Light closed his eyes for a moment, choosing his next words carefully: “That’s not what I mean. When I found her, she was chained to an altar before a replica of the Dread King. After dispatching the Ulen and releasing her, she asked about him.”
“From the reports, the Middleworld is full of statues of long-dead men,” Frey remarked with a shrug. His fingers tapped the armrests of his throne.
Light wanted to scream—they weren’t understanding. “She told me she wanted to destroy the statue. That she hated it.” That did the trick; each of the Court members froze in their positions. “Before my explanation, she’d never before heard of the Dread King.”
The Court members glanced at each other, each wearing uneasy expressions. The possibility of a new Harbinger, of the Dread King’s inevitable rise, was something none of them desired.
“You mean to say,” Bul’ara whispered, “you believe the girl to be the Harbinger?”
Bowing his head slightly, Light replied, “It is the only way I can think to explain the strange hatred she held for his statue.”
Frey recovered from the initial shock, enough to say, “She is but a child. And she is a she. For eons there has only been the Harbinger and the Dread King, both men fated to fight until the end of time. Men—adults, males. Whatever the girl feels must be a coincidence, nothing more.”
He did not agree with that. Not one bit.
Ophelia finally spoke, “The girl is here, isn’t she?” An excitement passed over her as she added, “Bring her in.” She was the only one who did not seek to argue with him, and Light felt her heavy gaze on his back as he went to fetch her.
Hmm. Perhaps he should’ve warned Faith of some etiquette, seeing as how she lacked it completely.
With his hand holding open the door, Light stuck his head into the hall where Faith stood. With her arms crossed and her eyes squinted at the nearby glass window that was more than triple her height, she seemed the very opposite of the type of person who should meet with the Court. And she certainly did not seem like the Harbinger. He didn’t know what she seemed like, with her very Human stature and that chest. One breast fit in his hand. One. Unheard of in the Elven species. How did she stand straight with them weighing down her torso?
He should not be thinking such things. He should not be thinking about her breasts. It was inappropriate, wrong and gross. Light did not want to touch them again, ever. He’d also prefer never to sleep near her, because waking up with her in his arms was horrible. Just downright horrible. Although, it was fun to tease her, and when she got back at him, with her hands around his neck and in his hair—well, it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world…
Her bright green eyes met him, and for a moment they stared at each other. Light was reminded of how protective he’d gotten when he’d seen she wasn’t with her friends, that she was still missing, along with the males. How his stomach had knotted when he watched the Ulen lift his dagger, the guilt he felt over the scab on her otherwise perfect cheek.
Somehow, someway, the girl got inside of him.
He didn’t like it.
Light abruptly opened the door farther, enough so that she could walk in past him. He needn’t say anything; she got the hint. Faith’s back straightened, her arms falling to her sides as she marched around him and entered the courtroom. He made sure to close the door, nearly ramming into the girl instantly.
She had stopped, still as she gazed upwards, at the imitation of blue sky. The amazement was clear on her face. Light was embarrassed for her. Making a fool of oneself in front of the Court of Elders was the last thing any Elf wished to do. She was no Elf, though.
Faith soon gathered her bearings, moving deeper into the room, acting a lot meeker than Light knew she was as she folded her hands behind her back. She stared at the three opposing her, glancing to Light for a quick second as she muttered, “Am I supposed to bow or something?” The or something part meant that she didn’t truly care about Elven rituals. Which was just as well, for Light didn’t care about Human ones either.
“No need,” Ophelia spoke as Frey said the opposite, “Yes.”
All Faith did was shrug in return. She stared hard at Ophelia, for some reason Light did not know. Any Elf who barely blinked while gazing upon an Elder was considered rude; however Ophelia did not seem to mind. She merely smiled a dazzling white smile to the girl.
“She is the one I was telling you about, Bul’ara,” Ophelia said, glancing to the other woman on the Court.
That got Bul’ara’s interest. “The one with the deep love lines?”
Light could’ve sworn he saw Faith’s face redden somewhat. Love lines? What in the kingdoms did that mean?
Nodding, Ophelia spoke, “It seems love is not the only thing her destiny holds…if it is true, what the hunter says.”
Whatever love Faith was destined to have, Light didn’t care. That’s what he would tell himself, that’s what he would believe. He said, “It is true.”
“If what is true?” Faith echoed, confused.
Frey smirked. “Has the hunter not told you of his suspicions?”
When she said nothing more, Ophelia said, “He believes you are the Harbinger.”
“The what?” Never had anyone sounded more perplexed, and Light held back a smile at her ignorance. “What’s…what’s a harbinger?”
“Not a harbinger,” Light said, moving beside her. “The Harbinger. There is only one.”
Frey continued to bare his teeth in a way that was the very opposite of a smile. “Did the hunter not tell you his suspicions on his own?” He laughed, and the sound was jarring to Light’s ears. “He told you of the Dread King, but he did not tell you the other half of the story?”
Something in Faith hardened at the mention of the Dread King.
“An ancient tale,” Bul’ara spoke, her dark eyes lingering on Faith, “a prophecy. One that said the Dread King and the Harbinger are to wage war against each other until the end of all time. There has not been a Harbinger since the gateways opened, since the last Human defeated the Dread King and scattered his armies in the lands of Furen Ere.”
Faith knew a little of the story, for it was when her world opened up completely to this one. “So, you’re saying I’m this Harbinger reborn?”
“The Dread King is reborn. Harbingers are not. And you are no Harbinger,” Frey spat. “You are not even a woman. You are a child. You are nothing to this land.”
“Frey,” Ophelia spoke quickly, standing. “Such words are harsh and unnecessary.” Her blue gaze moved to Faith, and as she folded her hands before her, she walked down the few steps the thrones sat on, her tight gown trailing behind her feet, a shimmering, reflective silver. “I do apologize for Frey’s rudeness. It is a very unbecoming trait.” She circled Faith, studying her. “How…unusual it would be to have a female Harbinger.”
Faith was not intimidated. “You make it sound like women haven’t fought in wars before.”
“Humans value their equality,” Ophelia said, “but most races here do not. The Orcish females fought in wars, the Malus as well. Most females here do not want to—they could if they chose to, but to face down Dracyrus himself? It is likely no woman has ever dreamed of such.”
Frey interrupted, “This talk means nothing if she is not the Harbinger.”
“The Ageless Blade,” Ophelia spoke, finally drawing away from Faith.
Light watched as Bul’ara sat straighter. The dark-haired Elf was enraptured at the thought of using the Ageless Blade to awaken the Harbinger. Light wasn’t so sure about it, though. Faith didn’t seem like the type who enjoyed being in danger. If she was the Harbinger, her life would change drastically. Perhaps he should’ve just let it go unsaid…
But, if he had done that, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the Dread King would rise anyway and threaten all of their realm.
“If the Human is the Harbinger,” Ophelia said, returning to her throne, “the Ageless Blade will shine.” She waited a moment before loo
king to him. “Leave us, Light. The Court must decide what will be done. Do not stray from palace grounds.”
“But my friends should know I’m all right,” Faith said, sending a worried look to Light.
“And they shall, as soon as this mess is dealt with,” Frey spoke with a wave of his hand, frowning.
Light took it as his cue to leave, grabbing Faith’s arm and pulling her out of the courtroom, much to her apparent chagrin. Once they were alone in the outer hall, she pulled away from him. Her glaring made him feel nothing; it certainly didn’t make his stomach clench.
“Harbinger, huh?” Faith asked, fuming. “When were you going tell me that I might be this hero reincarnated? When the Dread King is knocking down the door?” Her light eyes fell to his feet, slowly traveling upward. He was oddly self-conscious beneath her gaze. “You knew, didn’t you? When I talked about that statue, you knew.” With a shake of her head, she crossed her arms. “And here I thought we were on the fast-track to becoming friends.”
Friends? Light did not want to be friends with her. He wanted nothing from her.
“Friends don’t keep stuff from each other,” she added in a huff.
“We are not friends,” Light told her.
A half-smile grew on her lips. “So you cuddle with everyone like that, huh?”
Her question forced him to remember hours earlier, when he woke to find her tucked against him, how it felt to have her in his arms, the odd feeling of a full breast in his hand…
He stopped himself. Such thoughts would not dominate his mind. He wouldn’t let them.
“I told you,” Light spoke slowly, over-enunciating his words in a way that made him feel foolish, “it was an accident. I didn’t mean to do that, and I certainly didn’t want to do it.”
“Because I’m so disgusting, right? Just another gross Human—actually, I think the word you used was repulsive.”
Even though her sentiment mirrored thoughts he had, he found himself saying, “It was rude of me to say that. I shouldn’t have said it.” Was he…was he trying to take it back? Light was as shocked at his own words as she was.
Her eyebrows lifted. “That was almost an apology, Sunnytoes.”
He groaned, averting his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was damned close to an apology. She must be infecting him with her feelings, which was ridiculous because Light didn’t care what Humans felt. Faith was somehow getting inside of him.
When he slowly moved his stare back to her, he found the girl smiling. Faith took a step closer to him as she whispered, “If you want to get back on my good side it’s a start, but you’ll have to do a whole lot better than that.”
A whole lot better? She was lucky enough that he nearly apologized to her. It was more than Light ever thought he’d do for a Human, especially considering how she aggravated him so, among other things.
Chapter Fourteen
For the next few hours, Faith badgered Light about the prophecy. Light was a child when the last Harbinger was alive, younger than she was now, in Earth years. The gateways were permanently opened half a century ago, and a world obsessed with racial and sexist differences was suddenly opened to another realm, full of magic and ideas and actual, genetically-different races. He told her what he could, which wasn’t that much, considering how young he was. Nothing but a boy, he said.
They sat in the castle’s gardens, a vast, vibrant space of greens and pinks and yellows. A beautiful area that reminded Faith of springtime: blooming, pollen, the soothing colors that meant winter was finished. She sat near a crystal-clear pool of water, watching the colorful, long-tailed fish swim at their leisure. The pool was no deeper than two feet, and when she stuck the tip of her finger in it, the fish swarmed around it, believing it was food. The feeling of the fish plucking her finger made her laugh.
Light sat on a root that was twisted to form a bench, arms crossed beneath the towering tree. Bugs flew by, plucked from the sky by birds whose colors put all those on Earth to shame. He watched her giggle at the fish as he muttered, “You will make a terrible Harbinger.”
She glared at him. “Why? Because I’m trying to have fun even though a dozen people I know might be dead, or because I’m a female?” Faith hated the word female. So scientific and cold, but the Elves seemed to love its use.
“The Dread King will stomp on you and squish you,” he said. “It will be a short fight, I think.”
That wasn’t exactly what she hoped to hear, and she tried to shrug it off, sought to push the images of the gory battlefield from her head. Memories that were not hers. “I bet you’d like that.”
He shifted on the root bench, moving his hands to his knees. “Just because,” he said, pausing, “I don’t like you does not mean that I want you to die.”
Faith yanked her hand from the water, much to the dismay of the fish, and wandered through the grass, sitting beside him. “How sweet,” she said with a smile, laughing to herself as Light straightened and looked ahead of them, hard. So hard it was obvious that he was doing his best not to react to how close she was.
She was slow to set a hand on his arm, feeling his muscles tighten at her touch beneath the leather. She played a dangerous game, but she didn’t want to stop. “I don’t know,” Faith mused, watching his Elven face for a reaction as she squeezed his arm, “I kind of like it when we bicker.” With a dramatic sigh, the hand that gripped his arm slipped under it, and she linked her arm through his. She rested her cheek on his shoulder.
It was a while until she heard him mutter under his breath, “Why must you do this to me?” He fiddled with his hands in his lap, but he did not push her away. “It is bad enough that I must watch you until the Court deems otherwise, but this? This is torturous.”
Faith angled her head so that she could gaze up at him without moving her cheek off him. He sluggishly met her stare. His eyes were so blue, an unnatural vibrancy that no Human’s had. The color of his eyes said nothing about the curves on his face, the prominence of his cheekbones or the point of his chin. Even with ears that were an inch or two too long, he was ridiculously attractive. So attractive that, if this were Earth and not the Second, Faith never would’ve touched him with a ten-foot pole.
What was different here? She couldn’t say. Just like with the statue of the Dread King, she just felt…feelings toward Light. The budding blossom of some indescribable feeling that had sprung up out of the blue.
It hurt to hear him say that babysitting her was torture.
“Is it really that bad, watching me?” Faith asked quietly, never once tearing her gaze from his.
Light was still for a moment, simply watching her as she watched him. And then, tentatively, his other arm lifted, his fingers brushed her cheek, where the scab sat. “No, I suppose it isn’t too awful.” Did he feel guilty for that mark on her face? His actions, the timbre of his words said he did. “Your skin is…perfect, except for that cut.”
“Pimples and me don’t get along.” Faith had to try to joke, for this situation was growing more serious by the second. When he gave her a look that said I don’t know what pimples are, she added, “You know, acne. The little bumps in your skin full of pus.”
“I have no pus-filled bumps in my flesh,” he told her seriously, dropping his hand from her face.
She thought about saying, well neither do I, for she did not enjoy the thought that Light found her disgusting, but instead said, “I bet you don’t.” Yes, she bet beneath all that leather, it was all smooth, just like his face.
To escape certain thoughts that crept into her head, Faith jumped to her feet and returned to the edge of the pond, where the fish awaited her, as if they never swam away. She worked to get off her boots, peeled off her socks and started rolling up her uniform’s pant legs. She needed to cool down, put space between them, not think about how good-looking Light was. Even if he didn’t hate her kind, it wouldn’t work out. There were no relationships across the gateway. A Human and an Elf didn’t make a good pair of lifelong
partners.
Not that she should even be entertaining such thoughts, with half her class missing.
She grunted, hating herself, sitting on the edge, about to swing her legs into the water and feel the fish’s strange mouths on her skin when Light said, “What are you doing? You’re not allowed to go into the wren pond.”
Wren? Was that what these curious, colorful fish were?
With a shrug, she dropped her feet into the water. Light instantly stood and made his way to her, but she was faster. Moving to the center of the pond, no more than two feet from the edge but far enough that Light’s frantic arms couldn’t reach her, Faith giggled as they started poking her feet with their mouths. The bottom of her pants, even though rolled up, still got wet, but she didn’t care.
“This feels so weird,” she squealed, sounding a lot more carefree than she felt. The fish, made of blues and oranges and reds, swam around her, their long fins fluttering about, their tails nearly a foot long, all blending into each others’. It was a mixture of bright colors in the water below.
“Get out of there, now,” Light hissed, looking angry from the rock where her boots and socks sat.
“Only if you make me,” she said with another shrug. As if the fish would let her leave, anyways. They were obsessed with her legs now. “But that would involve getting in the water yourself, wouldn’t it? Oh, no. Looks like I found your weakness, Sunnytoes.”
“Call me Sunnytoes one more time,” he egged her on. “Just once.” A deja vu moment if there ever was one.
“What will you do? I don’t see how you hold any power here, Sunnytoes.”
Apparently he would drag her from the pool.
He didn’t even bother with his own boots or pants. Light leapt in, scattering the fish from her legs. They swam with a speed that her eyes almost couldn’t follow. “Hey, that wasn’t—” The final word, nice, was swept from her lungs as two firm hands clamped down on her arms, dragging her past the rock until she found herself on the grass. She tripped and brought them both down.
The Harbinger Page 10
