“Umm...how did you know?” I found my voice that echoed my thoughts.
“I am positive there are many things you would like to have answers to. Many things you have been wondering about, have you not?” he chuckled lightheartedly. “But, please tell me. How is it you have come here?”
He moved to the kitchen and began rummaging around, cursing under his breath every so often, muttering about how he couldn’t ever seem to find a darn thing.
“Ah! Here we are.” He blew into a beautifully smooth wooden cup before wiping it with a cloth.
“Yes, you’re exactly right, sir. I am extremely confused about all of this. Are you able to give me answers? Because only one person has ever been able to tell me anything, and let me tell you, Mycah did not tell me much.” I sighed exasperatedly and rolled my eyes. I was about to explain how I got here but—
Döron suddenly stopped what he was doing and spun around.
“Mycah you say? As in—Remycah Avel Zafriel? You must tell me, how do you know him?” Panic rang in his voice, making me cringe in my chair.
“He came to the town I live in. Kennebunkport, Maine. I’m actually kind of close to him—Why?” I asked shakily. I didn’t like where this was going.
“I forbid you to ever see that boy again. Do you hear me? Absolutely under no circumstance can you ever be near him again.” His eyes flashed a brighter purple in anger before returning to their darker color again. I flinched at his accented words and sat stunned. My stomach twisted at the thought—but then I wondered how in the world he, a complete stranger, thought he could stop me from seeing whomever I pleased? What did he have against Mycah? And why did he care what I did in the first place? I didn’t respond, afraid of that argument leading to getting myself beheaded.
“Now, please, you must tell me everything. Why are you here?” He visibly relaxed, calming himself, as he poured a steaming greenish-brownish liquid into the cup he held.
“I...well I—” I tried to think of an acceptable response. Telling him I came through the Weeping Willow, with the intent of being reunited with Mycah and Rydan seemed out of the question.
“Yes?” he prompted when I sat struggling to come up with the right words. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, unable to think up a proper excuse.
Döron laid the kindest, sweetest hand atop mine and sat the steamy cup in front of me.
“Here, drink this. You will feel better.” He smiled sadly at me. “It certainly is a delight to see you again, my dear.”
Again? See me again?
“What do you mean?” I didn’t understand his words or his gesture. But his warmth radiated through to me like a familiar friend. Although I could tell he would be scary when mad, I felt no threat from him.
“You were just a tiny newborn when I first looked into your sparkling eyes. It was under my command that you be taken to the Earthly realm. But, my sweet child, you must not use your given name so lightly. If the wrong person were to hear you utter that name, I am afraid it would be the end for us all,” he spoke gravely and quietly. I shuddered at the meaning of his words and wondered what it all really meant.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But why? What’s wrong with my name?” I recalled Mycah saying the same thing to me back in my room after he rescued me from the Black Eagles. He had told me his real name was Remycah and I could never utter it out loud. Darn you crazy elves and being all cryptic.
“There is nothing particularly wrong with the name itself, my dear. You have a beautiful name. One that is of the most beautiful to our people in fact, and it is dearly treasured.” He reassured me with just a few simple words and pat on the head. It made me think of Rydan and how he always had the ability to make me feel better in just the simplest of ways. A huge knot formed in my chest at the memory of him. “And to answer your question of ‘why’—well, let’s just say I knew your mother. You were given her name. Others would wonder why a girl would possess it, and I am afraid it may reach the King eventually. He cannot know of your existence.”
“My...my...my mother?” I got stuck on those words and took a big gulp. I tried to calm my thumping heart. “Who are you?” Something struck me funny in the way he spoke of her—like he loved her.
He took in a long breath, filling his lungs completely, before speaking another word. He wrapped a gentle arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his warm body.
“She was my daughter,” he finally spoke. The sudden realization dawned on me and left me frozen in place. Especially the word “was.” I didn’t like the sound of that, and the fact that he—well, he—“I am your grandfather, my dear.”
I didn’t know what came over me, but I suddenly wrapped my arms around his neck and held on for dear life. My body had moved all on its own, surprising myself by the intimate gesture.
I had craved this. Dreamt this.
All my life I had wished for family—someone to actually be connected to and call my own. Rydan had always been the closest thing I’ve had to that, but nothing could compensate for an actual grandfather who shared the same blood as me. My whole body tingled and buzzed beneath my skin from pure happiness and gratefulness. Tears threatened to spill over, my heart mourning the loss of something I never had—of being able to grow up with my grandfather. Memories and intimate loving moments I never got to experience, and never ever will.
I pulled back, feeling silly and awkward. “I’m sorry about that,” I admitted shyly, unconsciously tucking my hair behind my ear. I worked to swallow the lump in my throat and cleared my watery eyes. I just met the guy and already I was probably making him regret telling me.
“No need to apologize. There is much to tell you, and much for you to tell me.” He patted my hand. Hope and relief sprung forth with fierceness at the chance of finally getting answers about my life. I would finally get to learn why my parents abandoned me. Who my parents were. What I was. Where I really came from. My heart floated up in triumph at the thought, and I almost squealed with glee.
And just like that, it was torn away from me.
“My Lord! The King, he is coming. He wishes to speak with you!” One of the soldiers outside barged through the door with that younger guy in tow and quickly called out a warning.
“Quickly, take Nariella. Go! You must hide, quickly now!” my grandfather ordered. Go? Go where? Why must I go? Confusion flooded my gut, but I was not allowed to ask. He pressed a finger to my lips when he saw I was about to question what was going on and then said, “You must do this. I have no time to explain. But know this, dear child, if the King becomes aware of you, you will most certainly be killed. Now go. Keep secret, and be extremely careful.”
Then I was grabbed by the boy and pulled from the cozy house in the swiftest of movements. My heart that was just moments before floating from happiness now burst into a million pieces, and ever-so-slowly, descended down to the pit of my stomach.
Chapter Eight
~Naminé~
Deep red drapes thickly covered the walls of the royal quarters, firmly concealing whatever lay beneath. I stood alone in the middle of the sitting room, waiting for my orders. I disliked calling them orders, but true to form, that was what they were. I did not have a choice in the matter but was biding my time and waiting for an opportunity, hoping dearly that one came.
The large room, which was just inside the front entrance, was breathtaking. It was the royal quarters where kings and queens of old dwelled as they reigned over the land. Gazing around, I tried to imagine the warmth and love once shown here. Now only cold and darkness emanated from this space.
In the center of the room stood a large fountain flowing with the purest water, signifying the purity of each king and queen who lived here. Springing from deep into the mountain, it was a special fountain built thousands of years ago by a king who gifted it to his daughter on the day of her coronation. He had abdicated the throne to her and her new mate, who reigned in Aselaira for over two thousand years. She was the great-great-grandmother of
Remydan and Ohtar. As I walked over to the fountain, I noticed that the water was not clear, but had a murky hue to it, indicating the impurity of the reigning monarch. Ohtar was not the rightful king. How it hurt my heart that my people had been deceived so harshly. They knew nothing of his treachery.
A movement to the left caught my attention, as I observed something stirring from behind the red drapery. Curiosity got the better of me as to what lay beneath as I made my way over to it.
As I got closer, I heard a low growl and hissing noise, and suddenly a small black lynx came out from behind its hiding spot. It looked my way and hissed as it stalked closer. I was suddenly very still as I realized this animal was not a Fëa, but a wild animal. I could not help but notice that when it stalked out and the drapes moved, I could see colors painted on the wall. More like etched into the wall, similar to the Ëlemmiire mural in my chambers. The curtains must be hiding what was painted there.
I desperately wanted to peek at what the mural pictured, but the growling lynx brought back my attention. I slowly backed away until I hit the fountain. Not knowing what else to do, I ever-so-slowly took a step onto the fountain base.
Just then, Sarqua entered the chambers looking extremely pained. He seemed out of breath, and after taking a few seconds leaning against the wall, he said, “Lureá, n'alaquel sii!”
I looked again at the lynx, apparently named Lureá. It had a name, thus belonging to someone. He had told it to back away. It listened by striding over to its hiding place behind the curtains.
I stepped off the fountain base and bowed my head as Sarqua stood staring in my direction. He seemed to have gained composure and no longer looked ill like he had when he first walked in. I felt uncomfortable standing alone in the middle of the room. So I slowly made my way to stand against the wall, the one part of the room that was not covered by red drapery.
I cringed, as suddenly King Ohtar strutted in with a big booming voice.
“Wait outside,” he instructed whomever was out in the hall. He paid no attention to me as he walked to the far side of the room, then commanded, “Sarqua, feed Lureá. She must be hungry.”
Sarqua went to the door on the right and Lureá came bounding up to him begging for food. He pushed her away and went through the servant entrance, while the feline followed swiftly in his stead.
I jumped as I heard the King right beside me saying, “Did you give the message to N’taurn?” He sat on a divan paralleling the wall that I stood against. With his eyes boring into mine, I instantly got a feeling deep in my being, but I did not know what it was.
I quickly uttered a soft “Yes,” and looked back down. I did not like the feeling of looking into his eyes. He seemed to make me to do things I didn’t want to do. I told him the truth—I had given his message. I heartily prayed he never asked more.
Moments passed, and Sarqua gruffly returned the same way he had left, with Lureá nowhere in sight.
Reluctantly, I slowly looked back into King Ohtar’s eyes, and as he gave me a questioning look, he snapped at Sarqua, “Bring in Námoman now!”
Tall and proud, he marched into the room bearing an air of loftiness. His long black hair hung loosely down his deep indigo cloak. He stopped a few feet from where I was, still huddled against the wall. His eyes wandered up and down my stance, and then turned to look at the King, who was silent, masking his face with disinterest.
The King lounged on the dark divan watching our interaction closely. His dark, calculating eyes moved from mine to this Námoman. I briefly wondered if he was somehow a Maite’Ona that the King was using, but I did not see his Fëa.
I remained silent, struggling to determine the situation I was in, and wondered what was really going on. Why had the King called him here, and what did he have to do with me? I was terrified of the answer.
The King suddenly cleared his throat and said, “Shall we begin?” He met my eyes while plastering a sinister smirk on his face.
My heart instantly dropped into my stomach. I quickly took a few deep breaths and tried to conceal the horrendous feeling spreading through my body. I did not want to give them the satisfaction of knowing I was terrified out of my mind. I took a quick glance at Námoman and noticed his bright yellow eyes were fixed on mine.
“Dhaeraow, lle desiel?” the King said while still glaring my way. Tears threatened to surface as I listened to him call me a traitor, but I desperately tried to hold them in.
Answering his question, I slightly shook my head—no, I certainly was not ready for whatever was in store for me.
The King jumped up from the divan and stormed over to me. “Lle desiel?!” he shouted in my face.
I had not meant the shake of my head as defiance, but I did not know what else to do. I could not possibly answer with how I truly felt. I could not say that no, I was not ready. I bowed my head and responded with a lie.
“Amin naa tualle.” I was ready.
“And do not ever forget, Dhaeraow, you are my servant,” he spat out harshly. He strode back over to the divan, but did not sit down.
Tension and aggression hung thickly in the air—it was almost suffocating. I briefly wondered if I would ever breathe normally again. Whatever this was, I wanted to quickly get through with it. The only thing keeping my body upright was that I was firmly pasted to the cold wall behind me. My body deeply strove to mold into the solid material—trying to disappear—unfortunately without much success.
The King turned to me saying, “Do not lie to me. Have you been connecting with my hunters?”
Without meeting his evil gaze, I nodded and said, “Yes.” I did not want to suffer through his wrath by only using head movements, so I barely squeaked the affirmative response.
Ohtar turned to look at Námoman, who immediately went to the window across the room and whistled. We waited in silence for what seemed to be days, when suddenly I heard a very loud “hoot.” I felt a slight breeze as something flew around the room, swooshing past me, only to end up landing on Námoman’s shoulder. As he strode back over to stand between the King and me, I noticed that a white owl with grey spots was comfortably perched there, now diligently focused on cleaning his left wing.
Rapidly I understood what it was the King was trying to accomplish, and with that thought all the air from my lungs suddenly strangled me. I deeply gasped for air, but I could no longer seem to breathe. I closed my eyes and used every ounce of my strength to keep the tears from falling and betraying me. If the King found out who else I dream-weaved with behind his back, namely the two heirs that could save our people, it would be the death of not only me, but Calen, Father and Mother—Oh by the Sea and Stars, this would be the ultimate betrayal. This may just be the beginning of the end. I may very well have signed my own death sentence.
I was in a horrendous predicament. Námoman was a Truth Seeker Maite’Ona. The King could ask me anything, and I would have to tell the truth. If I was dishonest in any way, Námoman would know. The King was cunning, skillful. He no doubt would know just what questions to ask to bring everything to light. I had to keep some semblance of hope that he wouldn’t even fathom the reach of my treachery.
Opening my eyes, I struggled to keep my breathing even. Setting my focus on the floor, I could still deduce that both the King and Námoman were observing me closely.
“Truth,” the lofty Maite’Ona declared.
I looked up and focused my attention on the snow-white owl that incidentally looked my way as well. Gazing into its eyes that were as yellow as the sun, it cocked its head and cooed ever so lightly. Those bright yellow eyes were warm and welcoming. I felt a sense of calmness and empathy emanating from its return gaze. It cocked its head the other way and cooed softly again. It began to shake its feathers and settle comfortably into the crook of its master’s neck.
“Have you been truthfully relaying to me the status of their hunt? Have they truly not captured my prey yet?” the King asked. He did not believe me when I had said they were still looking for Remycah.
Was that really what all this was about?
Keeping focused on the warm gaze of the owl, I answered, “N’taurn said there was nothing new to report, Your Majesty. I was being truthful. They have yet to capture Remycah.”
The King looked at Námoman who responded, “Truth.”
King Ohtar started to strut back and forth in front of the divan, clasping his hands behind his back. I could sense he was uneasy and wanted to spring a trap for me somehow. I prayed deeply that I could evade it.
“Dhaeraow—is there anyone, besides my men, that you weave dreams with behind my back?” He stopped walking and turned his evil glance my way. I refused to meet his stare, because there it was, the laying of my trap. There was no returning from this. My answers would fuel his rage and warrant my imminent death.
I closed my tear filled eyes and hung my head low, as I reluctantly answered, “Yes.”
“You insolent traitor! How dare you betray me!” the King bellowed. He stalked over and roughly grabbed my shoulders, harshly shaking them. “Who? Tell me who?!” he screamed in my face.
Tears had already started rolling down my cheeks as I cringed from his rough touch and desperately tried to think of a way out. I would name a thousand names before I would ever give his away. I suddenly had an idea and decided to tell the truth—At least part of it.
“Cathar,” I told him. Perhaps if I prattled on with words it would distract him. “I understand you have said my brother to be dead, Your Majesty. However, I cannot bear the thought. He—”
“Dina, wethrinaer!” the King silenced me. “Much wind pours from your mouth, Dhaeraow.”
I winced at the insult, but stayed silent nonetheless.
Heavily sighing, the King turned to Námoman. “I will have your response.”
“Truth.”
“Anyone else?” the King threw my way.
I took a deep breath and lied for the first time in all my cycles. I could not—no, I could not give them away. I would rather die a hundred different ways then betray my true king.
The Sweet Series Box Set: Books 1-4 Page 38
