The Light Unleashed Page 3

  Noam chuckles.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He wears a grin of exaggerated innocence. “Me? Never, Your Majesty.”

  The sporadic flakes are joined now by many more. In moments, we are engulfed by them. The air is quiet, the snow absorbing even the sound of our breathing.

  “We should go inside,” Noam pulls the hood of his cloak over his head.

  I know he’s right. I’m cold and wet, my hands are chapped, but I want to revel in the storm’s beauty a little longer, until the blood stain is covered again in a layer of pristine white. Noam waits to leave until I’m ready. Together we walk the hedge maze back to the castle.

  I lay a hand on his shoulder to stop him from opening the door. “Will you teach me?”

  “Teach you what?”

  “About your god. I mean, I know he’s real. He’s spoken to me. But I want to know him like you do.”

  “I will try.”

  We enter the castle together. He nods to take his leave at the stairwell. If I were back in Connecticut, I would give him a hug. But this is Ayden. The walls around me have eyes and tongues that like to gossip. It’s bad enough we may have been seen in the hedge maze. I can only hope no one would believe it was a romantic tryst while we were bundled in cloaks and several inches of snow on the ground. Noam is the only friend I have in Ayden. The only person I trust. If they force me to give up his friendship, I think I may go crazy. “Find me this afternoon. I’m not sure what the Assembly will want from me today, but I’ll make time for you.”

  He grins. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  With a heavy sigh, I turn and make my way up the stairs to see if there is any news of Kyran’s arrival.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hope Found . . . and Lost Again

  I’m told the blizzard will keep Kyran from arriving for at least two more days, which means I need to fill the hours with something to keep my mind off my impending wedding. I opt to resume my studies with Simon. He’s thrilled to help me expand my limited Latin vocabulary.

  I stretch my arms and legs out in front of me, trying to loosen the knots that have formed after hours of leaning over a table, trying to read. “Do you know why you write in Latin?”

  Simon sits back in his chair. “What?”

  “This language that you use.” I stifle a yawn brought on from my lack of sleep. “Who decided it was the one you’d write in?”

  My mother stands up from the window seat where she’d been sitting, acting as our chaperone. As if anyone would suspect my portly secretary of making a pass at me. She pauses for a moment to finger the pages of the book I’d been trying to translate. “I did a little detective work when we first travelled through the passages. I figure one of the first kings of Ayden may have come in contact with Romans, probably missionaries to the Celts in Ireland.”

  “What makes you think they were missionaries?”

  Kennis shrugs. “They were well read, trained to teach others. And they readily agreed to come, not for personal gain, but to become part of our culture. I think they hoped to spread their faith to Ayden.”

  I stare at the ornate lettering on the page in front of me. Illumination. I remember the term from my Western Civ class in freshmen year. The letter T at the start of the page is entwined with flowers and surrounded by a gold box.

  My thoughts are interrupted by Noam’s arrival. After a morning of study, I’m ready for a walk. I ask my mother to join us but let Simon leave. I know it will appease my father’s temper later if I let Simon search the archives for an obscure law to break the betrothal contract. “Where should we go?”

  “I have the perfect place to start our lessons.” Noam smiles and I have to catch my breath. He looks so much like Josh.

  “Then lead on.”

  We walk down a long stone corridor and up a curved set of stairs. Kennis follows from a discreet distance. At the top of the stairs is a small annex. I survey it quickly. It’s another hint that missionaries had, at one point, been a part of Ayden’s history. A large stained glass window glimmers at the far end of the room. The picture is of a beautiful tree on the banks of a deep blue river.

  “A church?” I ask.

  Noam frowns. “A what?”

  “Uh . . . a place to worship?”

  “Yes.” He makes a sweeping motion to gesture me inside. Several rows of wooden pews are arranged on either side of a center aisle. They face the mosaic and a stone slab I assume must be some kind of altar.

  My mother sits at the back of the room to give us some privacy. Noam indicates I should sit down on the bench nearest the altar. He pauses for a moment. “The Almighty. . . Ruahk . . . is light and goodness. He desires that for us as well.” I wait for him to go on. Instead, he chews his lower lip.

  “Goodness and light. Got it.”

  He clasps his hands in front of him and starts pacing back and forth. “He cannot tolerate evil. Even the smallest lie is against his nature and therefore cannot be allowed.”

  “Sounds a bit harsh.”

  “No, not harsh.” Noam stops pacing but now his hands gesture wildly. “Natural. Think of it like this—a fish, even if it desires to live out of the water, cannot. It will die if it tries.”

  “But Ruahk is a god. Why can’t he give the fish lungs so it can breathe air?”

  Noam scrunches his face in concentration, but then waves his hand as if brushing the thoughts away. “Ruahk could indeed change a fish, if he desired, but the fish can’t change itself, can it? It must be true to its nature.”

  I nod.

  “And Ruahk, being God, cannot change his own nature, and there is no one, no thing, greater than him, so there is no one who can change his nature. He is what he is, and that is good. Do you understand?”

  I concentrate on his explanation for a moment. “Surprisingly, yes. I think I get it.”

  The pacing begins again. “Now, since Ruahk is good and cannot tolerate evil, he must cast it away from him. But, being good, he is also quick to forgive us when we are truly sorry for what we have done and wish to be in relationship with him again.”

  “Okay.”

  “Therefore, one of the things he requires of us is that we also forgive those who may have, or we feel have, betrayed us.” Noam stands in front of me. “Forgiving someone is one of the surest ways to please Ruahk and deepen your relationship with him.”

  My mouth goes dry. My heart pounds within my chest. With sudden clarity, I know what he wants me to do, but I’m not sure I’m ready. His eyes focus on something behind me. I hear footsteps, then Kennis’ soft gasp.

  I don’t turn around, knowing instinctively that Quinn has joined us in the chapel. I rest my elbows against my knees then drop my head in my hands.

  Your Majesty? It’s Quinn. In my mind. Hoping I can forgive him for killing Josh.

  But he didn’t, really. Braedon did. I just needed someone more immediate to blame. Someone I could hold responsible besides myself.

  My Queen?

  I thought I couldn’t cry anymore today, but my eyes well up again.

  Quinn helped me from the beginning of my passage to Ayden. Sure he’d brought me to Braedon, but I realized that was so he could eventually guide me back to get Kennis and Geran. I’ve seen Quinn on his knees, praying for me. He’s given up his family and his life so that he would be in place when the time came to help me.

  Your Majesty. Please, forgive me.

  No.

  From behind me, I hear his moan.

  I stand to face him. “I meant you’ve done nothing that needs forgiving. I’m sorry I blamed you. I’m sorry for everything I said.” My voice wavers. “You’ve only ever been my friend.”

  “No, I am sorry. I knew the plan was too dangerous. But I thought this once, we might outwit the Mystics.”

  “We had them for a while.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Just not long enough.”

  No. Not long enough.

  Can you forgive me?

  He bows fro
m his waist. “Of course. I will ever be your servant, Your Majesty.”

  “Alystrine. My friends call me Alystrine.”

  He smiles as he straightens up.

  Kennis sighs behind him. Her whole body shuddering in relief.

  “After all,” I approach him, “you’re kind of going to be my stepfather.”

  His face goes blank but Kennis laughs. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She grabs his arm. “She means when we marry.”

  Truly? His voice sounds frightened and unsure, even in my mind.

  Only if you promise to make my mother as happy as she is right now.

  I promise.

  Kennis tugs on him. “Stop talking in your heads. What are you saying?”

  “Sorry, Mom.” Kiss her.

  Is that a command?

  Of course.

  Quinn faces Kennis. His hand brushes down her cheek as they stare into each other’s eyes. I turn away as he lowers his head to hers.

  Noam watches me with a stupid grin plastered on his face. “Can you feel his pleasure?”

  “Quinn’s? Ewwww.”

  “No, Ruahk’s. Can you not feel the warmth in your chest, the sureness in your heart, that you have done something good and kind?”

  I do feel it, like I’ve somehow become lighter, freer. I glance over my shoulder. Quinn and Kennis share another short kiss before separating.

  Kennis fairly glows. “You two talk amongst yourselves. We’ll be back here to give you some privacy.”

  I chuckle. “I think we should be chaperoning you, but whatever.” I plop down on one of the benches. “So. What’s next?”

  This time Noam sits down. “I had not thought past that. I wasn’t convinced you would be ready to forgive Quinn, but you could grow no closer to Ruahk with that between you.”

  “It’s that important, huh?”

  His eyes look toward the window, but his gaze is unfocused. “Yes. To hold onto anger allows bitterness to take root inside. It hardens us so that we are unteachable.”

  I stare at the colored tiles. “I wonder if that’s what happened to Braedon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He said something to me once, that in order to have power, you have to be willing to give up everything you love.” I turn toward Noam. “Don’t you think it’s kind of sad to think like that? That he feels you have to choose?”

  “Sympathy for him? After all he’s done to you?”

  “Not sympathy. Just trying to understand him is all. What makes a person that cold and . . . .”

  “Evil?”

  I nod.

  “Remember, the gods of the Mystics are not made of light, but its opposite. They crave Ruahk’s power and authority. They use their nature—cruelty and malevolence—to manipulate their followers to gain power here.”

  We don’t speak for a while. But it is the comfortable silence of two friends lost in their own thoughts.

  Noam finally breaks the quiet. “Are you nervous about Kyran’s arrival?”

  The change in topic surprises me. I take a moment to switch gears and give him an honest answer. “A little. But, like I told my grandmother, I don’t think he’s going to agree to the marriage anyway. He doesn’t like the Elders or the Mystics. Why would he want to rule them?”

  Noam’s face hardens. “The promise of power is a funny thing. A man would endure much if he knew it would allow him to rule. Especially over those who’d hurt him in the past.”

  I trace the wood grain in the bench. “That’s what Maris said, too.”

  Noam whispers, “What is Kyran like?”

  I try to sort out my various images of Kyran and fit them into one complete puzzle. It doesn’t work. Something is missing. “He’s brave. He’s saved my life like, four times. He’s moody. Angry about his past.” I dig at a knothole. “He must have a sense of humor or be a nice guy because all the men in the tavern seemed to like him.” My finger stops scratching the wood. “All the women, too.”

  “Did you favor any of the other men your father brought before you?”

  I think back through the parade of boys and men my father thought would make good suitors, then shake my head.

  Noam glances toward Kennis and Quinn before leaning towards me. “What of the young man who came with you to the Elder Land? The Commoner?”

  “Tegan,” I whisper. Between the coronation and Josh’s death, I tried not to think about him, but now my skin grows warm at the memories of our embraces, his kisses.

  Again Noam checks to see that our chaperones aren’t listening to our conversation. “If Kyran refuses to honor the contract, do you think you would wed this Tegan?”

  “I don’t think I could. His family has nothing.”

  Noam’s smile turns devious. “Have you not thought of rewarding him for his service to you? Perhaps with a title and land?”

  I lean closer to him. “Can I do that?”

  “Of course, you’re the queen.”

  “But the Assembly? Geran?”

  Noam shrugs. “It would be a fight to be sure, but if you make this Tegan a Lord, they cannot refuse outright.”

  My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of even seeing Tegan again. How it felt to be near him. To kiss him. With those memories come others. I walk down the aisle and out of the chapel as my thoughts jumble around in my head. Some of the visions are pleasant but others aren’t. I think of Black Guards and Mahon’s attack in the Fey. Of Lord Braedon’s kisses when he’d made me sign the betrothal contract. Brutal encounters meant to intimidate and control me. I pause at the top of the stairwell.

  Noam has followed me out. “Are you well?”

  Kennis and Quinn still watch us from the chapel. “Just thinking. About everything.” I remember Kyran’s kiss when we were being chased by a gang of thugs. He’d only done it so I’d hit him. Even still, it had made my toes tingle. But that didn’t compare with Tegan. With him, I’d felt like we would melt together when we touched. After my betrothal, he’d tried not to be near me, never mind kiss me, because he thought it would be some kind of sin. But we couldn’t stay away from each other for long.

  Noam leans against the wall. “I can see you still care for him.”

  “Yes, but I don’t even know how to find him.”

  He laughs.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You have the power to find him yourself.” He chuckles again at what must be a confused expression on my face. “You can Spirit Travel great distances. If you are truly connected by love to this boy, you should be able to find him anywhere within the realm.”

  “But what about the protections on the palace?”

  Noam shakes his head. “There are none in place here for Spirit Traveling since the Mystics left Uz. The only protections still in place are those barring a Portal from entering the castle without permission.”

  “Can’t the Mystics Spirit Travel?”

  “No.”

  I can hardly catch my breath. “Really?”

  He nods. “I would wait until you’re alone. It may take some time to locate him, and you don’t want anyone to think you’ve fallen ill.”

  “Good idea.” I start to embrace him but my mother coughs in warning. I swear under my breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Noam smiles, but it is a sad one. “She seeks only to protect you.”

  “I know, but it’s frustrating. We’re just friends. I wish you could tell them—”

  “My lady, I beg of you.” His face is pale with fear. “Please don’t say anything.”

  “I never will.” I place my hand as near to his on the wall as I can without actually touching him. I will never tell anyone that he is gay. It could lead to his death. “I promise.”

  His breath comes out slowly.

  “Besides, if things don’t work out with Kyran and I can’t find Tegan, I may yet take you up on your proposal.” I meant to lighten his spirits, but am frightened by the spark in his eyes.

  “Then, although I will
pray for your happiness above all else, I will hope for that outcome.” His voice is soft but strong. “A marriage based on mutual respect and friendship would bless us both.”

  “It would.” But I know, if I were in a marriage without the passion I’d felt with Tegan, I would never be happy. Something would always be missing.

  My mother coughs again. I scoot around Noam and back toward the chapel. She and Quinn both stare at me, trying to guess my thoughts. Quinn could read them if he wanted, but he always gives me a warning first.

  You seem to like him.

  He’s a friend, nothing more.

  Quinn’s stare grows more intent. I think of Tegan so he doesn’t learn why Noam and I will never be lovers. It must work because Quinn’s eyes soften.

  You can never marry the boy, Tegan. Geran and the Assembly would never allow it.

  Mom rises with a frustrated sigh. “Enough of that.”

  Quinn reaches for her hand. “I’m sorry. I will try and break the habit.”

  She pulls away from him. “See that you do. Come Alystrine, we must prepare for dinner.”

  Quinn reaches for her again and this time manages to grab her fingertips. “Do not be angry.”

  She doesn’t answer him, preferring to stare at the floor instead.

  I leave Noam’s side to go to her. “What’s the matter?”

  When she lifts her head, her eyes are glistening with tears. “Sometimes . . .” She takes a moment to swallow. “Sometimes it’s hard to see you acting like one of them.”

  “One of who?”

  “An Elder.” She sniffs as she straightens her shoulders. “You never showed any signs back home. You were—”

  “Normal?”

  I’m glad to see her crack a smile, even if it’s a sad one. “Like me.”

  “I am like you, Mom. It’s just some weird stuff is happening to me.”

  “It’s good to hear you call me that again. I was afraid you’d forgotten everything.”

  I’m surprised to see her so emotional. “I’ll never forget our life before,” my hand waves at the air, “all this.”

  She sniffs again. “So much has happened. You’ve had to grow up so fast. Sometimes I wonder where I fit in.”