“I know.” I smile, looking out into the empty woods as if I could still watch her go. “Is it horrible that I think I might want to be her someday?”
And together, we share our first laugh.
Forty-Six
“And no one has ever mentioned that you have a sister? Not even one little hint?” Ian asks as we lounge on the warm rocks beside the shallow river’s edge.
The river, though Ian still thinks his surprise ruined, is just what I needed to cleanse the deep-rooted dirt that is Reeve from my soul. Thankfully, Ian turned his back and studiously studied the trees while I dunked myself fully clothed into the river’s cool rapids, making my soiled tunic and pants feel fresh and new. If I close my eyes tightly, it feels as if Reeve never happened and Aras is still by my side.
Almost.
Though when the light hits Ian’s hair just right and the warm golds shine against his pale, raised cheeks when he smiles, it also feels as if I’m glad I tumbled down this twisted resemblance of a path.
Almost.
“Nope,” I say, tilting my chin up as the warm rays from above shower us with soothing, midday heat. “Not even a hint, though I suppose I may not have been paying close enough attention.”
Papa’s words from camp come spiraling back, and I cringe just thinking of the way he attempted to put meaning to Aras’ actions, other than my soiled attitude and burned heart. He tried to tell me, but as always, I wasn’t ready to listen. Perhaps dear Reeve knows me better than I thought. My mouth twists into a tight scowl.
A sad realization, indeed.
“Truthfully, my father has never spoken of your sister either, though I’m sure he knows of her existence. I guess by now you know that your mother kept close contact with her homeland,” he says, motioning between us with his hand.
I smother a smirk, rolling to my side and propping up on a lazy elbow, watching him as he stares curious holes into the blue sky above. If by creating a secret alliance and betrothal to a complete stranger, then yes, I do know of her close connections.
“And my mother,” I say, my lips still fumbling at the mere notion of referring to her in the present tense. “What do you know of her? Surely, you’re aware that I thought her dead all my life, only to discover that she now hides safely within the walls of your kingdom.”
He stirs, his head turning to take me in for first time since Lo left us as two forced lovers stranded in the woods. We know nothing of each other, yet we somehow have a past. And though I’d like to think that I could control my own destiny, I know he sees a different path. It’s achingly sad this expected connection that I think he desires, but it scares me, too.
“And you do know that this arrangement only happened recently, correct?” he asks, raising his brow.
I nod, caring much less of the timeframe and more of the reasons behind the bold move. For if my sister is in as much trouble as Papa believes her to be, then why did my mother leave her behind? What would be the benefit in adding fuel to an already-smoldering fire?
“But you’re unaware of why she came,” he concludes, understanding masking his face like a dreary cloud.
Suddenly unsure if I want to know where this conversation truly leads, I fall back on the rocks. My hands shielding my eyes from not only the sun, but also from this considerate boy who struggles with the powerful words that my ears may not want to hear.
Careful hands reach for my arm, tugging one hand back from my face, leaving me as vulnerable as a doe in the open valley near home. My lids pinch shut, and I make myself promise right then and there not to look at him. For if I see the pity that lines his face, I don’t think I’ll be able to dry the forming tears before they hit my cheeks.
“Oh, Penelope,” he says, the words barely teasing my ears. “A girl surrounded by secrets, yet if those around her only knew that she was strong enough to handle them all. All you ever have to do is ask, and I will always tell you the truth. That I can promise.”
His candor sends an uncomfortable shock to my chest, and my pulse quickens as if I’ve just run for my life through these twisted trees. Brazen, but laden with the most sincerity I’ve yet to hear from any soul on this journey, his words tilt my world on edge. Not because they frighten me, but because they make me wish he was the one secret that was never kept from my crumbling life.
“There are so many whys,” I whisper, daring to look at him once more. “Why would she leave my sister? Why would she leave knowing that my papa would go to her? Why would she go through with it, knowing good and well that I would then go after him? And why,” I swallow, as my words trail off, “why would she give my heart away as if she could control for whom it beats?”
At first, my questions are met with a stark silence, leaving nothing but the soft churning of the river to sooth my anxious heart. But then both of my hands are taken into his, and I’m pulled up from the rocks and treated to the warmest of embraces. On instinct, my body tries to recoil, but his arms wrap around me tighter, pulling me into his hold. It’s not until our chests rise together, and my head rests softly under his chin, that I truly begin to relax, and his calm explanation begins.
“From what I understand, your father has always had his suspicions, and it caused him to harm most of the people surrounding your mother’s life. Though it wasn’t until recently that his suspicions turned to outright proof. You see, your mother had every good intention when she started that journal for you, but she had no idea what it would truly cost her in the end. For one night, before all of your troubles began, your father found the journal. After reading it, he hurt your mother so badly that she was close to death by the time she showed up at our gates.”
My shoulders tense at his blunt admission, for once unsure what to do with a person whose one promise is not to dance around the truth. Ian’s arms relax around me, and a soft hand moves reassuringly along my back.
“I can stop at any time, Penelope,” he whispers into my damp, snarling hair, “but I meant what I said when I told you that you’re strong enough to handle it.”
I square my shoulders, choosing to pull back from his all-too-welcoming embrace and face the truth as I’ve always done it. Alone, and more than a little frightened. “Go on,” I say, holding his gaze.
Ian rocks back slowly on his heels before settling again. It’s the only sign that tells me he might be at least as slightly nervous as I am. “So, you see, there was very little time to make arrangements for your sister or to get word to your papa. For your mother, it was either run or be killed. Though in the back of her mind, I think she always knew it would be this way. That you were born to rescue all of our lands, one way or another. Since the day of your birth, we all knew this to be true.”
I shudder at his words. Once again, I find myself cursing the very stars that seem to rule my life from above. If I’m truly meant to make a difference, then why must everyone I need be harmed along the way? What good am I to anyone broken and alone?
“But how could he?” I ask, pushing the ugly thoughts away and focusing on the obvious missing link. “I thought the whole point of my mother marrying him was because she’s the strongest of your kind. If that’s so, then how could he harm her? Can’t she just block his magic?”
A quick frown graces his lips before he shakes his head and looks over my shoulder, carefully eyeing the trees. “You see, you understand more of this world than you give yourself credit. You’re right. He didn’t use magic, but he used something just as lethal.”
“What?” I demand, begging him to look me in the eye and hating every second that he won’t.
Sighing, his eyes finally find their focus on my own, and a stormy green rests within. “He drugged her to sleep,” he says, the words tumbling like a river from his mouth. “And then he built a fire. Not one made of magic, but of wood and flint. I’m sure it was his way of showing her that she’d never outdo him. That he would always get what he wanted, no matter what. I’m told that once the flames towered into the night, he bound her and thre
w her into the fire.”
A tight coil winds around my chest, forcing my breaths out in heavy, erratic spurts. “But that’s impossible! How did she escape?”
“We’re not positive,” he says, reaching out and catching my hand before I can pull it away, “but from what your mother could mumble once she was safe inside our gates, it sounds like your sister pulled her from the flames.”
My sister. My brave, fierce little heart who I don’t even know, yet somehow love all the same.
“And my mother,” I say, snapping back to the present. “You’ve seen her? She’s made it? She’s going to be alright?”
His eyes turn downcast, and a terrible twist aches within my gut. “I’ve seen her, yes, but only when she first arrived. She’s—she’s been sedated ever since to keep her from pain, but yes, I believe she will make it. Like you, she’s strong and stubborn. I don’t think she’d ever let Knox take her so easily.”
“But, she must be—” I falter, looking for the right words and hoping he understands. “She must be gravely hurt.”
“She is,” he allows, refusing to soften the truth with wistful words. “Much of her hair was lost, and one side of her body took most of the flame. She’s a fighter though, and our healers are among the best. If anyone can help her, we can.”
Ian’s last words mean to comfort, but I’m not sure if there are any words that can make the description of my mother’s burning seem any less horrific. All this time, I thought I was the one suffering because of her. When in truth, our roles were reversed.
If only I had known to be a better daughter.
“And you say it was my sister who pulled her from the fire, but that still doesn’t explain how she made it to your territory,” I say, forcing myself to focus on the present. “I’d think being burned to within seconds of death severely limits one’s mobility in the woods.”
A sad smile dampens his serious face, and he stands up, pulling me to my feet with him. His fingers linger on my own, but I break away, bracing myself to take whatever he has to say. I’ve already made it this far, and right now, I’m not sure that there is much left that could tear me apart.
“You can tell me, Ian. I should hope, if anything, that my namesake tells you so.”
Ian eyes close, and his chest rises with a heavy lurch. Apparently, he is preparing himself for my imminent undoing.
Perhaps I’m not brave enough.
“It was your friend, Penelope,” he says, opening his eyes just as I feel my knees begin to give way. “Aras carried her and kept her alive for two solid days before he met our healer in Theron territory. From my understanding, he’s in a lot of trouble for it, too.”
No, I most certainly am not brave enough.
Forty-Seven
Entry Four
Little Bird.
It’s what I call you now, or perhaps I should say, it’s what we call you. Your sister and I.
Today marks the turning of your tenth year, and from what your papa says, you are growing and changing with each day. A fierce, tenacious girl, he says. Built to withstand even the strongest wind. I believe it so, or else I would have never let you go.
I know that you must wonder what took me so long. Why am I just now picking up our journal after so many years? In truth, I began this process in hopes of providing you with encouragement—strong words to see all of your days through. Though tough times were bound to happen, I promised myself that I would not keep a journal only to have it fill your soul with dread. I wanted only to report on the positive, but the trouble with that is, there aren’t many days that are.
Times are hard here, my Brave. There is no easy way to say that most of my loved ones are dead at the hand of our paranoid king. He believes he’s onto something. That somehow you are alive and exist in a world that is not his own. Of course, I tell him that he is a fool merely holding on to what might have been.
He killed four innocent souls in an attempt to prove me wrong.
They were hiding something, he’d said. And though he couldn’t see it, he could feel it, and that was proof enough. My brother and his wife were the first to go. Of Theron blood, their abilities were there, but in the end, they weren’t quite strong enough. He killed them both in their sleep—burnt to ashes before they even batted an eye. Reeve, their son, witnessed it all before he was turned away to live what was left of his ruined life in the woods of The Lost.
The next to be targeted were the very two people whom I trusted the most, Bea and Lyles. As my closest friends, Knox knew they had to be hiding something, and though he never understood what it was, he felt it was enough to kill them anyway. Unlike my brother and his wife, Bea and Lyles were given a public execution fit to cover their sins. He told our people that they had purposely killed our firstborn, and then he lit them into a flame of the darkest black. Little did he know that they were the only reason you’re still alive.
The day my friends were killed is the very day I became a mother once more, for I took Aras, their son, under my protection and loved him as my own. Aras was only five at the time, but we had always been very close. From the moment you were born and taken from my arms, he was one of the few who knew the story of your life. Your father despised him, of course, but on the subject of Aras, I always made myself very clear. Harm him and you harm me. Whether it was delusional love or hardened pride, Knox could never stand the thought of losing me, even when my dreams were filled with losing him.
Exactly five years after your birth, your sister was born. From the moment she came into this world, Viviana’s spirit lit up our chambers, and I thought even her father would find room in his blackened heart to love her. When he learned that she was a girl, I expected him to cast us out, turn us away, and start anew. Instead, he smiled his crooked grin and said, “When the time comes, she’ll serve me well.” Then he simply walked out of the room. From that day onward, he hasn’t had anything to do with her, but my true fear is for the day when he does.
The only souls left in my little world who know of your existence are your sister, and of course, dear Aras. Over the years, he has taken his role as big brother very seriously, never letting Viviana out of his sight. Together, they spin tales of your return, and how, when you finally all meet, it will be a glorious day indeed. Your sister looks to you as a bit of a hero, and she believes with all of her heart that one day you will return and set her free. And while Aras believes this to be true, there’s a different spark in his eye when he speaks your name, as if you are old friends, yet you haven’t even met.
He’s requested to take over the role of meeting Emory in the woods, and even at the young age of thirteen, he swears no one can do it better. He takes his job seriously—a knight protecting his unseen princess. Sometimes, I think he feels a true responsibility for your well-being, just as he does with Viviana. But then, there are other times, when he grows quiet and stares at the night sky with a soft smile lighting his face, that I feel there may be something more. What? I couldn’t say. But with Aras, I can always trust it’s something good.
Perhaps when you finally meet, you can tell me what it is.
ↄ
Dusk is finally upon us, and it is only by the light of Ian’s fire that I can still see the ink-stained words on the weathered pages before me. Though to be honest, I don’t know if they’re really helping or not. Fear and mistrust have become my new best friends, seeking hold and finding purchase within my most tender and ridiculous heart.
I ache for my scarred mother. I ache for my new sister. But most of all, I ache for the boy whose intentions have always been anything but clear.
Oh, Aras Renn of Orien, why must you make my life so difficult?
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ian asks, his words sliding carefully across the smoldering fire between us.
It’s been hours since we made the short walk back to our camp, and that long too since I’ve said one true word to him. I shouldn’t treat him this way, I know, but what do you say to a boy who isn’t afraid
to tell the secrets of your past?
Thank you for making me feel as if I’ve been trampled by your beast of a horse?
Letting out a slow breath, my eyes finally look up from the threatening pages and settle upon this unnervingly helpful boy before me. His gaze meets my own with a heated care, and I feel as if the very flames from the fire have leapt across my pasty cheeks.
“I’m fine. I promise,” I say with a forced smile of assurance. “I suppose I should feel grateful for the one person who has chosen to tell me the truth, rather than wallow in my own self-pity. At least these last few days have given you some reassurance, even though things didn’t work out quite as you had planned. If not, then you’d be sorely put out once you got me to Theron and realized my true nature.”
He huffs before standing to his feet, rounding the pit and coming to stop at my side. Tentatively, I look up, afraid I might feel even more for this seemingly perfect boy than I should. Pure concern leaks from his pores, and his forehead crinkles as if he’s determined to solve the puzzle that is Brave, even though most of my pieces are clearly missing.
I’ve never felt sorrier in my life.
“Reassurance, huh? Of what? That you really are the kind, strong, and feisty young woman whom I’ve always thought you to be? Because if that’s the case, then yes, consider me relieved.”
“Ian…” I groan. “Must you always be so nice? Didn’t someone ever teach you that it’s alright to let others know when they’ve let you down? I truly don’t deserve your kindness, yet your values never waver. It makes life for sour brats like me seem so much more daunting.” I pause, and a wide grin spreads across his face. “Oh, come on. Say something mean. Anything. Insult my papa. Tell me I look like a man. Please just try to make me cry for once.”
“Alright.” He laughs. “So you want something mean, eh?”
“Yes,” I plead, grabbing onto his hands with a tight squeeze. “The more insulting, the better!”
He crouches down before me, bringing our clasped hands to a rest on his knee. “Before I left Theron, my father warned me that you may not know of our ties,” he says in what I think may be a fancy word for betrothal. “He also said that before your mother was sedated, she cried out for us to find Aras and bring him to her. When he told her that Aras had disappeared as soon as she was handed off to our healer, she sobbed, saying that while she knew Aras had always longed for your heart, she feared the path he would take to get it.”
Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1) Page 34
