“What? What is it, acushla?”
“I was awful to you. I’m so sorry. It is I who needs forgiveness.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I was wrong to use the death of your parents to provoke a reaction from you.”
She dabbed under her eyes with her sleeve in an attempt to dry them. “It fueled the anger in me that I needed to gain control over. I have managed it now.”
“You control your emotions. Your emotions do not control you. Is that it?”
“Yes. Exactly. I am the Faery of Light. I cannot let darkness rule me. I will not allow it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’ve done well so far. I don’t think you need to worry.”
She was already becoming his light. Once again, he couldn’t help thinking how someone observing him from the outside might view him as menacing. He dressed in all black, and yet there was nothing dark about him. He tilted his head, and then thought how that wasn’t entirely true. His curse was the dark stain on his soul.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s eat and then teach me how to conjure.”
Delighted by her zeal, he shoved his morose thoughts aside. “I was about to suggest the same.”
Later that night, both of them completely exhausted, Lochlan went to blow out the candles on his way to bed. He paused before extinguishing the candle next to where his book lay open on the table. He picked it up to read his last entry and went still. Some time when he wasn’t looking, Elin had made an entry of her own.
He smiled today. His smiles are as rare as mine, so I took his smile and tied it to the ribbon around my heart, where I can treasure it always.
Lochlan stared at her writing, traced his fingers over her words. He closed the book, set it down, and blew out the candle. He climbed the stairs to his bedchamber and paused in front of her door, listening to the quiet on the other side, imagining her lying on the bed, her hair feathered across her pillow. The picture was too beautiful for words. He stood there, dreaming of a time and place where his curse did not exist, and only he and Elin did. He frowned, knowing that time and place would never be. He walked to his chamber and closed the door.
He undressed and laid his head on his pillow, folding his arms behind his head. The red moon filtered in through the window, casting a hazy red glow all around him. He wouldn’t let the haze of the bitter moon bother him tonight. He smiled to himself and then heard the fluttering of feathers. Looking toward the window, he saw the familiar white owl perched upon his windowsill.
He sat up, and for a moment, the owl and Lochlan only stared, one reading the other. It almost appeared the owl had a message to deliver, though the longer Lochlan stared into the eyes of the creature he realized it wasn’t there to give a message at all, but to receive one.
“All right,” he said. “I believe you were sent here to watch over her.” It was the answer in his gut. He paused, waiting for a reaction. The owl remained perfectly still. “Do not worry,” he said softly, wanting to sound comforting. “I will keep her safe. You have my word.”
The owl spread its wings, expanded them as far as they would go. To Lochlan, it felt like approval. With tired eyes he watched the owl fly away.
He settled back onto his pillow and prepared for sleep to take him. Before drifting off, he murmured, “Or I will die trying.”
Training grew more intense. Lochlan pushed me harder every day and because of his pushing, I continually grew stronger, although there were times I wanted to kill him.
“We need to test your reflexes. I am going to throw balls of fire at you. Dodge them.”
“What? You’re not serious.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Quite.” He threw the first one and I instinctively ducked. It sailed over my head and disappeared.
I blinked. “You could have killed me!”
“I’m saving you.” He launched another, causing me to dodge it by leaning to the right. Then another, and another, and another streaked past me in rapid fire succession. I dodged left, right, left. When he launched one at my feet, I jumped high into the air, flipped, and landed in the exact spot I had been standing.
“Again,” he said.
I scowled. “I’m out of breath. I need a minute.”
“Your enemies will not give you a minute. Again.”
I brushed the hair away that had fallen in my face. I would kill you with my bare hands right now if I could.
Hearing my thoughts, he grinned. He turned around, casual as you please, and I thought he was going to take pity on me, let me rest, only to realize he was setting me up. It all happened in slow motion. A dagger come flying at my face. I ducked just in time and it lodged into the trunk of a tree behind me.
“You are trying to kill me,” I hissed.
“I’m saving you,” he repeated. “Now get up.”
I stood and brushed the dirt from my knees.
“You’ll have to learn–”
He didn’t finish that sentence because I narrowed my eyes and shot a fireball at him. He dodged it easily and threw one of his own, which I also dodged. His grin stretched higher, forming a frolicsome smile I wanted to wipe off his face.
“As I was saying…you’ll have to learn to expect the unexpected. Well done, acushla. Now, let us continue.”
One after the other he lobbed fireballs at me. As fast as I could dodge one, I was quickly dodging another. I found myself jumping high in the air and then landing on both feet just to roll away to dodge yet another. After a while, I became excited by how nimble and agile I was becoming. I must have dodged fifty or so and was rather pleased with myself when the last one he threw caught me on the right shoulder. At first, I was stunned, and then I was confused. It didn’t burn.
“Why didn’t that hurt?”
He tilted his head in confusion. “Do you honestly believe I would risk injuring you?”
“But I thought—”
“There is no heat in the ones I am tossing at you.”
Tossing? Ha! “What about the dagger?”
“What about it?”
“What if I had not been fast enough? You would have injured me then.”
“The dagger was not real either.” He turned his back to me, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, “I didn’t imagine it.”
“You saw what I wanted you to see. An illusion. I am not teaching you to stay alive while also risking your life. That would not be logical.” He began to walk down to the water’s edge. “I am teaching you what you need to learn, which includes deception. Make your opponent believe whatever it is you want them to believe.”
“Tricks of the mind.”
Lochlan shrugged. “Call it whatever you wish. It is part of doing battle. It is a tool to be used.” He stopped and turned around. “Are you coming?”
“Where?”
“To the creek. I want to show you something.”
Part of me was annoyed that I was easily fooled. However, I could also appreciate what he was doing for me. Reluctantly, I unfolded my arms and followed him.
I had not had much of an opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the grounds. It was like an entirely different world here. The sky seemed clearer, the air fresher. It lacked the ominous oppression that hung over much of Mirova and I was grateful for it. It was rejuvenating and I had to wonder…
“Lochlan?”
“Yes?”
“Why do you not live here? It belongs to you, does it not?”
He stopped and waited for me to catch up. “It was my father’s, King of Kaelmor, many moons ago.” His countenance was pensive. “I was born here, but my father sent me away as you know. I told you he trusted Searly’s family. I stayed hidden away, my father convincing everyone he’d killed me so no one would come looking for me.” Lochlan’s lips twitched. “Once every summer, he would come for me and he would bring me here.” He looked around like he was a child again, recalling those days, until something dark shadowed h
is features. “There are...” he shut his eyes and shook his head, “…too many memories.”
I wanted to know what those memories were. I wanted to know every detail, every experience he’d ever had. More than wanting the knowledge, I needed it too. It felt crucial to know the inner mind of Lord Lochlan. Or perhaps, it was desire. The desire to know who he was, to know who he is.
Despite knowing I should not have, I tried to tap into his mind, to pull those memories out so I could see them. That was always the one thing I could do, though I’d had no control over it before. I did now.
Concentrating, I wanted to start with a happy one. Like the time we’d first met, I could not see one. That part of his mind was an iron door, one I could not penetrate.
“Lochlan?” His eyes turned to mine, the distance in them still present. “Tell me why I cannot see your happy memories. Are you not allowing me to?”
His expression was soft, yet somber. He lifted his hand gently, and then pulled it back like a child who was not allowed to touch. His head drooped. “We shall discuss it some other time. Come, we’re almost there.”
He walked the rest of the distance. I remained standing in the same spot, too busy trying to put out the inferno he left burning inside my heart.
Sensing I wasn’t following, he called, “Elin.”
I blinked and looked up.
“Come.”
I put one foot in front of the other. When we made it down to the creek, he pointed to a felled tree. “We can sit here.”
I took a seat at one end of the tree trunk while he sat at the other, listening to the gentle sounds of the babbling and burbling of the shallow water sweeping over smooth rocks. From above, chords of light speared down, bathing the surface in shades of gold. A dragonfly danced in front of us and then landed on Lochlan’s shoulder. It fluttered its wings, making a buzzing sound, and then flew off his shoulder, landing on the ground before us. It somehow flipped onto its back and went completely still. Lochlan and I watched it, fascinated.
“What do you think it’s doing?” I whispered.
He chuckled, deep and low. “Why are you whispering?”
My cheeks got hot. “I don’t know.”
The dragonfly flipped back over and buzzed around again before taking flight.
Staring off into the distance, I asked, “What is it like to fly?”
“Fly?”
“Yes. I saw your wings, remember?”
“Right. I do not fly often. The last time I flew was when your parents…” His voice drifted off and his face pinched in apology, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have. A bird chirped in the distance and a harmony of wings echoed overhead, a flock of birds taking off at once. Quiet descended once more. Shaking his head, he said, “I only fly when I have to.”
Not wanting to think any more of that night, I changed the direction of the conversation. “Do I have wings, you think? I do not remember.”
He turned to face me and I could feel his warmth. “Yes,” he said softly. “You have wings.”
I smiled. “How are you so sure?”
“All angels have wings.”
My heart fluttered like a thousand dragonflies about to take flight. I could almost hear the buzzing inside my chest. “I am not an angel.”
I heard a whisper, though his lips did not move. You are my angel. “I brought you down here because I wanted to show you something.” He eyed the water and said, “Watch.”
He lifted his finger and rotated it in a circular motion. The water in the creek began to swirl. When he twirled his finger faster, the water twirled faster as well. He raised his arm, still twirling his finger in the air, and the water lifted, creating a waterspout.
I watched with wide eyes, mouth agape. He brought up his other hand and touched his left finger to his right and then separated them. Another spout emerged from the first. He waved his fingers around in front of him and the waterspouts danced.
It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed. Soft, spraying mists tickled my skin as the water shimmied and danced across the surface. Tearing my eyes away from the magic in front of me, I looked at him. His face was aglow, peaceful, and those mint-pearl eyes of his were shining brighter than I’d ever seen them.
“How did you learn to do that?” I asked, mesmerized by him, by the water.
“I wasn’t very old when I discovered I could make water dance. In fact, I was very young.”
“How young?”
“Twelve summers.” He brought his hands down and the water returned as it once was. “I learned how to do it here, as a matter of fact. Though the landscape was a little different. There was more water then.”
It was nice learning new things about him. Before, I’d felt he knew more about me than I knew about him. Yet something told me Lochlan wanted to be known, and I wanted to know him.
We sat talking, the two of us, until the golden globe set and the pale moon rose, a crescent in the night sky. Lochlan’s gaze trailed up, and occasionally he would focus on the wan moon that was unwilling to shine this night, hiding behind the clouds instead.
Due to the lack of moonlight, Lochlan had built a small fire. For a time we listened to the crackles and pops of the burning wood while crickets chirped around us.
“May I ask you something?” I said.
He had been staring at the sky again and he dropped his gaze to me. “You may ask me anything. I may not always answer, though you may certainly ask.”
“Thank you.” I tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “The curse… I have wondered since learning about you. How were you cared for as a child? I mean, without touch. How were you nurtured?”
He lowered his head and quietly said, “When what is blue turns red, your child will bring man to his knees in sorrow.”
I tilted my head in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“It is part of the curse.” He looked up at the moon again. “What color is the moon tonight, Elin?”
I studied him first, and then inclined my head to observe the thing that haunted his soul. “A blue-ish silver I suppose.”
“It is red. Full or half or crescent. To me, it is always red. It has been since the thirteenth year of my birth. On that night, the blue moon turned red.” His unnatural eyes found mine. “My life has never been the same.”
“I thought you were cursed at birth. The book in the library said—”
“I was.” He stood and walked to the water’s edge. “I was cursed while in my mother’s womb. I do not know why the curse went into effect then and not before. I suppose it has something to do with becoming a man. I can only guess.”
“You… you were able to touch before…as a child?”
“Until my thirteenth year.”
I clenched my fists, angry at what was done to him. He was innocent. He had done nothing wrong. Angry tears fell down my cheeks. “How could they be so cruel?”
“Acushla, do not,” he said, shaking his head. “I do not like to see you cry. Not even for me.”
“It’s not fair.”
“No, I suppose it is not.”
“Were they good years, Lochlan?” Hot tears ran down my cheeks. “Did you have at least thirteen good years before they took your life from you?”
His eyes misted before he blinked it away.
I stood and began to pace. I felt so many things. Anger, frustration, loss. So much loss.
“Look at me,” Lochlan said.
I punched up my sleeves. So many emotions were swirling within me. I felt I needed to hit something, throw something. I looked around on the ground and found a nice fat rock.
“Elin, please,” he pleaded.
I pulled my arm back behind my head and threw the rock hard as I could, then I bent down to search for another. Soon I was hurling rocks, punching them in the air so hard they shattered wherever they landed.
“I want to kiss you.”
My hand was reared back ready to lob another stone when I heard those words fall from
his lips. I froze. Slowly, I dropped my hand and turned around. He was staring at me with a twinkle of light in his eye.
“What did you say?”
He took one, two, three steps toward me. “Have you ever thought about it? What it would be like?”
I nodded, unable to speak. I had. So many times.
One, two, three more steps in my direction. He lowered his hood. Neither of us spoke. We stood, staring at each other, saying so many things without saying anything at all.
He took another step and he was standing right in front of me. He closed his eyes and gently said, “Elin.”
I swallowed. “Yes?”
“Put down the rock.”
I let the rock slip from my hand and blushed. “I must have looked foolish just now.”
He shook his head. “No. You have passion. It is a beautiful thing.” He grinned. “At least you didn’t cause an earthquake this time. You’re getting better.”
I laughed and then felt the heat on my neck rise. I looked away, embarrassed.
“I’m proud of you, acushla.”
“Why do you call me that? What does it mean?”
“It means…” He leaned forward, careful not to touch me, and whispered, “my pulse.”
On their own volition, my eyes closed. I needed his closeness more than I needed air in my lungs. The bubbling creek, the crackling fire, and the sound of our hearts beating were all I heard. “Tell me how you would do it.”
His mouth twitched. “How I would kiss you?”
“You can give me that much.”
His eyes fell to my lips and mine fell to his. My heart beat so fast I had to rest my palm over my breast to keep it from bursting out of my chest.
We stared at each other for what felt like ages. The pulse in his neck thrummed, his nostrils flared, and forever went by before he spoke. In a smoky, hushed voice he said, “Do not move. Promise me, you will not move.”
I murmured, “I promise.”
He brought his hands up, slowly, to frame my face. He did not touch me, though the heat from his hands, I could feel. “First, I would hold you…like this.” He moved in a fraction. “I would memorize the color of your eyes, the slope of your nose, the shape of your mouth, and I would think… I am never going to be the same after this.”
The Moon Shines Red (Heart of Darkness Book 1) Page 10
