by M. A. Roth
The laughter stings my burning ears.
“Get up, Sarajane,” Tristan says as he circles the white line with impatience. I get up, feeling disoriented.
The next punch I get Alana in the nose; blood trickles down to her lip. It’s a lucky blow. Then she lands me on my back with a kick to the stomach, taking the wind out of me. I roll to my side and cough as the crowd continues to jeer.
“Fight back!” Tristan shouts. But I can’t; the crowd is still going wild. I look up at Tristan; the minute our eyes meet, he turns away. “Luka, your next!” he roars over the outraged crowd, but with one look from Tristan they settle down.
“Luka,” Tristan calls again as I clamber out of the circle. A small framed man comes forward. “You’ll fight Alana.”
Alana and Luka make their way into the circle as I stand beside Tristan and try not to look so defeated. I ache everywhere but I try to focus on the fight. Alana and Luka spar for a while, while Tristan makes comments on her poise and timing as we watch. I can see Alana has a rhythm to her fighting; once Luka strikes, Alana retaliates, then she hit’s straight away, jumps back, avoids two swings, takes one, and then goes back in again. This is repeated several times.
“Why let him hit her? It’s clear she can avoid it,” I ask, not taking my eyes off the fight, while rubbing my sore jaw.
“It gives him a sense that he could win; she likes the fight to last longer than one round.”
“She’s that good?”
“Yes. I trained her.” Tristan’s eyes shine with pride as his lip tugs up into a grin.
Once the fight ends, Alana is declared the winner.
Luka creeps through the crowd, licking his wounds. I congratulate Alana on her victory. I also feel very proud of her.
“I gave Alana a small opponent so you can see her rhythm. But if he was heavier, stronger, it wouldn’t work as well against him.”
This sobers me. Tristan walks me back to Avitus’ where I start my training with him.
Avitus wants me to focus on making a small difference with my powers. He wants to see my control. So we go back to the start with air. I have to lift him slightly off the ground while lifting nothing else in the whole room. It’s harder, as everything rises at once. I’m not happy practicing on Avitus, but he convinces me he is tougher than he looks.
***
Several days of training continue and soon I grow better. On the fifth day, I am allowed to spend some time with Jessica and the children. I hurry to the main fountain where I find them all playing. Jessica embraces me tightly; she looks so happy. The children and Jessica circle around me hand-in- hand, singing a song. Their little faces are so animated. Jessica’s energy pulses from her, filling us all with happiness. She doesn’t know the words of the song but picks up the melody and hums along.
Avitus has taken up residency at the fountain, he lounges while reading a book. I can’t help but smile at him, but he doesn’t see me, because he is too engrossed in his reading.
Carew passes, staying in the shadows. I hadn’t spoken to him since before the trial.
“Carew!” I shout over the children’s singing. He freezes for a second and then pretends he doesn’t hear me.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell Jessica. She nods and takes my place in the middle of the circle as I walk after Carew.
“Carew, I know you can hear me.”
He turns around as I draw closer. I ignore how my stomach tightens.
“Were you calling me?” He tries to look innocent; on his face it doesn’t work.
I grin at him and grab his hand. He glances down at our entwined fingers and I tell myself not to think too much about it. “Come on!” I drag him over to the children.
Avitus has put his book down and watches us in mild curiosity. When I reach the children with Carew, they all stop singing and turn. He must look gigantic to them but I pull him down in a kneeling position, so he is at eye level with them; less intimidating, at least I hope. Jessica gives me an amused look. But I ignore it.
“This is Carew, my friend.”
“Hello, Carew,” all the children say in unison.
“Children,” Carew acknowledges in a serious voice.
I squeeze our joined hands. “You can do better than that.”
Carew glances at me and I’m not sure what I see flicker in his eyes before he turns back to the children. “You all look tasty. Maybe I will eat you.” Carew releases my hand and the first child he reaches for screams and then they all run, with Carew chasing them. Their screams soon turn to laughter as Carew grabs them and pretends to eat their bellies.
“You like him,” Jessica smiles beside me.
“He’s a good man,” I smile back, meaning it.
“Come on, Princess, you too!” Carew raises a brow and all the children join in, making me run with them as Carew takes chase, smiling and laughing.
It transforms him. My stomach flutters each time I get a glimpse of his smiling face.
“Get Princess!” two of the little girls shout excitedly.
Beside me Carew pauses, looking unsure, but I flip my sandals off, letting my bare feet sink into the grass.
“Traitors!” I accuse the children, and they laugh, even though they don’t understand the word. I run and Carew takes chase. I don’t slow but run through the apple trees as Carew and the children follow me. Carew’s arm circles my waist and he easily lifts me into the air. I scream as he brings me back down and lies me on the grass. His tickles my belly as if I were one of the children. I start to laugh.
“Having fun, Princess?” he asks, looking down at me.
“Yes,” I admit with a smile.
He stares at me for a moment, then little bodies pile up on us as they attack Carew playfully.
“Leave Princess alone!” they shout.
Carew tries to look innocent. “What did I do?”
They attack again, and soon Carew is buried under a pile of little bodies. I laugh.
A shadow of a horse and rider come toward us. I shield my eyes from the sun as Tristan comes into view. His gaze is narrowed and the set of his shoulders tells me he isn’t very happy at all.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SARAJANE
The children stop at the arrival of the horse. Carew’s laughter ceases, too.
“A meeting has been called.” Tristan announces to Carew without looking at me.
Carew slowly rises from the ground and dread curls its fingers around my spine. The horse’s hooves kick up as it trots closer to Carew. Tristan glares down at him. “Tread carefully, Carew.” Tristan pulls the reins, so the horse turns to me. He reaches out his hand and I feel like smacking it.
“I’ll walk.” I bite before getting off the grass and walking past him.
He turns the horse, riding alongside me. “Just get on the horse, Sarajane.”
I throw him a sideways glance. “No,” I say.
His face grows hard. “Fine, walk then.” He gallops off. His hatred and jealousy for Carew are starting to wear on me.
Carew and the children reach me, and everyone is quiet.
“Carew!” Tristan yells.
I tighten my hands into fists. What is Tristan playing at? I’m ready to tell Tristan to stop it, when Carew raises his hands.
“Best to leave it alone, Princess.” Carew races ahead, making his way to the meeting room.
I collect my sandals and put them back on before reaching Jessica. “Will you stay with the children?”
“Of course. Is everything okay?” Her eyes trail after Carew.
I let out a breath. “Fine, just a meeting.” I smile against everything I feel and make my way towards the building.
Excited chatter emerges from the packed room. I meet Musa’s eye; he gives me a look of pure hate, which I ignore.
Draco takes the lead and stands on a chair. The room grows silent. I look for Carew but can’t see him. Instead my gaze clashes with Tristan’s. His jaw is still clenched and my stomach tightens so I
drop his gaze, feeling a sense of guilt, but push it to the back of my mind, where the pile keeps growing.
“We have great news,” Draco announces. “King Paulus has been captured.”
A roar of triumph fills the room.
Draco settles everyone down again. “This is thanks to one of our new soldier, Carew.”
A few applauds erupt here and there, everyone is still wary of him. I follow Draco’s stare where Carew leans against a wall, looking irritated by the attention.
“We have worked together over the last week and with Carew’s knowledge and clever tactics, we have finally got him!”
Another roar goes up. But the sense I feel of betrayal hurt so much, why hadn’t he told me.
Celebrations start in the room and music sounds from beating drums.
My mother waves when she sees me. “At last, justice!” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears of joy.
I hug her, still feeling numb, but her joy makes me push my own turmoil aside. Morrick embraces my mother and I force a smile as I wander away, leaving them to rejoice.
“Betrayal hurts, does it not, Sarajane?”
My hands curl into fists at my side. “What do you mean, Musa?” I try to make my voice light.
Musa sneers. “Carew, of course. It is written all over your face. You saved him and he kept secrets from you. Are you sure you made the right decision?”
I push past him, afraid of what I will do or say. His laughter follows me.
Carew reaches out to steady me before I crash into him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you.”
I force a smile. “It’s fine.”
“Sarajane, it was my duty to capture him. I had made an agreement with Marcella and Draco, and in return I would be left alone. I couldn’t tell anyone, and most certainly not you.” Carew’s eyes bore into mine. For the first time ever I can see fear in them. But fear of what, I didn’t know.
“It’s fine. I really mean it.” I smile and Carew smiles back, all fear leaving his face. “So how did you capture him?”
“Yes, Carew, do tell us,” Tristan says, wrapping his arm around my waist.
Carew’s eyes darken, but he remains where he is. “I got Adora to pretend to be you,” Carew addresses me, never acknowledging Tristan. “I carried you to him, while fifty soldiers hid. When I gave you over, he was so distracted by you that it was so easy. He was surrounded in seconds.
Then Adora returned to herself, but it was too late for him.”
Tristan’s hand feels heavy on my waist. The heat from it burns my flesh. I glance up at him, his jaw is clenched as he glares at Carew.
“And Adora?” I ask Carew.
“She is fine, not a scratch,” Carew smiles. “She played you well.”
I return Carews smile and his sobers up. “I better go. Have a nice night, Princess.” Carew turns to Tristan and nods before leaving.
“Do you know where Adora is now?” Tristan asks, lost in thought.
“No, but I don’t think many people know that she is even here.” At that, I look around for Musa, because he had requested her capture. I wondered if he knows she is here. Tristan’s hand tightens on my waist and Carew leaves us. I look up at Tristan. My anger from earlier fleas when I see his brows drawn down with worry.
“Are you okay?” His face relaxes at my question.
“Tristan, a word,” Morrick keeps his voice down.
Tristan tilts his head for Morrick to proceed.
“In private.” Morrick throws a poisonous look at me.
Tristan’s jaw tightened. “You can speak in front of Sarajane.”
Morrick draws in a breath, trying to calm himself. He keeps his voice low. “I understand that you’re together, but I would like it if you would save your affectionate display for more private times. I am requesting this as your king.”
Tristan’s hand leaves my waist. “Of course, my lord,” he says through clenched teeth. They stare at each other for a moment.
“Let’s take a walk.” Tristan smiles down at me before he bows slightly to Morrick and we leave the celebrations behind us. I don’t give Morrick a second glance.
We walk in silence. When we reach the dirt roads that led to the old barn that we had sparred in, Tristan entwines our fingers together. He looks content. My stomach flutters as I glance up at his side profile. This feels like such a normal thing to do, just to walk, hand in hand.
“So is this like, a date?” I ask raising an eyebrow while I smile wide up at him.
Tristan smiles back. “A date?”
“A date, as in two people who like each other, who spend time getting to know each other a bit better.”
“It’s a date.” Tristan declares and stops walking. He pulls me into his chest and places a soft kiss on my lips. When he draws back, he keeps me encircled in his arms. I like the feel of his arms around me. I have never felt safer than right now in his arms.
“So what do you want to know?” he asks, his eyes roam across my face.
“What’s your favorite color?”
Tristan laughs. The sound makes me quiver. It’s delicious and a sound I don’t think I will ever get used to. He untangles us as we start to walk again. I love how my hand fits snuggly in his large one.
“Green, what about you?”
“Black. Okay, my turn.” I stop, knowing my next question is serious. The sad part is that I don’t know much about Tristan and I want to know everything. “Do you have a family?”
“No,” Tristan answer is blunt and carries no emotional weight.
“Everyone has family, Tristan.”
He looks away, all laughter from earlier fleeing his face.
I stand in front of him, seeing the conflict within him.
“Please don’t close up on me,” I say, trying to catch his eye. I do and he studies me for a moment before leaning in and placing a kiss on my forehead. He reclaims my hand in his and we continue walking. My shoulders slack with disappointment when I think he won’t answer me.
“When I was young, it never bothered me that I didn’t know my parents, most of us that were reared in the castle didn’t care, because we knew we were different.”
I listen intently, knowing a moment like this—to have insight into who Tristan is—is rare.
“But as time went on, yes… I started to become curious. I was close to Morrick and looked up to him as a father-figure. But I was still always curious about who my biological parents were. So I went to Mirium. My mother was a baker and my father was a blacksmith; he was originally from here.”
This really surprises me. “Humus?” I ask. “Why would he leave here when Saskia has such strong laws about matching people together?”
“Well, my mother came here just on a visit and met my father; they fell in love. When they returned to Saskia, they were allowed to live as one, as they had already married here in Humus. Normally, it’s not allowed, but because she was from Saskia, they were allowed to live together. Then I was born.” Tristan’s face grows tense and he takes a deep breath before he continues. “I was taken, and soon after my mother died, and my father returned to Humus.”
I stop walking and look at Tristan. “Is he still alive, your father?” I hold on to the small bit of hope that he is.
“He was when I found him, but he died a few years back. I used to come here with Mirium; he had business to attend to and I came as his apprentice. No-one passed any remarks of me. I searched for my father and when I found him, I also discovered I had a brother.” A sad smile crosses Tristan’s lips. “His name was Marcus; we were only a few years apart. Once every year I would come here with Mirium and spend a month with my brother and my Father.”
I actually don’t know what to say; he had a brother. A smile breaks out on Tristan’s face; he has stopped and is looking around.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s weird that we’ve ended up here,” he says, smiling down at me. I look around too. We have walked a good bit and we are near hills that are c
oated in green grass, with large trees spaced throughout the uneven landscape. It’s beautiful but nothing unusual stands out for me.
Tristan pulls my hand that still rests in his and moves us toward the hills. Once we are at them, they appear a lot larger than they looked from the road. Small mud paths had been made between the hills from people walking between them. The sun doesn’t reach behind them, making it gloomy, and moss grows at the base of nearly every tree.
Tristan continues to move with excitement now.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, getting excited as well.
“We’re nearly there.” He stops at the base of one of the hills, where a large tree rests against it, the tree branches bend down and create a curtain in front of a portion of the hill. Tristan pulls them aside and a door is revealed. Tristan looks at me and grins. I raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything but pushes open the door.
“Lux,” he whispers and a ball of fire rises into the air, lighting up the small space.
The room is practically empty except for a small concrete table that sits in the center of the room, and on top of it sits one single rose that is in a ceramic pot; a glass lid covers it. The rose is blood red, but the most unusual thing about it is the veins of the rose; golden liquid flows through the veins. It’s breathtaking.
“My brother Marcus brought me here a few times; this is where he spent his days working.”
I move to the rose, but don’t touch the glass. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Tristan steps up behind me, the light moves with him, it shines on the rose, making the gold sparkle.
“It is how the gold dust is created,” he says.
I remember Cimon blowing it into our faces.
“My brother was the one that discovered the rose, and he found a way to extract the gold liquid from its veins and make it into gold dust. This single rose is the only rose in all of Saskia that has this gold liquid.” Tristan moves around to the opposite side of the concrete table, looking directly at me. Once again, sadness has taken over his face.
