Chosen (The Last Guardians Book 1)

by C. V. Gregorchuk

  Chapter 26

  “I came to apologize.” Mia had spent every step down the hallway and on the stairs thinking about what she was going to say. She’d gone over it in her head until she had it perfect. And then that came out of her mouth, and everything else disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Mia crossed an arm over her chest and held on to her bicep for dear life as she stood there awkward as hell.

  Orden’s eyes were bloodshot, their pale shade emphasized by the bruised appearance of the skin around them. He looked at her, taking in the slept in clothes, pale face and rumpled hair. The tension around his mouth softened, and he shook his head. Orden stepped away from the counter and Hanna who had now turned to face Mia, “I owe ye an apology as well.”

  “I didn’t mean you.” Mia swallowed. She wasn’t looking at Orden but rather Hanna whose brows had shot up somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline. Hanna slid her eyes up and sideways toward her husband’s profile. Orden grunted. Mia looked down at her feet as she said, “I’m sorry for the things I said to you. It was rude and unfair, and I’m really sorry.” Her voice cracked at the end and Mia grit her teeth.

  It was so quiet. Breahn held her breath behind Mia and she could hear Orden moving air through his nose. Hanna took a measured breath, then her skirts were rustling as she walked. Mia felt cool, callused fingers under her chin, lifting. There were fine wrinkles at the corners of Hanna’s blue eyes as the woman, and the girl looked at each other. Hanna’s eyes were soft and kind, tinged with sadness and understanding, Mia had to fight the urge to look away as her own eyes started to burn. “I’m sorry I called you sick. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry! I’m sorry I smashed your bowl! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

  Thin, strong arms wrapped around her, holding her as she disintegrated. “There, there. It’s alright my girl. Yer alright,” A sweet voice crooned sounding so much like her mother that Mia only cried harder, her tears soaking the fabric over Hanna’s shoulder. “Hush, Hush. Don’t cry, darling. You are forgiven. It’s alright. Yer alright,” Hanna smelled like soil and growing things, lavender and sun. Mia breathed in the calming scent, letting it soothe the sharp edges of her broken heart.

  When the last of her tears had dried and her sobbing reduced to occasional hiccups, Mia was ushered into a chair at the table, and a mug of peppermint tea was pushed into her hands. Breahn and Hanna tiptoed around her, the latter leaving light, comforting touches on Mia’s shoulders, her arms, and head. Orden hadn’t moved once. He stood by the counter, watching over the scene, a silent presence that drew her attention, as much as she didn’t want to face him. It seemed like every time Mia was in the same room with him, she ended up in a puddle of her own tears. What was worse, last night was the second time in two days that he’d carried her to bed. Oh, that was mortifying! She’d have to thank him at some point.

  Breahn cleared her throat beside Mia, forcefully pulling her into the here and now. Hanna was looking at her expectantly, waiting for something. Mia grimaced, “Um, sorry, what?”

  Hanna smiled indulgently and said, “I thought ye might benefit from a warm bath. Does that sound alright?” It did sound alright, more than alright. Mia found herself nodding her head eagerly. “Good,” Hanna gave Breahn a pointed look, a silent conversation between mother and daughter. Breahn made to get up.

  “Not yet.”

  All three women turned their heads.

  Orden met them without flinching, his mouth pressed into a hard line, broad shoulders squared. His gaze settled on Mia. “We need to finish our conversation.”

  Mia felt the blood drain from her face. Magic. He wanted to talk about magic, the thing that didn’t-shouldn’t exist but somehow did. He’d used it last night. Mia looked up at the fixture hanging on its thick chain. Orden had lit every single one of those candles, with what? A word? A thought? How did it work? What was this Power? Mia shook her head and looked down at the black tea in the mug between her hands, deciding she would rather not know. “That’s not a conversation I want to have right now.”

  “It is not something that can wait.” Mia lifted her eyes to his face, her mouth drawn in a tight line. “I apologize for my methods, but we simply cannot delay. We need to begin your training immediately.” An edge of urgency had crept into Orden’s voice, pushing past the facade. Mia didn’t care. Did the guy seriously not know when enough was enough?

  “You’re kidding me right?” Orden blinked. His eyebrows drew together, and he opened his mouth to say something. “You expect me to train-whatever the hell that means-”

  “We have to-”

  “Ya, I don’t care.” She cut him off brutally, “I need time.” Mia bit down on her cheek, after the second she needed to master herself she continued, “Give me time to process things first and then we can talk about training.”

  Orden worked his jaw. The lines of his face were stretched taut, his eyes blazing chips of glass beneath the shadows of his brows. He opened his mouth and then closed it again without a word. A wise choice in Mia’s opinion. They stared each other down, each waiting for the other to break, to give in. Like hell! He could give her this; he damn well owed it to her. Mia was not going to back down for anything. Orden lifted his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He met her glare with an assessing look. Mia raised her chin in defiance, daring him to deny her. He had no idea how miserable she aimed to make his life if he did.

  “Fine,” Orden said, a low growl of displeasure. He released his nose and crossed his arms over his chest, “you will have all the time you need but-” His eyes glittered with a wicked light, and Mia felt a brief flicker of doubt. “As long as you are not training you will earn your keep by helping with the chores.”

  The clever old man. Mia clenched her teeth and hummed her displeasure. How to get out of this? Should she even try? Honestly, she was surprised he’d agreed to her terms at all. Mia regarded Orden through narrowed eyes and considered her next step. It wasn’t like he could force her to do anything she didn’t want to, he could try and see where it would get him. Nowhere at all. And what would she do in the meantime anyway? Besides, descend into a well of self-pity she might never come out of. Doing chores could be a welcome distraction from her grief. Mia swallowed past her pride, “Fine,” She said.

  “Fine.” Orden’s mouth quirked up at the corner and Mia wished she could reach across the room and slap the satisfied smirk off his face.

  “Fine!” Mia got to her feet and made for the door, hoping to get out of there while she still had the final say.

  “The barn is that way.”

  She reached the door and stopped, his smug tone grating on her nerves. “What?”

  “The stalls need mucking out, and fresh bedding put down.” Mia turned her head to glower at the old man who grinned in return. “You weren’t planning to hole yerself up in that room for the rest of the day were you?” Actually, that was exactly what Mia had planned to do; take a long hot bath and then lose herself in sleep. “Ach no, you will start chores immediately. Unless ye’d rather train?”

  Mia focused on a knot in the pine doorframe, hiding her fists in front of her body so Orden wouldn’t see how hard she had to work to keep her temper under control. It took her longer than she would have liked to finally turn and face him, a smile plastered on her face. “No, thank you,” Mia said, sweet as poison. She squared her shoulders and walked across the kitchen, ignoring the hideously annoying smile on Orden’s face.

  Chapter 27

  Mia cut across the yard, heading for the looming shadow of the barn that blotted out the sun with its high, sloped roof. With every step she took the anger that had sustained her through the interaction with Orden drained away, retreating to a small, smoldering kernel lodged beneath her breastbone. Chickens scattered out of Mia’s way, their indignant clucking falling on deaf ears as she dragged her feet toward the wide doorway in the barn wall.

  The smell hit her like a brick to the face; strong and acrid i
t seared her nasal passages and brought tears to her eyes. Mia coughed and stopped inside the door, covering her mouth and nose with an elbow. After the bright, open yard, the barn felt dim and musty. Dust motes danced in thin streams of sunlight shining through cracks in the slatted walls. Mia squinted at her surroundings, taking in the straw-covered dirt and the rough wooden posts supporting the ceiling above. Stalls like the one directly in front of her lined the walls on either side of the wide path, gates open and empty. She took in the thick layer of straw and muck and asked herself, what the hell am I supposed to do now?

  The girl clearly had never worked a day in her life. Vander watched from behind the ale shed, his irritation growing with every curse and fumble she made. What was she doing here anyway? She should be training with Orden- no matter how pointless- not shoveling horse shit, butchering a task he would have finished in an hour. As frustrating as it was, the thing that had Vander grinding his teeth and glowering was that he was stuck. He could not move from his hiding place without risking being seen, and she was so inconsistent that he didn’t dare break cover while she was inside the barn. It would be his luck if she came out, wheelbarrow a quarter of the way full of horse dung and soiled straw, as he was dashing across the yard. Orden would skewer him, and besides, Vander would never stoop to such indignity.

  He could return to the forest. Leave his kill here for someone to find. Vander spared a glance at the young doe laying at the base of an oak tree a few strides away. She was plump, a sure sign of a healthy forest, fat on sweet grass and tree bark. Her meat would last them a good long while. A shout of frustration drew Vander’s attention back to the girl, and he assessed the situation. She’d filled the wheelbarrow too much this time, and unevenly. The contents now lay in a heap on the ground, the wheelbarrow on its side.

  The girl kicked the pile, sending dung and straw flying into the air only for it to be driven back into her face as a light breeze picked up. Vander was not amused, not even in the slightest. The girl made her disgust known, screeching and complaining as she wiped at her face and spat the refuse from her mouth. He turned away as she wrestled the wooden wheelbarrow upright, and strode through the knee-high grass, disappearing between the trees half-a-second later. Vander had seen enough to confirm his initial observations to be correct: Nethea was doomed.

  Vander speared a path through the woods, shutting himself off from his surroundings. This girl would never be a Guardian, of that he was sure. No amount of time was going to change that fact. Fear and anger fought one another, an evenly matched contest that waged within. How had this happened? How was this person, this girl the one chosen for the Guardianship? How had it gone so wrong? Vander stifled the urge to shout his frustration, to roar so loudly that the earth would tremble and the trees splinter. This form felt suddenly suffocating, tight and confined like he was too big for his skin. Vander needed the caress of the wind beneath his wings like he needed to breathe. Craved the icy bite of the air in the uppermost reaches of the sky. He needed to climb far above the earth, and free-fall from the height. He needed to fly.

  He wasn’t so lost in his own thoughts to miss the old man’s scent, tinged with horse. Vander was tempted to hide, to avoid speaking to Orden, especially when he felt his control slipping with every second spent in this human form. Even considering it, Vander knew it was too late. Just as he had scented Orden, Orden had sensed him. Vander slowed his pace and crossed his arms. He was leaning against a tree, a bored look on his face when the horse came trotting through the trees, its rider seated high in the saddle pushing leafy branches out of the way.

  The mare’s grey coat was dark and shiny in some places. If it had been a colder day steam would have risen from her skin. Orden had put her through her paces. Good. At the sight of him Reyne whinnied a greeting. She slowed to a walk, bobbing her head until she was close enough to nudge Vander in the shoulder. Vander’s mouth twitched as the horse pushed him, whuffling at his clothes in search of treats. It was his first smile since the girl’s arrival, and it felt like it, stiff and unfamiliar. “I don’t have anything for you,” he murmured, scratching the mare below the jaw with one hand, while the other stroked the flat, circular plane of her cheek. “How does it look today?” Vander asked, without looking at the other man.

  Leather creaked as Orden swung his leg over the horse’s back. He slid down her side, landing with a muffled thump, the thick carpet of grass cushioning his dismount. “Well,” said Orden in a tone that made Vander shift his attention from Reyne’s pale blue eyes to the old man’s face. “It is still there.” Orden’s tan skin was leached of color in the dim light of the trees, the grooves on either side of his mouth appeared deeper like they’d been etched there with a knife. Even the salty bristles of his beard seemed somehow paler. Vander pretended not to notice the way Orden’s brows drew together or the strained line of his mouth as he straightened.

  “Is it any weaker?”

  Orden took his time answering. He moved slowly, his advanced age made more noticeable by the stiffness in his legs. Sometimes Vander forgot that Orden was nearing a century on this earth, so rarely did he show it. “In some places.” Orden said, his voice low and gravely. He leaned against a young poplar and finally met Vander’s eye. “It will hold.”

  Vander clenched his teeth and focused on the warm, damp hide beneath his circling fingers. “For how long?” He could not keep the hard edge from his voice.

  A heavy sigh. “I do not know.”

  “And while the barrier that keeps us hidden from our enemies slowly fades away, you have that Chosen-” He spat the word, “shoveling horse shit.” Vander pushed the horse away, none too gently and advanced on Orden. The old man did not so much as blink as the Dragon approached, his True form barely contained by this vulnerable flesh. Orden looked tired.

  “I do not need to explain myself to you hatchling.” Vander stopped in his tracks, bristling at the word. Orden knew how much he hated that word! “Trust that I am doing what I deem fit.”

  “What you deem fit? She’s shoveling horse shit!”

  “Yw think I do not know that?” Orden surged to his full height, and Vander resisted the urge to take a step back. He was taller than Orden, stronger as well but the look on the old man’s face made him uneasy. “She is doing so because it is what I told her to do.”

  “She should be training!” Vander curled his hands into fists at his sides as he struggled to keep his voice from rising.

  “She refuses to train. Even if I wished to, you know full well I cannot force her.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  Orden leveled his eyes at Vander, pinning him with a look full of disappointment. He sighed, “Set aside your anger my son, it does you no service. The girl and I have come to an agreement. She will have time to grieve her losses-” Vander made to interrupt but was silenced by an icy glare, “She has lost as we have lost, surely you can see that?” Vander blinked. “When she has mourned, then I will start her training.”

  “But how long will that take?” His shoulders dropped. Vander shifted his weight and folded his arms over his chest. Time was not something they had much of, especially with the barrier weakening more every day and who knew what was happening in the rest of the world? They were isolated here in their small section of the forest; time seemed to stand still some days but not out there. Nethea could be going to hell this very moment, and they would have been too late to stop it.

  “I don’t know.” The hard lines of Orden’s face softened marginally, “Do not mistake my empathy for patience. I am just as eager for her to begin her training as you are.”

  Vander looked at his boots, his eyes focusing on the scuffed leather across his toes. “I am not so sure it will be worth the trouble.” He grumbled under his breath.

  Chapter 28

  Mia dragged her feet toward the house. Everything hurt, and that was not an over exaggeration. A dull ache radiated outward from a concentrated spot in her lower back, the result of bending over to sho
vel endless crap. Her feet hurt from tramping back and forth between the barn and the giant hill of horse crap standing behind it. Mia moved her swollen fingers experimentally, curling them in toward her palm. They felt fat and clumsy after too long spent in one position, she couldn’t seem to bend them more than the second joint, and even that was painful.

  Mia skipped going through the kitchen door and instead walked around to the front of the big house. The absolute last thing she wanted to do right now was talk. The sun blinded her as she rounded the corner and Mia threw up a hand to shade her eyes. The top of the golden circle peeked out from the upper branches of the trees; there was already a reddish tinge to the clouds as sunset approached. It was quite pretty actually, the foliage inky black against the backlight of the sun. If only Mia were in the mood to enjoy it. She took a deep breath and climbed the three shallow steps onto the porch, moving toward the giant door. Mia hoped it was unlocked.

  The handle was absolutely gigantic and took all her strength and both hands to turn. The door itself opened smooth and silent despite its size. Mia breathed a soft sigh of relief when it didn’t make a sound. She could hear voices coming from the kitchen, Breahn, and Hanna by the sound of it, Orden’s deep tone was missing. The smell of food drifted from the open door and filled her nostrils. Mia made a face and, closing the door as quietly as possible, slipped up the stairs. Safely in her room, she trudged toward the bed and fell, fully clothed and reeking of manure on to the clean bed.