Finding Eden

by Camilla Beavers

  I stare at him for a few seconds. I'm angry with him, but I'm also disappointed. Did he not trust me enough to tell me the truth as to why my life is in danger?

  “And before you start jumping to conclusions, I didn't tell you because you would have been even more resistant to come here had you known we were at war.”

  I frown at him and still say nothing. I know that he's right, and he probably knows that I know that he's right, but I won't admit it to him.

  “Regardless of whether or not you're right, you lied to me,” I say.

  “I didn't lie to you,” he says.

  He opens my door and motions for me to enter.

  “You lead me on, which is my mind is the same as lying. You didn't tell me the truth when you should have.” I say as I walk past him. “Just tell me how you could have forgotten.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He closes the door and turns to look at me.

  “How did you magically forget that we are at war?” I ask him.

  “I didn't forget,” he says, “As I said, I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't want to come here had you known. You would have done the same thing!”

  “You don't know that.”

  “I don't, huh?” He looks at me, one eyebrow raised, “So you're telling me that if your family and friends were in danger of being killed, and you knew of one person out there who could basically guarantee their safety, you wouldn't go out and look for them?”

  I look up at him as the words enter my mind, throwing me for a second. I try and formulate some sort of argument against what he's said, but I know I won't be able to come up with a valid one, and he can see that on my face.

  “Exactly,” he says, “you would, and both you and I know that.”

  Sahariel walks away from me, and I frown at his back.

  “I know it seems odd to you,” he looks over his shoulder at me, “but these people are my friends and family, regardless of what they say to me. We all care about each other to an extent and none of us wants to see the other die.”

  I glare at him; his gaze never wavers.

  “There will be a war, and they all expect you to lead us to victory.”

  I'm holding my breath. I let it out and his beautiful liquid gold eyes whisper sorrows into mine. I only have one question on my mind.

  “And what do you expect of me, Sahariel?”

  “I expect nothing from you,” He shakes his head, “I only pray that you survive.”

  I stare at him blankly, “Please leave.”

  His head snaps up, “What?”

  “Please leave,” I nod toward the door and Sahariel's eyes follow the motion.

  “But,” he starts to say, but the look on my face quiets him and he slowly walks out of the room and closes the door behind himself.

  He doesn't go far, though, duty keeping him from leaving my door. I take a deep, shaky, breath, thankful that the tears stayed back long enough so I didn't cry in front of him. I sink to the ground, my knees under my chin and my hands covering my soon-to-be tear stained face.

  I don't know how long I was there sitting on the ground; I don't know how long I cried, but I wake up lying in bed, my head pounding and my eyes swollen and the sun in my eyes. I stare at the ceiling and frown. I guess I just need to face this and get it behind myself.

  Sitting up in bed, I rub my temples and think. Do I have any right to be mad at him? He was only doing what he felt was right, and he did tell me my life was in danger. Still though, he didn't tell me about the war.

  I turn my thoughts over in my mind. I stand up and begin to pace. I think about all the times I had read an article in the newspaper about some death row inmate being put to the death and the only thing I could think of at the time was that at least the families would finally have peace. But during a war, there are families on both sides. Everyone has a family, whether mothers, fathers, brothers or sisters, or maybe even dear friends who are close enough to call family. Everyone has someone that will miss them if they die. But having a leader during war keeps casualties down, keeps the masses calm. Now I know why he didn't tell me.

  I shake my head. I guess any sane person wouldn't tell the other about a war, so I shouldn't really expect him to have told me.

  I get up and walk to the bathroom intent on washing my face and hopefully making the swelling go down. Taking a deep breath after drying off my face, I slowly open the door and walk out of my room.

  I find Sahariel down the hallway from my room. He doesn't say anything when he sees me; he just nods as I motion for him to follow me as I walk out and through the gardens. My fingers find a small red flower and I pick the petals off one by one as I walk and try to figure out in my head what I'm going to say to this man.

  “I understand,” I say to him, “why you didn't tell me. I'm still upset that you didn't tell me the true reason behind bringing me here, but I can forgive you quicker because I understand why you did it. And you're right, I probably would have done the same thing had the situation been reversed.”

  I frown and I take inventory of my recently possessed life. The castle, the bedrooms, the furniture, drapes, all the way down to the candelabra's; they're all mine.

  I think about my family and all the other elves. Does everyone really expect me to save them? What of the others? I'm only seventeen years old. I honestly don't know if I should be fearful of failing them or if I should be courageous and face this with all that I have in me. But still; what if I fail? How can I do all of this?

  I stop picking at the flower. Anxiety begins to overwhelm me. What if I fail? The question repeats itself in my mind.

  Sahariel shifts behind me, obviously feeling my anxiety climb and worrying.

  “What's wrong now?” Sahariel asks after a few minutes, unable to keep himself from asking.

  I look over at him and he looks back at me with a worried expression. I take a deep breath.

  “What if I fail?” I finally ask the question out loud, “What if I fail everyone?”

  “You won't,” he says.

  “But what if I do?” I feel like crying.

  “You won't,” he says again.

  “How can you say that with such certainty?”

  “Because,” he says. “I know you.”

  I look up at him. He's so close that I can feel the heat coming from his body. Even though I was upset with him, I can't be now. He makes me happy. He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel some sort of feeling that I can only describe as completeness. I start to lean into him but as soon as I get close I feel him stiffen. He pulls back.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “For?”

  “Making me feel better. Filling me with courage.”

  He shakes his head.

  “I don't deserve your thanks,” he says and steps away, “for lying to you; I don't deserve your smile after lying to you. I'm sorry.”

  “I didn't understand it last night, and I probably wouldn't have been able to understand it before, but I do understand now. You were thinking about the kingdom, something I couldn't even have imagined thinking about. You did the right thing.”

  I speak in a soothing tone and place my hand on his shoulder. I look into his eyes and watch as the sadness melts away. His pupils grow larger and the gold in them swirls. His breathing deepens and the feeling of safety and completeness inside of me deepen.

  Sahariel suddenly pulls away his hands shaking as he rubs them on his legs.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yes, I'm fine,” he says, “nothing wrong.”

  “Are you sure? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” he rubs his hands over his face vigorously, “it's just—I don't—I don't know.”

  My face pulls into a worried expression as I watch him fidget and run his hands through his hair.

  “I don't think I can be your personal guard anymore.”

  I feel my eyes grow wide. My gaze falls to my feet where my heart currently resides.

 
; “What? Why?” I'm so confused.

  “Because you're the Queen and I'm a royal guard.”

  “That doesn't really clarify things.”

  “I don't know how to explain it,” he takes a deep breath, “but when we're close, like we were a few seconds ago, I feel things I've never felt toward another person. And I don't know what to do about them.”

  “If you're worried about me not feeling the same way,” I mumble, trying not to feel hopeful.

  “No,” He puts his hands on my arms, “that's not it at all. You're the Queen. It would be inappropriate.”

  “Only if it's acted upon,” I toss out.

  He gives me a small smile.

  “That's the problem,” he says.

  I feel like a ball of butterflies has exploded in my stomach. The space between us closes and his arms move to my waist. My breath hitches and my body tingles. Sahariel leans down, his breath tickling my neck and goose bumps raise on my arms.

  “I think,” he whispers into my ear, sending shivers down my spine, “I should find a replacement.”

  He walks away, leaving me swaying on the balcony and with tunnel vision. I let out the breath I had been holding, lean against the wall and let the butterflies settle.

  Chapter Twenty

  “These are your candidates?”

  I stare at the five men in front of me, all of them without colors.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” Sahariel says, “what's wrong with them?”

  “They're not you?” I pout.

  He sighs, “I'm sorry, Eden. I know you don't want to but you have to pick one. If you don't want to then I will.”

  “Alright, fine. Him.”

  I point at a random man, not really caring who it is.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Why not?”

  “Alright,” he says, “Kal, please stay; the rest of you can go.”

  Four men step away leaving only a stocky man with short, red hair, orange eyes and pale skin.

  “Kal,” Sahariel nods his head.

  “My Queen,” Kal says to me and I frown.

  He looks at me, at my frown, and he looks startled.

  “Did I do something wrong?” He asks.

  “No, her Highness just isn't happy about this arrangement.”

  “Oh.”

  “Kal,” Sahariel says.

  “Yes sir.” Kal snaps to attention.

  “Today is the beginning, your first say of protecting the Queen. You must swear to protect her at all costs, until you can no longer do so or you are replaced. Do you understand?”

  Kal nods.

  “Do you accept this responsibility?” Sahariel stares at him intently, giving this moment a weight that may be too heavy to hold.

  “Yes.”

  “Then it is done,” Sahariel walks up to Kal, “She is yours to take care of now.”

  Kal nods and Sahariel looks at him closely and Kal looks nervous. Sahariel's body language changes and I feel tension roll off him.

  “She is your responsibility. Do not make any mistakes.” Sahariel's voice is harsh, full of emotions that Kal can't begin to understand.

  Sahariel then turns and walks from the room, my eyes following him and my body feeling the tension as the connection stretches, mirroring the tension running through both of us. I sigh as he disappears. My eyes settle on Kal and I'm frowning again. He stiffens.

  “I swear if you keep doing that I'm going to kill you before we ever get to war.” I get up from my seat and walk quickly through the room, feeling the nervousness roll off of Kal as I walk past. I shake my head and walk from the room trying to find something to do.

  It's unnerving being followed without really being able to sense it, especially if you could always feel it before. But I can hear him. Oh yes. I can hear him like I can feel my own heartbeat. Stomping around behind me.

  He follows me all day. I don't know what it is about him, but I just don't like him. He's loud and he's twitchy. He isn't Sahariel. I sigh. I've picked the wrong random person.

  I don't want Sahariel to be upset with me. I know he has a lot on his mind. What that is exactly I don't know, but I know he needs to think about it.

  “I'm sorry,” I say to Kal.

  “What for, my lady?”

  “For being rude to you. I'm not mean, I'm just not too happy with the current arrangements is all. Please don't hold it against me.”

  I look up over at Kal and he gives me a small smile.

  “I wouldn't dream of it, my lady.”

  “Good,” I say, “now get up here and tell me a little about yourself.”

  A wide smile spreads itself across Kal's face and he jogs up to walk beside me.

  “So,” I say, “are you married?”

  Red creeps up Kal's neck and tinges his ears, “No, I'm afraid not.”

  My eyes widen and a wicked smile hits my face before I can stop myself from reacting.

  “But you like someone, don't you?”

  His face turns bright red. I don't need to be able to sense his emotions. I can see them plain on his face. Hopefully he doesn't play poker.

  “You do! What's her name? Do I know her?”

  I look at him and hope that I'm not being too forward considering that we only met hours before.

  “I'm sorry if I'm being too direct,” I say, “I just like the fact that you're easy to read.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “You do know her?”

  “Really? That's a little hard to believe. I don't know many people to be honest. Are you sure I know her?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Who then?”

  Kal mumbles something, probably a name. I can barely hear what he's said.

  “I didn't hear you.” It comes out sounding like I'm teasing him, which I'm not.

  “Lelaine,” he repeats.

  My brain automatically rolls through names and pictures. Pictures, moments, whirl and spin in my mind until it all stops on one moment. A dropped candelabra. A loud clank after having slept most of the day. A young, timid servant girl with short brown hair and large, kind, brown eyes.

  “She's nice.” I smile at him.

  “She sure is.” His lips pull up into an innocent smile.

  “I'm happy for you,” I say, “I'm happy that you're able to be with the one you love. How come you two aren't married?”

  “Having been human, you of all people should know that marriage doesn't always equate love. I love Lelaine. She is my other half. No ceremony will make that bond any stronger, and lack of one will not make it weaker.”

  We walk in silence for a little while after that and I can't help but wonder what connection he's talking about. Is it what I feel for Sahariel, or is that something that is developed with every person and their personal guard? I don't feel any connection with Kal, aside from maybe the beginnings of friendship.

  “Not to uh, darken the current situation, but I think that maybe we should get you to the war room.”

  “The war room? That's an awfully bad name for a room.”

  “True, but it's the room where the strategists meet during times of war.”

  “Well then I guess the name makes a little sense, doesn't it?”

  Kal gives me a wan smile and motions for me to follow him through the castle. I never knew a place could have so many rooms. I had only been in a couple of the rooms, and I still didn't know how to get to any of them.

  We walk through the halls and every time we pass a junction in the halls, a doorway, the guards there bow, salute, or in some way acknowledge me. At the end of a hallway there are two guards stationed outside of a door. They seem oddly on edge. Kal motions me forward and the guards open the door for me, and soon I can see why they're so on edge.

  The room is large and round, or at least as round as can be. In the center is a huge round table, the top of which is a very detailed map. A desk is at the back of th
e room, scrolls and other pieces of parchment are rolled out and scattered. And just like any good war room, there are weapons hung on the wall like prize trophies, and no doubt there are stories behind each that make it so.

  Loud arguments turn to hushed whispers when I enter the room and soon die down to nothing. I take a deep breath and walk further in. I make my way past the large table to the desk and pick up a scroll. It's correspondence between the main army in the field and the castles strategists. So far it looks as though the enemy is slowly moving around us, like they're looking for something specific. I roll the scroll up, put it back on the desk and turn toward the table in the center of the room.

  “Alright,” I say, “what is our position, and what should we do?”

  At my words the room erupts with shouting as flashes of red, orange, yellow and brown fill the air. The men attempt to talk over each other and the voices become louder and louder, slowly grating on my nerves. The only thing I'm grateful for is the fact that none of these people are human, because if they were I'd definitely feel like draining everyone's emotions right out of the room.

  “One at a time,” I practically scream at the mob.

  But they don't stop, they don't hear me. I don't think they can hear me. I sigh, take a deep breath and concentrate. I slowly pull the ego from the room and listen smugly as the yelling subsides.

  “Alright,” I say, “now that I have everyone's attention.”

  I release the emotions back into the room and the men stare at me silently.

  “Again, one at a time. What is everyone's opinion on what we should do?”

  The men look at each other, silently deciding who should speak first. One by one, the men step back until just one man is near the center of the room. A man with raven black hair and piercing blue eyes.

  “We need to start moving soon,” the man gazes at me steadily of a few moments then his eyes move to the table, “if we don't then the enemy forces will attack and we won't be ready. We need to mobilize and secure the border.”

  “I agree,” I say.

  I walk over to the table and look at the map.

  “We need to secure here, here and here,” the man says, pointing at large open areas on the map.

  The man continues to explain the scenarios to me while he points at strategic areas on the map. I immediately like him and decide that if the need arises in the future, I'm going to ask him what we should do.