She rose as the sisters entered her presence, her golden skirts just barely sweeping the polished floor. The throne sat at the top of three wide, golden stairs, where various males and females perched, watching the queen and waiting to hear what she would say. The rest of the room was full of exotic ladies in colorful gowns, standing and sitting at leisure. Each of them wore a curved blade at their sides, some hidden behind layers of cloth, others staring at the twins as if daring them to intrude on their peace. Behind them, guards, their sex unknown, lined the walls, standing erect and proud in attendance.
Phyllis was relieved Ilieus had insisted they dress first. Although the fabric pressing around her body was lovely, she gazed on the queen and felt woefully inadequate, much like an unwashed commoner in a place of magical beauty. She did not belong. Looking at Ilieus, she followed her lead as Ilieus gracefully bowed her head and curtsied to the queen. Phyllis almost fell over, her feet clumsy and ungraceful, uncomfortable in her skin in the presence of such richness.
“Welcome.” The queen’s hard voice rang out across the room, commanding attention and drawing all eyes to her regal form. “Ilieus and Phyllis of Haitiar. Your coming was foretold by Odella the Tall, a friend of the Dezzi. We offer you safe passage across the wild lands of Phillondorn to Wind Fresh, where your business will be your own. Yet why now? Why have you come?”
Phyllis sensed it was her time to answer and shifted from one foot to the other, attempting to find eloquent words to address the queen. After all, she had instigated the journey, but the questions the queen asked were the same ones she asked herself. Her head started to ache as the eyes in the room drifted toward her, waiting for an answer, uncaring what the words would be; they just wanted an answer. She cleared her throat and swallowed. The truth seemed much too intimate and too personal to convey to a hall of strangers. “My sister, Ilieus, needs to speak with the one they call Tharmaren the Wise to help with the dreams…” She trailed off lamely, unable to decipher the look the queen gave her.
The queen took a step forward, jutting out her pointed chin, while her sharp eyes flicked from Phyllis to Ilieus, much like a snake’s tongue right before it devours its prey. “Curious,” she said. Her fingers gestured to someone hidden in shadows. “I’ve heard a rumor that Tharmaren the Wise is mute. But…you will find out yourself. Come, Ilieus of Haitiar, I would have a private word with you. Phyllis of Haitiar,” the queen’s deep voice commanded, “you are dismissed.”
Phyllis opened her mouth to object; she had only just arrived, and already she was being tossed out like yesterday’s refuse. Ilieus sought her eyes and gave a slight nod, begging her to obey the queen and leave. A guard stepped forward and ushered Phyllis toward the door, gently touching her back as he, or possibly she, led her out. Phyllis glanced back at the illustrious throne room and the glowing golden light as she was plunged into the darkness. The doors closed behind her, leaving her feeling miserably left out and unwanted. Biting her lower lip in disappointment and anger, Phyllis balled up her fists and gritted her teeth, wishing her gaze would turn to daggers and split open the door. That would show them! With a huff of frustration, she spun around and slammed into another person lurking in the shadows.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Cuthan
“Yowl!” He gave a strangled yell and threw out his hands, grabbing at Phyllis’s waist to steady himself.
“Oh, sorry,” Phyllis muttered, detangling herself by pushing him away as she regained her balance. “I didn’t see you there…”, but her words dropped away as she met his compelling gaze and stared in shock. Brilliant green eyes met hers, narrowed for a moment, and then a blond eyebrow lifted in the briefest hint of surprise. “Cuthan!” Phyllis cried, unable to hold back her surprise. “What…” she sputtered. “What are you doing here of all places?” She stepped back, staring up and down at him in bewilderment, ensuring it actually was him and not a figment of her imagination.
“Me?” he dramatically placed a hand on his chest as if she dared to question his existence. “I could ask you the same.” His nimble fingers locked around her wrist, and he began to drag her down the passageway. “In fact, I will. What are you doing here? Don’t you know this a terrible idea?!”
“Cuthan, of all people!” Phyllis couldn’t help the spurts of hysterical giggles that escaped from her mouth as Cuthan led her out into the brilliant sunshine. Her feet didn’t even resist as they weaved past the white tents out in the wild fields of Igriscar. By the time Cuthan released her, Phyllis was laughing hysterically. She collapsed in the grass, wiping tears from her eyes and hiccupping as Cuthan stood above her, his chest heaving up and down. He was ravishing, a stunning, perfect creation birthed from two Crons. Even just the sight of him forced her to catch her breath. He stood just over five and a half feet tall, her height, but his build was slim instead of muscular, lithe and graceful even.
They’d grown up in Haitiar together as children, playing games in the pastures and amusing each other from dawn until dusk. He was the one to squeeze into tight spots and disappear. He was a nimble boy, always getting into trouble and just as expertly getting out of it again. Now he was grown-up and dressed like a prince. He wore a blue tunic with a gray shirt underneath and with his shirttails tucked neatly into his black pantaloons. His garb was clearly regal; threads of silver and gold were woven into patterns across his chest. A sword hung neatly in his belt; it had a straight edge, unlike the curved blades the Dezzi wore. It was possible the sword was for show rather than for use. At least, Phyllis hoped that was the case.
Cuthan stared down at her with the sunlight at his back; the sun baked his yellow blond hair, which had been slicked back from his forehead. His eyes were a startling green as pure emeralds, his bone structure was fine and elegant, his lips were full and bright, and his smile was arrogant and cocky. In fact, his lips were already curled upward into what would have been a sneer on anyone else’s face, but on his, it was a beautiful, curious question that demanded an explanation. “Phyllis,” he prompted, the words tumbling from his lips like daggers. “What are you doing here?”
Phyllis could feel all the unspoken words that had been building up within her ever since she left the hut of Grandmother. They were coming now, and she could not stop the tumultuous river from flowing out. She felt hurt from the abrupt disappearance of her father, ignored by the attention lavished upon Ilieus, and, worst of all, alone and lost. Her giggles almost turned into sobs as she realized the adventure she found herself in was not what she would have chosen, and it irked and gnawed at her. She was coming undone ever since the night she had chosen to obey the last words of Mother and ask Grandmother for help; something had happened to shift the balance. Now, the familiar face of Cuthan in the Dezzi camp, of all places, was her breaking point. “I haven’t seen you for years.” She glared up at him; her words jabbed into him as if she were poking him with her fingers. “We were ten, and you just left. Disappeared. I never expected to see you again, much less here!”
The briefest hint of betrayal and hurt flicked behind Cuthan’s green eyes. It was gone before Phyllis could snatch it up and remark on it. Cuthan shrugged his shoulders. “I left Haitiar. What’s it to you? The problem is that you are here now. You should have stayed there; you don’t know what you are walking into.”
“Father left.” Phyllis caught her breath, rocking back and forth in the grass. She wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging herself tightly as if to ward against the pain.
“Left?” Cuthan peered sharply at her. “With whom?”
“I don’t know; they had horses, and he left without saying much. Not even goodbye.” She bit her lip, glancing at Cuthan as he began to walk in circles.
“Phyllis,” Cuthan groaned, putting his head in his hands and pacing back and forth. “You don’t even know what you are getting into.”
“Stop saying that! You can’t blame me!” Phyllis shouted, watching him move; even his agitated pacing was as graceful as a dancer’s. “You weren’t th
ere; you don’t know what it was like! Why are you here anyway?”
“Do you even know what is happening?” Cuthan asked. “The Contrevails and the Realalons are amassing and soon you will have to choose a side. They don’t care about the small villages; they are easy to conquer, but out here,” he threw a hand out toward the Dezzi’s encampment, “it will be all out war.”
Phyllis wrinkled her nose. “The Contrevails and Realalons? What are you talking about?”
“You know nothing of this?” Cuthan wiggled his eyebrows at her before throwing his hands in the air and plopping down on the grass much closer to Phyllis than necessary. “My, you must live with your head underground. Do you know nothing of what is going on in the world?”
Phyllis attempted to shoot him an angry look, but he propped his handsome head on his hands and grinned up at her mischievously. “Oh Phyllis, what have you done?” he tsked, shaking his head while his emerald eyes laughed at her. “You should have stayed home, right where I left you.”
“Cuthan!” She wanted to smack the arrogance off his face, but the twinkling in his eyes wouldn’t let her. “Why don’t you speak frankly and tell me what is going on? Grandmother only hinted at dark things, and the Dezzi queen is speaking to Ilieus alone. I just want to know!”
The smile began to slide off Cuthan’s face. “You brought Ilieus?”
“Yes!” Phyllis snapped. “Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with her too.”
“No.” His straight white teeth gleamed as he flashed them at Phyllis while winking out of one eye. Those uncanny eyes. Phyllis studied them; there was something behind them now. A thought. A consideration. “It’s just she must be one they want, and you just fed her to the lions.”
Phyllis grew still. Of course, they all wanted Ilieus. “Are you going to tell me what you are doing here?” Phyllis demanded for the third time; her voice came out harsher than intended.
“Waiting on you,” Cuthan quipped, continuing to smile. “Actually, I’m headed to Wind Fresh, but the Dezzi won’t take me. They said I had to wait; I assume for you and Ilieus. It all makes sense. Now that you’re here, I suppose we can be on our way.”
Phyllis raised an eyebrow. “Why are you going to Wind Fresh?”
Cuthan tried to keep the mood lighthearted by shrugging his shoulders as if he could care less where he went. Phyllis watched the charming smile that froze on his face, hiding his true feelings. “New life,” he offered. “Starting over. I don’t want to go back to Haitiar.”
“Oh.” Phyllis threw back her head and took a deep breath. “I remember when you left seven years ago. Where did you go?”
Cuthan shook his head, his face turning grave, his eyes lost and sad. “Father and I went to the North Forests.” His voice grew softer. “They killed him.”
“Cuthan.” Phyllis reached out a hand, and, before she could change her mind, she touched his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” His voice drifted a bit, but he met her eyes. “I’m alone now. It’s up to me to choose, but it’s good to see a familiar face. Phyllis, it’s awful that you’re here, but, selfishly, I’m glad.”
Phyllis leaned back, removing her hand while attempting to keep the pity out of her eyes. “Looks like we’re both in unfortunate circumstances. I suppose we have to make the best of it.”
“Oh.” A slow smile began spreading over Cuthan’s face as the shadow of loss and pain faded. “It may be dangerous, but we’re going to have fun.”
“That’s a wicked thing to say, Cuthan.” Phyllis felt her lips curving upward as she scolded him, a taste of nostalgia reminding her of his mischievous ways. “But we have nothing left to lose now.”
“I don’t,” Cuthan agreed. “But you do, you still have your sister.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Forebodings
Phyllis shrugged off the remark, but a tinge of fear began to gnaw at her thoughts. She slid her eyes over to Cuthan’s amused face and, reaching out a finger, poked his shoulder. “Tell me a story. Why did you go to the North Forests?”
“Haven’t you heard of adventure?” Cuthan winked and sat up, crossing his legs. “Actually.” He scooted closer to her, leaning in so their crossed knees almost touched. “Since you’re here, and I know you from before...” He rolled his head from side to side. “There are some things you should know, so you don’t go joining the wrong side.”
“Side?” Phyllis narrowed her eyes.
“Hush!” Cuthan smirked playfully. “I’m telling you a story. Remember when we were young, and our parents would tell us stories? Especially on rainy days, after the harvest when it got cold and too wet to play outside?”
“Of course.” Phyllis nodded, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “How could I forget?”
Cuthan went on, leaning closer in and dropping his voice. “They told us legends of heroic deeds and wars in worlds beyond our own and tales of ancient powers and immortals. What if those tales weren’t just fables? Did you actually think about that?”
Phyllis wrinkled her nose and waved her hand, dismissing his absurd speculation. “No, they are just stories. What nonsense would make you think otherwise?”
Cuthan gave a barking, mirthless laugh and arched an eyebrow. “You forget.” He wagged a finger at her. “I’ve seen the world whereas you’ve been hiding in the village of Haitiar. That’s exactly what it is: a hiding place. From what I’ve seen of the North Forests, I know there is some truth to those tales of old. In fact,” he shuddered, “I think they are true, but I’m not sure how to explain it.”
Phyllis twitched, an unsettling feeling gnawing at her. His words sounded similar to Grandmother’s. Dangerous. They were truths she did not wish to hear, so she blocked them from her mind. “Do you have any proof?”
Cuthan paused, as if considering how to tell her, before shaking his head. “I don’t know if there could be any proof, aside from relics and talismans. But I mean to find a relic, especially if it gives me sway over the civil war that is about to erupt across the Eastern World.”
Phyllis peered at him. “Cuthan, are you the same Cuthan I used to know?”
“I’ve grown up. You see, adventure has a way of doing that. My father was a quester, Treasure Hunter, you know, searching for lost treasures, symbols, and knowledge. Many things have been hidden from us, and if we know, if we possess the knowledge, we can use it to save our world. So we went to the North Forests because secrets tend to dwell among the trees. Something is there. I still remember the hints of it, and all the beasts and beings of the forest agreed with us. They can talk, you see. The North Forests are greater than anything you can imagine. I have to go back and finish what my father started, but I need a few things.”
“What do you think is hidden in the trees?” Phyllis whispered, unsure why her heart was pounding as hard as it was. “What do you hope to find?”
Cuthan shot his head up and looked around, but the meadow was bare, and the tents in the distance fluttered wordlessly. Even his constant guards had made their presence scare. “Tales of old spoke of power,” he murmured, deciding to tell her only part of what he searched for. “Magical powers transferred into ordinary objects. They called them Clyears, and there were seven of them. I hope to find one, and maybe, just maybe, I can put a stop to this war before it begins.”
Phyllis stared at him in shock, unsure of what to say. “War scares me, and if we can avoid it, I would… But…a Clyear…” She trailed off as another thought came to her. The word. She knew the word. She’d heard it said before in her sister’s nightmares. She jumped up, hands shaking, and she began to pace. Was everything connected then? Were her sister’s dreams related with the war Cuthan spoke of? Was Ilieus seeing visions of what was coming and how to stop it?
“What is it?” Cuthan rose, eyes wide with concern. “What did I say? I know it may seem…far-fetched, but…you won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Phyllis spun to face him, clasping her hands tightly in fro
nt of her so he wouldn’t see them tremble. “Cuthan, you’re hoping to change the future. Are you also hoping to change the past and bring your father back?”
Emotion dropped out of Cuthan’s face, and it became as impassive as a stone. “There were things he knew I’d like to ask him…but it is too late for that…”
“Cuthan?” Phyllis asked. “Why are you going to Wind Fresh?”
“I must be honest.” Cuthan moved closer to Phyllis to whisper. “In tales of old, they talk of the Order of the Wise.”
“I know.” Phyllis nodded. “They are all dead and gone.”
“No,” Cuthan whispered, “the voices of the North Forests have other words. One is still alive, and he is here in the Eastern World on the island of Wind Fresh.”
Phyllis stared at him. “Do you have a name?”
Cuthan nodded, surprising Phyllis that he agreed. “Yes. They call him Tharmaren the Wise.”
Coincidence? Phyllis thought not as she reached for Cuthan’s hand and squeezed it. How could he be seeking the same Wise One she was? “Cuthan, I know something strange is happening; it’s dark and dangerous, and I don’t like it. But if there is a way to see the future and change it, if it stops the war you say is coming, if it saves Ilieus, if it saves our world, count me in.”
“Wait…” Cuthan tugged at her hand as she pulled away. “What’s wrong with Ilieus?”
She let go of him and shook her head. Her guard was up, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to ensure her sister was all right. “I have to find her.”
The Blended Ones (The Four Worlds Series Book 2) Page 9
