She ignored the worried looks from Elandria and Corallyn’s raised eyebrows as her focus on Trevain’s life began to overshadow her own priorities. Aazuria knew that he was getting too deep in her heart, but it was too late to stop the flow of such great tides. She tried to compensate by spending a good deal of time strategizing with her sisters and with the twins about how to handle the situation in Adlivun. They argued over whether they should prepare for full-scale war, summoning all their allies to their defense, or whether they should turn tail and run. The very thought of running made Aazuria want to vomit. General Ramaris completely agreed, becoming livid when anyone even suggested retreat. They both knew that if it became necessary, they would need to advocate and implement an evacuation plan. But their pride would not allow them to surrender their beloved home so easily.
Aazuria also found herself quite suddenly in charge of Trevain’s affairs. She found herself dealing with the Coast Guard since Trevain wanted nothing to do with them. She had to learn acronyms like SAR (Search and Rescue) and PIW (Person in Water) very quickly, and found it all rather irritating. She knew that Callder had not drowned naturally, and felt that these regulated procedures of the land-dwellers were largely a waste of time, at least in this instance. She found herself answering every phone call, and frequently being addressed as “Mrs. Murphy.” At first she had corrected the callers, explaining that she was not married to Trevain, but they still assumed that she was his girlfriend or somehow the woman of the house. Eventually she had grown tired of explaining. It seemed that she had naturally fallen into role of acting as the captain’s wife.
Mr. Fiskel helped her to deal with attorneys and death certificates and a whole host of unpleasant minutiae. Aazuria mostly sent people away and told them to call back later when Trevain was feeling better. He had already gone through this once with Leander, and she did not think he was ready to deal with legal responsibilities and press statements again so soon. This was not like before—this was not another workplace accident. Callder had been his blood—someone whom he had grown up beside. He was not prepared to deal with this loss, and he had yet to even truly admit that his brother was gone.
Members of his crew came by to visit with condolences, apologies, and their very hats in their hands; but whenever Aazuria told Trevain that he had a visitor, he was never interested in seeing anyone. The fishermen had been much too terrified to attempt working again. Doughlas had decided that he did not have to buy his new Audi as urgently as he had initially intended. The old Toyota would do.
The tragedy had driven Trevain closer to Aazuria than he had ever intended to become; in his misery he had let his guard down and been completely honest and open. He forgot all about the fact that she was supposed to be too young for him, and he began treating her like an adult and an equal. He saw less through his eyes, since his vision was obscured with grief, and more accurately with his intuition. The walls that had prevented their effortless communication and the development of their friendship were crumbling. Trevain had not placed any labels or rules on what they had become to each other, but they both knew that they had become something more; they were inseparable.
Only Aazuria and her sisters were permitted to enter Trevain’s room. Corallyn and Elandria would sometimes sit with the captain and listen to him reminisce about Callder, and tell stories of their youth. The girls were truly sympathetic for him; they all knew how painful it would be to lose each other. Late one evening, when they were alone, Trevain made an unusual suggestion:
“You know, maybe you and Elandria should consider going to high school.”
Aazuria laughed. Trevain observed her laughter, but did not smile.
She was startled when she saw that he was serious. “Trevain—you are in earnest. High school? What can I learn there?”
“It’s not necessarily about learning. I know you are intelligent. It’s about getting the diploma so you have something to show for it. At least the younger girls should go to school, for the sake of their futures. If you want to succeed in this world, you’re going to need at least a high school education.”
Aazuria nodded. “I suppose we do need that… in this world.”
Trevain did smile then. “I love the way you speak. It’s so unusual and puzzling. Watching you is like watching one of those old movies.”
“Because my manner of dress is archaic or because I am terribly romantic?” she asked playfully.
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Mr. Fiskel.
“Miss Aazuria, there is someone here to see you.”
“At this hour?” she asked, sighing. She had received at least five visitors earlier that day. “It never ends, does it? Please, just tell him to come back another time.”
“He says it is urgent, Miss Aazuria.”
“Fine, then,” she said, rising from where she sat beside Trevain on the bed and smoothing out her white dress. “I’ll be right down.”
Trevain sighed. “I feel so guilty for making you do all my errands for me…”
“Nonsense,” she said firmly. “It is my honor. You just rest; I will be back before long.”
Aazuria dutifully headed down the corridor to the stairs, but when she saw the man that was waiting in the foyer she had a moment of panic. “Naclana!” she cried, placing her hand on her chest. She descended the stairs quickly, almost at the pace of a run. She felt her heartbeat quicken palpably under her hand. “Sweet Sedna, are we under attack?”
At the sight of the messenger, chaotic scenes had instantly begun dancing through her mind. She saw her kingdom being pillaged. Having listened to Visola’s lectures about new technology, she almost expected to hear that torpedoes and missiles were killing her people by the dozens.
“Princess,” he responded, striking his chest in salute and bowing. “At this point the attacks are only peripheral. There have been losses—and there will likely be many more. We believe that the Clan of Zalcan has returned in full force. General Ramaris ordered me to escort you home.”
Naclana was one of the few males who resided in Adlivun. He was one of a handful of men amongst thousands of women. It had not always been this way, but King Kyrosed, Aazuria’s father, had significantly thinned the male population in the past few hundred years by exiling the sea-dweller men and sending many of them away on missions from which they would never return.
“I cannot leave right now,” Aazuria said softly. She thought of Trevain, grieving over the loss of his brother. The captain was still an emotional mess, and she did not want to abandon him. She frowned. “Perhaps Elandria or Corallyn could go in my stead?”
“We need you, Princess. This is a time of crisis and emergency. An attack is imminent. Adlivun needs you.”
“Adlivun? Attack?”
Aazuria looked up in horror to see that this was Trevain’s voice filtering down the stairs. It was the first time he had left his room in over a week, and it was unthinkable that he had chosen this moment. As Trevain descended the staircase, Aazuria found herself trying to lie.
“Adlivun is my… hometown,” she attempted to explain. Naclana raised his eyebrows at this.
“I don’t understand. I thought you ran away from your home after your father died.”
“Yes. My father was a man with many responsibilities which I suppose I have… inherited.”
“And what about the ‘attack?’” Trevain asked, coming to stand beside her. “What’s going on, Aazuria?”
“Oh… uh. Attack meaning lawsuit… my father’s estate. Taxes. Tax evasion. Bequest. Settlement. This man is my lawyer.”
“Your lawyer calls you ‘princess?’”
Aazuria wanted to slap herself in the face—she was sure that her cheeks were growing quite red. “Naclana has known me since I was very young. He was my father’s lawyer. My father used to call me princess when I was a toddler. It was… a whole thing.” Aazuria laughed nervously and waved her hand in dismissal.
Naclana cleared his throat. “The point is, er…
Aazuria. I have my orders. You need to come home immediately.”
Trevain looked stricken. “You’re leaving?”
“I must.” Aazuria turned to look at Trevain with worry on her face.
“But… I’m sorry—I’m being selfish,” he quickly corrected. “You’ve helped me so much with my brother, and I forgot you have your own family problems to deal with.”
“I wish I could stay,” she told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I will return as soon as I can.”
Naclana cleared his throat, a bit surprised with this display of affection. “Aazuria, you must also bring your sisters along with you. Summon Elandria and Corallyn immediately, and we must depart.”
“You’re taking all of the girls?” Trevain said with surprise and dismay. “Is that really necessary?”
“Yes,” answered Naclana. Aazuria sighed and called out the names of her sisters.
“This man gives me the creeps,” Trevain remarked, eyeing the male sea-dweller suspiciously and noting his unusually long hair. “Aazuria, I’m not sure if I approve of you going off with this fellow alone. Maybe I should come along.”
“Do not worry, Trevain,” she said with a smile. “I have known him for four hun… fourteen years. Besides, I am quite certain he is even related to me. A distant cousin of sorts.”
“Second cousin, twice removed, on her mother’s side,” Naclana responded promptly.
“There you go,” said Aazuria with a smile.
“Do you come from the kind of village where people marry their cousins?” Trevain asked.
“Why are you being so overprotective?” Aazuria asked with a laugh. “That is frowned upon in Adlivun. However there have been accidents, as with any society, when there has been poor genealogical recordkeeping.”
Elandria and Corallyn appeared on the landing, and Corallyn emitted a small shriek at the sight of the messenger. “Naclana!” she cried. “Is everything alright?”
“No,” Naclana answered simply. “You are to come home to Adlivun immediately.”
“Good Sedna,” Corallyn whispered.
Elandria began signing furiously to Naclana with her hands, and he signed back the answers to her questions.
“Sedna?” Trevain asked curiously.
“That is… we had an Inuit grandmother,” Aazuria fabricated. She was tired of the mountain of lies that were piling up. “It is just something she used to say.”
Trevain nodded. He was surprised at the fact that the messenger also knew the sign language of the girls. He tried to read their hands, but could not follow their speed.
“Are you ready to go?” Naclana asked.
“He’s all business, isn’t he?” Trevain remarked dryly.
“Yes. Let’s get going,” Corallyn said, after reading Naclana’s hands. She begun heading for the door. “We need to move.”
“Don’t you girls need to take some things? Clothes, toothbrushes, shampoo?” Trevain asked with concern.
“No,” said Naclana. “We are leaving now.”
Aazuria saw the look on Trevain’s face and understood that he was feeling deserted. He had just lost his brother, and now he felt like he was losing her as well. “Elandria, will you stay with him?” she asked her sister. She added with her hands, “Take care of him for me.”
Elandria nodded, accepting the assignment. “Please be careful, Aazuria. Make the decisions which are the safest, the boldest, and the most unpredictable.”
Aazuria quickly signed the words, “I love you.” She reached out and pulled Elandria into a fierce hug.
Trevain comprehended the hand signals for these three simple words, having learned enough to remember the basics. He also recognized that the way that Aazuria embraced her sister was desperate, as though she were heading into some kind of peril from which her return was uncertain.
“Aazuria,” he began in a warning tone. “You know I would never try to stop you from doing anything, but I’m beginning to seriously worry. Where are you going? Can you give me the address and phone number so I can reach you? What is this about? Look, I don’t like the way…”
She smiled at his concerned face, and moved forward to place her palm against his cheek. She rose to her tip-toes in order to place a soft kiss on his lips. She pressed her mouth against his for several passionate and purposeful seconds.
He was shocked into silence by her bold manoeuver. Although they had been very close over the past weeks, they had not crossed any definitive lines of romantic affection. Every touch and every word, however intimate, could still almost be considered friendly. Almost. At least, that is what he had told himself every time he considered her position in his life. But this was crossing some conclusive intersection—a junction from which they could not cross back. He recognized it in the devotion which he felt pouring into him through her lips. The kiss was so absolute that it could not, in any way, be considered merely friendly.
And Trevain was very happy about that.
Although he was still tremendously worried, his momentary gladness at this confirmation of her feeling overwhelmed him.
“I promise I will be back soon,” she said, giving him a look that was somehow determined and tender at the same time.
“Aazuria…” he began, but she was already walking through his front door with Corallyn and her cousin-lawyer. He turned to Elandria, and saw that the girl’s face had gone very pale, and that she was twisting her dark braid nervously between her hands.
“Is something wrong here, Elandria?” he asked firmly. “Is there something I should know?”
Elandria looked at him but could not respond. She continued to dig her fingernails into her rope of hair nervously.
“Where is Adlivun? If we get in my car, can you give me directions?” When she did not respond, Trevain clenched his jaw. “Jesus, Elan! Can you tell me if this town is in Canada or America?”
The woman’s eyes grew wide and she turned around completely so that Trevain would not see the answer on her face. Her heart-rate had escalated with the interrogation.
Trevain swore under his breath. “If she doesn’t return, I’ll go mad!”
Elandria nodded in solemn agreement, staring at the wall uneasily.
“I’m going back to bed,” he announced, before turning to drag himself up the stairs.
Chapter 18: It Never Snows, but it Blizzards
Elandria paced nervously in the corridor outside Trevain’s room. A week had passed and Aazuria had still not returned from Adlivun. It had been too long.
Mr. Fiskel exited Trevain’s room with a bowl of soup in his hands. The old man lifted his shoulders helplessly as he made eye contact with the girl. “I still can’t get him to eat, Miss Elandria. He just won’t stop talking about Callder. He’s also running a temperature. The captain’s making himself sick with stress.”
Elandria gave Mr. Fiskel a steadfast look before approaching him and taking the bowl of soup from his hands. She nodded to him and entered Trevain’s room. She marched to Trevain’s bedside and placed the soup down on the nightstand firmly before reaching out to feel the man’s forehead.
Trevain’s eyes opened slowly, and he blinked at her. “Zuri, you’re back. I thought you left forever. Like my brother. It never rains, but it pours. Shouldn’t we amend that for Alaska? It never snows, but it blizzards. Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
Elandria frowned at his nonsensical rambling. She moved her face closer to Trevain’s and shook her head firmly to indicate that she was not Aazuria. She slapped him lightly on the cheek.
He blinked again, several times. “Elan? I’m sorry. What am I thinking. My vision must be… I’m just tired. In my defense, you do resemble your sister.”
“How on earth can you be tired?” she asked him with the rapid hand motions “You have done naught but remain in bed for a week!”
“I didn’t get any of that,” he answered, staring up at the ceiling. “Did you know when Callder was a boy he liked fencing? Fencing, imagine that. A ra
ther noble and focused sport for such a lazy and careless kid. Mother caught us playing with wooden swords once, so she signed us up for fencing lessons. He loved it. He really did. Especially when I let him win.”
Elandria studied his pallid complexion with worry. There was moisture on his skin which caused strands of his grey hair to cling to his forehead. He had been very quiet for days, sending her away whenever she had tried to speak with him. Now he seemed to hardly notice her presence as he ruminated. He seemed like he was in the beginning of delirium. Having seen many illnesses and much grief in her extended lifetime, Elandria resolutely decided to do all within her power to bring him out of his despondency. She picked up the bowl and spoon, and attempted to coax Trevain to drink some soup.
He turned his head away from the offered victuals and buried his face in the pillow. “Fencing,” he mused to himself. He continued mumbling into the pillow. “Put a saber in his hand and he was full of life. Why wasn’t he like that about anything else? No self-esteem. Didn’t know how great he was, how great he could have been. Should’ve told him. If only things had been different; if I’d been more attentive to my little brother... but I only cared about myself and my own success. Now what can my money do?”
Elandria placed her hand on his shoulder, shaking her head, intending to object to his self-blame with all the gestures she could muster. Trevain, however, did not acknowledge her touch. He continued to mutter against his pillow.
“The money’s worthless,” Trevain whispered. “Callder knew it. He knew it more than I did. He always said such negative things about himself. Why? He kept insulting himself until the insults became truth. He’d say, ‘I’m worthless scum, and I’m better off dead. You’re better off with me dead, and so is Brynne and the whole world!’ It wasn’t true. I swear it wasn’t true.”
Elandria reached out to soothingly pat Trevain’s hand, but he still did not react. He swallowed and continued speaking softly to himself. “He made it true because he believed it so much! How could he believe those awful things about himself? He was such a smart boy. A kind boy. I should have told him! I should have forced him to know.”
Sacred Breath Series (Books 1-4) Page 15
