by Aimee Moore
I might still die tomorrow. I might lose Dal. Nothing was for sure except right now. And right now, as the shuddering pleasure of our joined bodies began to overwhelm me, I knew that I loved him. And that was all that mattered.
✽✽✽
The next morning, I found myself in a large room, rich tapestries of red embroidered with flame hung all around the expansive room. Coarse white sand made up the floor, and several spots of slick, clear glass appeared to have made stepping stones in some spots and clear chunks as big as my palm in others.
Red pillows sat in the corners, and braziers of flame stood in odd spots throughout. It made me sweat to be surrounded by so much red and orange, and I continually glanced out the floor to ceiling window on the far wall for relief.
Sol Lalpund paced around me in the center, robes swishing together as he rubbed his pointed chin in thought. “Are you the only one in your family with that unusual coloring?”
“Yes.”
“It is not unheard of to display your gift openly, but it is not common, either. I do not entirely trust that your gift was not known among your tiny village.”
“Well, no one told me or treated me any different than the rest, and I can't find any benefit in being untruthful about it.”
Sol Lalpund stopped in front of me and waved his hand. “Very well then. Show me what you can do.”
And so my lessons began, and ended with his disappointment.
Hours later, I left the blazing room, mentally exhausted and verbally abused. Sol Lalpund became convinced of my ignorance to my gift quickly enough when he realized that I could do no more than light a match.
From then on out he berated me in his teachings, neither inspiring confidence nor giving me the will to please him. Grateful to the cool sea mist that kissed my face when I exited the castle, I startled when Mindrik crossed my path as well.
“Seraphine,” Mindrik startled. “What ever have you been doing to get so red?”
I looked away. “Sol Lalpund's room is stifling. Like standing in the baking room near the oven overflowing with hot coals on the hottest day of the summer.”
Mindrik gave me a warm smile. “Well then, my dear lady, I think you are in for a treat. I have only just finished my instruction, and Sol Creljin has exited the training room. Come, have a visit.”
My thoughts went to Dal, alone in our room, probably pacing with worry for me. “I shouldn't, I'm tired and I wish to lie down.” That was true, sleep sounded better than anything in the world.
Mindrik took my arm in a gentlemanly fashion, and the chivalry in the act surprised me. Not since Lonnie had someone treated me to the chivalrous customs of my species. And Mindrik was the last person I would have expected it from.
“Well then, I won't keep you long,” said Mindrik.
I bit my lip and glanced in the direction of the halls toward my room, then turned away, following Mindrik's lead.
“I trust you found instruction as exhilarating as I did?” Mindrik asked.
I glanced at Mindrik to see him glowing with happiness. “No. Sol Lalpund made no more progress with me than you did. And he's downright rude.”
Mindrik waved away my concerns. “Once again, Seraphine, you don't understand the ways of your world. The council have every right to be lofty; as rulers and the most powerful Gifted in our nation, it goes without saying.”
“I said rude, not lofty,” I muttered.
Mindrik chose to ignore me, so engrossed was he in his grandiose existence.
And I did not belong.
We walked for only a minute, back toward the gleaming hallway of training rooms. The heat of Sol Lalpund's room wafted from the closed door, and every cell in my body resisted going near it. What I did not expect, however, was entering Sol Creljin's training room and being swept away by such utter peace and tranquility.
The room was bathed in cool blue, the floors tiled with iridescent, cerulean slabs of rock. Water ran down the walls in tinkling rivulets, and pools of water adorned the room here and there, crystalline and calm. Where Sol Lalpund's room was commanded by a floor to ceiling window, here there was empty space with water rushing over it in a perfect curtain. A cool mist kissed my skin, and the crisp, slightly acidic smell of water saturated my senses.
“I see from your face that you appreciate the element here,” Mindrik said.
I turned to see him watching me, head tilted just a little, a small smile on his face. “Yes, yes you were right to bring me. This is splendid. Is the water pure?”
Mindrik waved his fingers toward the curtain of water over the window, and a graceful arc of interruption appeared in the veil, spelling out the word “yes.”
I laughed. “Good, I'm dying of thirst,” I said. And I went to the water and let it splash into my palms, drinking with reverence as the cool liquid soothed my throat and warm cheeks. I splashed some over my face, not caring that it dripped down my front, and was brought back to summers in my village.
My sister and I used to escape responsibility for a whole day, becoming heated in the summer sun, and drinking from the river with long sighs as we came up for air. We didn't care that our hair had grass and water in it, or that our skirts were ruined. We only cared that life would always be that carefree for us, or so we thought.
“Seraphine.”
Mindrik's voice brought me back to this strange place, with water splashing in my open hands, soaking the front of my dress. I let my hands fall and turned my gaze to him.
Mindrik touched my shoulder. “A woman as lovely as you should not look so sad. It is a crime. Come, tell me of your troubles.”
I gave a sad smile. “I was thinking of my village, and the summers by the river spent with my sister.”
Mindrik led me over to a seating area, with large blue pillows next to a serene pool. “You dwell on that life much. Is this one not satisfactory as well?”
I frowned, drawing away from the callous man. “Do you ever miss your peers from the university, Mindrik?”
Mindrik looked away into the pool. “At times, yes, but we shared schooling with the knowledge that one day we would never see each other again. While I do not enjoy the memory of their deaths, I suppose it’s easier to pretend like they've gone away as they were intended to do, and I've come here, as I was intended to do.”
When he lifted the sky of his gaze to me, his usual twinkle was gone.
“Yes, I can see how that would be easier,” I said in a soft tone.
Mindrik stared at me for a while, brow furrowing now and again as questions seemed to coalesce in the distance between his eyes. “I hate the Kraw, Seraphine. No good can come of them being here in our world. And I can’t see why you do not hate them, too.”
“And how do you come to the conclusion that I don’t hate them?”
“You keep one at your side, like a faithful dog. This is the first I've seen you willfully without your beast.”
I furrowed my brow and looked down into the pool of water, fidgeting with my seashell. “Dal is the only Kraw that has treated me equal. Protected me. Made sense of a world that has broken apart like puzzle pieces across the floor.”
“You care for the beast,” Mindrik said. “More than you care for your own kind.”
“No,” I replied. “He is my guard. After all we've been through, do you not see the wisdom in a woman keeping one as strong and wise as him in her company? Can you not imagine what we've been through together, just the two of us, at the hands of Kraw who hated him, too?”
Mindrik furrowed his brow at me. “You are safe here in the capital, you know, his services to you are no longer needed. The council find it odd that you choose to keep him. Especially in your quarters.”
“Perhaps I do not trust the council.”
“Then do tell me why you are here.”
I frowned in frustration. Dal would have known exactly what to say to silence Mindrik and prove Kraw superiority all in one breath. I did not possess such skill.
“I want the
war to end, Mindrik. Peacefully.”
“What peace can come from offering the council a traitor's key to the destruction of his species? That is not peace, that is slaughter. It’s unfair and barbaric. ”
“Are you calling me barbaric?”
Mindrik waved away my outrage with one hand. “Heavens no. Only attempting to find logic in your reason.”
“Maybe I don't have logic to it. Maybe I don't want my people wiped out. Maybe I want to live on to have a peaceful home and tiny, squalling children of my own, and this seems like the best way to me.”
Mindrik regarded me. “You can have all of that here in the capital, you know. Your status has been elevated far past country bumpkin. And look, I don't see a speck of mud on you.”
I laughed.
“Seraphine, you are quite beautiful when you laugh.”
My face heated and I avoided eye contact. “Oh. Well, thank you.”
“I... Well, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just be out with it. I fancy you, Seraphine. We're a smart match, you and I, being Gifted as we are and of equal status. I can give you all that you want in life, and to give me all that I want in return all that you would have to do is be yourself.”
I looked up at Mindrik, confusion written on my face.
Mindrik scooted closer. Too close. “Cast away your beast and let me be your guard. Let me show you things no man could show you. Let me have your hand, Seraphine.” Mindrik reached his slender hand toward mine.
I stared at that soft hand, with slender fingers and long blue and purple veins inking the pale skin. For a fraction of a moment, my mind was caught in the flattery of it all. A man had asked for my hand. Had called me beautiful. Is Dal so forthcoming with his compliments?
I lifted my gaze to the fragile pools of Mindrik's eyes. Whether he was or not didn’t matter. He saw a dragonfly where Mindrik saw a butterfly. And this dragonfly wanted only one hand to hold it – the calloused, dark hand of a Kraw warrior. All at once I wished for the mud again.
I let out a soft breath. “I can’t give you what you wish, Mindrik.”
The pools of Mindrik's eyes froze over to ice, and he withdrew his hand, straightening away from me. “Am I not beastly enough, Seraphine?” Mindrik's voice was cruel in its softness.
I stood. He stood as well.
“That's not it at all. Your jealousy is unwarranted.” The lie was easy on my lips.
Mindrik took my arms, and fear lanced through me as I realized that we were very alone. His thin fingers dug into my arms.
“Prove it to me, then. Prove to me that you feel something for human men, and not beasts, Seraphine.” The digging fingers pulled me up against Mindrik's bony body, and his face was inches from my own. “Prove it, Seraphine,” he whispered, a feral roughness to the man I'd come to know as small and whiny.
I shoved at him. “Mindrik, let me go!” I yelled. Despite his scrawny build, Mindrik still held immense strength compared to my own, and I couldn’t break free.
“Need I show you?” Mindrik asked over my struggles.
“No! You are acting the very vile beast you speak of!” The digging grip on my arms loosened, and I ceased my struggles to look up and see Mindrik's face relax into defeat.
He pushed me away, and I stumbled before righting myself.
I pushed my hair out of my face and glared. “You ask to be my guard and then use force on me.”
Mindrik's shoulders slumped, and he turned away from me. “I am cordial, and you do not want me. I act the beast, and still you do not want me. Perhaps, Seraphine, you simply do not want me.” His voice was cool and toneless.
Pity bubbled up in my chest as the tension left me. I took a step toward Mindrik's turned back, reaching toward him.
“Mindrik...” I said on a sigh.
“Leave me.”
“But Mindrik, I don't wan—"
“I said get out!” He yelled.
I let my hand drop, stared at his frail back, then turned and left without a word.
Chapter 21
Oil on Fire
On the walk back, I made up my mind not to tell Dal. He would be angry. He might even seek to make Mindrik pay for the unwanted advance, jeopardizing our stay.
I took the long way back to my room, detouring through the enchanted gardens that Dal had showed me. I stopped in the small clearing that we had made love in, still finding the space breathtaking even without the glow of fireflies. I brushed one of the red flowers by the bench, remembering what had transpired here, and a smile lit my face.
Was I being stupid to refuse Mindrik? I was in love with Dal, I knew it as surely as I knew that my world was dying. But Dal couldn’t offer me a proper home, a title, or even children, as far as I knew. Mindrik could give me all of those things, here in the safety and grandeur of Elanthia.
I plucked a flower as I pictured tiny tots of my own, playing on the beach, collecting shells and giggling in the surf, wearing fine clothes and speaking in educated tones. But I frowned as I realized that they would all be half Mindrik, and even more unwelcome than the thought of sharing a bed with him was the thought of raising his pompous, frail children. Even though they might be my only chance at having a family.
“I trust lessons went well,” Dal said, lumbering into the clearing.
I turned, smiling at the man I was willing to give up everything for. “Dreadful, actually. I'm certain Sol Lalpund regrets taking me under his wing, now.”
Dal sat next to me on our bench, and his nearness electrified me. “Have you learned anything new?”
I shook my head and plucked at the flower in my hand. “Maybe it wasn't me who maimed that battlefield of Kraw, Dal. Maybe it was someone or something else.”
“I do not doubt what I saw then any more than I doubt what I see now,” Dal said. “Your energy is bright, Sera, it could have been no other who performed that deed on that battlefield.”
I sighed, picking the petals off of the flower. “What have you been doing while I've been gone?”
A slow smile spread across Dal's handsome features. “Come, I will show you.”
Dal stood, leading me through the maze of enchanted garden, seeming to know exactly which way he was going. After a long while, we rounded the castle, remaining parallel with the shore line for some time until we veered away from it.
Only then did we enter the vast castle. People scurried about, casting Dal wary or even hateful glances. He seemed immune to their notice, taking up their space and their thoughts as he stormed past without regard. I trotted to keep up.
Hallways. There were so many hallways. Tall ones, wide ones, thin ones, golden ones, marble ones, tapestry ones, the dizzying array of hallways went on and on. Finally Dal and I stopped in an elaborate hall with gold framing and tapestries everywhere, leading to a gilded archway one could fit two horse carts through. Stacked on top of each other. A guard stood still as a statue on each side of the archway, eyeing Dal with suspicion.
Dal pulled me away from their sight. “Through that door is your world's salvation and destruction.”
“Surely those two guards won't just let us through.”
“I can get us through, but you must not touch anything while we pass.”
I nodded. “Alright.”
With a nod, he took my hand, and a moment later a strange sensation came over me. The light was back in Dal's eyes, and the world around me seemed to hold its breath. Not a sound was made anywhere, not even the hum of silence seemed to buzz in my ears. Dal looked back at me.
“Come. Do not make a noise,” he whispered.
I nodded, and we dashed out on nimble feet, approaching the guards. One of the men had his eyes half closed, as if in the middle of blinking. We slipped past like a whisper of wind, escaping down the magnificent hallway that wound away from the grand hall, the wide stone beginning to pitch down in a gentle slope. We carried on for what seemed like a quarter of an hour, the twisting passageway never seeming to exhaust its supply of stone and torches.
“Dal, where are you taking me?”
“You came here for one purpose, Sera.”
“Yes, but this is undergr—"
“Trust.”
We sank deeper and deeper into the earth, and the air got colder as the smell of old water and decay began to tingle our noses. At long last the passage meshed from large grey stone into old brick. Tapestries fluttered on the walls in between crystal sconces. A strange excitement in my blood told me that I was getting close to that which I sought.
The leyline neared.
“How did you find it, Dal?” I looked up at the man striding next to me.
“The council, in their arrogance, gave me everything I needed to know when they whispered to guard the lake chamber. High above the castle is a tower. From there, one can see a lake flourishing with life, a short ways north of the castle. It is the only source of water aside from the sea. Kraw have a keen sense of smell; this passage smells of pitch, acidic earth, and damp wood. Water.” He turned and looked at me.
“They made it easy, your council.”
“You have seen it, then? You have set eyes on the leyline?”
“Yes.”
“What else were they hiding, Dal? What did they find?”
Dal frowned as he walked. “I will show you.”
Still we walked, further and further. We passed guards twice more, until finally we reached a tall marble door with elaborate symbols on it that I didn't understand. The symbols seemed to glow, pressing away from the door, anxious to float away from it and be one with the air.
Dal let a long sigh out of his nose as the light in his eyes went out. He approached the doors, taking careful steps up to the massive runes. His head moved back and forth as he watched the symbols glow at odd intervals, before surprising me with the sudden movement of his hands. He placed them on the door in a quick flash, and gritting his teeth, he dug his fingers into the stone. More of the symbols from above snaked down to where Dal's fingers seemed to sink into the liquid stone, and after a moment, the symbols snaked back up to their original position, and the grinding of stone could be heard as the doors opened.
