The Brand of Anem

by Kaitlyn Deann

  And for the first time in a very long time, Margaret had snatched the reins out of Carson’s hands.

  He gripped her hand tightly as he rasped under his breath, “Where are we going, Maggie? The stable—”

  “Not the stable,” she rasped back, jerking his arm as she pointed towards the cliffs hanging on the edge of the ocean.

  “The beach?” Carson was surprised. They’d never gone to the beach together. Not once and especially not at night. With good reason, Margaret was afraid of the dark and unpredictable waters.

  She didn’t answer Carson. She simply continued to aggressively pull him through the trees that glittered the many acres they still had to trespass before reaching the cliff edge.

  Carson had an uneasy feeling deep in his gut. He dug his heels into the ground, pulling Margaret back. She stumbled with the abrupt stop. “Maggie,” warned Carson, “what are you doing?”

  She looked over at the dark sea. They could already hear the rustling of the water and the crashing of the waves against the rocks at the bottom of the cliffs. Carson thought it sounded peaceful, but he wasn’t so sure how Margaret perceived it. “I just want to go one time,” she whispered. Then she looked back at him. “I want to go with you. You’ve always said the water was beautiful.”

  “It’s dark, Maggie,” he reminded her. “The night doesn’t do it justice.”

  “But to be able to see it with you…” She shook her head. “I can only see it tonight if I want to do it with you at all.”

  He closed his eyes. This is your last night with her. The thought pained him more than he could express. Be strong for her. If she wants to see the ocean, take her to see it. Do this one last thing for her .

  “All right, Maggie,” he whispered, opening his eyes. “I know a place we can sit and look out over the water while still being concealed.”

  Her eyes twinkled, and she stepped up against him. “Really?” She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  He nodded once. The reins had been handed back to him. “I’ll take you to it.” And he gave her a small kiss on her lips before taking her hand and leading her along the appropriate path.

  ☽ ✵ ☾

  It wasn’t the darkness of the water that frightened Margaret, nor was it the whooshing of the waves, the gritty sand, or the creatures that possibly lurked beneath the surface of the sea. And yet, the closer she got to the cliff—the saltier the air, the thinner the trees, the sandier the ground, the louder the sea—her heart hammered harder and she was tempted to tell Carson to stop. She bit her tongue though, because she wanted to see the water she had never been brave enough to see herself. And if she was to ever see the ocean, it would be with the only person she trusted, the only person she knew would save her if she was lost to it.

  Though she was only four years old when it happened, she recalled—even if only vaguely—the many weeks Deneb had spent searching high and low for the ten-year-old Ariana Cynthia James, Margaret’s older sister. She had been a sleepwalker, and as much as Margaret could remember, she had been found asleep on the beach twice before the morning she went missing. The door had been left ajar—Margaret was the one that found it like that—and, on the cliff edge, her stuffed toy animal was found alone.

  But Cynthia herself was never found—not a shred of clothing, not a drop of blood. There wasn’t a single inkling left of Margaret’s beloved older sister.

  She would’ve turned twenty-three last month . Margaret had always kept up with Cynthia’s birthday. She swore to never, ever forget, despite the rules that say to leave the past in the past. She wasn’t even allowed to properly mourn her sister.

  Except she could mourn with Carson. Carson was always ready to listen, always ready to catch her tears. He let her mourn, and he never told her to forget the past. She hadn’t told him about Cynthia until they were fifteen, after she’d already confessed her attraction to him and they had begun hanging around each other a little more every day.

  Margaret was unsure who else knew about Cynthia, but she assumed everyone her age and younger knew nothing of her. That bothered Margaret a lot. It was as if her sister never even existed, and she thought that was horrible. Why weren’t they allowed to remember lost loved ones?

  Damn this place that buried all the precious memories of Cynthia.

  Margaret thought Carson would take her to the very edge of the highest cliff, so she could look out over the ocean. But he didn’t. He led her down a steep pathway that must be frequently used during the day due to the lack of foliage that grew around that area. Then, he took her off the path and up onto the rocks and boulders littering the base of the cliffs. They climbed over them together, Carson never releasing her hand except to grab her waist to hoist her over a particularly large boulder. Margaret had a bit of difficulty with the climbing due to the dress she wore. If only girls were allowed to wear slacks like the boys, tasks such as these would be easier! Then again, tasks like those were illegal. They were not supposed to be climbing in that area. It was a restricted area. Deemed dangerous.

  So dangerous .

  The water was loud in her ears.

  Very, very dangerous .

  The water mocked her.

  Extremely dangerous .

  The water was darker than sin.

  This is her grave .

  Carson’s arms were suddenly around Margaret as he spun her around to face him and squeezed her tightly against his chest. “It’s okay, Maggie,” he whispered in her ear. He was a warm breath of relief. “Just breathe,” he told her gently, still holding her tightly. “I’ve got you. As long as I’m here, nothing bad will happen. I swear it.”

  Margaret had not even realized she’d been hyperventilating. She closed her eyes and focused on steadying her breathing. Carson didn’t let go for several minutes, even after she’d calmed down. Finally, he asked, his grip unchanged on her, “Would you like to go back? It’s okay if you do.”

  She shook her head against his chest. “No. Let’s continue on our way.”

  He slowly released her. “As long as you’re sure.”

  “Positive.” He took a full two seconds to stare into her eyes, and she could only assume it was to make sure she was truly okay. “So,” she whispered. “Where are we going?”

  He gazed over his shoulder at the base of the cliff only a few yards from them now. “Almost there now. It’s just around the side.”

  “What is it?”

  His eyes found her again, a small smile playing on his lips. Around others, that grin was the most anyone would ever get out of him—if they were lucky enough. She always thought his genuine smile, the one he let loose when they were alone, was such a handsome one. The most handsome smile she’d ever seen and would ever see. He simply whispered his reply, “You’ll see,” and grabbed her hand to take her there.

  When they rounded the side of the cliff, climbing over another boulder weathered by the tides, Margaret noted how dark it was on that side. She couldn’t see a thing. The cliff blocked the moonlight, leaving everything in unadulterated darkness.

  Though she was frozen with fear of the unknown, Carson was not afraid. In fact, she’d never known him to be inclined to fear. Perhaps there was something different inside of him? Was he truly never afraid? Or was he just so brave that he faced his fears without a moment’s hesitation? Was he simply hiding his fears? Did he have any at all?

  Carson assisted Margaret over many more boulders, and Margaret wondered if he’d been there during the day before. How else did he know his way in the utter darkness so well? Finally, he pulled her to a stop.

  “Here,” he whispered. He planted himself suddenly on the rock they were currently standing on. He heaved a satisfactory sigh as his rump hit the stone. Margaret slowly sat down next to him, as closely as she could in the pitch black. She blinked several times, but she could only see the stirring water that the moon illuminated far away from them. Everything else nearest to her was shadowless. She could make out a bit of Carson, but not
as well as she’d like. She wished she could see him. It was their last night together, and she didn’t want to experience it blind.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer to him. He rested his mouth against her ear. “What do you think?” he whispered, then gave her a soft kiss behind her ear.

  She leaned into his kiss while looking out over the water. Margaret couldn’t decide if the fluttering in her chest was due to fright or awe of the sea. One side of her thought it was incredibly beautiful, but the other part of her kept repeating the same thing over and over in her head: this is her grave, this is her grave, this is her grave . And it was unfortunate that that was the loudest part.

  Margaret closed her eyes to stop the fear that screamed at her. She clutched Carson closer to her, and he welcomed it. He pulled her up onto his lap carefully and held her there, her head tucked into his neck.

  “I thought you wanted to see the water?” he questioned after a few moments. “You aren’t looking at anything.”

  She replied, “It’s dark; I can’t see you.”

  He chuckled. “You said you wanted to see the water. You didn’t mention being able to see me.”

  “Thought that was a given,” she mumbled, playing with the first button on his shirt.

  “I apologize,” he said, though she could hear the amusement in his voice. “Shall I show you the rest?”

  She raised her head. She could sort of make out a general outline of his face, but it still irked her that she couldn’t fully appreciate how handsome he was. “The rest? I thought this was the place.”

  “It is, but there’s more to it.” He motioned, but Margaret had no idea where and couldn’t see what he could possibly be gesturing towards. She wondered if he could see better in the dark than she could. “It’s behind us,” he said. “C’mon.”

  It was only a few more steps when Carson brought them to a halt. Then, there was suddenly a spark of light coming from Carson. He was smiling and held a small lighter in the hand that wasn’t holding onto Margaret. She was glad to be able to see his face. She took in every feature quickly, and hoped she’d have more time to admire him. “See?” He motioned to their surroundings.

  Margaret dared look away from Carson at the narrow entrance to what she assumed was a cave. She glanced behind them and realized they’d been sitting right outside of it the whole time.

  “How did you find this place?” she asked, breathless.

  “Long time ago, during the day,” he answered as he pulled her through the narrow passage and into a strangely shaped opening. It wasn’t a deep cave, she realized, but it was concealed—like Carson had said. He let go of her then, and he made his way over to a corner of the cave where he began to light eight different candles, casting the grotto in a warm glow. Had Carson put those candles there? Carson continued answering her from before, “I was a kid when I first discovered it. It’s actually incredible I didn’t get caught. Didn’t tell anyone about it, of course. I thought it would be cool to have a secret hideout. Honestly, I’d forgotten about it until earlier.”

  “You come here often?” She motioned to the candles.

  He snickered. “No. I’ve only been here a couple of times. If you’re asking about the candles, I didn’t put them there. They’ve been in that very spot since I found this place.” He shrugged his shoulders, placing his hands on his hips coolly. “I have no idea who they belonged to. Obviously they still work just fine. They never got wet and are out of direct light.”

  He glanced back at Margaret and took a moment to assess her entirety. Quite a few men had given Margaret that same look, though they always tried hiding it, and it always made her extremely uncomfortable. But Carson was different. She always welcomed his lingering eyes, and she gave him an assessment of her own.

  It took less than a few heartbeats for them to embrace and their lips to find each other. Heat spread from their mouths throughout both of them in equal measures. Margaret was sure that the hottest star spoken of by Anem in the star scrolls was not near as hot as they were pressed together in that moment. Carson was quick to remove his clothing before assisting Margaret with removing hers.

  Margaret recalled, though, when Carson was not always so hasty and was, in fact, hesitant about everything. During their first kiss, right before they had turned sixteen, he had pulled away from her, having not kissed her back at all like she had expected, and he ducked out from behind the bleachers without another word. And then he didn’t speak to her for several days following—out of guilt, he later confessed, because he enjoyed the kiss, and kissing her was wrong. Despite his convictions, they had kissed again—and again and again and again—until they were doing more than just kissing. But with every new step they took, he always questioned the step beforehand. That was, until it came to the first time they had relations, of course. It happened too suddenly for Carson to think rationally about it, and by the time he took a moment to pause in the midst of their sin, they both had already been branded by the goddess of souls. Margaret, that time, was the one that felt guilty because she was the one that led him into that situation. She was the reason he had felt such guilt. Over a short amount of time, though, Carson seemed to let that guilt go, because he never stopped seeing Margaret, and he was, from then on, insistent that what was between them was not wrong.

  How could it be? Margaret constantly wondered. She was certain they were destined to be together. She was sure that there was no other man on earth or in heaven that could be what Carson was to her.

  ☽ ✵ ☾

  They laid tangled together for a long time on the floor near those old candles. The warm light the flames cast on the uneven, jagged walls flickered soothingly. The breeze wafting in from the ocean whistled through the cave’s narrow entry. Though it wasn’t too cold inside the cave, they would’ve been slightly chilled if they hadn’t have made themselves cozy under Margaret’s burgundy cloak.

  Margaret had curled herself into Carson’s shoulder and threaded her legs through his. Carson lightly glided his fingers over her arm. Neither spoke for several minutes, though Carson thought that maybe they had the same thing on their minds, which would explain the uneasiness silently shared between them.

  This was their last night together. In just a few days, Margaret would be married to William Lach. And eventually, within the next two years—if he were lucky to be given that much time alone—the judge and his parents would pick someone for him to marry. He and Margaret would have separate families. He would eventually have children with another woman that wasn’t her, and she would have children with another man that wasn’t him . It pained him to think about, but it was reality. And what good did it do either of them to act as though reality were fiction and fiction were reality?

  Suddenly, Margaret spoke. “This is my fault, Carson. I’m the reason we’ve wasted so much time pretending.”

  He was genuinely confused. “What are you going on about?”

  She squeezed him to her lovingly and sighed at the same time before replying, “I always knew this day would come. Our last day. I just didn’t want to believe it, so I didn’t. I was pretending, and I made you pretend with me.”

  He laid his cheek against the crown of her head and whispered, “I wasn’t pretending.”

  Margaret raised her head off his shoulder which forced Carson to look into her eyes. They twinkled with the dancing flames of the candles. “I didn’t mean that what we have isn’t real. I wasn’t pretending to love you, Carson. If anything, you’re the most real part of my life.” She paused as if to consider how to word her next sentence.

  Carson took the moment to move strands of hair stuck to the side of her face behind her cold ear and pulled the corner of her cloak higher up on her body, tucking it under her sides to keep the warmth between them. He took an extra moment before she spoke again to admire how beautiful her caramel hair framed her olive-toned face. He always thought her complexion was the closest to perfection: smooth and tawny, the fire-gold amber
glow of dawn. She looked just like her mother, though Carson hardly ever saw the ambassador. He knew about the resemblance only from the few times he’d seen them walking side by side.

  Margaret exhaled in a puff of air. “It’s only a matter of time, Carson. They’ll soon know everything.”

  Carson reached up to her face and tenderly ran his finger down her nose, then he pinched her chin gently with his thumb and the side of his index finger. He only ever did that to those he loved. No one else deserved such a meaningful, wordless I-love-you .

  But Margaret replied with a shake of her head and disappointed sigh. “If I could take it all back, I would.”

  Carson’s eyebrows fell heavily over his eyes, and he noted the twang of pain that stabbed his heart in that second. “You regret this?”

  “I regret putting you in this situation.” She refused to make eye contact with him. “I’m the reason we bound ourselves in the first place. I made you do this.”

  To that, he laughed. Loud and boisterous. “Whatever,” he said through another laugh. He pulled her closer and squeezed her once with a hug. After half a moment, he said, “Margaret, you didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Trust me. Everything we’ve ever done together, I wanted all of it.” He hoped that would make her feel better.

  Carson wondered where all this guilt was coming from suddenly. Had she been shouldering it all that time and never told him? Or was it now, that the end was so near, she felt responsible for the impending punishment they’d no doubt receive once the brands were discovered?

  Margaret exhaled again, exhausted. She whispered, “I realize that, Carson. I’m not saying I forced you to love me. I’m saying if I hadn’t have been so pushy… If I had just listened to you when you tried talking sense into me that first time I tried kissing you… Our lives wouldn’t—”