Desmond sighed and powered down the engine for a moment as he searched for the right words. There was no training for these moments – no manuals. There was no other Maestros he could turn to for advice. He had to rely on himself – not his magic and not history – and he knew he only had one shot at telling Nathaniel the right words.
“It takes two to love,” he said at last. “If you believe it is your fault, it is as much Eliza's. But,” he said, as Nathaniel shot him a look, “I have known Eliza as long as you have. And my impression of her is that if she wanted to marry and have an heir; if she thought that was the best choice for her country and her throne, she would have done it already, you be damned.”
Nathaniel's face reacted in shock.
“What?”
“Eliza's rule is solidified because she trusts herself before anyone else,” Desmond said. “And you can never repeat this, but your situation is perhaps the best for her. She has your support, your heart...but you will never rival her throne; you will never challenge her rule, nor will you be at her side all the time. That is what she wants, Nathaniel, and it would be the same whether or not you were in the picture.”
Nathaniel stayed quiet for a moment, considering these things. Desmond held his breath, hoping that he hadn't made a mistake.
He was vividly aware of Sienna's presence in the backseat as well. These were the lessons she was learning on her first quest – the lessons that would stay with her.
He hoped that she would live a simple, uncomplicated life and follow the rules as they were written, if only for her own sake. He hoped that there would never be anyone who won her heart or made her eyes shine. He hoped that the magic and the support of her Maestros would be enough. But somehow, he had a feeling that one day it wouldn't be.
“You're right,” Nathaniel said at last, and Desmond let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Good,” Desmond said awkwardly. “Now, shall we head off?”
“Can I drive?” Nathaniel asked.
“Not a chance,” Desmond said as he started the engine again.
“I'm fine,” Nathaniel protested as Desmond began to navigate the airways. Sybil was already crossing the airfield, on her com-link in one hand with Ladd on another. He gave her a wave as they went by, and she gave them a thumbs-up.
“I know you are,” Desmond answered, although he could feel that his former Tiro was still a bit off. “But it's nice to be driven around once in a while.”
“Mm,” Nathaniel leaned back, against the seat. “That it is.”
“Sienna,” Desmond glanced into the backseat. “Can you please put the coordinates in?”
She leaned forward, touching the screen of the navigation system. It only took a few moments before she got them on the right path.
It was five hours to get back to the first farm, but Desmond was convinced he could make it in four. And for Nathaniel's sake, he tried to make it in three.
Although, he thought to himself, if Eliza was already dead, it wouldn't matter how long it took.
Chapter 18
“I'm going to have a chat with you later about the conditions you return my Tiros in,” Mariah's voice came over the communication system as they cruised along. They were less than twenty minutes from the farm, and Desmond was so glad to get a call from her. It meant that Sybil had returned safely. “Kierry is a bit beat up, and Sybil is proud of it. What rebellion have you put into her head?”
Desmond chuckled. He knew it wasn't the best situation to be laughing at, but he was so grateful to hear Mariah's voice. Nathaniel's sadness was crushing, and he needed something to keep the mood up.
“Nothing more than usual,” he said. “Have you taken Ladd to interrogation?”
“Jeffro has a crack team,” Mariah answered. “And Sybil has already filled me in on most of the going ons. Are you all right, Nathaniel?”
“As much as can be expected,” Nathaniel answered, although his voice was rough. “I just want to get there.”
“You will,” Mariah said with the confidence and kindness of a mother. She was the only motherly figure that Nathaniel ever had, and he responded as such. “Keep hope.”
“I know,” Nathaniel said. “But the facts…”
“Facts don't mean anything from men like this,” Mariah reminded him. “He'd say anything. No one at the palace believes him because they are not treating him with the respect of a king. Nor has anyone booted me off my throne.”
“Right,” Nathaniel replied, a little more confident. “Thank you.”
“We'll see you soon,” Mariah assured him. “And Sienna?” she took a breath and then spoke a few words in Jeffrorian.
Sienna's face lit up, and Nathaniel recognized the phrase. He shook his head.
“Goodbye Mariah,” he said, glancing to Desmond for permission before he cut the line.
“What did she say?” Desmond asked.
“She told her there's food waiting for her,” Nathaniel answered, glancing back at his Tiro's excited face.
“That used to work on you,” Desmond answered.
“Still does,” Nathaniel replied. “Don't stop making me food.”
“And you're the child once more,” Desmond said, exchanging a smile with him. It was a break in the tension, and Desmond was glad for it. But as soon as it started, it was over as they came upon the farm.
Desmond killed the engine as they glided the rest of the way. The light was starting to fade, and he cursed the early sunset. Jeffro had a random schedule when it came to sunsets, he always thought. The planet wasn't quite round, and it rotated at a weird schedule. Sometimes, it was twenty-four-hour light and sometimes, it was darkness all the time. Nathaniel seemed to keep track of it, but it always baffled him.
“What's your plan?” he asked Nathaniel as they glided to a stop on the outskirts of the farm.
“Burst into the farmhouse and blow everyone living to pieces,” Nathaniel answered. Desmond shot him a look. “If she is dead, Desmond…”
“If she is dead, then those responsible will be brought to justice,” Desmond assured him. “Let's, for argument's sake, say she is not. What is your plan?”
Nathaniel took a deep breath, trying to think clearly. “There's a back entrance,” he said at last. “I remember it from last time. There's also a side door. I think they would be expecting us more from the front door, so let's avoid that. If you take Sienna and go around the side, we will have an equal advantage. The basement door is between the two, so we should be able to make it there at the same time.”
“Fine,” Desmond said. Nathaniel reached for the door, and the older witch stopped him. “Inform your Tiro.”
Nathaniel tried not to sigh at this. He knew it was necessary, and he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he must do this from now on, even in the direst emergencies. He turned around, taking Sienna's hand.
It took a few moments, and Desmond could hear the echoes of their thoughts. Sienna was asking questions, unsure; Nathaniel was trying his best to reassure her without panicking.
Finally, they broke their bond. Sienna looked bright eyed and ready to charge forward.
“Let's go, then,” Desmond said quietly. They opened the doors as quietly as they could. “Nathaniel, have your magical stores been replenished?”
“Yes,” Nathaniel answered. “I think so. Although, when this is over, I'm going to sleep for a week.”
“I'll put in the request to the Jurors,” Desmond answered dryly.
They crept down the darkened path that they had walked on not hours ago, their bodies tense. Desmond didn't dare light a ball of magic for fear of being seen. Nathaniel's memory led them to the left side of the path where they could get better coverage from the trees. The long branches brushed the ground, and they all ran into more than a few of them.
A sparkle of light caught Desmond's eyes, and he spun around, ready to attack.
He realized quickly it was just Sienna'
s magic reacting to the fruit everywhere.
“Hands…pocket,” he said, and she obeyed. She couldn't defend herself with her hands in her pocket, but it was better than getting caught for something they could control.
The farmhouse soon came into view. There were bugs chirping, and everything seemed quiet. There was no light coming from the farmhouse. There was either no one there or they were all dead.
Desmond did not share his theory on that with Nathaniel.
Nathaniel indicated that they should split up then, and Desmond agreed. Creeping around opposite sides of the house, he reached out through their bond, trying to lock onto Nathaniel's distracted mind.
‘Ready?’ he asked, touching Sienna's shoulder so she was in the loop as well. She nodded, and he felt Nathaniel's answer echo.
‘Three. Two. One. GO!’
Both doors burst open at exactly the same time. Desmond felt a large splinter enter his arm, and he grunted. He changed sides so that his good side faced the basement door.
There was a lot of commotion from below, and then he heard voices. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and then the door burst opened.
Gunfire poured out in a blast so strong that it took both of them reacting at lightning speed to block them. There were four men that Nathaniel could count rushing toward them.
He pushed a powerful blast of magic toward them, but it only shut two of them down.
“Desmond!” he screamed. “I need a moment.”
“Argh!” Desmond's arm throbbed, and he was quite sure that it was pouring blood. But he pushed forward anyway as the gunfire grew.
A bullet got out of their reach, and they both heard Sienna shriek as she fell.
Desmond and Nathaniel both pushed, and the magic was strong enough to blow a hole in the man's chest. It was gory, exploding against the walls. Both of them were shocked that they had propelled that much magic forward. Usually, a killing blast would drain them, even when working in tandem.
They both spun to Sienna, who was on the floor.
“Sienna!” Desmond grabbed her, pulling her forward. He frantically checked her over, searching for the bullet wound. But it baffled him to find that there was none. There was no blood except his own, and no entrance or exit wound. “Are you all right?”
“I don't think we blew him up,” Nathaniel said, reacting to her shocked face. He tried to shield her from the gruesome sight, as he touched your arm. ‘You're all right. You're all right.’
“I….” She looked up, tears in her eyes. “Dead.”
“It was necessary,” Nathaniel assured her. “We would be dead otherwise. It was necessary”
She nodded, but there were tears streaming down her face as she shakily got up. Each of them were brought back to the memory of their first kills years ago. Desmond's had been when he wasn't much older than Sienna, and in a similar manner. He didn't know his own strength, and his Maestro had encouraged him to be as strong as he could.
Nathaniel had been older, and it hadn't been a shock. Desmond had known that Nathaniel was going to be a warrior by the manner of his first kill. He shook it off and kept walking, ready for the next battle. Fighting and surviving had been what Nathaniel was born to do, and now, he passed that strength onto his Tiro.
“There's no life force in the basement,” Nathaniel said as they turned toward the stairs. He had sent a few pings out, but he was convinced the basement was emptying. “Ladd was lying. Or she's been moved. She's not here. She's not…” And then he gasped.
As he rounded the corner, he saw what he never wanted to see: Eliza's broken body lying on the floor. Her eyes were open, and she was staring straight at the ceiling. There was no life force coming off of her.
The basement had clearly been set up to live in. There were food stores, a kitchen table, a window, and a shower off in the corner. It was startlingly normal, but surrounding a dead body.
“Mmph!” The old farmer that they had previously encountered was in the corner, tied up and gagged.
Nathaniel rushed to Eliza, his voice breaking as Desmond rushed to the farmer, taking off his bonds. The man babbled, but it was clear that what he was saying was an apology. His eyes were filled with tears. He recognized his queen; he knew what had happened.
“No, no, no!” Nathaniel brought Eliza's face to his, tears spilling down his cheeks. “No, this can't be. No. NO!”
Desmond made no attempt to silence him this time. Nathaniel needed to let his grief pour out, and he needed to be with her.
His heart broke for his former Tiro. It seemed almost surreal – impossible – that Nathaniel should still exist when Eliza did not. They had been together for so long that Desmond couldn't believe one could even speak without the other. They were pieces of each other.
Sienna stood at the top of the steps, her chest heaving in shock. Desmond was afraid she was going to fall when she took a step forward, but she caught herself. On shaking legs, she went toward Nathaniel. Feeling her Maestro's grief, she put a hand on his shoulder.
For a long moment, no one said anything. There was only the sobs of grief, the sobs of apology, and harsh breathing.
Desmond wasn't sure how long they sat there. He didn't want to disrupt Nathaniel, but he knew that they had to get back eventually. He tried several times before he got the words out.
“Nathaniel, she's gone.”
“She's still warm,” Nathaniel cried. “She's still warm. If we had been only a moment or two earlier. If we had just–”
“But we weren't, and we couldn't,” Desmond said softly. “You know that. You have to let her go. She is one with the universe now – at peace. You must accept that.”
“I can't,” Nathaniel sobbed. “I can't. I can't.”
“You have to,” Desmond replied. “I will help you.”
“Apples,” Sienna said suddenly. It was such a random thought that they both turned to her.
“What?” Desmond asked in shock. Her head was turned toward the barrel of apples near the farm.
“Apples,” Sienna said, her hand extended. Magic danced on her fingers, reacting to the fruit.
“Yes, but…” he said, confused as she went to grab one. “Sienna, no!”
“Apples,” she said again, and turned to him. “Life. Life.”
Chapter 19
Before Desmond could stop her, she was dragging the barrel of apples over to Eliza's body. It made a horrible scraping sound, and even Nathaniel looked up in confusion. She was displaying an enormous amount of strength, her magic flying. She dipped one hand into the barrel, her arm reaching as she leaned over, and she put another hand on Eliza.
Her magic flowed, and Desmond watched in shock as the apples began to shrivel. Some of them still had green leaves on them, being freshly picked. They turned brown and then black, becoming withered. He could see the magic flowing through her and into Eliza.
“Sienna,” he warned, standing up. She was completely focused on the body below her, her teeth gritted.
This kind of power was only talked about; it was only theorized.
They could heal, but to actually transfer life from one source to another was impossible. Witches had tried it for generations and failed. Mostly, it left them drained, and sometimes, they failed. Sometimes, it ended up killing them when their own life force was mixed with the force they were transferring. It was past difficult and past advanced; it was impossible.
Sienna grunted and wavered. Desmond moved forward, but she shifted away.
“No,” she told him. “No.”
“Sienna…” He was going to give her half a minute more. She was powerful – more than powerful – but this was impossible. “This…”
“ARGH!”
There was an explosion of magic. Desmond ducked, if only by instinct, and dove forward, catching her before she fell backward. The rafters of the house shook, and the barrel exploded. The debris fell everywhere, and Sienna went limp in his arms. His arm throbbed,
and he felt blood running down it. He just hoped it was his and not hers.
When the smoke cleared enough for him to see, he looked down frantically. She wasn't bleeding, but she also wasn't breathing.
Across the room, a cough came, and then another, deceivingly feminine.
“Eliza?” Nathaniel choked out. “Eliza? Oh, my creator!”
Eliza's color was coming back, her eyes open, and her body already struggling. Eliza was never one to sit down, and she fought against Nathaniel's tight grip.
“Oh, my creator!” he bent down, kissing her full on the lips. “You're all right. You're all right.”
“What happened?” she asked, confused. His eyes were glistening with tears, not believing that she was really speaking to him.
“It’s okay. Don't worry about it,” he said. “You're alive. You're fine.”
“Nathaniel!” Desmond snapped, as he put Sienna's limp body on the floor quickly. The only life saving measures he could possibly do at this point was CPR.
There was another theory about the kind of magic that she had just used, and that was that one life was traded for another.
“Come on,” Desmond said. He could feel Nathaniel's presence hovering as he pressed down on her chest. “Come on, little one. Not like this. No, not like this.”
The seconds ticked by, and each one brought a new sense of doom. Each moment that went by was one moment that was against them.
“COME ON!” Desmond never got angry; he never rose his voice. But in this moment, he was close to losing his mind. She would not die on her first quest under their protection, trading her life for another's. That was the duty of a martyr and of a much older witch. That was not the duty of a young witch in training with so much potential in front of her.
‘Little one.’
It was Nathaniel who reached out with his mind and pulled her back. Nathaniel, who hadn't wanted her, and had been so angry and so resentful. Nathaniel, who would have left her at school. And now Nathaniel, who was forever in her debt.
White Star (Wolves of West Valley Book 1) Page 23
