Fragments of Light

by Beth Hodgson

  “I understand,” Suri said. “You are seeking an amatory potion, then?”

  Liliana’s sparkling green eyes met Suri’s, hinting a bit of hope. “Do you have any that I could purchase from you?”

  Suri laughed as best as she could in Ikaria’s tone. “I am sorry that you thought I would be able to help you out, Ambassador. But you know as much as everyone else at court that the use of potions are banned throughout the sectors.”

  Clearly embarrassed by the situation, Liliana bowed to Suri, her cheeks reddened. “I… I’m so sorry. Please, do not tell anyone I came here.” Her eyes looked instantly worried. “It would be an embarrassment if anyone at court found out… and if the High Court…”

  “Don’t worry, Ambassador. I will not say anything, you have my word.”

  Liliana quickly bowed again, relieved. “Thank you, Enchantress. I owe you my gratitude. It seems everyone at court has loose lips, looking for the next rumor to spread.”

  “That is the truth. But you needn’t worry about me.”

  Liliana smiled, then headed for the door. She turned back for a moment before opening the door. “Will I see you this evening at dinner? I know you were absent yesterday.”

  Suri shook her head. “Unfortunately, I have quite a bit of studying to do.”

  Liliana nodded, then let herself out of Ikaria’s chambers.

  After a few moments, when Suri deemed it safe, she melted her illusion away, revealing her true form once again. She shuffled to Ikaria’s private collection room, checking on the Enchantress again. From the doorway, she saw Ikaria was no longer bathed in her violet power. She was stretching out to ease her stiffness from sitting in the same position for hours. Suri lingered for a moment, glancing at Ikaria’s form, then darted her eyes away.

  “I heard someone in my chambers,” Ikaria called out.

  “Yes, Enchantress. It was Ambassador Liliana.”

  “What did that self-righteous bitch want?”

  “An amatory potion, Enchantress.”

  Ikaria suddenly belted out a long laugh, throwing her head back as she did so. Tears of laughter formed in her eyes as she continued. “Really?” she said, chuckling.

  “Yes.”

  “That is too much. Oh, Suri, you always know how to make me laugh.” Ikaria wiped her tears carefully, ensuring that none of her eye makeup smeared. “What did you end up telling her?”

  “I reminded the ambassador that concocting potions are banned by the High Court,” Suri offered.

  “You are far too nice to people, my dear Suri,” Ikaria said nonchalantly, clearing her throat of laughter. “You should have told that bitch not to make a mockery of my position by asking for ridiculous love potions. I mean, who does she think she is, lecturing our court about certain object enchantments while telling us that we are in violation of the High Court’s laws. And then to come groveling at my feet for a mere potion? I’ve seen that twit flirting with the Emperor on more than one occasion. I know the game she’s playing.” Ikaria got up, snatching up a carafe of wine near her, drinking straight from it. “Looks like we need to pay closer attention to her, Suri.”

  “Yes, Enchantress. Rightfully so.”

  “You never know, her sector could have sent her here to break up my sister and Cyrus. Or the High Court, even,” Ikaria continued.

  “Is that possible, Enchantress?”

  Ikaria smirked. “Oh, yes, my dear Suri. It quite well is a possibility. Anything to get at me and my power. And if they got my sister out of the way, there would be no stopping their foolishness.” Ikaria took another drink, then gave her a dark smile. “But I won’t let it come to that.”

  “How fares the past, Enchantress?”

  “There is a minor setback, but I will have the green blood soon, along with a powerful army. Oh, Suri, if only you could see these things! I haven’t encountered one yet, but just seeing them within Damaris’s mind…” Ikaria smiled wickedly.

  “I look forward to seeing the Enchantress’s army. Anything that pleases the Enchantress, pleases me.” Suri bowed. “Also, I wanted to remind you that there is a small meeting with the Enchanter’s Guild later this afternoon.”

  “Go in my place. I know for a fact there won’t be any orange-gifted present. I have much to do in the past, and I don’t have time to listen to those dolts drone on about useless enchantments.”

  “Yes, Enchantress. I will let you know if there is anything important discussed.”

  “Thank you, Suri. I’m sure that there won’t be, but nonetheless, do fill me in,” Ikaria said. “By the way, what are the whispers regarding Lord Kohren? Does anyone suspect anything?”

  “Nothing at all. All that has been circulating is that he was overcome by the plague. There have been no other theories.”

  Ikaria smiled, her violet eyes flashing brightly. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Now please, fetch me a plate of food. I must get back to focusing more of my power and influence in the past. I still have the prince and King on a leash, but I need to make it tighter.”

  Suri bowed, smiling at Ikaria. “Right away, Enchantress.”

  “Such a good girl you are.” Ikaria’s eyes sparkled. “I know I can always count on you.”

  Suri felt her cheeks burn and her heart quicken. She quickly turned away, exiting Ikaria’s chambers.

  How she loved the Enchantress.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  From his apartment window, Kyle sat smoking his cigarette, watching the city paint itself black as the sky darkened and the neon signs popped their lights on one by one. Kyle studied the murky outlines of Arcadia’s citizens strolling through the glowing greenish-yellow skyways, much like Rosie’s rat Zaphod running through his cages in one of his tubular mazes. Man, did he ever relate to Zaphod most of the time. He felt so confined within Arcadia. Everything and everyone was up each other’s ass. Buildings crammed together, streets clogged with shitloads of vehicles. And him having to put up with being constantly bombarded by assholes. It left Kyle no breathing room. The only source of a bit of freedom was riding his motorcycle.

  Impatient, Kyle got up and hovered over Em, who was sitting on the floor across the room, sketching out a design for the band with her new art supplies they’d bought for her earlier in the day.

  Kyle cleared his throat. Em was so focused on her picture that she hadn’t noticed him standing above her.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he announced loudly.

  Peering up from her drawing, Em gave him a quizzical look. “But I have to finish this. I told Remy that this would be done in the next day or two.”

  “Fuck Remy. I’m in the band just as much as Remy, even though he pretends that he’s in charge. Let’s get out of here. Besides, do you really want to sit inside all night, especially after you told me that’s all you did before you ran off?”

  “But what about last night? What if we run into that gang again?”

  “We won’t,” Kyle said.

  He was still trying to understand why his face wasn’t all black and blue from the fight with Jaxx. He’d seen the condition of his face before he went to bed. He’d looked like a mangled piece of shit. But when he woke up in the morning, it was like the fight had never happened. His face was completely normal. He must’ve just thought he was worse off than he really was. Then there was that bottle of whiskey last night before he went to bed.

  Em stared at him for a moment, her cheeks reddening almost to the color of her hair. She finally put down her pencil, then closed her pad of paper. “You are right,” she said.

  “Damn straight I’m right. Let’s go for a ride.”

  Em laughed nervously, getting up off the floor. “Okay, but promise me you will not go crazy? The last time I thought we were going to die.”

  “I’m always crazy, and I can’t promise nothing,” he said with a smirk. “But I’ll see what I can do to accommodate you.”

  She punched him playfully, flashing him one of her signature smiles. “Fi
ne. Have it your way. But give me a minute to get ready.” She picked up her backpack and headed to the bathroom.

  Knowing that Em would take longer than a minute, or in reality more like twenty minutes, Kyle plopped onto his bed and lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl. He glanced downward, eyeing Em’s pad of paper on the floor. Curious, he picked up the pad, thumbing through the paper until he saw her drawing. Each of the band members’ torsos were outlined on the paper, Kyle front and center. Em was really damn good at drawing. It looked just like him, but more of a tougher, sexier version of himself. Did Em view him like that? He smiled to himself inwardly as he took another drag.

  “You weren’t supposed to see that yet!” he heard Em exclaim, closing the bathroom door behind her.

  Surprised, Kyle set down the pad of paper. Kyle glanced up at Em across the room. His eyes drifted to her lovely red lips, then lower to her outfit. Her upper torso was half exposed with a red-and-black corset, with black leather riding shorts and black boots. Seeing the skin of her body and the curve of her breasts made his heart begin to pump harder, causing a stir inside of him. Long dangling earrings kissed the sides of her neck, toying with him, as if inviting him to do the same.

  Suddenly, his head became a mess all over again. He wanted her.

  After an awkward moment, Kyle quickly hopped off the bed, lacing up his boots.

  “What is it?” Em asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You gave me a weird look,” she said, peering down at her outfit. “Do I need to change?”

  “Not at all,” Kyle blurted out. I’m so fucked, he thought.

  “Then why did you look at me like that?”

  He wanted to tell her she was fucking gorgeous, but instead, he told her coolly, “God, let’s just get going before I say stupid shit.” He put his hand on her back, directing her out the door. Em crossed her arms in protest, letting out a loud sigh.

  They rode the escalators down to the basement of the building, where the tenants’ ground vehicles were parked, Kyle’s motorcycle included.

  Kyle got on his bike, and Em slid in right behind him. He felt the warmness of her body as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She gently rested her head on the back of his jacket, giving his insides a rise. Her body shivered as her gentle hands firmly gripped his stomach.

  “You okay?” he asked, wondering what that was all about. She probably smelled the street sewage pouring into the garage. It was unbearable at times, and a girl like her would never get used to it.

  “Yeah,” she answered in his ear, then buried her head once more in his jacket.

  Kyle started the engine, then spun out of the parking garage and into the brightly lit streets. Steam emitted from the sewers, catching the lights of the shops on the street, coloring them in mystical blues, violets, and neon greens. The road was somewhat clear, more so than any other night he had recalled in a while. He took advantage of it, shifting to a high gear to give Em a little thrill. He was going fast, but he didn’t want to be too reckless with Em behind him. He felt her hands grasp him tighter, and he smiled. Nothing like a thrilling night ride. Besides, Em needed to live a little.

  As they flew by other ground transports, the stream of lights from the city became a blur, the speed filling him with a thrilling euphoria. This was what he needed to feel free. It was the only time he ever felt like he was truly free, flying from the entanglements of the fucked-up social structure within Arcadia, putting distance between him and his wasteland past. It numbed his pain over his mother, her remains buried far off in the wastelands. It gave him a rush of newness, revitalizing him from within. It was like each time he rode he was renewed all over again. It was this very feeling that he channeled into his music.

  Kyle came to Arcadia’s oceanfront, parking his motorcycle. There were several people by the pier, but it wasn’t overly crowded like it was during the daytime.

  As he killed the engine, Em hopped off, then peered into the night sky, in awe of the city’s neon colors dancing in the waves, which slowly faded away into the blackness of the ocean. The wind was strong, tickling his face with the taste of salt water in the air. His element. He could argue that he had a natural affinity for fire much more than the wind, but it did give him power. And life. They were the pillars of his soul’s foundation.

  Em’s long scarlet hair whipped in her face, waving in every direction. She curled her ponytail into a loose bun, securing it with the rubber band already in her hair. Em’s pale face looked heavenly in the darkness. Her glistening red lips, painted the color of blood to match her hair, made her sparkling green eyes stand out all the more, almost as if they had a glow to them. They were ethereal, her eyes. It had to have been how the light was reflecting in them. Em was like a pleasant dream, one that Kyle did not want to wake from.

  “It’s breathtaking…” Em whispered, kneeling down in the sand, brushing it between her fingers.

  Kyle lit a cigarette. It took several tries to do so, as the wind kept extinguishing the flame. “I come here often when I need time to myself,” he said, plopping down next to her. “I like it since it makes me feel like I’m not so damn trapped. Arcadia is too big.”

  Em smiled at him, grabbing a handful and playing with it. “I can see why. It’s so peaceful,” she said, looking around at a few people walking by the road. She took off her boots, rubbing the sand through her toes. “I always thought the waterfronts were closed at night.”

  Kyle smiled, then took a drag. “Does that ever stop me?”

  Em laughed. “No, I suppose not,” she said, turning back to gaze at the rippling ocean waves. “Have you been to other places?”

  “Only to Illumina.”

  Em widened her face in surprise, curious. “Are you from there?”

  “Nope,” he said. He hoped she wouldn’t ask the next question, but it sounded like she was going to.

  “Then you are from Arcadia? Did you grow up in the lower levels?”

  Kyle took a deep inhale of his cigarette, then exhaled, watching the smoke get whipped into the wind. “I’m from the Western Wastelands.”

  “Wastelands? Don’t you mean the desert? Aren’t the people who live out there drifters?” she asked, surprised at the revelation.

  “The desert folk call themselves wasteland wanderers. They hate the term drifters.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  Kyle smiled at her, slightly amused. “Don’t worry about it. None of the wasteland wanderers are fond of the term, but technically they are drifters. Several of them hack banks, businesses, and governments to make a buck, all while moving through the deserts like nomads, not staying put at a camp or dwelling for too long, as they don’t want to get caught by the authorities.”

  Kyle paused for a moment, then took another drag. “Recently they’ve stayed put a bit longer, as their hacking skills have gotten better, so there hasn’t been as much pressure as before to keep moving, but who the hell knows,” Kyle said, laughing at the thought of his old friends. As much as he missed his past, he’d never fit in with the others. He didn’t give a shit about computers and loved city life, even though half the time he cursed Arcadia for one reason or another.

  “It all sounds so fascinating,” Em said dreamily. “It must have been nice to live outside the city, to not be worried about all of the troubles that the city brings to a person.”

  Kyle laughed, seating himself next to her in the sand. “It sounds so damned good and all, but live out in the desert longer than a week, you’d be saying something different. Food and water is hard to come by, and it’s rationed within camps. It gets so damn hot in the days, freezing temperatures at night. Not a place for…” He caught himself before he let it slip.

  “For someone like me?” Em said slowly, finishing his sentence.

  “Yeah.” Realizing he had just made himself sound like a complete asshole, he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Listen, I don’t know what you’ve done in your past because you haven’t even
really told me much, but most of the upper levels folks have never set foot in the wastelands. It’s harsh living, and no one in their right goddamn mind would purposely subject themselves to it unless they had no other option. As much as the lower levels of Arcadia are a giant hellhole, it sure as hell is better than living in the wastelands,” he said, meeting her eyes. “That I can promise you.”

  There was a long pause, causing Kyle to wonder if he should have opened his damned mouth at all.

  Breaking the silence, Em said, “I wanted to get married.”

  The phrase caught Kyle off guard. “What? What are you talking about?” Kyle glanced at her, taking a deep breath. Married? Oh hell…

  Em gazed at him with her delicate eyes shining in the darkness. “I left home because my father didn’t approve of the suitor of my choice.”

  Kyle sat in silence. That was something he hadn’t expected her to say. Damn it all.

  “There were many suitors, actually. My father turned them all down, because in truth, he didn’t want to let me go. Finally, the one suitor I wanted to marry, my father told me he would never in his lifetime approve of that particular match. I was angry, and so I left.” Loose hairs fell out of her bun, flowing in the wind, her ruby lips trembling. “My whole life, I did everything I was supposed to. I followed every rule and stayed out of trouble. But after my father said such horrible things about the man I chose, telling me that I would never marry anyone, well, it made me realize my life was passing me by.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Kyle said, finally managing to get the words out.

  “Because you just said that I have hardly told you anything about my past. I figured I would start with this.” She looked at him anxiously.

  Kyle’s insides twisted, but he managed to not let it show. Acting as casually as he could, he asked, “Do you love him?”

  “Who, my father?”

  “No. The guy…”

  Em’s face turned intense. “I… I honestly don’t know. I did at one point, years ago. Then time passed, and the feeling faded. Just recently, when he returned to Arcadia, I entertained the idea of us together, and I became infatuated with him again. But… I would not necessarily say that I am in love with him. It had been years since our last visit, and really, I hardly know anything about him since then. As for marriage, I wanted nothing more than to marry him, as I am, or was, convinced that he was the one for me. I thought of him as the one who would save me from my imprisoned life.”