Wilde's Fire Page 9

  There are six other stalls occupied by a mare and her foal, two fillies, and two stallions. Most of them ignore me, so I walk back to the Big Guy.

  He sighs, long and heavy, when I return.

  “You sure are friendly.” I want to get closer. Between his stall and the mare and foal’s, I find a brush hanging on the wall. I grab the brush and some oats, open his gate, and walk right up to him.

  His coat is well groomed, but I run the brush from his head to his haunches anyway.

  “I just got a new horse at home,” I say to him. The day before our trip, Gary and I had finished cleaning the horses’ stalls, then he took me into the arena behind the barn and showed her to me. A beautiful brown and white Paint—just like this Big Guy—trotted over our rolling, green pastures toward us. Her eyes were wide, and her tail was curled up over her back. She was such a happy girl. “She was supposed to be my summer project. I never even gave her a name, Big Guy. Can you believe that? My poor girl doesn’t have a name.”

  I talk to him about my life on the farm for about an hour or so. He sighs every now and then. He’s so sweet. He nudges me with his head, and he sighs again. Leaning into Big Guy, I wrap my arm over his back, listening to him as he breathes.

  During the summers on the farm, my stepdad took me out to work full days with him. As with most kids, I’d become bored, and after a few hours of following alongside him in the fields—or wherever it was I was supposed to be working—I would sneak away into the barn and find the horses. I don’t think Gary cared when I wandered off. At the end of the day, my stepdad would come to get me, worn and weary, but always repeating his favorite line, “All you need is five minutes, and you can make any horse love you.”

  On the farm is where Gary and I are the closest. I wonder if I’ll ever return. If I see my mom again, I’ll have so many things to talk to her about. First, why she never trusted me with my truth, and second—well, there are a lot of second questions. I’m upset with her. My mom and I have been able to talk to one another about most things, but now I think all she did was keep a lot of information from me.

  “I miss my family. Do you think I’ll ever see them again?” I ask, feeding the horse more oats. He neighs, pricks his ears forward, and shakes his head at me. “Well, I hope I do soon, Big Guy. I need someone I know to talk to.”

  Someone clears their throat.

  I’m no longer alone.

  Butterflies float in my stomach as I turn around. Arland and Flanna stare at me, disbelief on their faces.

  “I see you have met Bowen,” Arland says, not looking as angry as I thought he might.

  “Is that your name, Big Guy? Bowen?” I ask, rubbing his soft nose.

  Flanna snickers and puts her hands on her hips. “Arland, why is Bowen allowing Kate to touch him? He will not allow any of us to get near his stall.”

  “Flanna, why is Kate up here without anyone protecting her?” he asks, without looking away from me.

  “Please don’t be upset with Flanna. She told me about the stables being off-limits, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to come up here.” I hope she doesn’t get in trouble for telling me about this place.

  Arland’s expression lightens, but I can tell he’s still unhappy with her. “Flanna, you may return downstairs, now that Kate has been found.”

  “Yes, sir.” Flanna hangs her head and kicks up dirt as she walks away.

  Arland joins me on the other side of Bowen, receiving the same affection from the horse as I did. Arland rewards Bowen by feeding him some oats from his hand.

  The hinges of the door creak.

  “Kate, I will do everything in my power to make sure you see your family again,” he says, making my face heat up.

  I didn’t realize he and Flanna stood behind me long enough to hear my conversation with Bowen. “I want to get Brad home to his family, too. Brad’s family deserves to see him, healthy or sick, again.”

  “Does that mean you are willing to help us?” Arland asks, coming around Bowen to stand in front of me.

  “I don’t know what it is you think I can do.” I shake my head. “But I’ll stay as long as I know it will help Brad. We have to get him home; he won’t live if he doesn’t get better care.”

  Arland nods, then takes my hand in his and kneels on the ground before me. “Kate, as your Coimeádaí, I promise to protect and serve you until I draw my last breath, or you release me. Do you willingly accept?”

  His actions are totally unexpected. He’d mentioned he was my Coimeádaí before, but I didn’t realize it came with a formal proposal and acceptance. I’ve never been good at reacting when someone puts me on the spot; I’m standing here with my mouth gaping, not sure how to respond.

  “A simple yes or no will be fine. It is not like he asked to be bound to you,” Flanna chides, peeking her head above the stall door, grinning ear-to-ear.

  “Bound?”

  She exhales sharply. “Just answer him.”

  So the moment is not further lost, and he does not have to repeat this again in the future, I nod. “Yes. I accept.”

  Arland stands and kisses my hand, leaving me a little weak in the knees. They’re expecting me to be their hero, and now he’s sworn his life to protect mine. I don’t even know how to process any of this. Brad is dying. My family is a world away. People here need me to save them. My life is not my own. The only thing I’m pleased with is Arland’s hand wrapped around mine.

  “I thought I ordered you back downstairs.” Arland shoots a scowl speaking more than any words ever could at Flanna.

  “You did, but I forgot this, umm, bucket. Yes, I need the bucket to gather hot water from the spring for dinner,” Flanna says.

  I laugh at her halfhearted lie; even Arland cracks a smile. Flanna watches him as if she’s waiting for him to scold her, but he doesn’t move or speak.

  She runs from the stables, leaving the bucket behind.

  “You seem to have warmed Bowen’s heart. He is not usually so accepting of anyone other than me.” Arland pats his beautiful horse’s white shoulder.

  “I’ve always had the ability to calm even the most capricious of horses. Bowen isn’t that bad, though. He’s a little proud, but nothing a little extra attention won’t cure.” I yawn.

  “You are tired. We should go back inside,” Arland says, offering me his arm. “Shall we?”

  I hook my arm around his, then lean toward Bowen. “I’ll see you later, Big Guy.”

  Arland leads me through the stables. “Please do not come up here by yourself again. The magic is strong, but I would feel safer if someone were with you.”

  “I promise I won’t, but I would like to come up more often and visit all of the animals.”

  “We can work out a schedule for you,” he says, which is definitely more than what I was expecting.

  Chapter Ten

  Ignoring Lann and Flanna in the kitchen—and the eyes of the young crowd gathered in the dining area waiting for dinner—Arland and I head into the hall and stand outside my room.

  “Do you mind if I come in?” he asks.

  I’m standing in the doorway, but I step aside. “It is your room.”

  “It was my room. The bed and everything in here now belongs to you while we remain at base,” he says, pulling me inside by the hand and closing the door.

  I take a seat on the edge of the bed, holding on to one of the wooden posts. “How long is that going to be?”

  Arland sits next to me. “Considering how well you did in training today, it would be possible for us to leave any time. But I feel, if we can get to your mother, we might be able to obtain the medicines you mentioned that can help with healing your friend.”

  “Brad!”

  I haven’t checked on him since early this morning. I spring to my feet, burst through the door, and run through the hall, with Arland on my heels. I open Brad’s door, revealing Kegan reading a leather-bound book by candlelight. He’s sitting in the same chair Shay occupied earlier.

&nbs
p; “I am sorry, miss; there has not been any change in his condition,” Kegan says, not lifting his eyes from the pages of his book.

  I guess he knew I was coming in to check on Brad; it’s not like anyone else here would care. I’m not sure if many people even know he’s here. Walking to the bed, I touch his cold, still hand. A tear runs down my cheek and hangs from my chin.

  “Heal him. Please, God.” I whisper the prayer.

  “We cannot leave here while he is still in this bed. You would never be able to focus on the journey before us, and it could result in you and a lot of my soldiers getting hurt,” Arland says.

  I move my hand from Brad’s, gently place the back of my fingers on his face, then walk away.

  Arland closes the door behind us; the finality of the latch clicking startles me. I take a deep, shaky breath. “W-why do you think my mom can help him?”

  “Your mother was one of our greatest Healers. I believe with the knowledge she has gained from your world, combined with their medicines, Brad’s chance of survival will greatly improve,” Arland says, holding my door open for me. “I would like to make a trip to the clearing to see if we can reopen the portal.”

  My mom’s constant good health makes a lot more sense now. I wonder if she was really sick, or if she pretended, as a way to get me to go on the trip without her? I shake the thought. Of course, she wasn’t feeling well; I held her hair while she threw up. “When do we leave?”

  “We will begin at 4:00 a.m. the day after tomorrow. Most daemons sleep as we do. The hounds could pose a potential issue, but there has not been much activity since the night you arrived. I am not all that concerned about them.”

  “The hounds are worse than the others?” I don’t think I want to know. As long as they aren’t like hellhounds from the movies … .

  “Yes, they have smaller numbers, but are a bigger threat.”

  “How so?”

  “They are faster, larger, and smarter than the coscarthas. You will understand when you see one,” he says, still standing in the doorway.

  The fact that Arland is willing to risk both our lives to save Brad is touching. I’m sure if Arland’s father knew of this plan, he would not approve of taking Encardia’s only hope out of this world again. The thought of being Encardia’s only hope makes me laugh to myself.

  “We’ll share the room,” I say.

  “That will not be necessary. The soldiers’ quarters are more than adequate for my needs.”

  “Yes, it is necessary.”

  “Kate, I—”

  “I don’t want to be alone, and I can’t bear the thought of you, Flanna, and Lann all being forced out of your rooms.”

  Part of me offers to share the room with him as repayment for his willingness to help, but the biggest part of me does this for selfish reasons. Being here without my mom, sister, Brad, or even Gary to talk to, is driving me crazy. Plus, I’m still trying to sort out all these mixed-up emotions I have for Arland; his presence draws me in, makes me forget about all the bad going on around us. I consider him to be a friend, even though we’ve known each other for only a short time. How many people will pledge to protect you with their life after just meeting?

  “I will sleep … in the chair,” Arland says, coming in and closing the door.

  “No, I’m not forcing you to sleep in a chair. You can share the bed with me.” I lean the claymore I’ve been carrying in my holster all day against the wall. Brad and I shared a bed together many times, and so have Brit and I. Sleeping with Arland won’t be that much different.

  That’s not true, I feel differently toward him. But, now more than ever, I need someone to stay next to me.

  Removing the belt and boots, I look around for something else to wear.

  Arland grabs my folded cotton nightgown from the dresser and hands it to me. “Here.”

  ”Oh!” When did I become so unobservant? After Arland turns to face the wall, I slip out of my clothes and into the gown. “I’m finished.”

  He turns around; his eyes widen as they roam up and down my body. “You look beautiful.”

  The way he looks at me now—not like a zoo animal, the way he did earlier, but as a woman—makes me feel beautiful, too. “Thank you.”

  “I am going to sleep in the chair.” Arland pulls the seat away from the wall.

  “Ar—”

  “I will move the chair next to the bed. I know you do not want to be alone, but it would make me feel as though I were taking advantage of you, if I join you in that bed,” he says, his tone firm.

  It’s nice to know he wants to sleep next to me, but it’s frustrating that he won’t. There’s no point in arguing the matter. Arland is a gentleman. I’m sure he didn’t grow up sharing a bed with friends, and definitely not members of the opposite sex, like I did. I’m lucky he even agreed to come in the room with me in the first place.

  I lie down, pull the blanket up to my chin, and turn on my side to face him. In the dark room, with only a candle burning on the bedside table, we talk for hours. He asks questions about my life back home; where we live, what it is like, and what kind of work we do. I tell him I was in college, and he asks about school, what my stepdad is like, my friends, and about my mom. Our conversation becomes more serious when Arland brings up the subject of my past.

  “As I told you yesterday, when your family left, it was only the three of you. Your father never told us about your sister, but since you were only a few months old when he died, he might not have known about her.”

  “She and I were born one year apart, so no, he probably didn’t know about her.” It breaks my heart Dad didn’t know he had another daughter—and that we never knew him.

  Arland laughs. “So you are twins?”

  “Well, Irish twins, as we called it back home.”

  “Who does your sister resemble?”

  “We look exactly alike, but we’re complete opposites as far as our personalities. She’s more outgoing than I am.”

  “You both resemble your father, then. I remember him well. During those three months before he was killed, he visited my father often.”

  “I don’t know anything about him.” The lengths my dad went through to protect my life are unimaginable. To be told to run away from the only home he ever knew so his child could grow up to save the world—was he proud, or was he afraid?

  “From what my father has shared with me, your father was a good man. He loved your mother greatly, and she, him. He had a difficult time leaving the family behind during the early battles. But, the amount he learned about the daemons in that period is what gave us our chance to survive. He discovered fire kills them.”

  “You said I look like him, but how? Can you describe him to me?” I hope to build an image of my father, to replace the silhouette of him in my mind.

  “Like you, he had dark wavy hair, but not nearly as long. You share his same big green eyes and fair skin. Your father was tall, so you must get your height from your mother.”

  “She is short,” I say, laughing at the thought of my vertically challenged mom. All three of us have to stand on stools to reach the top shelf in the kitchen. Being five-foot-four can be a hassle at times, but one I’ve overcome.

  “Your beauty certainly comes from your mother, too.” Arland’s compliment is smooth, and he says it without a hint of amusement.

  A flash of heat rises in my cheeks; I’m glad the room is lit by only one candle.

  “You have more family here.”

  “I-I do?”

  “Your mother’s younger sister Cairine and I used to keep in contact, but I have not heard from her recently. She lives in The Meadows, where you and I are both from.”

  “What does The Meadows look like?” I hope an area exists that’s as perfect as my dream of the meadows.

  “There are endless fields, with tall grasses and hundreds of wildflowers. In town, we had small homes, built into the hillsides. Some of us chose to live completely underground, but many of us enjoyed life abov
e, with the light.”

  “Why would anyone want to live underground? It’s so gloomy.”

  “I cannot begin to understand why someone would choose to live that way without the threat we face now, but they did.”

  “What was life like for you? What did your parents do for work?”

  “Compared to some, my life was simple. I was in a private school to learn our history, how to use magic, and how to fight. My parents were always summoned away to meetings with your mother and father, as well as our highest leader. When I was not in school, I spent a lot of time listening to them and wishing to be like other children. That is how I met your aunt; she kept me company when no one else had time.”

  “Is that why you stayed in contact with her?”

  “We remained in contact for personal reasons—she was like a second mother to me—but she would also give me reports on daemon activity in the surrounding areas. Daemons have mostly left The Meadows alone since they wiped out almost everyone when the war began, but our remaining people there have grown weary and are ready to join in the fight to end this war.”

  “Why did they not fight before?”

  “Fear. The people who survived the initial attacks went into hiding. My father brought me and Flanna here because we had prophecies to fulfill.”

  “Do I have other family there?”

  He nods. “You have relatives from your father’s side, though I have never met any of them.”

  “And my mother’s?”

  “The rest of your mother’s family was killed in the early days.”

  The more I learn, the more I realize I truly don’t know anything about my life.

  Arland switches the subject and asks me lots of other little quirky questions, like if I enjoy singing or dancing, or other ordinary things. I tell him about our family’s annual trip to the mountains, and how I’ve felt most at peace in the forest—with nature. I tell him how—starting from the time I was about four years old—I could always be found in the barn, talking to the horses and interacting as if they were my friends.

  He falls silent.

  “Why were you so eager to be in charge?” I ask.