I swallow. “Oh, I’ll just go to my room now.”
Liber stands in the doorway, but after a few nerve-wracking
moments, he lets me pass.
Sweat runs down the back of my neck. Experiment. The
word sends a chill through me. I want to confront Morrick,
but I know I’m better off just keeping an eye on my food and
drinks. Morrick is our way home, and what if he denies it?
Did my mother know? I bet Alana was involved. She’s always
organising my baths. Oh God, she’s made the tea for us every
night I’ve been here.
I refuse dinner that night and go to my room, complaining
of a headache. I can’t meet anyone’s eyes without wanting to
confront them. My mother says good night and offers me a hot
cup of tea. I reject it. “I’ll be fine in the morning, Mum.”
She looks at me, worried. “Okay. I love you.”
Guilt wells up in my heart. “ I love you too,” I say from under
the covers. The door clicks closed and I’m alone.
Sleep comes and goes.
The room is pitch black when I get up. My stomach rumbles from hunger. I make my way to the main room. Torches are still lit in the hall and main room. No one is in sight. I find some bread and cheese and sit down in one of the armchairs beside the smoldering fire and begin nibbling on it. My stomach stops grumbling when I finish everything.
“You must be Sarajane.”
I jump up off the chair, startled, and am faced with a young
man. He has blond hair slicked back and a hard white face.
He’s handsome in an unusual way. He wears black clothes, but
his robe is snow white, trimmed in gold with a high collar. The
material looks like fur.
“Who are you?” My question makes his grey eyes squint.
“Prince Clive. Has my father, I mean our father, not
mentioned me?”
I sit down on the arm of the chair. I have a brother? I can
only shake my head. His eyes are the same as mine.
“Oh, I am very surprised.” He looks anything but surprised.
“You’re my brother?” I still can’t believe this. Why did Mum
not tell me?
He holds up one long finger and grins like the Cheshire
Cat. “Half-brother. You see, my mother is the queen and your
mother is a servant.” His face twists with disgust. “You are the
result of a foolish king.”
My heart breaks a little and then too much makes sense—the
protection we are getting, the luxury of the caves. “Morrick,”
I whisper.
Clive laughs cruelly “They never told you? Well, they are
very good at hiding things.”
I feel lightheaded and stupid. How could I not have seen this?
“I am so sorry,” I say without looking at Clive, and I mean it,
but this seems to anger him.
Before I know what’s happening, Clive grabs me by my hair,
throwing me onto the rocky ground, taking the skin off my
knees and palms. The impact vibrates through my body and a
squeal leaves my throat. I look up at Clive in horror as he takes
out his sword
“You will be sorry.” His blade strikes my arm, sending
a searing pain through it. Blood starts to run down to my
fingertips, trickling onto the ground. I get up off my knees and
make a dash for the door, but he grabs me by the hair and drags
me right back, until I’m on the ground again. When I look up at
him this time, the hate on his face brings tears to my eyes.
“Why?” I ask as he raises his sword and swings it behind his
back. It whooshes towards my neck. An arrow whizzes across
the room in a blur and impacts with Clive’s wrist. He drops
the blade just inches before killing me. I follow the direction
that the arrow came from and my breath catches in my throat.
Tristan is lowering his bow, his cold eyes fixated on Clive.
Clive holds his wrist, screaming in pain, which soon turns
to anger. He raises his other hand “Lux,” he roars at me
and a ball of fire comes rushing towards my face. I raise my
hands to fight it off. I can hear the whiz of another arrow.
My head swings in the direction of Tristan as he raises his
hands, blocking the fire with a solid wall of air. The air
smothers the fire, extinguishing it.
Gurgling noises bring my attention back to Clive. An
arrow is embedded in his neck. Blood gushes through his
fingers as he tries to cover the wound. Another figure catches
around. His face is one of disbelief and horror as he looks
into his father’s eyes, and then he collapses on the ground,
blood pooling around him.
My stomach gives way. Placing my hand over my mouth
doesn’t stop the sick. I throw up, the food I have just eaten.
My hand is covered in puke. No one speaks. I’m frozen
with the horror of what just happened.
My mother, Neve, Kiar, Liber and Alana come into the room
and halt when they take in the scene before them. My mother
races to me, landing in the pool of Clive’s blood. On her knees,
she reaches for me. “Sarajane.”
“Don’t touch me.” I push her away, while I cradle my arm. “Don’t come near me,” I scream. Tears stream down my face. Morrick helps my mother off her knees. “You are a monster,” I roar at Morrick.
“I just saved your life,” he throws back through thin lips. I
can’t believe nobody is saying anything about Clive’s dead body.
“You killed your own son.” My words are cut off with sobs.
I look at my mother as I stand on quivering legs. “This is your
fault, taking another woman’s husband.” My temper flares.
“You’re disgusting.”
Morrick’s hand strikes my face, landing me on the ground
again. No one has ever put their hands on me before. Fresh
tears prickle my eyes, and no one seems to breathe. Strong arms
wrap around my waist and lift me off the ground. I look up at
Tristan, but he’s staring at Morrick with a clenched jaw.
“The next time you do that, I will not stand by and do
nothing, my lord.” He looks so defiant.
Anger and humiliation cross Morrick’s face.
I don’t look at anyone as Tristan carries me from the room.
He puts me down when we get to my room and helps me to my
bed. I sit on the edge and sob. Tristan kneels down in front of
me with a basin and cloth. He doesn’t speak, just brushes my
hair off my swollen cheek with a gentleness I would’ve never
known he possessed.
My body goes rigid at his touch. He takes my stiffness for
fear. “I will not hurt you.” He dips the cloth into the water and
squeezes it, releasing it of its contents before pressing the ice-
cold rag to my face. I flinch with pain. But he keeps it pressed
against my cheek. Taking my hand, he places it over the cloth.
“Keep that held to your face.” After retrieving warm water and
another cloth, he checks my arm.
“Is it bad?” I ask.
“No, only a flesh wound. You will be fine.” After that he
cleans my knees of ripped skin and blood. After inspecting
my palms and putting a fresh cold cloth on my face, he tidies
up.
“They drugged me,” I whisper. When I meet Tristan’s gaze,
it is stone.
“King Morrick is the finest king we have ever had. Drugging
you would be pettiness that is beneath him. Do you understand?”
His words are ice.
“Get out now.” I rise and point at my door. I don’t know why
I expected him to believe me.
Tristan doesn’t move a muscle. “Sit down, Sarajane,” he says
as he moves towards me. I hold his fierce gaze for a moment. My
stomach gives a little flip at his closeness, causing me to look
away and sit down. “Morrick is your father.”
I can’t listen to this. “Stop. He drugged me.” Tristan throws
me a warning glare. “I have proof. In his study, I found a paper.
He wrote it all down.”
Tristan’s fingers sink into my shoulders. “You broke into the
king’s study?”
I push him away, sick of being manhandled. “No, the door
was open.”
Tristan shakes his head and turns to the door. “Get some
rest.” And then he’s gone.
I sit there dumbfounded for a while after he leaves. Lying
on my bed, I cry myself to sleep. I only get about an hour’s
sleep; the commotion in the cave wakes me up. I get dressed
in my travelling clothes, leaving my hair down. I hope it will
conceal my swollen and bruised cheek. I take a deep breath
before leaving the room. I need to be strong.
The main room is a bustle of activity. Neve is gathering
supplies from the kitchen area. I look around the room, my eyes
falling on the spot where Clive lay in a pool of his own blood.
There wasn’t a trace of last night’s events. Everything is cleaned
up, but I can still smell blood and vomit.
“What’s happening?” I ask Neve. The sound of my voice
makes the bustle in the room stop.
“Everyone leave,” Morrick orders. “Not you,” he says while
looking at me. I hold my head high to hide any signs of fear.
Nobody seems to move. “That is an order.” The room clears.
My mother lingers as she walks past me, but I don’t acknowledge
her. I just stare straight ahead at Morrick, and then we’re alone.
“Sit down, Sarajane,” he says as he takes a seat.
“I prefer to stand.” At least if anything happens, I can run.
The feel of the dagger in my boot gives me some comfort, not
that I know how to use it.
“I was trained as a guardian from the age of five in hopes
that one day I would be king. Our training was harsh compared
to now. The king at the time was into dark magic, always
seeking more power. He brought darkness upon our lands. So
many died of starvation or the plague. King Paulus held public
hangings every week against people that had not committed
crimes, but no one dared to question him or they might find
themselves with a noose around their own necks.” Morrick’s
face takes on a faraway look. “Nierra was head guardian at the
time and he was to step up as king. Bellona loved him. She was
still a princess, but soon she would be queen.” Morrick’s eyes
are full of grief. “Nierra was my closest friend; he was a brother
to me.”
He takes a deep breath. “When it became King Paulus’s
time to step down, he wouldn’t. Power, he ached for it. So
he murdered Nierra, leaving his own daughter heartbroken.
Bellona shut down after that and coldness crept into her soul. I
became next in line to be king, so I knew Paulus would kill me
or I must kill him first.” Morrick rises and pours red wine into a
goblet. He drinks it down in one quick gulp. He keeps his back
to me while still holding the goblet. “We rebelled. In all the
commotion, King Paulus got away, never to be seen again. But
now rumours of him gathering an army have surfaced.”
Morrick turns to me then. “I never loved Bellona. She wasn’t
capable of love, and she was rightfully my best friend’s. I need
you to know you were conceived from love. I truly love your
mother.”
Relief swells in my chest. I hadn’t realised I was more upset
about finding out I was born from an affair than knowing I had
a different father. But I don’t believe I could ever look at this
man as my father. Not now anyway with my cheek swollen and
bruised. The throbbing reminds me of what he did. We stand in
silence. Maybe he’s waiting for me to say something.
“Sir, the horses are ready,” Legis says from the exit.
This takes Morrick out of his daze. “Thank you, Legis.”
“We have to leave. Bellona is aware we are here and when
Clive doesn’t return, she will come,” Morrick says to me in
monotone.
“Where are we going?”
“Aquaterra. I have loyal friends there who will protect us.”
“Protect us from the queen, Morrick?” She couldn’t be that
strong. Morrick is the king.
Morrick laughs drily. “The queen, King Paulus and an army
of exiles, which I believe you have already encountered.”
I shiver at the memory. “What are they?”
“Criminals who have been banished to the mountains for
their crimes.”
Disbelief ripples through me. “You’re saying they once were
human-looking?”
“That’s exactly what I am saying.”
Chapter Twelve
Saskia
(Sarajane)
Legis has the horses saddled and waiting when we all
come out of the cave. Morrick informs Tristan that I’ll be
travelling with him. Tristan pulls me up roughly behind
him, and I’m faced with his back, a wall of steel.
“There was no paper in the study,” he whispers to me as we
wait for everyone else.
I saw it, read it and held it; someone must have destroyed the
paper. But who? And why?
“I made it all up,” I say to Tristan’s back.
He swings around, his eyes ablaze with anger. “You made it
up?”
“No. But you think I did so what’s the point in explaining
myself when you’ve already made up your mind?”
His anger subsides. “I don’t know what to make of you,
Sarajane.”
I flush. He’s staring at me intently. His breath caresses my
cheek. My skin feels too exposed. And then I’m faced with
his back again. I let out the heavy breath I wasn’t aware I was
holding.
Mum doubles up with Legis and Alana with Liber. Kiar and
Neve ride alone. Neve’s hands are bandaged, but he doesn’t
seem to struggle holding the reins. We’re moving slowly over
the rocky area.
Neve rides up beside Tristan and me and gives me a
mischievous smile. “How’s your back?” he asks.
“Still stiff, but I’ll survive.” I glance at his hands. “Your
hands?”
“Sore, but I’ll survive.” A big grin spreads across his face,
making his nose look more crooked than usual. I can’t help but
laugh.
“You’re a bad influence, Neve.”
He tries to hide his smile. “It was your idea.”
“N
o, Neve, it was your bright idea to show off,” Kiar says,
riding close to us.
Neve looks embarrassed. “Things go wrong, even with the
best of us,” he says, causing Kiar to laugh.
“Yes, I have heard of people with level three fire affinities
sending rooms up in flames, nearly killing people.” Neve’s face
is bright red. Kiar loves teasing him, but the reality of what
could’ve happened plays on my mind.
“If you ladies are finished talking, we are going through
the mountains soon. So try and be alert.” Tristan’s voice is
like ice. I roll my eyes at Neve, but his face is serious. “Yes, sir.” He falls behind us with Kiar. I want to punch Tristan for ruining
the only good thing I have in this godforsaken place.
Moving through the mountains is painfully slow. Everyone
is on edge. When the creature attacked me in the desert, I
remember Tristan saying he was a long way from the mountains,
so this is where they must live. I tighten my grip on Tristan and
he tenses but relaxes after a few moments. Darkness rolls in
along with a cutting wind. I hang onto Tristan closer, soaking
up his body heat.
“We will reach camp in one hour.” Tristan’s voice is low, but
it carries along the wind. My teeth are chattering from the cold.
“O… k… aay,” I reply through numb lips. The horse under
us starts to get uneasy; it slows down suddenly. Neve’s horse
rears up behind us.
Morrick’s booming voice renders me frozen with fear.
“Exiles.”
Tristan jumps off the frantic horse, leaving me with nothing
to hold on to. The horse rears back and I try to grab its mane,
but my fingers slip through and I go tumbling to the ground.
Tristan grabs me just before I hit the ground. “Stay behind
me.” He pushes me back with his hand while withdrawing his
sword and getting into a battle stance. My eyes shoot over and
back, looking for the exiles.
“Move in closer,” Morrick calls to us from his horse. My
mother and Alana are behind Liber and Legis. Neve and Kiar
stay close to Tristan and me. I crouch down, removing my
dagger from my boot, not that I know how to use it, but maybe
I’ll get lucky.
Everybody’s breath forms white clouds in the cold air. The
horses have started to settle down. “Maybe they were just
passing,” Legis says up to Morrick. But we all move in closer.