We Three Heroes

by Lynette Noni

  Instead, he secured his grip on her and stepped into the Bubbledoor, picturing their destination clearly in his mind. It wasn’t hard. He saw it every night in his dreams. In his nightmares. Even if he hadn’t seen it in real life since that day six years ago, he would never forget.

  Blood pounding in his ears, Jordan exited the Bubbledoor with D.C. at his side, the two of them glancing around in silence at the picturesque view in front of them.

  … A view showing a wintry pond surrounded by frost-covered willows, hidden deep at the heart of the immaculate grounds of Jordan’s ancestral home.

  Eleven

  The pond was nestled too deep inside the labyrinth of the grounds to have a direct line of sight to Chateau Shondelle, and that was the only reason Jordan had been willing to risk bringing D.C. anywhere near his parents’ mansion. He knew that, like him, neither Marcus nor Natasha Sparker had travelled through the topiary maze to the pond since Luka’s death, causing it to be perhaps even more serene and magical than it had been six years earlier. There was a remote beauty to it now, a wildness that hadn’t been there when Jordan and Luka had been regular visitors.

  When they were younger, the two brothers had frequented the pond every day during the warmer months, swinging from the willows into the crystal-clear water and lazing in the sunshine before jumping back in and racing each other from shore to shore. The pond wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small by any means, so they’d always had to drag themselves back to the mansion at the end of the day, exhausted from their efforts but deliriously happy. When the weather cooled, they’d still visited as often as they could—at least when Luka wasn’t away at school—climbing the willows, playing games in the snow, skipping stones across the water, even ice-skating during the colder winters when the pond froze over completely. It was Jordan and Luka’s special place—a haven they had escaped to whenever they’d needed a break from the expectations that came with the Sparker name.

  Even after Luka graduated from Akarnae and entered the workforce, he still tried to spend as much time with Jordan out by the pond as possible. He’d once shared that it was where he felt most free to be himself, where he could avoid the judgemental eyes that followed him everywhere else.

  Jordan hadn’t understood at the time. Not fully.

  He did now.

  Not ready to go there mentally just yet, Jordan glanced around the refuge that had once been a place of such joy, but now represented such anguish.

  On that thought, his gaze drifted over to the tree—the tree—and he struggled against the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. It was as if he was eleven all over again, watching the ghost of his brother with the rope around his neck as he jumped off the branch and to his own death.

  He must have made some sound, some quiet noise, because D.C.’s hand tightened against his and she moved closer, whispering his name.

  It was only her soft, worried voice that managed to draw his gaze away from the majestic willow, Luka’s favourite of them all, and he glanced down to see her looking up at him with concern. He closed his eyes tight and leaned down until his forehead pressed against hers, trembling slightly when he felt her free hand move to rest against his chest, right over his heart. He found comfort in the gesture, relaxing in her presence and allowing her touch to soothe him.

  Finally, when he felt somewhat steady again, he opened his eyes and took a step back, breathing deeply into his lungs.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice husky. “I knew it would be hard, coming here. I just hoped—”

  “What did I tell you the other night?” D.C. gently interrupted. “You never have to apologise to me, Jordan.” Quieter, she added, “Though, I wouldn’t mind if you clued me in here. It’s beautiful, for sure, but I’m guessing you didn’t bring me here just so we could enjoy the scenery.”

  Jordan huffed out a laugh, amazed that he was able to do so. He reached forward and tucked a windswept strand of hair behind her ear as he said, “No. You’re right about that.”

  Gathering his courage, Jordan started walking down towards the edge of the pond, D.C. moving hand in hand with him. Each step felt like he was dragging weights in his boots, but he made himself continue onwards, one foot after the other, until the two of them came to a halt in front of Luka’s tree.

  Belatedly, Jordan realised he should have brought a blanket for them to sit on. But then he realised he’d never done so with Luka, not even in the winter months—they’d always either climbed up into the branches or slumped down in the snow, heedless of the cold or the wet seeping through their clothes. And while D.C. was no stranger to sitting in the snow, as she’d done every night beside the lake, Jordan felt bad about making her do so now. But before he could think of an alternative, she lowered herself to the ground, tugging at his hand until he got the hint and followed her down. They were on a slight rise, Luka’s willow just to their right, the pond directly in front of them and the maze of foliage encircling them. The perfect view.

  Inhaling deeply again, Jordan released the heavy breath and stared out at the pond as he said, “I brought you here for a few reasons, but also because it’s the best place for me to tell you about my brother.”

  He felt rather than saw D.C. make a startled motion from beside him. Jordan couldn’t blame her—she had no idea they were only a short distance from where he’d lived before being semi-adopted into the Ronnigan family. She also had no way of knowing the significance of this place, of what had happened here. But Jordan was about to tell her.

  “How much do you know about Luka?” he asked, wishing his words didn’t sound quite so hoarse. “I know I don’t talk about him, but you must have heard… some things.”

  D.C. fiddled with the edge of her coat as she, too, focused intently on the lightly rippling water with its icy patches. “I know you were close,” she answered in a quiet, careful voice. “Really close. And I know you were young when he… when he… died.”

  “We were. And I was.” Jordan pulled off a glove and burrowed his fingers into the snow, relishing in the burn of the ice against his skin and allowing it to ground him. “Luka was more than my brother, more than my best friend. He was all I had in the world.” Gaze unfocused, he shared, “He did it here, you know. Right from this tree. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes just before he jumped. Like he was begging me to understand.”

  D.C. jolted again beside him. “You—You saw—?” She cut off at his quick nod and sucked in a breath that sounded painful to Jordan’s ears.

  “I arrived just in time to watch him die.”

  A low sound, almost like a moan, came from D.C., and he tore his eyes from the water to look at her. Seeing her pale, stricken features, he removed his hand from the snow and tangled his fingers with hers once more. Even with her gloves still on, her grip was so tight it almost hurt.

  “I’ve never told anyone this, but I want—I want you to know,” Jordan said. “I need you to—I need you to understand.”

  D.C. remained silent, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

  Not sure where to start, how to share all that he wanted her to know, he decided it was best just to jump straight in.

  “You told me the other night about what happened to you when you were eight,” Jordan said. “When I was eight, something important happened in my life, too.” He nodded to the tree. “I walked down here one day and found Luka with another boy.”

  When D.C. didn’t react, Jordan thought he might need to clarify, so he added, “It was obvious that they were… more than friends.”

  D.C. trailed her thumb across the back of his hand and said, softly, “I knew what you meant, Jordan.”

  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from his declaration—perhaps some kind of shock, maybe something worse, but D.C. just continued to look at him steadily, her eyes full of understanding, even comfort. His throat tightened as he found himself wishing he’d had her by his side six years ago. Earlier than that, even.

  “Right. Well,
Luka was eighteen at the time—in his fifth year at Akarnae. The boy was one of his classmates. I’d never met him before, but I could see how happy Luka was with him. I’d never seen my brother smile so much, laugh so much, look so relaxed in his own skin. I was so pleased Luka had found that. That he had someone who made him feel like that. But my parents…” Jordan trailed off, his eyes glazing as the memories washed over him. “When they found out, they didn’t… take it well.”

  Suddenly, Jordan was no longer sitting beside the pond; instead, he was transported to his father’s private den, with Marcus on his feet wearing a livid expression and Natasha hunched over in a chair with tears rolling down her horror-struck features. Luka stood before them, face pale, visibly trembling. None of them knew Jordan was there, peeking around the corner, having been awakened from sleep by their raised voices.

  “Wake up, Dad!” Luka cried, his cheeks red with emotion—anger, embarrassment, Jordan wasn’t sure which. “Society isn’t bound to a set of out-dated, intolerant beliefs anymore and hasn’t been for a long time. It’s hardly uncommon these days, and plenty of people—”

  “Not in this family!” Marcus roared. “I don’t care if the king himself announces that he’s keeping a man on the side, you will not—will not—bring such humiliation upon us by carrying on with that boy another minute longer. Do you hear me?”

  Luka looked as if he’d been slapped, a hint of wet beginning to line his eyelids. In a now shaking voice, he whispered, “You can’t—You can’t tell me who to love.”

  Marcus leaned forward, a threatening glint in his icy eyes as he said, “Try and stop me.”

  Jordan could see from Luka’s expression that something had broken in him. Luka’s desire for acceptance, for understanding, from their parents… it was like he’d suddenly realised that he was never, ever going to receive it.

  Jordan hurt for his brother, for the only person in the world who mattered to him. He wanted to storm in there and demand that his parents leave Luka alone. Couldn’t they see how happy he was? Didn’t they want that for him? But Jordan knew there was nothing he could do—Marcus and Natasha would never care about his opinion, they’d only punish him for thinking he had a right to share it. All he could do was keep watching, waiting to see what would happen next; waiting to see if Luka would stand up and fight back, or give in.

  Luka did neither.

  Instead, he drew in a trembling breath, turned on his heel and strode from the room without another word. His steps faltered upon catching sight of Jordan, who hadn’t the time to hide. But Luka said nothing—he just beckoned Jordan close, wrapped an arm around him and led him swiftly down the hall, swiping quickly at his cheeks as he did so.

  “Luka, are you—”

  “I love you, Jordo,” Luka interrupted, his voice no longer shaking, but still full of emotion. “No matter what choices you make in life, I will always, always, love you. Do you understand?”

  Jordan didn’t comprehend the magnitude of his words. Not fully. And when the time came that he finally understood… it was too late.

  Coming back to the present when D.C.’s thumb brushed his hand again, Jordan shared what he remembered of that night and then continued by saying, “I didn’t see Luka as much after that. He was a Chemistry whiz like Bear and went on to accept an apprenticeship at the academy for the next two years before he was offered a dream job with ChemTech straight after he graduated. Most of the times we met up were spent right here, in secret, so that he didn’t have to deal with our parents and their prejudice towards him.”

  A muscle twitched in Jordan’s cheek as he thought about all that had come next.

  “Despite Luka doing everything he could to avoid them, our parents were relentless. No matter what, he was still their firstborn son, and with that came certain responsibilities that he was expected to fulfil, to live up to.” Jordan’s eyes dropped. “For generations, Sparkers have been considered amongst the social elite. Luka was expected to step into that, something he’d felt burdened with since birth. Me, as well, to a lesser degree—before I decided to go my own way.”

  Jordan released another deep breath and continued. “Luka was always too nice for his own good. Regardless of the differences between him and our parents, he still tried to live up to their expectations, with the only thing he refused to yield on being the one thing they were determined to stamp out of him.”

  Jordan’s eyes moved back to the pond, not really seeing it. “Then one day, just after my eleventh birthday, the holo-message announcements came. Two of them within minutes of each other.”

  When he didn’t go on, D.C. gently pressed, “Announcements?”

  “They were public news broadcasts, received by anyone with a ComTCD,” Jordan said. “You might even remember.”

  D.C. continued to wait patiently for him to answer.

  “The first showed a picture of a young man in a Warden uniform. The headline read: ‘Training Accident Leads to Tragic Death of Young Protector’.” In a whisper, Jordan said, “He was three years older than when I’d first seen him here with Luka, but I still recognised him as the boy who my brother had gone to school with, the boy my brother loved.”

  Jordan turned back to D.C. in time to see her blinking back tears. She didn’t quite succeed and one slipped out, trickling down her cheek.

  “The second holo-message came right on the heels of the first,” Jordan continued. “It was a wedding announcement… For Luka.”

  At D.C.’s bewildered look, he explained, “My parents had organised an arranged marriage for him, all behind his back. They were determined that he would sire them heirs.” Jordan gave a bitter laugh. “Those were the words they used. Sire heirs. As if he were nothing more than a prized beast whose sole purpose in life was to breed. I’d never felt more disgusted in my life.”

  Even now Jordan felt bile threatening, but he swallowed it back down and pushed through with finishing his story.

  “There was nothing wrong with the girl, except for the fact that she was a girl,” Jordan said. “She came from what our parents considered a respectable family and to all outward appearances seemed like the perfect match for Luka, someone the high-society gossipmongers could easily see him settling down with to raise a family and continue the Sparker legacy. But even if Luka hadn’t been lost in his grief, he never would have gone through with the wedding. He never would have made the girl suffer through a loveless marriage, through the knowledge that she would never bear his children, never feel anything from him but indifference, even pity. That wasn’t the kind of man he was.”

  Jordan’s breath hitched. “But he must not have seen any other way out—of his grief, of his engagement, of his future as a firstborn son to our family—because three days after both announcements came, I found his note on my bed. And then I found him here—but by then, I was already too late.”

  When he turned to look at D.C., she was no longer blinking back tears. They were flowing silently down her cheeks.

  “The note,” she whispered. “I’d heard… that he left you one. But I didn’t realise you found it… before.”

  “No one knows. I’ve never told anyone that I watched him die. And I’ve never showed anyone the note.” He fought past the vice pressing in on his chest. “But I’d like to show you.”

  Her eyes widened and she blinked her wet lashes. “You brought it with you?”

  “I take it with me everywhere I go.”

  D.C. seemed equal parts confused and saddened by his statement, likely imagining him being so attached to the last thing his brother left him that he couldn’t bear to be separated from it. She would have been both right and wrong with that assessment.

  Certain that his courage would flee if he put if off any longer, Jordan released her hand and stood to his feet, unbuttoning his thick winter coat as he did so and dropping it onto the ground along with his second glove. He then gripped the hem of his long-sleeved thermal and pulled it up and over his head, leaving him shirtless and shiver
ing in the cold.

  “Are you crazy?” D.C. demanded, jumping to her feet with his coat in her hands, thrusting it towards him. “Put your clothes back on before you freeze to death!”

  “You’ll understand in a second,” Jordan interrupted through chattering teeth.

  His skin pebbled as the frigid air brushed against his bare chest, but he didn’t take the coat from her. Instead, he rifled through the pockets, pushing aside the second Bubbler vial until his fingers wrapped around the object he’d kept hidden under his bed. It, too, was a glass vial filled with liquid, but that was where the similarities ended.

  “What is that?” D.C. asked, squinting at the vial as Jordan dropped his coat back onto the snow.

  “Water,” he answered, uncapping the stopper and splashing a few drops onto the unmarked flesh over his heart, wincing a little at the cold. “Water from this pond, to be exact.” He realised he wasn’t explaining well, so he added, “I wasn’t sure if it would be frozen over or not, so I brought some, just in case. At least it’s not as icy as having to take a dip would be.”

  Clearly fearing he was out of his mind, D.C. tentatively said, “I think you might have had enough for the day. Maybe we should head back to the academy.” A hesitant look. “Perhaps we’ll have a quick visit with Fletcher.”

  Unbelievably, Jordan found himself releasing a quiet laugh. He certainly was acting like a loon, enough to warrant her suggestion. But his unexpected humour vanished when D.C. uttered a surprised gasp and stepped closer, leaning in until he could feel her warm breath tickling his chest.

  “What…?”

  Jordan glanced down with her, seeing the familiar tattoo that was now standing out vividly against his tanned skin.

  “Laethoran Ink,” he explained quietly. “Invisible unless activated by a revealing agent unique to each individual.” He gestured with his chin towards the pond. “It was an easy decision, to have my revealing agent be water taken from here. Considering… everything.”

  Slowly, D.C. removed one of her gloves, glancing up at him as if asking for permission. When he nodded, she lightly traced the design, her touch bringing both pleasure and pain.