving you and me third in line to rule. Encardia has never had two High Leaders at one time; we were to be the first. While my father favored the idea of elections, he also favored the idea of his son being a major part of history. He was furious at the deal made between Leader Dufaigh and Maoilriain, the High Leader,” Arland says, interrupting my daydream of a marriage between us.

  “And if I’m with Perth, we can’t be High Leaders together?”

  “You would be considered a Ground Dweller. All of their kind is dark; peace is not a word they understand or appreciate. Many years ago, a council of Draíochtans decided Ground Dwellers would never be appointed as High Leaders. I am sure Leader Dufaigh has a plan to change that, as well. One more reason they cannot discover who you are.”

  “Why don’t you send Perth to another base, somewhere far away?”

  “I wish I could do that, but I cannot,” he says, his tone flat, defeated.

  “But you’re a Leader, and this is your base. Why can’t you?”

  “When the war began, Perth’s father felt it would be a good idea to put him here, as a reminder to me—to any future Leader—the Ground Dwellers are powerful. If we outright refused Perth being placed here, suspicions would be raised.”

  “Dufaigh put Perth here to hurt you, because he stole your future from you?”

  “Yes, I believe that was the point.” In bed this morning, I noticed something within Arland’s eyes, but thought it was desire for more of me. He’s in pain—his life and future have been stolen from him.

  There has to be a way to sway Arland’s father, or even Dufaigh. “Maybe we can change all of their minds.”

  “What are you planning?”

  “I’ll think of something.” Really, I have nothing, but I will not stop searching until I find a way.

  “I hope whatever you come up with is crafty enough to convince them.”

  “I hope so, too.” I want to live in a world where I’m free to choose—I also want others to be free to choose—and right now I want nothing more than to stay in Arland’s arms forever.

  We ride Bowen back to base. I clasp my arms around Arland even tighter than before. He rests one palm over my hand. We don’t speak, but I know he feels something as strong for me as I do for him. If something happens to Arland, and a future comes where I have to marry Perth, I’m going to jump into the first portal I find and go somewhere else, assuming I figure out how to open one.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Are you sure I should come in? It’s a meeting with people other than Lann and Flanna. Won’t someone be suspicious?” I ask Arland, arms crossed over my chest.

  He sighs, placing his hand on the communications room door. “You do not have to worry about anyone inside here. Even if one of them discovers your identity, they would not share with Perth.”

  I swallow hard. Two weeks have gone by since I learned of my future with Perth. The knowledge has not negatively impacted my relationship with Arland. If anything, it’s made us closer, but concern for his life guides my every decision. “I’m ready.”

  Arland pushes open the door then stands aside, allowing me to enter the room first.

  Flanna turns away from a conversation with Saidear and grins. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to think the goats finally ate you, Kate.”

  I smooth my new shirt, free of goat holes. “Not today, but they tried.”

  Laughter fills the room.

  Lann, Kegan, Cadman, Keith, and Dunn sit around the table with Flanna and Saidear; yellowed maps la
y before them.

  The night Arland and I returned from our ride to the river, Flanna was waiting. She looked from our connected hands to him and said, “We have to find a way.”

  Flanna didn’t have to say anything else; I knew what she meant. My mind has been in constant motion, trying to find a way around the Ground Dwellers without creating another war, but so far, I’ve come up empty. Now, instead of focusing on Perth, we’re planning a move for the soldiers. Arland and I are going to Wickward to meet his father, but the others will relocate to Willow Falls, another base about fifty miles from here.

  Cadman stands and pulls out a chair at the head of the table.

  “Kate,” he says, pointing at the seat.

  “Thank you.” I join the soldiers and glance over the aged maps. They appear to have been balled up, smoothed out, and straightened so many times, I’m afraid to touch them.

  “We are here,” Cadman says, pointing at a group of trees labeled Measctha Forest, in the middle of a map.

  Keeping my hands to myself, I study the landscape; the Gorm Mountains are located to the west and form an arc leading northeast of us. The Iníon na Réaltaí River is to our east. Beyond the river are The Meadows and Attaigh Ocean. The clearing is to our south. “Where is Willow Falls?”

  Arland moves a chair from the opposite end of the table, then places it next to me, but remains standing. “I forget how few families owned maps. Willow Falls is located to the north … here, along the same river we are near, and Wickward is just northeast of that.”

  I keep my eyes down, afraid to look up. Anyone from this world should know its geography. I may have just revealed too much. Put Arland even more at risk. Put this world even more at risk.

  “As most of you are aware, Kate and I need to move to Wickward,” Arland interrupts my state of panic, and everyone directs their attention to him. “The population of daemons in the area has increased rapidly. I have never seen such a large gathering. I cannot, in good conscience, leave everyone here … .”

  Saidear clears his throat and stands.

  “Do you have something to say?” Arland asks.

  The soldier places his hand over the bronze hilt of his sword, gripping so hard, his knuckles turn white. “This has become our home. We should fight.”

  “Saidear, I understand your connection to this place. We have been here together many years, but it is time to go.”

  Saidear tips his head in my direction. “Time, because of your connection with Kate? She is the reason we need to leave?”

  Cadman did exactly as Flanna said he would, and now everyone knows Arland is my Coimeádaí.

  Arland paces in front of the table, meeting eyes with each soldier he passes. “We have been in hiding too long. We will fight, just as you wish for us to do, but not here. Our numbers will be stronger once we are with the others at Willow Falls—”

  “But you and Kate are continuing to Wickward. What is her place in all this?” Saidear asks, staring at me, eyebrow arched.

  I knew they’d be suspicious. I shouldn’t be in this meeting. It could cost everyone’s life. Scooting out of my chair, I stand.

  “Sit down,” Arland says, his voice heavy.

  Defiance makes me want to stick out my tongue and run from the room, but I do as he instructs.

  Arland stops pacing and rubs his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “My father is High Leader; I do not expect him to inform me of every decision he has made. He wants Kate and me at Wickward, and he wants us to come alone. As your Leader, I am telling you that you cannot stay here. There is something brewing with those daemons, and our numbers will be stronger at Willow Falls. My father wants to fight, he wants to end this war, but we must pick our battles wisely.”

  Saidear releases the grip on his sword and returns to his seat, but scrutinizes me.

  He knows. I don’t know what, but he knows something about me. I pray Arland is right; none of these soldiers will tell Perth I am someone different.

  “Keith, are you still willing to stay behind with Kegan to watch over Brad?”

  “I will remain behind, but I wonder why we will not bring the boy with us.”

  Arland turns his head toward me, holding my gaze, while he answers Keith. “His condition has not improved. Traveling with someone as ill as he is would slow us down and increase our chances of encountering daemons. It will be safer to move him when the Collectors come by boat for the animals.”

  This morning, when Arland informed me we’d make the trip to Wickward Mountain in three days, the reality of leaving my friend behind hit me hard. How could Arland want Brad to be carted off with the animals, like an afterthought? I cried … a lot, but the more Arland explained how it was safer for Brad and everyone else, the more it made sense.

  I nod.

  Keith leans back in his seat and smiles. “I can handle a week without responsibility.”

  Arland jerks his head in Keith’s direction. “You will have plenty to be responsible for. Kegan is not a trained soldier; he is a Healer. And Brad has no defense. You will be responsible for both their lives.”

  The smile fades from his face.

  “Cadman, you need to move weapons from the training facility and take an inventory. Everyone should have at least three methods of protecting themselves.”

  “Yes, sir. When would you like me to begin?”

  “Tomorrow.” Arland sets to pacing again. “Flanna, Willow Falls is at least a two-day trip; make sure we take enough food with us for two meals a day.”

  Flanna crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course.”

  He stops in front of Lann. “I want you to keep watch over the daemons. If you find their numbers increase dramatically, or if they get any closer to our perimeter, we will leave sooner. Saidear and Dunn,” Arland says, moving toward the other soldiers, “choose four of our best. You two will be in charge of maintaining security while we are moving.”

  The two men tip their heads at Arland.

  “Again, we will leave in three days. Kate and I will part ways with you when we arrive at Willow Falls. Now, if you will excuse us, she and I need to go to the training facility while the others tend to their duties.”

  He’s scheduled a private training session to work with bows. Since they are the weapon of choice for most of the soldiers, Arland’s under the impression I will find them valuable, as well. I don’t mind, since the training will afford me alone time with him. And I won’t have an audience to be embarrassed in front of, if I’m horrible.

  Flanna gets up first, then stands next to me. “Thanks for getting the milk. Lunch would not have been the same without it—and since I no longer have time … .” She glares at Arland, but it’s all in good humor.

  Last week, he cleared me from lunch preparations. I was a little overwhelmed with my rigorous schedule of kitchen duty, training, private lessons with the children, cleaning the stables, working with the horses, and spending time with Brad.

  But Flanna hasn’t let her cousin hear the end of it.

  I don’t know how she handles everything around here with such ease; I have to give her credit. She’s always in such a pleasant mood, too—singing, laughing, and playing jokes on the children and soldiers. The sun may not shine, but Flanna adds as much, if not more, warmth as the sun.

  “It was your idea,” Arland says, eyebrow arched.

  She sighs. “Just because I said she was falling asleep during lunch did not mean I wanted her to be taken away from me. I miss her. Who else can I nag to cut potatoes?”

  He laughs. “In a few days, we will be at Willow Falls, and you will no longer be responsible for cooking.” Arland pulls out my chair, then takes me by the hand, helping me up. “We must go.”

  We leave the room and walk up the stairs leading outside.

  I don’t expect to be skilled with bows, just like I’m not good with magic. Of all the spells he’s shown me, I’ve not been able to do more than create a quick spark in my hand—like a lighter without fluid—or
slam a few doors in my own face.

  Arland has been kind not to laugh at me. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, but I’d like Arland to be my first. The gentle, caring nature he shows me, and his people, is so alluring, it makes him even more desirable. Any doubts I had about his feelings for me have disappeared. Instead of holding my hand, he now laces his fingers with mine when we walk through the woods or up to the stables. When he has to leave me, even for a short time, his absence is preceded by a kiss to my hand, or my forehead when we’re somewhere private.

  We enter the training facility alone.

  “Choose a bow from the table, and meet me back at the first long hall,” Arland says.

  I pick up the first bow on the table, then hurry back to him.

  He steps behind me, puts his right arm over mine, guides my hands and fingers to the proper places on the weapon, then takes the bow in his left hand. “Relax your muscles, Kate.”

  Arland shows me how to notch the arrow. “Keep your bow facing the ground until you are ready to aim and shoot. Aim slightly above your target to make up for the drop the arrow will have over the distance. When you release, do not think about it; just let it fly.” He takes a step back.

  “Like this?” I look at the target and aim slightly above the bull’s-eye, lift the bow, pull back, then let the arrow go, as he said.

  It falls to the ground, about ten feet in front of the target.

  “Oops.” I laugh.

  Arland steps up with his own bow and demonstrates how it should be done. He hits the target dead in the center.

  “Show-off!” I exclaim.

  Arland gives me an encouraging smile. “Try again.”

  On my second try, the arrow skids across the floor about fifteen feet in front of the target. Twelve more times I attempt, each time missing terribly. The arrow hurts my fingers. The bow feels awkward in my hand. Thankfully, this is a private lesson; otherwise, I would have been humiliated in front of the others.