by P. Jameson
“We are,” Gill replied, his eyes sparkling as Breckken had never seen them before.
This woman couldn’t be Gill’s Heartbeat. It was simply too early.
“Emma!” A shrill voice called from the back of the tiny establishment. “Need you in the kitchen.”
Emmalyn grinned sheepishly at Gill. “Ula calls.” And then she bustled away.
Gill watched her until she disappeared through a door of etched ice.
Breckken cleared his throat loudly. Gill didn’t move his eyes from the door but he did at least blink.
“She’s a beauty,” he murmured finally.
Breckken shrugged. Sure, but weren’t all maidens beautiful?
“Gill? It is… her?”
The sparkle left Gill’s eyes and his face fell. He turned away from the door and swigged his Koffee. “No. It’s not her.”
“Are you sure, because—”
“It’s not her.”
Okay then.
When the smiling maiden returned with two giant bowls of stew, Gill wouldn’t even look at her. He just scowled into his mug.
“Thank you Emmalyn,” Breckken told her. She nodded but her eyes never left Gilleth. When awkward silence remained, she turned and hurried back to the kitchen.
“I think you might have hurt her feelings.”
Gill shrugged and dug into the stew.
They ate in silence, and Breck watched Emmalyn as she tended to other tables. Each time, she would carefully glance at Gill, no doubt wondering about his change in demeanor.
Just as they finished their meal, the door swung open and a dark haired woman stomped in, dragging a tiny angel-demon childmaiden by the arm. It was the little royal from earlier and she had her bottom lip sticking so far out in a pout, Breckken feared she might trip on it.
“I said I don’t want to eat here, Row!” the maiden cried as she dug her heels in at the door. “The stew is bland and the Koffee is always stale.”
“Cannalise! You will not be rude to Ula and Emma.” The woman, Row, spoke calmly but forcefully. “Besides, you aren’t here to eat. You’re here to work.”
The girl looked aghast. “Work? I will not work. I have no reason to.”
Spoken like a true royal.
“Oh, you most certainly will. You will be washing their dishes as your punishment. And you will be kind while you’re doing it, understand?”
The girl clenched her teeth, nostrils flaring in anger.
“Do you understand, Canna?”
Her demeanor changed from defiant to defeated in an instant. She looked as though she would cry and Breck’s chest tightened for the girl even though he didn’t know the circumstances.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, Row. I told you they—”
“Honey, you bloodied their noses and broke poor Walen’s finger!”
Breckken was shocked. This little slip of a thing had done all that?
Canna’s face turned fierce again. “He deserved it!”
“You might be right, child, but you must learn how to solve problems without fighting. Now, come along.”
As Row pulled her through to the kitchen, Canna’s eyes slid up to meet Breck’s. He found himself pinned with the deepest, most intense, blue eyes… eyes that were too old for a child. Eyes that had experienced more than a maiden of her age should have.
Such a fierce thing.
Her gaze was so severe that his skin began to heat and prickle with warning. His chest felt hot. He itched, his neck especially. Then, just as she passed, she stuck her little pink tongue out at him, turned her nose up, and marched defiantly into the kitchen.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Gill grumbled when the two disappeared.
“What?”
Breck was distracted, his attention still on the door to the kitchen where much racket suddenly erupted.
When Gilleth didn’t answer, he dragged his gaze to his friend who sat stiffly, arms crossed, a look of disgust on his face.
“What?” Breckken asked again.
“She’s yours. You found your Heartbeat. You, the ever-skeptical. You, the one who doesn’t even care.”
Breck laughed. “What are you talking about, Gill?”
“That evil little girl. She is yours. Am I wrong?”
“First, I highly doubt she’s evil. More likely misunderstood. And second, yes you are wrong.”
He stared, calculating. “Prove it, then.”
“Please,” Breckken scoffed. “Can I not find interest in a female without her being ‘the one’?”
“A child?” He arched his eyebrow.
“I thought the scuffle was funny. Forgive me for finally having a good time in this wretched city.”
“Prove it then. Show me your neck.”
The maiden couldn’t be his Heartbeat. It was too early for him to find her… and she was just a child. She had many years left to grow into a starmaiden.
Though she’d brought him a smile when he’d grown tired of the city, she was merely an intriguing creature. Nothing more. When he found his Heartbeat, she would be grown, as he was.
“You first.” He raised an eyebrow at Gill.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I told you it was not Emmalyn.”
“Well, I won’t be sure until you show me.”
While they were arguing, Canna emerged from the kitchen carrying a tub to collect dishes. She approached a table where several burly starwren sat guzzling brew. They were clearly drunk. She addressed them politely—which Breckken could see, was a huge undertaking for her.
“Can I collect your dishes, sirs?”
A wren puffed his chest, staring down at her through inebriated eyes. “Ah, if it isn’t the little orphan royal at our service,” he sneered and then belched. “What did you do this time, huh? Chop off another maiden’s hair simply because she has parents? No? Wait, lemme guess… shoot one of your daddy’s arrows through mayor Rhett’s window again?”
The maiden seemed so small and defenseless to Breckken. Sure, she’d apparently broken a childwren’s finger but… no child should have to put up with a drunken man’s teasing. Especially about such delicate subjects as the loss of her parents.
She gritted her teeth and asked again, “Can I collect your dishes, sir?”
“Sure. After you answer my question. What awful thing did you do this time, child? What shame have you brought upon your parents’ name?” The man was right in her face now, spittle dripping from his puffy bottom lip.
Breckken couldn’t sit there a moment longer. What a callous wren, to hurt a child with his drunken words. But just as he was about to interfere, Canna slammed the tub to the floor and stepped even closer to the male.
Her next words were spoken in a dead-flat voice that was as cold as the ice all around her. “You want to know what I did? I beat up two boys because they were talking bad about my mama. Busted their noses and broke one’s finger. Now, what do you think I could do to you for daring to bring up my parents?”
“You could do nothing to me, child.”
“Oh? You will be passed out from drunkenness in less than an hour. It isn’t hard to gain access to your castle. Would you be able to stop me then, if I chose to exact my revenge?” She almost whispered the threat but the man turned pale nonetheless.
Perplexing. This waif of a maiden could bring a brawny man to fear. And the fear was a palpable thing, for the man could barely swallow as he stared down into her furious eyes.
Finally able to speak, the man bellowed, “Rowene! Come get your obnoxious orphan!”
Row bustled out from the kitchen, eyeballing the tub on the floor and Canna’s aggressive stance.
“Go home, Canna,” she said calmly, though the disappointment was evident in her voice.
“But, Row, he—”
“Go home, now. We will discuss this later.”
Breckken watched the childmaiden leave through the front door. Row immediately set to apologizing for Canna’s behavior, not even bothering to learn
what had happened. When she passed by Breck and Gill’s table, he caught her arm.
“Excuse me, miss. I thought you should know that the child did nothing wrong.”
She raised one perfectly black eyebrow in disbelief.
“Truly. She was polite, but the men are drunk and were taunting her. Ask my friend here.”
She glanced at Gill and he nodded.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said curtly and hurried back to the kitchen.
Breck was wondering if he should say more, perhaps try to convince her. He hated the idea of the maiden being punished. Hated the idea that inside that fierce little body might be feelings that were hurting from the big guy’s ugly comments. Surely, she missed her parents and was likely reminded everyday of their absence. How hard it must be for her to hold her head up when hateful words were spoken.
Someone should defend her. He should.
THUG!
Breck swung his head around, looking for the source of the sound. An explosion… a bomb of some sort?
KA-THUG!
A starquake? Should they take cover?
THUG! KA-THUG! Thug, thug, KA-THUG!
He gave Gill a questioning look, but his friend just stared at him as though he’d lost his mind.
“What is wrong with you?” Gilleth hissed.
THUG! KA-THUG! THUG!
“Do you not hear that?”
Breckken’s neck was on fire and his chest sizzled. Fire, but it didn’t exactly hurt. It was almost… nice. Like a warm bath soaking him from the inside out.
“Hear what? Are you alright?”
All at once, Breckken knew. The fire, the itching, the sound that no one else could hear…
Oh, damn.
It was his heart.
The mysterious organ was beating.
His heart beat.
Chapter Two
Sleeping was impossible. Breckken flopped from his stomach to his back, but the bed at the inn was too comfortable. Too soft, plush, with its water-filled cushion. But also too cold. He was used to a cushion made of the fine grindings from the sawmill.
Truth was, the reason he couldn’t sleep had zip to do with the room he was staying in.
He’d found his mate. But he’d found her too early.
An eight-year-old childmaiden… with an attitude.
This was all wrong. It shouldn’t be happening this way. He was only ten lightyears older than her—which was really nothing when you lived to be five thousand years old—but he still felt like destiny was playing a cruel joke on him.
He wasn’t attracted to her in any romantic way, though he knew he would be one day. But until then, what was he to do? The urge to protect her pressed hard at his chest with every thump of his new working organ.
He laid a hand on his chest. The feel of his heart pounding beneath it was utterly amazing. So much different than what he’d always imagined.
Unbidden, his lips curled into a grin. That tiny little, pale-haired monster brought life to his heart. Unbelievable.
At the kafé, he’d managed to recover without Gill learning what had happened. But they were leaving for home in the morning. He wouldn’t be able to keep it from his father. And Gill would eventually catch on.
Just how was one supposed to proceed when his Heartbeat was still a child?
Under normal circumstances, a starwren would meet his Heartbeat face to face. Both the maiden and the wren would feel the change in their bodies and experience the draw of attraction. Though they might not necessarily fall in love—there were matings that had been deemed failures—the wren would have a chance to court the maiden.
Breckken knew those rules didn’t apply to this situation.
Cannalise. Canna… he liked her name.
He wondered what had happened to make her so hostile? What had become of her parents? How had she been hurt to the point that her first instinct was to fight?
And what of her guardian, Row? Was she good to Canna? She at least seemed patient enough.
He sighed. So many questions…
Like why did his heart start beating when they hadn’t yet officially met? It was clear her organ was still silent, so why was Breckken the anomaly?
Eventually he drifted to sleep, the questions transforming to dreams of what a grown Canna might be like. But even in his sleep, he couldn’t escape the foreboding of his situation.
***
The Fates, lounged in their home in the gaseous heavens of Brilliette. The twin daughters of Luck and Chance, Destiny and Providence, were unused to feelings of ire from the Star Dwellers. The sisters spent nearly all of their free time studiously picking out the perfect Heartbeat for each dweller, ensuring they’d be happy when finally introduced to their mate.
Sure, there were those failed matings… but that wasn’t to be blamed on the Fates. As was often the case, a wren would do some idiotic thing that would forever estrange them from their maiden. Or perhaps a maiden was simply not interested in the wren. Who could possibly predict a thing like that?
Still, a failed mating was a rare occurrence. Most were thrilled with the match Destiny and Providence provided them.
So when a conversation between two frustrated starwren drifted up to them on the winds of An`gel, their perfectly pierced ears perked up.
The handsome Breckken was as jaded as ever and the equally handsome Gilleth was warning him of the dangers of doubting the Fates.
“Hah! Bad ju? He has no idea!” Destiny huffed.
Providence grinned. “He is wise though, yes? To fear us?”
“Perhaps. But I don’t like being called vengeful. And to think, we were going to let him meet his maiden tonight.”
Providence raised a thin purple eyebrow. “Are you not this very minute thinking of a way to retaliate?”
A slow smile crept up on Destiny’s freckled face.
“I think… yes, I think we should go ahead with the plan for Gill and Emmalyn to meet. But,” she held up a finger when Providence would have objected, and bent low as if her plan was so devious, it was best not to say it out loud. “Let’s not allow his heart to beat.”
Providence’s eyes grew wide, as did her smile. “Can we really do that?” she breathed.
“Of course we can, sister.” Destiny tossed her cerulean hair over her shoulder. “We are the Fates. We can do whatever we want.”
Providence rubbed her palms together in anticipation.
“And what shall we do about Breckken, the insolent beast. He practically mocks us! Doesn’t he know his happiness is in our hands? Silly, silly wren.”
Destiny rose from the couch and paced, thinking, tapping her chin with a precisely painted golden fingernail.
“Breckken, Breckken… he deserves a special kind of torment. He has quite a lesson to learn.”
“I agree, sister. He has much to learn before he can properly care for our little prodigy.” Providence grinned, conniving. “Cannalise is coming along quite nicely, is she not? The perfect combination of spunk and… oh, I don’t know… charm?”
“Indeed,” Destiny agreed, sighing. “I say we give him rope to hang himself. Sometimes the most effective punishment is that which is brought on by one’s self.”
Providence tipped her head. “Wisely spoken, sister.”
“Then it’s settled. His heart shall beat tonight. We will see how he handles it. He alone will determine how quickly he learns his lesson.”
The sisters shared one last knowing grin before their plan was set into motion.
***
Breckken didn’t learn his lesson quickly at all.
The next morning he and Gilleth began their journey back to the Lands, both in foul spirits. Gill awoke with a scowl that never went away. When Breckken asked him what was wrong, he grumbled something about the cold bed.
As for Breck, the closer they got to the city gates, the worse he felt. Even though he needed to leave, and yesterday he would’ve given his fur coat to be able to do so, today he didn’t wan
t to go. He suspected it had something to do with little Cannalise.
By the time they exited the city limits of An`gel, dread formed a sickness in his belly. Every wren instinct was screaming at him to return to his Heartbeat, to provide safety for her, to ease any discomfort she might encounter during the day, to make her smile that sweet smile once again.
But he ignored it all. Every instinctual urge. He was so good at ignoring things.
By the time he arrived home, he was nearly too weak to walk, all thoughts centered on a city so many miles away. The sight of his home, a modest-sized cottage, nestled in between thick groves of snow covered trees, should have been a comfort to him. Instead, his steps became even more labored. Gill helped him as best he could but the trip had taken its toll on him as well.
The two bedraggled starwren made it just inside the door of the cottage before Breck’s mother began fussing over them. After they were fed, his father took Gill home while his mother helped Breckken into bed. He slept fitfully for a few hours, hoping the rest would heal whatever ailed him, but he awoke with a groan when father entered the room.
Rhade was a stalwart warrior of the Nova Guard. He stood nearly seven feet tall and his shoulders were twice as broad as Breckken’s. His voice was deep and gruff, his hands calloused and worn, his face a chiseled mask of cruelty. To the unsuspecting person, he would seem intimidating, even dangerous. But Breck knew his father’s softer side.
All his years he’d watched his parents together. The love that shone in Rhade’s eyes when he looked at his Heartbeat was the sort that made you want to look away. Made you feel like an imposter in their moment.
His father was stark and honest, and loved as hard as he fought. Breckken had ofttimes been a recipient of that unyielding love.
“My son, what has happened to you? Have you caught a sickness?”
Breckken tried to sit up but found he was too weak. He hated having any conversation with his father on his back, but with his head acting like a planet off its axis, there was no other choice.
“No, father. I don’t believe I am ill.” At least not from a sickness.
Rhade’s dark eyebrows creased, coming together over his prominent nose. “You say that even as you cannot sit?”
