by Helen Jones
‘Oh!’ she gasped. ‘I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
‘You didn’t,’ he replied, still smiling in a way that made her feel weak at the knees. ‘I was only reading while I waited.’
‘While you waited… for me?’ said Alma, confused then shocked at her own boldness. Why on earth had she said that?
‘Well, yes, actually,’ said Deryck, surprising her again. ‘I wanted to talk to you – alone.’
Alma stared at him, dumbfounded. With what seemed to be the last rational piece of her mind she remembered that Deryck, for all his beauty, was of the Dark and that she was not a favourite of the Dark. At all. Which made his attention all the more confusing. Still, she had to say something.
‘What is it that I can help you with, Lord Deryck?’ she said, wincing inwardly at her formal tone. But it was her only defence against his charms. A defence that, she now saw, was useless. Deryck moved towards her, backing her up until she was almost against the wall. He was standing far closer to her than he needed to.
‘Why so formal with me, Alma?’ he murmured, his green eyes warm and smiling as they gazed into her own. ‘Do you not like me, a little? I thought maybe, in the woods-’
‘W-well, yes, of course,’ stammered Alma, totally thrown. ‘B-but, I don’t understand, wh-what-‘
Deryck, seeming to realise the effect he was having on her, smiled, his expression teasing. Alma didn’t know where to look. She tried not to gasp for breath. ‘Alma, my father is aware that you are searching for the Regalia, and so would like to offer you the use of the libraries of the Dark for your research. He asked me to tell you, and so here I am.’
‘Oh.’ Alma swallowed then licked her lips, her blue eyes on his. ‘Um, so, you needed to speak to me… alone?’
Deryck moved even closer, one hand coming to rest on the wall beside Alma’s head. ‘We-ell,’ he smiled, arching one perfect blond eyebrow, ‘not really, I suppose. I just thought it might be nice, that’s all. Do you not think this is nice? After all, we didn’t talk much earlier today.’ Reaching out, he lifted a strand of red hair that had fallen across her eyes, his touch feather light. Alma could hardly breathe. Her head whirling, she fought for control. Moving slightly to one side, she tried to increase the distance between them. Then she smiled back at Deryck, her lips trembling despite her efforts to hold them steady. She could feel the rough stone of the wall against her back, the soft folds of her gown around her legs. It was all she could do to stay standing. It was infuriating, the effect he was having on her! The sudden burst of rage cleared her head enough so she could respond.
‘It is very nice, I suppose,’ she said, trying, but not really succeeding, to sound cool. ‘But why would the Dark want to help me with this? Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, of course,’ she went on, belatedly remembering her manners.
‘Oh, we have our reasons,’ said Deryck, moving closer again. At the edge of the stairs, her back against the wall, Alma had nowhere left to move. As his face moved closer to hers, she held her breath, lips parting as her eyes started to close. She was not sure what she would have done next if Caleb hadn’t come up the stairs at that very moment, looking for her.
‘Alma,’ he exclaimed, looking from her flushed face to Deryck, who still stood unnecessarily close, his hand resting on the wall next to her head. ‘Are you all right? The Elders sent me to fetch you – they are waiting.’
But it was Deryck who, a frown marring his handsome face, turned his attention away from Alma to address Caleb. ‘And why would she not be all right?’ he enquired, his tone icy. ‘I would not harm her.’
‘No, I’m sure you would not, Lord Deryck,’ said Caleb. His words were polite but his tone and expression made it perfectly clear that he did not, in fact, agree.
Deryck stiffened and was about to reply when Alma intervened, laying a hand on his arm. She turned to Caleb and with a smile said, ‘Of course I’m all right, Caleb.’ Her eyes pleaded with him not to take things any further; she knew he was still upset by the day’s earlier events. Turning back to Deryck, her hand still resting lightly on his arm, she added, ‘Please thank your father for his generous offer. I will let you know.’
Finally Deryck stepped back. He made a small bow. ‘Be sure that you do,’ he said curtly then, with a glare at Caleb, he reclaimed his book and walked swiftly away down the passage.
‘What was going on here?’ asked Caleb, and, though his tone was more gentle than accusatory, it still annoyed Alma. She was totally shaken, both by the closeness of her encounter with Deryck and the abruptness with which it had ended. This did not make her feel charitable towards Caleb, despite his obvious good intentions.
‘Nothing!’ she snapped. ‘He was just waiting for me, as I left my room. I don’t know why,’ she continued crossly, seeing the query in Caleb’s face. ‘He said he needed to speak with me alone, had an offer from his father for me to use the libraries of the Dark.’
‘What?!’ Caleb blurted. Alma clenched her fists, her mouth tight as she watched Caleb fighting with his own emotions. She did not need this. He looked away, then back at her. ‘No matter,’ he said, his tone mild. ‘You can tell Thorion when you see him, see what he thinks.’
Though Alma knew he meant well, his words only infuriated her even more and she lashed out. ‘Why should I tell him anything? Surely this is my business!’
Seeing Caleb recoil, a look of shock on his usually amiable face, she was immediately contrite. She felt tired and irritated, her good mood of earlier destroyed by the awkward tension of meeting with Deryck. The last thing she wanted to do was upset her closest friend.
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, not looking at Caleb. ‘It’s just, he, well-’
‘I know,’ said Caleb resignedly. He looked away for a moment, blowing out a breath. ‘It’s just, Alma, you need to be careful. With… him.’
‘Oh Caleb,’ Alma whispered, her eyes starting to well up. This was too much.
‘Come on,’ he said, gently taking her arm and leading her to the window seat where Deryck had been resting just minutes before. ‘Let’s sit for a moment. Here, have some of this,’ he continued, offering her a drink from the same heavy silver bottle he had on the day he met her.
Alma wiped her eyes and looked gratefully at Caleb as she took the drink, taking a long swallow before wiping the top and passing it back to him. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘What would I do without you, dear Caleb, to find me seats and offer me drinks when I need them?’
Caleb took a breath, his longing clear to her for a moment, his blue eyes ocean deep. Then he looked down, huffing out a laugh. ‘Well, you’d be tired and thirsty for a start,’ he teased, nudging her with his elbow.
Grinning, she nudged him back, relieved to see him smiling again. ‘I really am sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you.’
‘It’s forgotten,’ said Caleb. He stood and offered his hand to Alma. She took it and they linked arms as they walked down the stairs to meet with the Elders, good humour restored once more.
***
Further along the hall, around the curve where the tower ascended to its highest level, stood Deryck, still seething. Caleb! Always Caleb! A thorn in his side, the boy constantly irritated him just by existing. Deryck didn’t know why he disliked Caleb so much but he did, had for as long as he could remember. His closeness to Alma was just another layer of irritation. Deryck wanted Alma; there was no doubt in his mind now. Not just for the Dark, but for himself. He thought back to their encounter, how she had looked in the soft velvet gown, wine dark against her pale skin, the way she had trembled as she stood with her back to the wall, fighting for self-control. He’d had to work to control his own feelings, for he found he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to be close to her. He had almost had her, but then Caleb had come along to spoil things. Furious, he threw his book to the ground, then, ashamed at such a childish gesture, bent to pick it up. He knew she would come to him eventually – he just had to find th
e right moment. Then she would be his.
***
Sitting in the small circle of Elders, Alma framed her questions carefully, not wanting to reveal her longing for Deryck. But she couldn’t believe that the boy who stirred her so was of the Dark, that his beauty and charm were not of the Light. She wanted to understand their nature for her own reasons, for all that she firmly told herself it was just part of her learning here.
‘But what is the difference?’ she asked, looking around at the group. Adara and Thorion exchanged glances, Adara hiding a smile while Thorion answered. Caleb, sitting to one side, folded his arms and looked away.
‘On the surface it appears that we are the same. As you know, it is impossible to tell simply by looking at us whether we are of the Light or the Dark – however the reality is that we are quite different. Those of the Light believe in truth, beauty and love as they happen: truth in our undertakings, in being honest with ourselves as well as with others; beauty found in all things, from the love of a mother for her child to the play of light on a single drop of water, and love for yourself as well as others – loving yourself enough to choose what is right for you, to become the best person you can be, but also to care for others as you care for yourself. Balance in all things is very important to us. That is why the Light have always been guardians of the Regalia.’
‘And why we are shamed that it has been lost,’ boomed another voice, that of a stately and dignified older lord, his wavy hair and full beard silvered with age.
‘And also why the Dark has ever been seeking to take this control from us,’ continued Thorion, his blue eyes stern. ‘To them, our loss is their gain. For the Dark also believe in truth, beauty and love. But truth only as it appears to them, not how it is in reality, beauty in its most superficial aspect, that of the physical, regardless of the nature that lies within, and love in its most selfish form – the love of self and of one’s own aims at the expense of all others. This is what makes them so dangerous. With their physical beauty and seductive tones they can easily confuse others into believing their lies; in fact, over the centuries they have crossed over into your world to do just that, whispering their ideas into receptive ears, fanning the flames of hatred and fear, simply to bring about the chaos and disorder in which they delight. It is their meddling that has led us to this tipping point and caused the Regalia to be lost.’
‘So the stone you carry is a precious gift indeed,’ said Adara with a smile. ‘Shame, though, that you do not seem to be using it,’ she added slyly, her golden eyes bright in her mischievous face.
Alma blushed to the roots of her hair. She didn’t dare look at Caleb. She had thought her infatuation with Deryck was a secret but now, listening to the soft laughter of the Elders, realised her feelings had been clear for everyone to see.
***
Walking along the stone corridor with Caleb, Alma was deep in thought. She needed to go home, she decided. Forget about staying the night here – if she ran into Deryck again she wasn’t sure what she would do. What she really wanted was normal things around her, like Sara and her mother and her room and even her brothers, annoying as they were. She just needed a break from all the magic and confusion of Ambeth. Caleb was quiet as he walked next to her, seeming to be deep in thought. Then, as they reached the foyer, he nudged her with his elbow.
‘Are you all right?’ he said. ‘Shall we go for a walk? I thought maybe later we could-’
‘I’m sorry, Caleb,’ said Alma, looking at him with stricken eyes. She hated hurting his feelings. ‘But I think I need to go home now.’
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘Come on, I need to get changed and grab my stuff. Will you walk me to the Gate, please?’
Caleb looked at her for a moment, saying nothing. Alma could see how disappointed he was. Then he pulled himself together, managing a half smile.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’ Resignedly he followed her up the stairs, waiting while she got changed and collected her bag. Then they walked together in silence through the trees towards the Gate, the occasional splat of raindrops from above and the rustle of their passage the only sounds. Finally, after huffing out a breath, Caleb spoke.
‘So, what do you see in him?’ He sounded belligerent, unlike his usual self. Alma stopped and looked at him, frowning.
‘What are you on about?’ she said, though she knew. Caleb had been in a bad mood all day despite her best efforts and she knew it was because of Deryck. Well, it wasn’t her fault! Her temper rising, she looked at Caleb with her mouth tight, her eyes challenging him.
‘You know who I mean,’ said Caleb, meeting her stare with his own as he folded his arms. ‘The Prince of Darkness.’ Alma had to laugh at this, a short sharp yelp that surprised her almost as much as it did Caleb.
‘Oh, come on,’ she said, then stopped. Caleb deserved better than this. Her anger subsided. ‘He’s not bad, you know. He can’t help who his father is.’
‘He cannot change it either, Alma. Nor can he change what he is.’
‘And what is he, Caleb?’
‘He is Dark,’ the boy replied. ‘And no matter what he does, or tells you, that is what he will always be, what his nature will be.’
Alma looked down, biting her lip. She knew all this, of course she did, but it didn’t change how Deryck made her feel. Or how she seemed to make him feel. Lifting her head, she brushed her red hair out of her eyes. She wanted to make Caleb understand. ‘He likes me, I think,’ she said hesitantly. Seeing the pained look on Caleb’s face that he quickly tried to hide, she wished she hadn’t.
‘Oh Alma,’ he said, before stopping, unable to go on. Alma felt it like a physical pain in her chest – hurting Caleb was the last thing she ever wanted to do.
‘Caleb, I’m… sorry,’ she said quietly. Sorry for what though – for liking Deryck? She couldn’t be sorry for that. For not loving Caleb the way he did her? Perhaps, but she couldn’t change the way she felt. ‘I wouldn’t hurt you for all the world.’
He came closer, putting his hands gently on her arms, looking at her with eyes that shifted from blue to grey. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and Alma met his gaze, not wanting to look away, wanting him to see how much he meant to her. Finally, he spoke. ‘I will always be here for you, whatever you choose to do. I will always look out for you.’
Alma felt close to tears. Blinking in a vain effort to contain them, she wiped her cheek with her hand, her heart full. ‘I’ll be here for you too, Caleb – you couldn’t be a better friend.’
Again he looked as though he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, he pulled her into a hug, sliding his arms around her back, his hands gentle on her hair. After a moment’s hesitation she hugged him back, gently breaking his hold a moment later. They stood close together in the damp woods, a few errant rays of sun coming through the trees, and as Caleb looked at Alma one corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile.
‘So, see you here on Friday as usual?’
Alma smiled back at him and nodded her head. ‘Yes, I’ll be here,’ she said. Stepping away from Caleb towards the Gate, she placed her hand on her bracelet and started to focus, then stopped. She ran back to him, impulsively kissing him on the cheek. His face broke into a delighted grin, as did hers. Moving back to the Gate she began to focus again, still smiling. The bracelet’s magic started to work and Alma stepped through, back to her world and her normal life, just as she had wished.
Heart’s Love
Humming along to Christmas songs playing on the radio in the kitchen, Alma licked the spoon she was holding, savouring the mingled flavours of raisins and spices. This was her favourite time of year. She was making mince pies, something she had done each Christmas since she was small, first as a helper then taking over the job once she was old enough. Her mother and the rest of the family wisely stayed clear of the kitchen when Alma was cooking, not wanting to be in the firing line if something
went wrong. Still, Eleanor liked to check on Alma every so often and did so at just that moment, sticking her head around the door.
‘How are they coming along?’ she asked, smiling she took in the dab of flour on her cheek and the spread of utensils, pastry and raisins across the scrubbed pine table. Outside it was cold and dreary, but the kitchen was a cosy haven, light gleaming off the golden wood and soft sofa and the oven pumping out heat, making the room even warmer.
‘Oh fine,’ said Alma, smiling in return. Holding out the spoon, she offered her mother a taste of the mince mixture. Eleanor shook her head.
‘Oh, I shouldn’t,’ she began, but then gave in as Alma gave her what she liked to call ‘The Look.’ An expression somewhere between love and exasperation, she had done it since she was small whenever she thought her mother was being silly. It reminded Eleanor so much of Alma’s father that she always gave in, though with good humour.
‘Oh, all right then,’ she said, coming over to take the spoon. ‘Mmmm!’ she exclaimed, tasting the mixture. ‘What have you done differently? This is delicious!’
‘I marinated the raisins with orange and lemon zest before adding the spices,’ Alma said, pleased. Each year she challenged herself to try something new and creative when she made the mince pies – it didn’t always work out but when it did, the results were always appreciated. She was happy they’d turned out well this year, as she planned to take some for Caleb when she next crossed over.
‘So, any plans over the holidays?’ asked Eleanor, settling herself down in one of the chairs and looking expectantly at her daughter.
Alma looked at her, raising an eyebrow. ‘What – other than the whole Christmas and New Year’s thing?’
‘Well, of course I know you’re going to be celebrating with us,’ said Eleanor, giving her daughter a look of her own. ‘But what about the other days? Are you going to see Sara?’
