Wilde's Meadow

by Wade, Krystal

  “Okay.” Perth smiles, displaying the same expression I must have had after Mom tried to make me feel better. “Okay, everyone. We need to keep moving. Mount your horses, and ride out of here. Fast.”

  He climbs his animal then kicks his heels into her sides, bolting toward the exit.

  “Where’s Bowen?” I ask.

  Arland tips his head back. “Behind us, but I am staying with you.”

  He gets on Mirain, pulls me up, then wraps his warm, strong arms around me. Arland’s presence is reassuring, comforting, welcome.

  I lean into him, but keep my eyes open. I do not want to see anything else this cave has to offer.

  “In theory, Perth’s idea of keeping us apart made sense, but I wonder if he is still somehow trying to prove himself to you, Kate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Arland snorts. “I do believe he fell in love with you at Willow Falls, and I believe he wants to expose me as unnecessary.”

  “A Seer told him if he tried to obtain a future with me, he would live a life without love, Arland. Why would he want that?”

  “There have been many who were not supposed to love you, for many different reasons, but loving you is like loving the sun. You are warm, smart, full of energy and life. You are pure, Katriona Maher. How could he not want to try?” Arland kisses my cheek, sending chills down my arms.

  I bite my lip. “I hope you’re wrong.”

  “I hope I am, too,” he says as we exit the caves. “I am sure we will find out.”

  The pebble didn’t make a noise, not one I’ve heard at least.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I count the others as they pass through the opening in the stone wall, making sure the caves release all of us. Everyone’s eyes are wide, and many faces are drained of color, but our people are alive.

  I meet my sister’s gaze and sigh, tension draining from my arms. She’s covered in scratches—probably from Vanora—but she smiles.

  “Welcome to The Meadows,” Arland mutters, not a single ounce of pride lining his voice.

  Looking around, I can’t blame him. There’s nothing special here, only more dying trees and rotting vegetation. Dughbal hasn’t spared his wrath on a single acre of land.

  So devastating.

  Chapter Eight

  Since my Aunt Cairine lived in The Meadows and was recently killed, and for many other reasons, Arland thought this place would be perfect to begin our quest for Dughbal. He attacked the capital lands first, hardest, and without any remorse.

  But now, the dark god isn’t showing his strength. Unlike earlier when we weren’t ready for him.

  We’ve ridden for hours through the thick Baccain Forest surrounding The Meadows, and not a single daemon has crossed our path. Arland sent out scouts to check for tracks, but Tristan and Kent returned without any leads.

  I’m searching for Dughbal, ready to fight him face to face and give him his opportunity to kill me and steal my powers, yet now he hides his army.

  I fear he’s playing a game, one we’re not familiar with the rules of, one that could get us all killed before we learn which move to make first.

  “We need to seek shelter, Arland,” Flanna says, riding up next to us. She glances back at the others, worry putting unusual creases in her forehead. “It is late, and the soldiers need to eat and rest.”

  I pat Mirain’s neck, glad Flanna’s being peaceful now. “The horses should rest as well.”

  Mirain dips her head as if she agrees.

  Arland pulls on Bowen’s reins, and he stops, then Mirain and Luatha follow his lead.

  “And we need to communicate with the other groups to see if they are also having issues finding daemons.” Arland turns toward our group of bleary-eyed soldiers. “Cadman, take Tristan and find a safe place to rest.”

  Cadman and Tristan ride away from our procession and head toward their left, deeper into the forest, further away from The Meadows.

  “Flanna,” Arland says. “Take an inventory of our food supplies, then assign cooking duties to an able body.”

  She gasps. “You mean … ?”

  “You no longer need to prepare food, but you will still be in charge of the person who does.”

  “Rhoswen,” Flanna calls, riding off fast. She’s wanted to pass off kitchen-type duties for a long time. And I think until she overcomes her grief, she needs less to worry about.

  The Ground Dweller appraises Flanna with a look of utter smugness, turning up her chin. Rhoswen purses her thin lips and stares down her long nose at my Confidant. Not a good way to start a friendship, but Rhoswen hasn’t calmed down since the Crossing Caves, and I still don’t know why she was so upset in the first place.

  I’m going to have to get to know her better.

  “Smiling never killed anyone … well, not while Dufaigh is not around.” Flanna stops in front of the Ground Dweller, a huge smile on her face. “You cook?”

  Rhoswen’s gaze flits to Perth, then back to Flanna. “Yes. Cook, clean, do hair—anything the daughter of a servant is expected to do.”

  “A servant,” I whisper, not looking for a response. I guess the title makes sense. She was at Dufaigh’s beckon call, ready to do my hair, remove the dirty clothes from my room, provide me with clean gowns every morning.

  “Every society has members who fall into classes. Do not try to tell me the world you grew up in was any different.” Arland keeps his voice low, but I know he interpreted my assessment of her status all-wrong.

  I’m not mad Rhoswen is a servant; I just never put two and two together. I thought she was happy working for Dufaigh as a dresser. I didn’t realize her duty was because of what class she falls into, but given how bitter she was toward him, I should have known better. “Where do servants live?”

  “Trust me, Kate. Their lives are not hard. Whatever you are thinking is not true. Servants lived in town, sometimes with the Leaders they worked for, and were treated well. The only difference is they cannot be Bound into Leadership.”

  “But my mother said Draíochtans are free to choose.”

  “Not all. I doubt your mother paid much attention to that rule. It did not affect her.” Arland sighs. “I need to assign duties for our break. I will return.”

  He rides away, pausing by each soldier and instructing them of their responsibility for the night, reminding me there are still so many things wrong with this world.

  All people should be free to fall in love, no matter with who, or no matter their class.

  “Do you feel sorry for her?” Perth asks, startling me by his closeness.

  “Sorry? Only that she cannot choose who she wants to marry.” I watch Flanna and Rhoswen disappear into the darkness, oddly chatting back and forth like they’re old friends, probably discussing some mutual hatred of all things kitchen duty; they follow in the same direction as Cadman and Tristan.

  “She can choose.” Perth rides in front of me, wearing a grin saying he couldn’t care less about whom she’s allowed to be with.

  “As long as it’s someone in her class. That’s sad, Perth.”

  “How would her falling in love with a Leader be any different than any other person falling in love with someone they cannot have?”

  He’s right. Not everyone gets what they want, or who they want. Perth knows this well, although I don’t believe he truly understands love. We have friendship, but even he didn’t trust me as much as I trusted him. On the night of my Binding with Arland, Perth thought we were abandoning Willow Falls. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have followed me out of the base. The only thing he knows how to care for is himself, but that doesn’t mean he won’t change.

  “You’re not sorry for her because you feel the same way?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “More or less. If I have to get used to it, so should she.”

  Still so cold when it comes to other people’s feelings. “And I thought misery loved company. Maybe if she wasn’t your father’s servant, you would like her more—or is it that you still don
’t trust her?”

  “Cadman and Tristan have returned,” Arland interrupts. “Are you ready to go?”

  Perth straightens. “I think so. Are you ready, Katriona?”

  “Yep. You finished showing me what a jerk you can still be.” I urge Mirain forward, and we leave my husband and my former betrothed behind. Arland didn’t do anything wrong, but I’m sure Perth’s attitude toward Rhoswen will only convince Arland that Perth is still out to get me. And I don’t need anything else to be frustrated about right now.

  Mirain runs me into thin, low-hanging branches; instead of galloping away, she walks between the trees. She’s a stubborn, disobedient horse. My guess is she doesn’t want me to ride far from Arland, being a gift from the gods and all. Mirain must know he needs to be near me.

  “Do you know where you are going?” Arland laughs. “Or that you are putting yourself in danger?”

  I glare at him and his cute I-already-know-you’re-mad-because-I-can-hear-your-thoughts-smile. “Maybe I should put myself in the open so we can get this over with. I should have killed Dughbal by the stream, Arland.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t?” He’s talking like me now, using words from Virginia, from a place and time that seem so far away. It’s my turn to laugh. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” Arland points to our right; the blazing, warm light of a new fire flickers in the distance, casting shadows through the trees. “The others are that way.”

  Tugging Mirain’s reins, I turn her and then start toward the camp.

  “It’s not a bad thing.” Weird, maybe. Usually when people immerse themselves into a different culture, they are the ones who come out with a new accent, not the other way around.

  “I will not say what it is you know I am thinking, Kate. Soon enough, Perth will either give up, or you will put him in his place. But what I will do is protect you from any more of his attempts at redemption.”

  “He broke his promise to you? The one he made before the Crossing Caves?”

  Arland shakes his head. “Not yet.”

  “Hey, Kate!” My sister jogs by the trees, staring at her hand, seemingly unaware of most of the world around her. A blue flame covering her palm illuminates her wide eyes and huge grin. “Look what Cadman just taught me!”

  The last time I saw Brit this excited was when Lann—or a shifter posing as Lann—taught her how to use a bow and arrow.

  “It’s about time.” I wink but doubt she sees me. Brit’s too busy closing and opening her palm—and giggling every time the fire reappears.

  “I’m going to see if I can light a fire or something.” She runs back in the other direction, jumping over a patch of thicket.

  I’m not going to waste my breath telling her she shouldn’t spend all her energy tinkering with magic; she’s too happy.

  Arland smiles and stares after my sister, then climbs from Bowen. “After I communicate with the other groups, we should work on teaching the soldiers old magic. Love may be difficult for a few of them to comprehend.”

  “Speaking of love”—I slide from Mirain—”thank you for saving me in the caves.”

  A low, rumbling growl escapes Arland’s mouth. “I thought I was going to lose you to the evil in those caves.”

  He drops Bowen’s reins, then marches to me. Arland presses his chest against mine but keeps walking forward, backing me up against a tree. Threatening, yet I know he won’t hurt me. He’s absolutely furious though.

  “You were about to jump when I got to you.” Arland places his hands on either side of me, holding me captive in his presence, and brings his face so close his breath warms my lips. “I do not know what I would have done if I had been too late.”

  “K … kill Perth?” I wince, imagining exactly what Arland would have done. Push Perth into the ravine? Beat him? Feed him to the daemons? None of those would have been fair.

  “You trust him, and there are times when I do as well, but your life is too precious to put in his hands again.” Arland brushes his lips against mine, melting my insides.

  I want to kiss him, soak in his touch, but … . “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He trails kisses along my jaw, working his way to my ear, then pauses. “Not kill. Severely injure, maybe.”

  Gasping, I press my hands to Arland’s sculpted chest and push against him, even though I desperately crave feeling his skin close to mine. “Don’t say that. He tried to do the right thing.”

  “Perth will not have another opportunity to fail you, not while I am alive at least.” He takes my wrists in his hands and pulls me against him. “May I kiss you now?”

  “Only if you promise not to hurt him.”

  “I promise,” Arland says through clenched teeth.

  I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his nose. “I’m going to find Rhoswen.”

  Groaning, Arland brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I will check in with Cadman and then communicate with the other groups.” He glances around the small campsite. “Do not go far, and stay where Brit can see you.”

  Being the most powerful Draíochtan who also needs a babysitter seems like an odd combination. And unfair—at least for everyone else. “Save that kiss for me?”

  Nodding, Arland flashes a half-hearted smile and trudges off toward Cadman and Tristan gathered near a cluster of trees. I don’t need to hear Arland’s thoughts to know he’s concerned—I’m concerned, too—but there are just so many things I need to figure out.

  Rhoswen is at the top of my list, and she’s pouring water into an iron pot over the fire.

  “Hey, Rhoswen,” I say, standing on the other side of the pot. “Anything I can help with?”

  She raises her gaze to mine, then quickly looks to the side.

  Flanna drops a few potatoes in the water, tears streaming down her face, then turns and heads to her horse.

  “She’s in a lot of pain,” I say.

  “Flanna experiences pain the way we all do, and I am glad she shows it. Sometimes I believe Leaders are too strong, too held together.” Rhoswen hands me a ladle. “Would you mind stirring while I gather more water?”

  “I’ll stir,” Brit says, bumping me with her hip. “You should go with Rhoswen and keep her safe.”

  “Thank you,” I project to Brit. I hand her the metal spoon, then follow Rhoswen to a stream a few feet away from camp. “May I ask you something?”

  “Is this about what I did in the caves?” She submerges her bucket in the water. “Because I did not do that for him. Well, I saved him for my people.”

  I smile. “I was going to ask you about that.”

  “Ground Dwellers lived through the curse far too long. I do not want to be free of that evil and also condemned because a hate-filled man killed our only chance of the sun shining again.” Standing, she holds the bucket with two hands in front of her, as if it’s too heavy.

  “You still don’t trust Perth?”

  “Why should I? He is his father’s child.”

  Water splashes from the bucket, crashing against the debris on the ground.

  “You want me to carry that for you?” I ask.

  She narrows her eyes, then walks faster. “You are close with Perth, I understand this, but I do wish you would be more careful.”

  “He said the same thing about you once.” That gets her to stop and look at me. “He feared you worked for his father, that you would get us all killed at Willow Falls, but he was wrong, just like you’re wrong about him. I’ve seen him grow, Rhoswen.”

  “He loves you. Any man capable of loving another man’s bhean chéile is not a nice one.”

  “He doesn’t love me; he just thinks he does. And he is a nice man, but enough about Perth. I just want to thank you, and I want to apologize. I never meant for you to get hurt.”

  She sets down her bucket and props her hands on her hips, taking a deep breath. “When you turn against your Leader, a few bumps and bruises are minor repercuss
ions. But maybe you can carry this for me?”

  “Gladly.” I swipe the bucket before she changes her mind, then walk the last few feet to the pot. “How did you turn against him? Were you not cursed?”

  Shrugging, Rhoswen takes the ladle from my sister and returns to stirring. “I always hated him. He was mean to my parents, mean to my siblings, and of course, mean to me. Maybe all servants feel that way; I am not positive. But I saw through his lies.”

  “And your family?” I ask, genuinely interested in her story, and genuinely hoping I find a way to fix how servants are treated.

  Her face blanches, and she looks at the stew. “Perth caught them speaking against his father to other Ground Dwellers, and he had them executed.”

  How could he? “I’ll be right back.”

  I whirl around, scanning the surrounding area for Perth. I spot him sitting by a tree, staring in my direction.

  Perfect!

  “Kate, wait,” Rhoswen calls, but there’s no way I’m stopping.

  Magic bursts from my chest, casting flickering blue light onto the trees, and I run to him. “Why’d you do it, Perth?”

  He jumps to his feet and backs away. “Do what?”

  Taking a step forward, I draw my sword and point it at him. Fire arcs around me and encompasses Perth in my rage. “Why did you kill Rhoswen’s family?”

  Kent, Muriel, Tristan, Cadman, and everyone else gather around us. Let them watch.

  “Kate … I … .” Perth looks behind me, his face flaring with red. “I am not the one who killed them.”

  I move forward again. “But they died because of you! How could you do that? Why would you do that?”

  Two warm, strong hands wrap around my biceps, preventing me from running over the cold-hearted murderer.

  “Calm down, Kate. Our people do not need to see this,” Arland practically growls next to my ear.

  “This is exactly what these people need to see, Arland. A Leader standing up for what’s right!”

  “And they have seen you do the right thing time and time again.”

  “What’s once more going to hurt?” I struggle against him, but my efforts are useless. I sigh, my grip tense around the hilt of my sword. “I promise not to hurt him. Just, please, let me go.”