The Light Unleashed Page 7

  “Yes, Mother. Kyran signed the betrothal contract.” I gesture to her. “Kyran, this is Kennis, my adopted mother. Mom, meet . . .” I can’t bring myself to say fiancé yet. “Kyran.”

  “My lady.” He bows. “It is an honor to meet you.”

  “Please, call me Kennis.” She gestures to the table. “Would you like something to eat or drink?” She inclines her head toward me. “I hope you don’t mind, I sent the servants out. I assumed you’d feel more comfortable on our own.”

  “You were right.” I grab a piece of bread before turning back to Kyran. “Help yourself.”

  Maris and Nitza stare at me with narrowed eyes.

  I give myself a quick “once over” to make sure I haven’t dropped crumbs on my dress. “What?”

  “I’m still not used to such informality,” my grandmother explains. “Both Etain and your father always liked to have things done properly.”

  I shrug before picking up a piece of cheese. “Even when they were just with family?”

  Maris seems surprised at my comment. I step back from the table and see Kyran staring at me with a peculiar look on his face. “It’s not like we’re total strangers. We’ve been through a lot together.” I stop for a moment, still watching Kyran’s confused expression. My stomach drops. “Would you rather have servants here? My mom knows they make me uncomfortable. She didn’t mean it as a slight to you or anything.”

  The roguish sparkle reappears behind his eyes. “I am glad you feel no need for formality. I was afraid I would embarrass myself with my lack of manners.” He glides up next to me. I’m surprised at his gracefulness. He moves like a ninja, quiet and fluid. He pours a mug of watered wine. “It’s been some years since I have been in a court of any kind.” He lifts the cup to me. “Would you like some?”

  “Thanks.” Our fingers touch as I take the wine. Mine are always so cold as I haven’t gotten used to the lack of central heating. His are warm. A strange feeling of awkwardness flutters through me as I remember that only minutes before, I promised to marry this man. I hurry to take a seat, putting my cup down before anyone notices my hand shaking.

  I’m dimly aware of Kennis and Kyran talking about the blizzard and how difficult it made his journey to the castle. My thoughts keep spinning around in my head. I know we’ve been discussing Kyran’s arrival and the betrothal for the past few weeks, but now it all seems to have happened so fast.

  Regretting your decision already?

  I lift my eyes. Kyran’s still talking to Kennis, but he’s looking at me. I shake my head. Not regretting. Just trying to process it all.

  He laughs at something my mother says before Maris engages him in conversation. My attention wanders to stare at a dust bunny in the corner of the room. It’s something normal and mundane in this sea of nobility, responsibility, and war I’m trying to navigate. I nibble my cheese and try not to think about the paper I’ve just signed.

  My mother comes to sit on the chair next to mine. She watches Kyran and Maris for a moment before leaning close to me. “He seems a personable man. How well have you gotten to know him?”

  “Not very,” I whisper. “People were always trying to kill or rape me when we were together.”

  She pales.

  Despite Kyran’s words earlier to the contrary, my brain won’t believe that he thinks of me as anything else than another notch in his bed post. My forehead is nearly touching my mother’s. “I’m sure he thinks I’m a helpless female. The last time we met I was bleeding and in shock. The time before that, I was hysterical from watching the Black Guards blow up people’s heads.”

  Kennis leans forward. “Calm down.”

  “I am calm.” But our conversation has grown loud enough to capture the others’ attention. Everyone’s eyes are on me. My chest tightens and I jump up. “Please excuse me. I . . . I . . . .” I have no idea what excuse to make. I only know that I have to get out of this room. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Geran, Devnet and Quinn are walking up the hallway. I do a quick 180 and turn the other way, ignoring my father’s calls to me.

  Are you unwell? Quinn’s voice invades my mind. Has Kyran said something to upset you?

  Can’t I have a moment to myself? Even in my head?

  I do my best to block any other thoughts from entering my mind as I pick up my pace, afraid someone will try and follow me. I take a sudden turn and climb the small staircase to my right.

  Claustrophobic. That’s what I’m feeling. Like the walls of this ancient castle are closing in on me. Not even my brain is safe from other people, they keep popping in and out of my thoughts without permission.

  I wander around the second floor of the castle until I come to the chapel. At first, I’m angry to see someone already inside, kneeling in prayer, but then I realize it’s Noam. The closest thing I have to a friend. I sit down a few pews behind him. Instead of interrupting, I take a moment to be quiet. A candle burns on the wall behind the stone altar. Staring into it, I lift my own prayers.

  Things are happening so fast, I feel lost.

  The flame flickers with a rogue current of air.

  Am I doing okay?

  The candlelight elongates, then stills.

  Are you listening?

  My eyes grow dry as I continue to stare.

  Are you here?

  I blink and see that Noam has turned to face me.

  “Is everything well, Your Majesty?”

  I shrug. “It’s fine.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Did everything go as you hoped? With Kyran?”

  “I had no hopes.” I slouch back against the pew. “But we’re engaged.” I sense his disappointment. “Sorry.”

  “It was only a wishful thought.” He folds his arms over the back of the pew and rests his chin on his hands. “You do not seem happy with the prospect.”

  “Does it matter? Everyone else seems to think Kyran’s the one who can unite the kingdom.” I shiver. “And at least he’s younger than Lord Cedric. And more handsome.”

  Noam laughs softly. “I will have to make my own comparison at the dinner tonight.”

  I find myself staring once more at the candle. “And now that my marriage is settled, we go to war.”

  Noam doesn’t speak.

  The flame sputters, then stills again.

  “I’m scared.”

  “As are we all.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Ruahk will guide you,” Noam instructs, “if you ask him.”

  For some reason, I’m drawn toward light. I leave Noam sitting in the pew and walk to the front of the chapel. I’m not ready for all this. I’m not.

  My hands touch the altar. It’s cold marble. Hard.

  You aren’t this cold, are you? My mind is filled with the memory of Ginessa’s Glade. The air was humid. The breeze carried the scent of a thousand different wild flowers. Their colors so bright, it was like looking into the sun. I wish I could go back. I can’t remember being warm. Safe.

  My fingers slide across the slick stone surface. I realize something as I concentrate on the candle. Something I hadn’t even been conscious of before now. I can’t remember not being afraid. Afraid of the Black Guards. Afraid of Braedon. Of losing Josh. Of marrying Kyran. Afraid of this war.

  I take hold of the corners of the altar and rock back and forth. I hate this feeling. I hate being scared all the time. I continue to push against the stone. It’s like I’m trying to fight against my future, against the plans Ruahk, and everyone else, has for me. It’s not fair. How little choice I have in all this. My arms ache, I’m holding on to the altar so hard. How do I find the courage to do everything I’m supposed to?

  Before my anger builds any further, my hands release the stone, giving me a sense of freedom. As I do, my mind replays the action. Me, clutching the cold stone. Me, pushing myself away. Clinging to it. Letting go.

  Let go of my fear? Is that what you’re telling me?

  No one answers me.

 
I’ll try to let it go.

  The voice in my head isn’t from Ruahk but Yoda, from Star Wars, “There is no try. Only do, or do not.” I can’t help but giggle.

  “What is it?” Noam asks.

  “Kind of hard to explain.” I chuckle a moment more, then focus again on the flame. Even if I let go of my fear today, I know there will be something new to be afraid of tomorrow.

  I think again of pushing away from the altar. The lightness in my arms as I released the stone and my hands were free to lift up into the air. If I’m afraid tomorrow, I need to let it go again tomorrow, right? Every day, I choose whether I’m going to hold on to it or give it up. If I’m going to do it on my own, or trust that you have this all figured out.

  Tension, fear and anger flow out of me like water down a drain and for the moment, I feel like my body is weightless.

  Like I am free.

  “There you are.”

  Kennis’ voice, and the annoyance I hear in it, threatens to pull me down from the high I’m experiencing. I turn back to the flame and try to hold on to it.

  “It’s time to prepare for dinner. Tamra is waiting.”

  With a sigh, I back away from the altar and walk toward my mother, knowing that once this night is over, the preparations for war will begin in earnest.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A Stolen Meal

  The Joint Assembly gathers in the morning to begin making plans for war. As I have no idea about military strategy, I’ll meet with Geran, Maris, and my advisors later in the afternoon to discuss the options they’ve come up with. I’m sure my signature will be necessary on a stack of parchment before the day is over. I spend the morning with my mother, planning her wedding to Quinn. We’ve settled on the date (five weeks away) the place (here, in the castle throne room) and the material for the dress. Quite the productive morning, if I do say so myself.

  Kennis looks my way as the seamstress takes another measurement for her gown. “Are you hungry? I could send Reesa to fetch us something to eat.”

  I shake my head. “I think I’ll head up to my room before Geran calls me to the Council.”

  “You should eat something before dinner. You’re getting too thin.”

  “I’ll get Tamra to bring me something if I get hungry. Promise.” I leave the room quickly, before someone offers to come with me. My moments alone are brief, usually when I am walking between meetings.

  I’ve chosen a back hallway to take, knowing that even the servants prefer the well-lighted corridors. This one is lit by random openings in the castle walls. Ordinarily, only a muted winter sun seeps in through the slats, but today I’m in luck. Several bright sunbeams illuminate my path. I stare at the golden ray in front of me, afraid that by crossing it, it will disappear. It seems like forever since I’ve seen the sun. I put my hand into the glow, hoping it might be warm. Instead, I’m treated to a blast of frigid air.

  Someone laughs as I jump back. Kyran has snuck behind me in the corridor.

  “A little colder than you expected?” He’s still grinning.

  I rub my arms to fight off the chill. “What are you doing here? I thought you and the Assembly were meeting all morning?”

  “Aye.” He leans against the wall, keeping his hands behind his back. “But there’s only so long some of them can go without bursting at the seams, if you take my meaning.”

  “What are you trying to hide?”

  His face is a mask of innocence. “Hide?”

  “Behind you.” I lift my chin in his direction. “What do you have?”

  He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again before sheepishly pulling out a loaf of bread and a small wheel of cheese. “I had a long journey here. I’m still trying to get my strength back.”

  “Ha!” I shake my head. “Did you at least ask Cook for those, or did you steal them from the kitchen?”

  “I am an outlaw, Your Majesty.” I can’t help but smile at his grin. “Old habits are not easily broken.” He holds the bread out toward me. “Would you care to join me in a repast?”

  I’d wanted some time alone, but Kyran’s face looks so hopeful. “Sure. Where should we go?”

  He shrugs. “I have not been here before. Where is the best place to eat a stolen meal?”

  My gaze falls on the sitting area down the hall from where we stand. Stone benches circle an unlit fire pit. A tapestry hangs in the archway that leads out to the courtyard. The heavy woolen curtain does little to fend off the chill. “If it were warmer, we could sit there. Hardly anyone comes through this way.”

  “Aye? Then allow me to provide some warmth.” He thrusts the bread and cheese into my hands before jogging down the corridor. He pulls flint stones from a pouch at his waist as he kneels next to the fire pit. In a moment, sparks jump and the tinder lying around the base of the wood catches light. Kyran pushes a few small twigs toward the embers, soon coaxing out a healthy fire.

  I sit on the stone ring surrounding the pit. “You’re a very handy man to have around.”

  Kyran looks up from his position on the floor. I can’t read his expression. It’s like he’s trying to hide something from me. “I am glad you think so, Your Majesty.”

  I groan as I set the bread and cheese down on the stone next to him. “Can you please just call me Ally, or even Alystrine? I’m beginning to forget what my name is.”

  He tilts his head in a slight nod. “As you wish, Al–leh–streeeen.” He pronounces each syllable slowly, with great emphasis.

  I want to smack him, but settle on narrowing my eyes and glaring at him.

  He holds his hands up as if surrendering. “Perhaps we should eat, hmm?” He rips the loaf of bread in half and then half again, passing a quarter to me.

  I immediately pick off a piece and pop it in my mouth. Kyran pauses first to say a quiet prayer. When he finishes I comment, “I didn’t think you believed in Ruahk.”

  “Oh, I always believed in him.” He tears off a mouthful of bread but doesn’t eat it yet. “I did not believe he cared for me, though. So I returned the favor.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  His eyes hold mine for a moment. Only a second, but time seems to stop. Then the roguish twinkle returns. “Perhaps I grew up.” He chews and swallows his piece of bread. “The young man you spoke with last night at the dinner, was that the friend you said you must save?”

  My mind tries but fails to make the mental leap to follow his train of thought. “What?”

  “Before. When you came to me for help in the Fey after the Black Guards had attacked you.” He watches me closely, I think to see if I’ll fall apart at the memory. I give him a nod to indicate I’m fine. “You said then that you needed to get to the castle to save a friend.”

  Now I’m able to catch up with him. “No. The man you probably saw me talking with last night was Noam. He’s an Elder. The son of one of the Council members.” Noam had made his way to my side after dinner to whisper his assessment that Kyran was indeed more handsome than Lord Cedric. He’d also warned me not to Spirit Travel to find Tegan while so many Elders were present. Someone might sense it and tell Geran. “Noam’s a friend, but not the one I was trying to save.”

  Kyran grabs the cheese and slices off a piece with the knife he pulls from his belt. He holds the wedge out to me. It balances on the blade of his knife. “What happened to that friend?”

  My hand trembles when I reach for the cheese. I’m unable to block out the picture my mind jumps to whenever I think of Josh, that of Braedon yanking out my friend’s heart and throwing it on the ground. I take Kyran’s offering of cheese but don’t answer him. Instead, I stare into the flames so I can regain my composure.

  Kyran remains quiet for a while before interrupting my thoughts. “I take it you did not arrive in time?”

  “I did. At first.” A log pops and falls, a flame jumps high for a moment before settling back down in the pit. “I tried to help him escape before my coronation. But Braedon caught him. Slaughtered him. Left his mu
tilated body for me to find.”

  Kyran whispers, “Bastard.”

  “Yes.”

  Kyran looks away as I turn back to face him. He slices more cheese. “Was he a Commoner, your friend? Or another Elder?”

  “Neither.” I explain to Kyran the whole Tegan-Josh mix up without delving into my feelings for either boy. I’m still trying to sort out my emotions when it comes to them, how can I explain them fully to Kyran?

  “What happened to the other one? Tegan, is it?”

  I concentrate on putting a piece of cheese on my last morsel of bread so I won’t have to look at Kyran. I’m not sure how he would take the news that I’ve been searching for a way to free Tegan from Braedon’s fortress. “I don’t know where he is.”

  I glance at Kyran from the corner of my eye and find him watching me intently. I block out anymore thoughts about Tegan, instead filling my mind with how much I love the cheese I’m eating.

  Kyran lets out a snort, but doesn’t say anything while he tears the remaining bread into two pieces. We eat in silence for another minute before he asks, “Do you miss it? The world you come from?”

  My instinct is to answer “yes” right away, but I stop to swallow first and give myself a moment to think. “Parts of it. Like central heat.” I sit cross-legged on the stone hearth, my legs hidden under my heavy brocade skirt. “I miss jeans and t-shirts, my iPod, the ocean, pizza, and fried calamari.”

  Kyran rests his elbows on his knees. “And what is all that? Jeans and pizza? The ocean?”

  “Jeans are the most awesome piece of clothing ever invented. They’re pants but like magic. Somehow, the material they use molds to your body as you wear them so they fit you perfectly. Over time, the denim gets so soft it’s like . . . I don’t know . . . like a glove for your legs.” Kyran’s eyes have a familiar sparkle as he listens to me talk. “And pizza? Pizza is the perfect food.” I hold out my last piece of bread. “The bottom is made from dough, but better than bread dough. Then they put a layer of this fantastic sauce.” I haven’t had a tomato since I’ve come to Ayden, so I don’t think they exist here. “It’s spicy and warm. And then there’s this layer of melted mozzarella cheese.” My mouth waters at the thought. “And garlic. Lots of garlic.”