The Darkling

by K L Hagaman

  “Of most dreadful suffering, I am the cause,” she recited of Euripides—a unit the greens had studied during their schooling. She knew the words would not be wasted on him.

  His eyes glossed as he swallowed back the thick rise of his heart in his throat.

  “Kaden…Don’t do this to yourself. You don’t deserve it. You can hold on to the hurt, but please…” she whispered. “Release yourself from the blame.” It broke her heart to know that’s what he’d thought all these years—that he carried such things.

  He closed his eyes, placing his hand on hers and moving it over his mouth that he might kiss it, needing her.

  “For me,” she asked of him as she watched a tear roll back over his temple before it vanished in his hair. She’d not even had time to catch it.

  After a breath, he spoke, never one to be careless with words.

  “Challenge accepted,” he whispered as he opened his eyes. He’d try. He’d try for her—his Princess.

  Lilja dipped down and kissed the path of his tear, letting the salt season her lips.

  Chapter Four

  The Heirloom

  At some odd hour they’d fallen asleep in the arms of the other before the fire. Stomachs full and hearts filling, warm and safe for the night, the rest was a more peaceful one than they’d expected.

  It was Kaden who woke first when the time came. A droplet of cold water landed with a pip on his cheek and he grimaced groggily. He wiped the wet off his face with a drag of a hand and sucked in a solid breath of morning.

  That’s when he felt it—the weighted warmth in his arm that pinned him as he stretched.

  He looked down at Lilja sleeping, safe in his keep. If he could have held her there forever…

  Another droplet on his face had him looking up. Through the openings in the roof he could see that the clear sky from the night before had given way to clouds. A small shower seemed to be brewing.

  They really needed to get up and get on.

  “My Princess,” he hushed into her hair after another breath, nose nuzzling there to gently nudge her awake.

  There was a quiet groan in protest and she dug deeper into his shoulder.

  He chuckled, thinking of all the times he’d heard her make that exact sound before as he’d waited for her to wake on the other side of her door in the castle spire. More often than not, he’d been her alarm clock.

  “C’mon,” he nudged again, this time

  rising a little so that she had no choice. “It’s

  starting to rain. We need to pack up and keep moving.”

  Lilja palmed her eyes and stretched out her legs and toes like a stiff cat. Kaden watched with a sideways grin but said nothing less he interrupt her and spoil the moment.

  Eventually though, with a shiver she sat up, pulling her hair over her shoulder with a comb of her fingers. As the fire had gone out in the night, her Keeper had been her source of warmth, and now with him moving away…she leaned into him to steal just one more moment of comfort.

  Kaden didn’t complain and shared with her his heat, selflessly.

  “I was thinking you could grab some breakfast while you pack up whatever’s left in the kitchen,” he said. “I’ve got an extra bag in my room I can use for the scrolls and a tent I might be able to fish out if it’s not too moth-eaten. Dorai is a good two day walk from here—it’d be nice to have some shelter.” Especially if the rain picked up.

  After one last yawn, Lilja was ready and rocked back with a nod. And it was then she had her first good look at him for the day. It was strange. She’d never thought him out of place in the spires before, but seeing him here just…fit. It was simple in this home, in these woods, just like him in the most wonderful way.

  After her gaze lingered for just that moment too long, stretching into a time just beyond norm, he found his brow raising and a crooked grin having at his lips. “What?” he chuckled.

  She blinked out of her trance and gave a little smile of her own, lips curling up. “I’m sorry, I was just—” As much as they’d never had much room for propriety between them, and certainly not now as they basked in their new liberties of professed hearts, she still found it complex at times to confess all her thoughts. She didn’t mean to be ogling him, but— “You’re handsome,” she had to give him simply, and such things felt nice to say.

  The grin on his lips drew into a broad smile that made Lilja groan under a brief roll of her eyes.

  “I was wondering when you’d notice,” he jested with the flick of a wink.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” she warned. It was already big enough at times. “We don’t need you losing balance.”

  “Yes, my Princess.” He obliged her orders, but he was oozing with humorous pride as he stood to his feet and offered her a hand up.

  It was, as per their norm, ignored as she rose from the rug. She did grant him a pop of a kiss, though.

  He took the trade-off gladly.

  Without much more play, the pair took off for their tasks. Lilja nicked a quick breakfast while she packed whatever was left in the kitchen along with some water. She thought to take a pan, too, tying it off on the outside of her bag on the chance they wanted to warm or cook anything.

  Kaden found the extra pack and tent in his room, both in fairly good shape—moths and time having ravaged the set a bit less than other materials in the house due to their weather-enduring natures and how they’d been stored.

  As he came back around to the kitchen, Lilja was still organizing a few things but looked close to being done. All that was really left was to gather the scrolls he wanted to take for study—tools to help him protect her better in times ahead.

  He looked them over from a distance at first—the weavings. He’d not touched a scroll from that shelf since the day his mother had been taken from him.

  They were just as he remembered—tucked in stacked cylindrical tubes, each home to a different weaving spun loosely as a scroll with the cap of each dowel decorated with a unique and ornate symbol that probably wouldn’t have meant much to anyone other than a weaver—to one like him.

  The emblem of one particular scroll, a hollow brass circle, stared at him.

  And it happened again.

  He hadn’t realized it, of course, and it was Lilja’s hand taking his that brought him back around this time. He sucked in a faint breath, looking down his shoulder at her as a voice vanished from his head.

  She’d finished in the kitchen already?

  “Kaden?” his Princess hummed as she searched his face with more than a little worry. This was the second time in just as many days that he’d lost himself that way in a sea of unseen thoughts. But this time—

  “Sorry,” he coughed, clearing his throat. “Just thinking.”

  With little more he stepped closer to the scrolls, looking through them for ones he had use for. Unfortunately, he’d have to be selective. They couldn’t carry all of them.

  He wondered if he’d be able to come back sometime for the rest. He wanted to learn…more. He was ready to. He needed to.

  Lilja wasn’t sure what to make of that—his “thinking”. There was something else happening there in his mind. She felt an…offness. But how was she to understand the complexities of his heart when it came to this place and his mother? So, Lilja moved on with him for now, taking him at his word.

  “How do you know what’s in them?” she wondered as her eyes cast about the vast shelf while her Keeper looked. They all appeared so obscure.

  Kaden clicked his cheek. “Well,” he sighed. “Each emblem represents a gesture of the weaving inside. Like this one,” he explained, pointing to one with a golden ripple. “Fire.”

  With a hand he made the gesture she’d already seen him produce a couple of times now—the serpentine wave of his hand used when he seemingly spoke flames into existence.

  Lilja hummed a bit in understanding, looking back at the scrolls and puzzling their riddles as she drew up closer beside him.

  “A
lright,” he sighed to himself, making up his mind as he carefully slid a few scrolls out. He packed them vertically in his bag as he went so he could easily draw them out as he wished or needed. It didn’t take too long to gather what he wanted, or rather what he could carry, and soon he was sliding on his pack.

  “Want an extra layer?” he thought to ask as the cold of morning still hadn’t broken. It was the season for frost. He was sure something of his mother’s would do for his Princess—would keep her warm.

  “That might be a good idea,” Lilja had to confess. She was only wearing her battered uniform. “Thank you.”

  Kaden just ticked his head and shrugged his pack to better adjust it before heading into his mother’s room. Lilja followed him but hung back at the door, not feeling it reverent somehow to enter. But as Kaden rifle d through a modest drawer, Lilja looked around the room from her post.

  The curtains were patchy, hand-woven and moth-eaten as was a throw over the bed. Its pillow missed its casing, but other than that, the room looked like it had once been warm and inviting.

  On a small shelf hanging on the wall by the door she stood rooted by was a frame, and just making out a particular face, Lilja found herself taking it down for a better look. With a gentle fist she worked off the caked dust and grime, and was left staring at a much younger version of her Keeper…and who beyond a doubt was his mother.

  His curls were hers. His eyes were hers. And their smiles…both brilliant—both so happy.

  She set it back as Kaden returned, and he glanced at the photo for just a moment before holding up a thick sweater for her.

  “Sorry—” she hushed as she slipped her arms through.

  “Don’t be,” he murmured effortlessly. She’d done nothing to be sorry for.

  But when she looked up at him after buttoning the pullover, there was a sudden, different sort of something in her eyes he didn’t recognize. It set him off-balance.

  “Hey,” he called under a softly pinched brow. “You alright?”

  Her dark eyes were lost in his as she mulled over an answer to give. But the longer he looked at her, patient and earnest, the sooner her words came.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered almost ashamed.

  “What?” he returned gently, voice lacking any and all judgment she might have feared.

  “I just feel like hiding,” she confessed shamefully. “Here. With you.”

  She wouldn’t.

  But she wanted to.

  And what did that make of her?

  Kaden’s brow sprung.

  “I know,” she grimaced in pained embarrassment. What he must think of her for saying such a thing when they had such dire charges? Their kingdom was falling. Dying. And she was afraid. Afraid of not being enough.

  She wanted to stay here with him, where it felt safe.

  “No-no-no,” Kaden hastily hushed, seeing her shame. He swept up in front of her and took her in to his arms before she got the wrong idea of his thoughts. His hand was tender, but firm and grounding, as it rose and slipped along her cheek—his fingers gliding in her hair as his thumb brushed her jaw to soothe. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He simply wondered of her heart—what was at the root of such thoughts. It wasn’t in her nature to ever back down from a fight—he knew she was no coward. But things were different now. The risks were real and quite a bit higher.

  She carried a burden he wished on no one.

  Lilja said nothing at first and just took his embrace for its worth, which was much. She needed it, she needed him like this, and leaned her face into his hand.

  “I’m terrible,” she whispered.

  “You’re not,” he promised without a breath of hesitation.

  But she still felt it, and cast her eyes down between them.

  “Lilja,” Kaden spoke tenderly, fingers combing her hair.

  There was a sniff from his chest before she looked up, nose pink and eyes starting to glisten with a prelude to tears.

  Kaden’s heart broke as his free hand swept to join the other to cradle her face.

  “Because then it’s real,” she hushed to explain. “He’s really gone. My father was really… And I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I can do this, Kaden. The Dorai, my uncle, the Wys, the weavers—”

  What did she really know about running a territory? Let alone saving it. She wasn’t ready. She needed her father back. She needed him so much. They all did. This was too much for her to handle and a panic was snowballing.

  “Shh,” her Keeper breathed slowly to calm her, gently lifting her chin so she had no choice but to look into those eyes of his as he absentmindedly shared with her his energy, cool and tranquil.

  “I need you to hear me.” Kaden took pause, speaking softly, making sure her mind was there with him.

  “He may be gone, but he’s never far.” His hand moved from her face and fell over her chest to give it a solid pat. “You and he are forever bound. My mom always said that our heartstrings are eternally tethered to those we love, and that no matter where we find ourselves, we’re never alone.”

  Did she understand?

  “His words, his wisdom, his love, and power…it’s all there and always breathing back and forth across your heartstrings.”

  Lilja looked up at him, her Keeper—his eyes filled with such sincerity—and took his hand over her chest and pressed her fingers between his, clutching him as her head fell forward over his own heart.

  “…I miss him,” she barely whispered.

  “I know.”

  And she knew he meant it.

  They stood there, and he simply held her for as long as she needed. His charge. His Princess. His love. What broke her heart, broke his. Truly.

  When the time came, she took a deep breath and straightened back a hair. She wiped her cheeks with fingers flush against her ebony skin and licked her lips in an attempt for sobering presentably.

  Kaden affectionately brushed the end of her nose with a curled finger.

  With her steady, they didn’t mill about much more. They’d gotten what they needed; a good night’s rest, food, the weavings, and they’d set the bearings of both their hearts straight.

  But as they met by the front door readying to leave, Kaden took an extra minute of their time before setting out once and for all.

  “One more thing,” he said, handing her a small, sheathed blade. He’d taken it from his mother’s room when he’d gathered the extra layer for Lilja—a mother who’d not thought her son had known about such a safely-hidden, yet dangerous thing in their possession.

  But as the nature of all little boys, they had their ways of sniffing out trouble.

  “What’s this?”

  The pressed leather of the sheath was well worn but still showed off its elegantly crafted swirls of ornate design—detailed markings made by a skillful hand. As Lilja pulled the blade out to inspect it, she found the steel nicely weighted as her deft thumb skimmed the edge lightly, proving the dagger as sharp as it was beautiful. The handle flowed from the blade with no crossguard, all as one piece, slender like the spire she called home, but pressed to a flat edge on one end.

  It was oddly graceful for a weapon.

  “It was my mother’s,” Kaden spoke.

  Her eyes swept up and Lilja was already shaking her head, handing it back to him. “I can’t—”

  With a puff of a smile he took it, but only to fasten the dagger to her hip himself.

  “I have magic. You have a blade,” he reasoned. “Besides,” he breathed, taking a step back to look her over. “Seems right for you to have it.”

  The token meant much to her heart, and she didn’t take such a gift lightly. “Thank you,” she hummed in quiet sincerity, their eyes snared in each other’s for a spell. But an unexpected and vivacious flutter of wings drew away Kaden’s attentions, and he found a bird having perched itself just beyond one of the holes in the thatched roof. The creature seemed oddly attentive to them.

  His brow fell a
s the shelf of scrolls housed just beneath the winged beast triggered a sudden, but damningly late epiphany.

  “We need to go,” he said suddenly in a low and firm tone, giving a quick check to Lilja’s pack before swinging the front door open and ticking his head out. “C’mon!”

  “What is it?” she voiced alarmed though she heeded and set out the door.

  The bird casually took flight, gliding in their direction.

  Kaden was on her heels but skidded to a halt when he saw the creature over his shoulder and thrust out an outstretched hand before he made a whip of crushing gesture with a shout of, “Wegneem!”

  Surprised by the outburst and such a foreign word, Lilja stopped, looking back just in time to see the bird burst into a powdery black ash, vanishing in the fall breeze.

  Chapter Five

  The Eyes

  “The birds?” Lilja panted as they ran through the forest. They needed to put as much distance between them and the last sighting as they could, he’d said. “But I don’t understand.”

  “Oscine’s been watching us since before we even made it to her house,” he all but growled. He’d been naïve. Foolish. He’d been blind to something that was now aggravatingly obvious.

  “How do you know?” she questioned as she huffed, vaulting over a downed tree to keep up with him.

  He didn’t bother slowing down, knowing she was good for it—she could more than keep pace.

  “I noticed an unusual bird when I was gathered at the old wall with the Faithful—didn’t spook in the storm, though at the time I didn’t think much of it.” His mind obviously having been burdened with other concerns. “And then there was another as I was telling you about us leaving the territory when not another creature stirred,” —when she’d been standing firm in that bed of lazy ferns, demanding to know about their people, plagued by her lack of memory. “And then again at Oscine’s place when you were under her weaving. She’s been keeping tabs on us, Lilja. It was how she met us when she did outside her barrier,” he hissed as more things were made clear. She’d known they were coming.

  He’d known something had been off—