Calipher takes a shy step toward me. “Would you do it again?” he asks.
His request is hesitant and unsure. But his eyes are bright with a fire I’ve never seen before. It sends feelings coursing through me that I never would have dared to let free.
Would I do it again? If only I never had to stop.
I nod.
He reaches toward me, his palm up. I lay my own over it.
The peace washes over me in a rush, shooting up my arm and nestling into my core. As it fills me it softens, bringing all my anxiety and tension to a standstill, dissolving it into a gentle, pulsing warmth. Underneath it, there is the thrill of touching him, this beautiful strange creature that I have longed for, for so long. And this time he is touching me back, craving it as much as I do.
I look up to find he is watching me. I smile. He smiles too, a perfect angelic smile revealing perfect pearl teeth.
And then I do something I had not realized I even wanted.
I don’t know what makes me do it, whether it’s the relief that he is not angry, or the intense pleasure of his aura, or the giddiness of being here, with him, touching his hand.
But before I can think, I am stretching up to him on my tiptoes, and he is bending his neck down to meet me, and I am pressing my lips into his.
As we connect, his aura hits me so hard I can’t feel the ground beneath me. It is utter perfection.
CHAPTER 2
WHEN I PULL away from Calipher, a great swelling fear replaces the depths of the aura I felt while kissing him—I should not have done that. Was touching his wing not enough for me? Did I have to ruin it like this? I gasp and turn away.
But Calipher places a hand on my shoulder and turns me back toward him. When I gather my courage to look up at him, he is smiling.
We wander the woods through the rest of the day, and into the night. Our hands entangle as long as we can take the powerful aura rushing through us, then unclasp, only to begin again.
And he kisses me. Again and again and again.
For the first time since my father’s Great Illness, I feel cared for. I feel whole. I feel, perhaps, the way I could have, if things had not gone so terribly wrong.
We watch the sun rise from under a tree at the wood’s edge, pressed against each other. Then, the magic is over. Calipher must go run his morning prayer, and I have things I must take care of at home.
Before we part ways, he takes my hands. “When can I see you again?”
A thrill tingles down my spine. “This evening?”
He nods, and kisses me one more time. Then he lets go of me and walks away.
The world rushes back with all its cares and burdens. But knowing they will drop away again tonight makes them more bearable.
I float back to the house, my body still buzzing with the afterglow of Calipher’s aura. I should be tired, but I’m not. I am too stuffed with peaceful contentedness for that.
Mother is on her way out to tend the field, a slice of bread in her hand. She does not seem to notice that I am just getting home, or the glow I am sure is bursting from me, or that there was no dinner for her last night. It would usually bother me to go so unnoticed by her, but not this morning. I have someone else to notice me now.
I begin by cleaning up the mess left from my fight with Mother yesterday morning. It feels so long ago now, so completely distant from the unexpected lows and highs that have blustered through me since then. So small compared to my long walk through the night with Calipher.
Once the house is back in order, I pull out the store of grains from the fields that we keep for ourselves, and begin baking fresh loaves of bread.
I give myself over to the heavy rhythm of kneading the dough. But Calipher’s kisses still linger on my lips, and my mind keeps drifting back to the path in the woods. I lose myself in daydreams until a sharp knock at the door jolts me out of it. I am just putting a loaf in the fiery-hot oven, and I flinch, burning my arm on the iron.
“By the gods!” I curse.
As I approach the door, a familiar uneasiness seeps into me, fighting for the space where Calipher’s peace is nestled inside my chest.
“Bastus.”
I hold the door open with my foot, my hand busy wrapping a wet cloth over my burn.
Bastus bursts through it and stops abruptly, our bodies just inches apart. His piercing blank eyes are electric with concern, and his full lips press tensely against each other. He towers a full head over me.
“Nia, why did you not tell me? I never would have left you with him, had I known.” His voice crackles with urgency.
The lean muscles of his shoulders are tense and his fists are clutched tight at his sides.
“Tell you what?”
His icy blue eyes narrow. “You should have told me what happened in the village with Calipher, about touching his wing.”
A prick of embarrassment pierces my chest. “How did you find out about that?”
“All the village is speaking of it.”
I moan and press my forehead against the side of the door.
“Well?” he prompts. “Are you all right? Did he do that to you?” he asks, pointing to the cloth wrapped around my burned arm.
“Of course not. You did that to me more than he did.”
The panicked expression that rolls over him is satisfying. I do not know why I make things so difficult for him. He means well. But his concern is like a weed that grows too fast to be cut back, always growing back twice as strong.
I laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “I just meant you startled me when you knocked. I burned myself on the oven is all.”
He leans forward and removes the cloth from the burn to look at it. “I am sorry.”
The burn’s sting returns under his gaze. I take the cloth out of his hand and cover it again.
“It’s really not that bad.”
He turns his frown on me again. “Nia, what’s going on? People in the village are saying you angered him. That he chased you into the woods and has not been seen since. They’re using words like ‘wrath’ and ‘fury.’”
“That’s not what happened.” I say it through gritted teeth.
“But….” His icy flat eyes scrutinize me. “Something happened?”
“I touched his wing.” Saying it to Bastus, it feels like a confession. A betrayal of some sort. “But he was not angry with me.”
I don’t want to talk about it. What happened after, in the woods, I want it to stay my own sweet secret. Talking about Calipher and what happened between us will bring it into the light, leave it vulnerable to judgment. Especially with Bastus.
“Bastus, I need you to go.”
I start to close the door.
“Wait!” His fingers wrap over the door’s latch. “You touched Calipher’s wing in the marketplace yesterday. What happened after? To go by what they are saying in the village, he dragged you away in a fury.”
“He did no such thing. For the love of the gods, Bastus, you were there when Calipher caught up to me. Did he appear full of rage to you? I know you did not think so then, or you would never have left me with him.”
That much I can say for Bastus. He always looks out for me.
“Nia, please. Tell me what happened.” His mouth tightens at the corners, tense with concern and something else I do not want to acknowledge.
“Come on, Bastus. I have work to do. Do you not, as well?”
“Riamne.”
I hate when he uses my full name. No one else does, not since my father. It was his mother’s name.
“What does it matter to you, Bastus?”
His forehead knits together. He reaches out as if to touch my arm and the unsettling buzz of his aura grows greater as he nears, but then pulls away again.
“You know, Nia. Surely you do.”
He takes a half-step toward me, his lip trembling with emotion that his flat eyes refuse to echo. The space between us grows tense, and I step back to escape it, my eyes dropping to the floor. It is
dusty. I will need to clean it this afternoon. I focus on that, allow it to distract me from what I do not want to admit.
His aura wrestles through me and amplifies the discomfort his words stir within me. I wish he would just go. But he will not go until he knows what happened. I sigh.
“I touched his wing in the market. I was embarrassed and ran off, which is when you saw me. He followed after me, and we talked. And then….,” I swallow. “I kissed him.”
“You kissed him?” Bastus snaps. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a moment to calm himself. He looks back to me. “What then?”
“Well. He kissed me back.”
“Oh, Nia.”
His disappointment stings. But then a swell of resentment flares in me and pushes it out. This is not his to judge. He has no claim on me. I have half a mind to slam the door on him.
He leans in closer.
“Do you understand why I have never asked you to be mine, Nia? Because even the god of Chaos has a few rules that are not to be broken.”
I stiffen. Hot embers of anger ignite within me, and his unsettling aura fans the flames.
“No. You haven’t asked because you know what I would say. But I can’t stop living my life to spare your feelings.”
As soon as the words escape me, the full weight of them sinks in. I want to reach out and catch them so I can hide them away. But it is too late. Bastus’ expression drains. A tight ball of muscle hardens in his jaw as it clenches. I am sure he is about to explode.
My cheeks grow hot and guilt stirs within me. All I want is to cling to what is left of Calipher’s aura, and right now it’s getting buried under Bastus.
I step back and close the door on him. As I do, I catch a glimpse of him breaking apart into shadow and whooshing away.
I lean back against the door and shut my eyes. I try desperately to shove the guilt away and draw the warm hum of Calipher’s aura back out, but it is gone.
CHAPTER 3
EVEN AFTER BASTUS and his restless aura are gone, the warm, bubbling bliss from last night is diminished, and I can’t coax it back.
I want it back. And I do not want to wait for this evening.
I stop kneading dough and pile the cooling loaves into a basket while I wait for the one in the oven to finish. I’ll need to go to the village to trade anyway; I might as well go now. Calipher is always in the village center through the morning.
When I reach the village, I look around for him, but he is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps someone required his assistance.
Impatience tugs at my heart.
I busy myself with my trades for tonight’s dinner.
Around me people move with unusual focus, and there is less chatter through the village center. More whispering and significant looks. Who knew such a small village could hold so many opinions in it?
What is it to me if the village wants to judge? Nothing, I tell myself. It is nothing new for them to keep their distance from me.
I take my time, but even so it only takes but a few moments to complete. Still Calipher is nowhere.
I turn and wander by Shara and her butcher’s stand. Even when the village feared us most, right after my father’s death, when I was young and learning to trade in his stead, Shara has always been kind to me. She is usually generous with the village’s latest gossip, too. I pause to inspect today’s cuts, wait for her to address me.
“Morning’s greetings, Nia,” she says.
“And to you,” I reply, as casually as I can. “How was morning prayer?”
Her smile disappears. “You haven’t heard?”
My hand folds into an anxious ball. “Heard what?”
“There was, well, an unexpected visitor.” She raises her eyebrows.
We hardly ever get visitors from other places here. “At prayer? At Calipher’s prayer?”
“Another angel.”
There has never been more than one angel assigned to a town. Only very few of us have ever even seen an angel other than Calipher, just a few of the traders who travel to other villages often.
Shara shakes her head, eyes wide. “She appeared at the end of prayer. She walked through us as if we were not even there, right to Calipher. And then they went out toward the woods.”
A knot tangles in my stomach.
“Why is she here?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “But she looked angry.”
Shara glances at me as she speaks, shifting her feet. Even many of the gods’ own followers never got comfortable with the First Creatures among us. Shara is no exception.
“Which way did they go?”
Her eyes widen. “I don’t think you should—“
“Which way?”
I know what she is thinking—that after my antics yesterday, it is my fault there is another angel among us.
Shara points. “Back toward his home.”
I head off in the same direction, searching for them. My heart pounds and my blood rushes as I reach Calipher’s little home. It is no more than a twist of oversized tree roots that Theia grew into a home just for him, but also infinitely special because of that fact. Branches tower over it, shading it, making the powerful glow emanating from it seem even greater. Along with the light, strong waves of peace waft out, even from a distance.
I hesitate, unsure if I should go any closer.
There is no reason to fear a pair of angels—they are beings of peace—and yet something very serious must have happened for another angel to be here.
I am about to turn away and leave when the door flies open. I almost run to it before I realize the light is not silvery like Calipher, but golden, almost like the sun. It is the other angel.
Shara was right. The angel is tall, with generous curves. She has rosy-gold hair that tumbles in soft curls past her shoulders and gleams like a sunset. Her wings rustle as her eyes meet mine, her thin lips pursed together into a stern pout.
I stumble back a step. Her beauty is daunting in its perfection, and I feel small and insignificant in comparison.
“You must be the reason I was sent here,” she declares. Her voice is like the roar of a waterfall. “There is nothing here for you, girl. Go, and do not come back.”
Were the townspeople right to blame me?
I gape, startled at her splendor and torn between fleeing and rushing past her into Calipher’s arms.
“C-Calipher?” I call, but it comes out weak and is swallowed in the glow.
I can make out a vague silvery glow behind the door, but he does not respond, or even move. I want to run to him, but I am too frightened.
“Go.”
The angel’s voice rolls like a bear’s growl, and her lips form a scowl that bares her teeth.
My stomach twists, and I hurry away, afraid of what the angel will do to me if I don’t, and even more afraid of what she has in store for Calipher.
CHAPTER 4
I RUN ALL the way home, heedless of the slapping branches and grabbing underbrush. Was Bastus right? Is being together really so offensive to the gods?
I step into the hearth and set my basket down. My anxieties have pushed out almost all of what was left of Calipher’s aura. The need for sleep wallops me.
I go straight to bed. Mother won’t notice or care, not in the state she’s in. I flop against my pillow, and drift away immediately.
What feels like just minutes later, I am awakened with a rough shake.
“Are you mad?”
I moan and open my eyes, startled and stiff.
Mother stands over me. It would be wonderful to see her being herself again, if she weren’t frowning at me so severely.
I rub my eyes. “What?”
How long was I sleeping? Outside the window, the sun is already setting.
“Are you mad?” Mother repeats. “Touching an angel’s wing?”
She storms away, swings her arms in anger, and begins pacing the room. There is no point in trying to defend myself until she is done.
“Why w
ould you do such a thing? What were you thinking?”
I clench my fists to keep from yelling back at her. “Where did you hear this gossip, from the farmhands? You don’t know—”
“I know enough. You spend all your time with Firsts.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
I already know. We’ve had this argument a thousand times over. But as the sluggishness of sleep wears off, my familiar anger toward her roars in my stomach. I want her to feel it, too.
“The Firsts are a deception,” she roars. “They are useless meddlers.”
They couldn’t save my father, she means.
I wonder if she knows the extent to which Calipher and I are—were—involved. But it doesn’t matter now.
“But—”
She slams a fist into the wall. I hate when she is like this, but it is not as bad as when she disappears into herself.
“You will stop this, Nia. You will stay away from that angel.”
“I will do as I see fit!” I am screaming now, tears welling in my eyes for no particular reason, determined to simply be heard.
There is no reason for this, a small, rational voice whispers in my head. It’s over anyway. It barely even began.
But she never let go of what Calipher did when Father was fading away from us. Theia ordered him back to his other duties, and he went. He did not have a choice.
Bastus and Peri too eventually needed to tend to their other duties, but at least they checked in.
Father had been a devout follower of Theia since he was a child. For Theia’s ambassador to us to turn away—for Mother, it was the final betrayal, the ultimate proof that the First Creatures were not truly in this realm for our benefit, as so many had suspected.
Mother gives me her most menacing look, her shoulders quivering. “You will obey me, Nia.”
“I am grown now, Mother. You can’t hold me back forever simply because Father is no longer here.”
And then I storm out of the house.
****
I burst into the twilight and head toward the fields. Mother doesn’t bother to call after me. I need to walk, to be out, so that I might think.
Rain, Chronicles of the Third Realm Wars #0 Page 2
