Envious Deception

by Katie Keller-Nieman

  “I think it’s Italian for beautiful woman.”

  My brow wrinkled in confusion as I stared at the weathered pages in my hand.

  “Spend four years with Tony as a roommate and you start to pick up some Italian,” he explained as if my confusion was over him knowing something that I didn’t. It wasn’t.

  “What about oleander?” I had seen that written a few times.

  He shrugged. “Some plant.”

  “Maybe it’s time to tell Todd. We could use his help.”

  Eric nodded. “I agree. Five weeks is too little time. Maybe Tony too.”

  I swung my legs from his thighs and slipped my feet into my boots. “How late is Kinko’s open? We have copies to make.”

  As I wiggled my toes into place, I realized how completely alone we were at that moment. There was no one else around, not even in the hall. There was a party going on upstairs, and it seemed that everyone was there. I glanced back over my shoulder at him. “Could you show me something?” I asked.

  One brow lifted. “Okay. What do you want to see?”

  “The day that you met Aurora.”

  He leaned back into the teal sofa cushion. “There’s not much to it. I was leading her group in freshmen orientation…”

  I shook my head, stopping him. “No, I meant…” My thought drifted off. “Wait, what?” I asked. Our orientation was in the summer after high school, and I had stayed home with a massive headache. “You met in the cafeteria a month into our freshmen year.”

  “No,” he said.

  “Yes. I met you a couple days later, when you stopped by our room to pick her up for the movies or something.”

  He shook his head. “We had already broken up and gotten back together by then.”

  “But… your anniversary…”

  “Was the date we started it up again.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “She knew you before I even got here?” I asked.

  He nodded. Everything I’d known about their relationship was a lie. I always seemed to get caught up in the webs Aurora loved to spin. I’d been so lost in the game she played. How stupid was I? How many other lies had I believed?

  I exhaled a long sigh. I couldn’t let this get to me. Aurora was a liar. It was past time to face that. Nothing of our friendship had been real.

  “Eric, what I meant was, could you show me when you first met her? Ever?”

  His brow lowered, shadowing his eyes. “A vision? Of her?” he said with disgust.

  I glanced away guiltily. “She seems to think that you shouldn’t remember our past, that it would be dangerous. I think you know something that she doesn’t want you to.”

  I looked up at him. He appeared trapped, but when our eyes met, he grudgingly reached for my hand. He closed his eyes to focus. “Can you prompt me? Give me anything to go on?”

  “You were a sword maker. You made deliveries to the castle, her home. You killed a traitor. Our king said that you struck him down with an axe to the chest, saving his life. He made you a warrior for your bravery.”

  Eric nodded his head as I spoke, and I felt that familiar tingle coming from his hands and spreading into my arms. It was a memory, waiting to be seen.

  1204, ERIC

  “I saw you.”

  I stopped scrubbing my hands and soaked them in the barrel of water at the sound of his voice. I was bent down in a corner of the corral, with nowhere to run but the path behind me, where this man stood blocking the way.

  I searched the dark water for his reflection but could not find him there. Instead, I watched my own face in the red, rippling water. I looked different… Mangled. The wound Cassandra had tended to was red, raw, and deep, cutting down my cheek from the outer corner of my eye to the beginning of my chin. I could still feel the burn of my master’s whip. The sun had just set, and the wound on my face looked terrible in the fading light, giving me a reflection I had not expected but which was fittingly horrific after what I had done moments ago. Sticky blood still clung to my wrists and clouded the water.

  “How did you know?” he asked accusingly.

  “I saw the knife.”

  “Were you in league with him? Did you know of his plot?”

  “No.”

  “And yet you stopped him? Before any of my men? How is that possible?” the man accused impatiently again.

  I closed my eyes tightly at his accusing tone. This could not be happening, not after all that we went through, the distance I had traveled. My mother’s warning echoed in my ears as I stood slowly. Hide. Hide well my son.

  “I did nothing out of the ordinary,” I stated as I turned to face him. It was the worst possible person to accuse me. The man who stood before from me was one of the king’s most trusted guards, a man named Heodred. His brown hair hung in loose waves to his chin, much of it having fallen from the leather band that tied it back from his face. A white scar cut across the bridge of his nose, and another at his temple. He was not nearly my height but thick with muscle and dressed in heavy plated armor. This man was not to be trifled with. A gleaming sword hung from his belt, one I had delivered here only moments ago. His hand rested on the hilt, ready to swing at any sudden movement. He took a step forward, his fine boots kicking up a cloud of sand.

  Keeping my eyes low, I wiped my dripping wet hands on the leg of my pants, preparing myself to be dragged to the dungeons. My great opportunity would surely earn me death. “I only served my duty to the king,” I explained.

  “Your duty?” Heodred repeated incredulously. “You are a servant to a blacksmith, no warrior.”

  A loud clatter sounded from the hall’s guarded gate. A woman rushed through, and a man followed her quickly. “Aurora, stop!” he called, grasping her arm.

  She slowed but did not stop as she tugged him along. Her eyes, two bright stars reflecting the last remnants of sunset’s glow, were pinned on me. Shining gold and opulent jewels wrapped around her wrists and neck, glittering as she strode steadily to meet us. The man attempted to corral her safely behind him. Though he was not dressed in armor, he held himself like a guard, and he was larger than most. His dark brown hair was wild around light eyes. His jaw was wide and tense, his shoulders huge as rocks. He was roughly the same size as Heodred but had a cruel look in his chillingly pale eyes.

  “Freyr, let me pass,” she complained, pressing his shoulder. He grudgingly moved aside, allowing her to face me directly. Her long golden locks lay silken over one shoulder. Tears sparkled like starlight in her blue eyes. Her gaze was instantly drawn to the wound on my face.

  “Was it you?” she asked. “Did you kill the mercenary?”

  I nodded, warily tracking the intense men at her sides.

  She moved forward quickly and her arms closed around me, crushing me to the fine green velvet of her dress. The thick gold and jewels hanging around her neck pressed to my chest, pinned between us. Careful to avoid my marred cheek, her warm breath fell lightly on my ear as she whispered, “You saved the life of my beloved father. I am in your debt.”

  “Careful offering that, love,” Freyr warned in a gruff voice made of rocks and sharp things. “He is no more than a slave. He would ask for much in return.”

  She gazed softly at Freyr, touching his arm tenderly. “He earned it,” she explained. “Thank you,” she told me, choking on her words.

  I nodded and turned away, eager for escape.

  “That is not all he earned,” Heodred growled, though a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, sly and cunning. He looked to me as if I’d solved a riddle in his thoughts. “The king calls for you,” Heodred announced. “You may not be a servant for much longer. At least not to the blacksmith.”

  CHAPTER 14

  FLUTTER

  I lay awake and weary, unsure if it was even day yet, but my mind refused to return to a state of sleep. I kept thinking of Eric’s last memory. It was haunting to see Heodred again. The last vision I’d had of him was the moment he died, trampled by a spooked horse and his head chopped
off by Aurora. Tears pricked my eyes. There had been solace in thinking my visions had been hallucinations. I’d had the security of believing no one had ever died to protect me, that Heodred’s death hadn’t been real. But it was. He deserved so much more than the death he suffered.

  The moment when Aurora first put her hands on Eric was now seared into my mind. I could still feel her touch. Eric hadn’t been disgusted by her then. She hadn’t seemed like the same girl I knew now, or like the deceiving woman I’d encountered then.

  Freyr’s face was one I had never seen, not in any of my memories of the castle, and I would have remembered him too. Something about him reminded me of Todd. Maybe it was his pale eyes, maybe his massive muscles, or maybe the pissed-off look on his face.

  I thought over those few memories I’d had of my first life. I picked apart every little detail, but I couldn’t figure out what exactly Aurora had been talking about at Reid-Pearce. Maybe she didn’t want Eric to know that she owed him? Had her debt ever been paid?

  Weariness finally began to win its battle with my overactive mind. Thoughts began to muddle. I was slowly sinking toward sleep, but a vision claimed my mind in the fall.

  1204

  My eyes fluttered open, as if summoned by the golden rising sun, though it was dark. A thin stream of silver moonlight filtered through a crack in the shuttered window to where I lay, illuminating a stunningly colorful butterfly.

  I must be dreaming, I thought.

  It was perched on the tip of my nose and flitted into the air at the slow blink of my eyes. Its wings were an exquisite mosaic of bright shades of indigo, a gossamer glow in the dim dark of my home.

  A voice whispered my name. I glanced through my single room home. My father and brothers slept still. Elijah was wrapped tight in his wooly blanket and clutching Joseph’s as well. It was closed tight in his fists. Joseph shivered without his cover, and my father snored softly, lit in warm shades from the dim glow of our hearth. The coals smoldered beneath a thick crust of ash.

  The butterfly drifted lazily toward the shuttered window, settling to perch on the wooden sill. Through a crack in the shutter, I saw movement, a shadow pacing. Eric was waiting for me.

  I gathered the thickest of my blankets and used it to cover my shivering brother. Joseph instinctively tucked it closer to his body, out of reach of Elijah. I took a knitted blanket with me, draping it over my shoulders. It hung to the backs of my knees, shielding my plain shift from the blustery wind as I snuck outside.

  I met Eric paces away. His hair looked almost silver, shining under the cold moonlight. The playful wind tossed it about. A gentle smile graced his flawless face.

  The wind lifted my hair, tickling my neck and smiling cheeks. My boots crunched over the dry grasses as I approached. The butterfly appeared again, and I stopped where I stood.

  So I hadn’t dreamed it. Its delicate wings trembled as it drifted closer. It circled me easily on the breeze before floating toward the far woods, a spot of vibrant color weaving gently into the dark, bowing pines.

  “What ails you?” Eric asked, concerned.

  “A butterfly… in the dead of night?” I asked, staring into the canopy of pine needles. It was gone from sight, but I inched forward, curiously searching the shadows.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders, a serious expression heavy on his brow. “Perhaps it was magic.”

  His words were so unexpectedly serious yet undaunted that I took a swift step backward. “Magic,” I repeated with alarm. I drew my blanket tighter, eyes searching the pines for the butterfly and whatever may have conjured it. My body felt strung tight with apprehension.

  “Would it be so terrible?” he asked.

  I took a swift look at him, catching a tenuous look in his eyes. “Sorcery is outlawed. It’s dangerous and wicked,” I answered firmly. My body trembled with fear of the woods and beyond.

  Eric turned from me. His head hung low as he kicked at a patch of grass with his worn boot. “No one else is here. Only us,” he said quietly.

  It was a moment before his head slowly lifted. I watched the look of misery in his eyes. Wind blew his soft blond hair into his face. He swept strands of light hair from his eyes, blew out a short breath and smiled softly as he looked to me. “It must have been drawn to your beauty.”

  I smiled shyly, then glanced warily back at the woods.

  “I was merely teasing, Cassandra. You needn’t fear the dark. Not while I am with you.” The calm in his eyes was all the urging I needed. “Walk with me?” he asked, offering me his arm.

  I wrapped my chilled fingers around his sleeve, allowing him to lead me through the grasses.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, placing his warm hand over mine.

  I shook my head, drifting along at his side as if I was floating on a cloud. Our close proximity and the velvet night made something so simple and lovely seem incredibly intimate.

  We settled in the windswept grasses of a graceful hill and lay apart with our hands intertwined, staring up at the starry night sky. I sighed at the feel of his hand in mine. It was something I never imagined could be so amazing and wondrous. I closed my eyes as his rough calloused fingers brushed mine, gliding in my hold, and tickling my skin.

  A thin sweep of cerulean drifted across the velvet black sky. Stars scattered above like faerie dust, lighting the landscape with their ethereal glow.

  I rolled to face him. He was exquisitely beautiful, almost otherworldly in the way he appealed to me. I felt as though I was lost at sea, drifting along, and he was a beautiful patch of land on the horizon, drawing me in with each gentle wave.

  His eyes met mine, gaze filled with sorrow, unsatisfied with what little time we had for romance. He thought only of the pain of our imminent separation, when the world and its subtle forces would drive us to part once more. Morning would come. Just as each delivery day by the road, time would pass too quickly.

  I shifted closer to him, heart hammering beneath my breast as my face neared his. I moved slowly, fearing I might frighten him with my bold approach, but he stayed. His tragic eyes lingered on mine, drawing me closer with each slow blink of his long lashes. The distance between us began to close, and nearly did before my father’s voice severed the moment like the arc of a gleaming blade in the still, black night. He called my name sharply, though as always, his deep growl came across more adoringly to my ears.

  Eric and I rose quickly and looked behind us. My father, a gruff, hard-looking bearded man, stood between my little home and us. He crossed his thick arms, taking a firm stance, but within his gaze was weary distress.

  “Cassandra, come away from there,” he said softly.

  I slowly drew to my feet. A gust of wind blew my long wild curls back from my face, and my blanket slipped to the ground. Eric scrambled to stand at my side.

  “You,” my father demanded, looking fiercely at Eric. “Stay back.” He reached out, beckoning to me with his beefy, weathered hand. “Cassandra, come along.”

  As I followed my father’s command, I looked apologetically to my love through a thin veil of windblown hair. Eric lifted the blanket from the ground, clutching it tightly as he watched me go. I looked into his eyes until he glanced away, and thunder rumbled low overhead.

  Once I was beside my father, he turned for our home, moving sluggishly with me at his side.

  “I love him, father,” I admitted softly.

  He sighed heavily. “I know, Butterfly.”

  His warm, heavy arm draped protectively over my shoulders, pressing me closer as he led me back inside.

  CHAPTER 15

  THROUGH THE PINES

  When I woke, Ashley was already up. She tended to be an early riser despite the late hours she kept. She claimed to only need four hours of sleep—a sign, she said, that she was a genius like Albert Einstein. I wasn’t convinced.

  She watched TV with a bowl of cereal in her hands, snorting every now and then at the reality show her eyes were glued to. She didn’t care who would win the
heart of a strange man obsessed with clocks. She just wanted to see a good catfight.

  She might get more than she bargained for.

  This was the first I’d seen of her since she put ideas of me and Tom into Eric’s head, and I was still pissed off. She didn’t notice me as I sat up, too consumed with her show and breakfast, but when I stood, she glanced over.

  “Sandy, you’ve gotta see this,” she laughed. “These girls are crazy.”

  “That show is old,” I muttered.

  “I know. But it doesn’t get old. They’re starting the spinoff next. Then we’ll get to see some dude-brawls.”

  “Don’t talk to me like we’re friends,” I snapped, yanking on a sweatshirt over my pajama top.

  Her brow lowered. “Since when aren’t we friends?”

  “Since you cornered Eric before Thanksgiving,” I stated, crossing my arms angrily. “He told me what you said.”

  Both of her hands curled around her bowl. “It’s not like I lied.”

  “You went behind my back. That’s not what friends do,” I explained venomously as I gathered my shower supplies.

  “Whatever. I was just trying to help out the poor fool before you inevitably break his heart.”

  I stuffed a towel and fresh clothes into my bag and faced her quickly. “You weren’t looking out for Eric. You were jealous that Tom paid more attention to me than you, and that’s just pathetic. How bad could you want a guy you just met? One that doesn’t even know your name?”

  I expected her to cut in and yell back, but she didn’t. Her nose turned red and her chin quavered beneath tight lips as she stared at me, trying to maintain a hard expression. Apparently, she wasn’t the fighter I’d thought she was.

  I swung my bag over my shoulder, looking back at her dramatically. “I thought we were friends but I was wrong. So, roomie, don’t talk to me.”

  At that, I left, slamming the door behind me. I wasn’t about to align myself with a backstabbing fake. Not another one.

  The bathroom was empty. I charged into a shower and angrily flung my bag to the changing bench. It bounced off and hit the wet floor with a splat. I huffed heatedly as I dragged it up. The bottom was soaked, and I could only hope that the floor had been washed sometime in the last century.