Chapter Fourteen

Leah stood leaning against the closed door of the cubicle. Maeve glanced over her shoulder and smiled, her expression slack, her eyes dull. She was sat by Edmon’s bed, his hand clasped in hers. It was the second day since the royal party had returned, and still he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Leah had hoped to find him awake but he lay unconscious, yet restless... a poor imitation of the vigorous spirited man she was familiar with. Every now and then a frown creased his brow... a moan escaped him. The bandaged arm, ending just above the elbow, lay on the covers and somehow seemed alien, as if it didn’t belong. “You’ve been crying, Mother.”

“I try not to, but it’s hard to hold it back when I’m alone with him... seeing him like this.”

“He will get better, Brice is sure of it. And you need your rest.”

“I know, dear, don’t worry.” She turned to face Leah. “What about you? You are recovered now, yes? Brice told me what happened–”

“It was nothing, he shouldn’t have mentioned it. It was a bad headache... they think maybe I’ve been working too hard. Can you imagine that: me, working too hard?” She flinched at the jarring sound of her forced laugh.

Maeve held out her hand, and Leah stepped forward to clasp it. “I’m torn. I want to stay here but Evalan needs me also.”

“Where is he? I thought he’d be here with you.”

“He was but became upset when he saw Edmon. He’s in the other cubicle with Adina. He can’t stay here in the Sanctuary, it’s not good for him. Even though he has Adina, he wants me close...”

“I’ll go to him, maybe take him back to the palace.” She smiled tightly and backed away. She’d had no idea it was going to be this gruelling... yearning for her mother’s soothing touch and yet dreading it; she couldn’t help thinking that she would infect her loved ones with the darkness that tainted her. “I’ll stay with Evalan for as long as he needs me to. I can work around my classes, I suppose.”

“Oh, Leah, he would love that.”

Nodding, she left to find her brother.

Evalan lay on the bed, curled on his side, his back to his nurse, Adina. As Leah entered, the plump, middle-aged woman rose and stepped back from where she’d been sitting by the bed.

“Highness.” She graced Leah with a tired, gap-toothed smile.

“I’ll stay with him, Adina. You get some rest, you look tired.”

She bowed slightly as she thanked the young woman.

Leah perched on the bed, but Evalan remained as he was. “Aren’t you going to say hello, Curly-top?” Even though his hair was no longer an unruly tangle of curls, she still used her pet name for him.

When he remained silent, she continued, “Mother said you were upset.” She laid her hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright to be upset, seeing Father like that. But he will get better.”

“… my fault...”

She leaned closer. “What’s your fault?”

Slowly he turned, his face a canvas of misery. “This is all my fault... Father losing his arm–”

“What are you talking about? Did you tell the brigands to attack? To hurt Father?”

He shook his head as tears fell anew.

“Then how is this your fault?”

Struggling to sit up, he bunched the covers against his face, muffling his voice. “I couldn’t protect myself. He lost his arm protecting me because I–”

“Evalan... you’re nine years old. Name me one nine-year-old who can hold his own against armed brigands. Well?”

Peering over the covers, he frowned but said nothing.

“Don’t ever let me hear you blame yourself for this, do you understand?” She pulled him into her embrace. “These things happen. It shouldn’t have, I know. But the brigands have never attacked our family like this. We were watchful before, but it wasn’t enough. Now we have to double our vigilance. And pray god we’re never caught off our guard again.” 

*          *          *          *

It was strange being back at the palace once more but Leah enjoyed being with Evalan; somehow his presence eased her sense of guilt. She managed to make some, if not all, of her classes and training. And Jessalyn would sometimes visit to help her with the lessons she’d missed. With each passing day, Edmon’s recovery progressed, and Leah knew that soon her father would return to the palace. That would no doubt speed his recovery even more for it was no secret how much he hated the Sanctuary; he’d witnessed both his beloved grandfather and mother waste away there, and never set foot in the place unless he had no choice. But when he returned, she would have to return to the barracks. So, she cherished the time she and her brother had together.

Even then, there were times she had to be on her own. No one, not even her friends, knew of her permanent headache. Although she’d become accustomed to it, now and again it seemed to intensify. And the only way to deal with it was to exercise her secret ability.

She was already used to her new way of perceiving things: that wasn’t a problem. But it was a never-ending struggle to stop herself ‘reading’ the thoughts and feelings of those around her. She didn’t want to but, goddess, it was so easy. Yet she steadfastly refused to admit to the intoxicating pull of this power.

Leah stole into the small garden by the training compound, closing the gate behind her. This seemed, by far, to be the hardest part: finding the privacy to use her skills. Seizing every available opportunity to practise using magic, she’d managed to convince herself that she didn’t enjoy it at all; that her sole driving force was to familiarise herself with it.

Stopping by the apple tree, she looked around for things she could use. But she saw nothing, save for some fallen apples and leaves. With a slight shrug, she extended her hand, ignoring the now familiar headache that intensified every time she utilised her powers. Within seconds, the apples and leaves began to rise up off the ground. Her smile widened, as this was her first attempt at floating more than one object. When they were hovering at chest level, she began to move in a slow circle; they followed. Soon, Leah forgot the pain in her head, forgot the apprehension in her heart as she gleefully danced with fruit and foliage. 

*          *          *          *

Swathed in a voluminous white robe, his straight, night-black hair carefully arranged over his shoulders, Shalyer stood framed in the first-floor window, a secretive smile playing about his expressive lips. Surrounded by a wide balcony, he was well shaded from the unforgiving sun. He had remained in Kurabar long after Edmon’s royal party had left for Orenheart; no one had made any mention of him overstaying his welcome. And no one would dare question him; he’d made sure of that by ensuring Eoli’s emotional dependence on him.

Fate had been on his side the day his wraiths had sensed the presence of the young couple. He’d thought nothing of them at first, allowing his underlings to pursue the mortals to feed their own needs. It was only after he’d unleashed them that sudden inspiration had hit him: he could use the mortals as a bridge into their world… as a means to further his own ends. He’d raced after them, using his powers to overtake the wraiths. The man, already sporting a wound, had stood his ground, all the while calling to the woman to make her escape. But she’d remained frozen to the spot, terror twisting her exquisite face. Shalyer had scooped her up, allowing his servants to have the man as compensation. The sight of her man being borne away, screaming like a terrified child, had been too much; she’d fainted in Shalyer’s arms.

Shalyer knew he could gain whatever information he desired with magic. But he was curious... he wanted to experience for himself how mortals lived. He wanted to move among them, insinuate himself into their lives, gain their trust, all the while revelling in the knowledge that they were oblivious to the power he possessed.

Hidden by the dark cloak of night, Shalyer made his nightly way through the city, devouring the life force of any unfortunate enough to cross his path. The Kurabarans, instead of connecting the bizarre deaths with the mysterious newcomer, were effusive in their gratitude and showered him with friendly hospitality.

But to come amongst the mortals, and to find Edmon and his family within his grasp... His smile faded at the memory of the king. He’d exercised all his willpower not to strike against Edmon for he wanted the king’s downfall to be complete, witnessed by his subjects. Shalyer had sensed that Maeve was wary of him for he’d been too eager in his efforts to find out all he could about Edmon and his family.

“But I do not care,” he said softly. “She can wonder about me all she likes, she is powerless to stop me. They all are. Soon I will make my move. I will summon my faithful servants and we will strike against the one who hurt my mother so. But first...” A small chuckle escaped him. “First, we shall continue to feast and grow strong.” For the moment, the newness of being in the midst of so much pliant prey far outweighed his need for revenge. His chuckle turned into a laugh.

“What is so amusing?”

He jerked around. So caught up in his musings, he’d failed to sense anyone approaching. Quickly, he schooled his irate expression into one of tenderness. “Nothing, my lady. I was merely thinking how lucky I am to have been welcomed so warmly into your home.”

Dipping her chin, Eoli moved to his side. “I am glad you feel that way. I hope it means that you will not be leaving anytime soon?”

He let his hand slide down her soft, long hair, so black as to appear purple. “How can I even think of leaving when my heart is being held captive?”

A blush crept over her smoky-brown cheeks, darkening them as she lowered her gaze. “Who holds your heart captive?” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear the words.

His reply was to tilt her face back up, and tenderly cover her mouth with his.

Eoli stiffened momentarily before her body melted against his. And when he lifted her in his arms and bore her to his bed, she did not resist.