Hunted: Alba's Story (Destined Book 5)

by Kaylin Lee

  Basil cleared his throat. For some reason, he couldn’t seem to look away from Edward. His spine straightened slowly, and he lifted his chin. “Selena,” he repeated, loudly this time. “That’s all I want.”

  Someone coughed. Si watched Basil with an odd expression, somewhere between grief and pride. Damian polished his glasses, his gaze on the cave floor. Only Anders seemed excited by the request. He grinned and slapped his brother on the back. “That was our mother’s name,” he said proudly. “She was brilliant.”

  “I remember,” Edward said, his tone tinged with sorrow. His gaze finally left Basil. He turned back to his tools and began sterilizing a new needle. “Basil, your request is accepted. I’ll give you the name. Anders, your request is denied.”

  Anders flushed but squared his shoulders. “Yes, sir,” he said stiffly. “What will you give me instead?”

  Edward didn’t look up from his tools. “You’ll have the bear’s prints, to start. The hunt never ends, not for a true hunter. I’ll give you the full bear when you show me its pelt.”

  Anders swallowed. “Yes, sir.” He glanced at his twin. “You first, or me?”

  “Y-y-you.” Basil’s voice shook. “P-please.”

  At Edward’s nod, Anders stripped off his shirt and took the chair Si had vacated. “I’m ready.”

  I clutched the end of my braid. He was only a boy! A skinny, hungry, wide-eyed boy. His ribs showed through his chest so clearly, I could have counted them. “Surely—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I am a healer mage, and I could at least manage some of the pain—”

  “Alba,” Si hissed. He tugged at my arm, pulling me around so I faced him instead of the boys.

  Panic made my throat tighten. How could I let those sweet boys go through such pain? What if Edward’s tools were improperly cleaned? What if the boys became infected? “Let me at least heal the wound after he’s done!” I whispered, feeling desperate. “This is too—”

  “No. You won’t heal them, Alba. Not this time.” Si’s understanding gaze met mine, but the set of his jaw was unyielding. “It’s our way. The boys are of age. They must face this on their own, just as I did, just as Damian and Anton did when they were thirteen.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. At thirteen, I’d been barely more than a babe. I’d spent the nights huddled on a safe rooftop while Bri did both of our assignments. I’d cried for a week after the Crimson Blight snatched us away, even though Mom and Ella had rescued us hours later. “Thirteen,” I whispered hoarsely. “It’s too young …”

  “Come on.” Si guided me toward the tunnel opening. “Let me show you something.”

  I held back. “But what about Althea?”

  “We’ll steer clear of magical shawls out there. Just come with me.”

  Anders was enduring the beginning of his tattoo with gritted teeth and silence.

  After one last glance over my shoulder, I let Si help me up into the tunnel and out of the cave.

  Chapter 25

  Si took me downhill, away from the Hollow, and led me through the woods without speaking until we reached a steep, barren slope topped by a rocky outcrop that jutted into the night.

  “Hold on.” He held out his arm, and I took it. “The rocks are a bit slippery.”

  Icy wind whipped my hair around my face as we climbed the outcrop. I held Si’s arm, grateful for his nearby warmth and the fact he hadn’t asked me to return his jacket.

  We reached the ledge and sat with our backs to a large boulder, the jagged, forested folds of the Gold Hills spreading out before us under the light of the night sky.

  The stars were impossibly plentiful, like they’d quadrupled in number since I’d left Asylia. I lifted my hand on instinct, palm open. The stars shone like the sparkling sugar Ella sprinkled on her cakes, and I was struck with the silly notion they might overwhelm the sky and come dripping down onto my fingers. “It’s beautiful here.”

  “Thought you’d like it.” Si leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “I know it’s hard to see the younger boys start their ink.” He picked up a rock and tossed it from hand to hand between his knees. “Not easy for me either. It’s my job to look out for them. Of course I don’t like seeing them in pain. I’d rather be out here, distracting myself. So I’m glad you were up for a walk.”

  I tucked my chin inside his jacket. “If you don’t like it, why do you let them start so young?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “That’s the age we all start, city girl. Every Badlander who wants ink begins at thirteen. Me and Damian. Anton too. Same with the boys and girls who grow up in the Hollow. If I changed the rules for the twins, they’d be furious.”

  “I guess that makes sense. I still don’t like it, Si.”

  “I know you don’t.” Si nudged me with his elbow. “Must be hard not to get your way this time, eh, Princess Alba?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t always get my way.”

  “Sure, sure.” Si smiled and let the rock rest on his knee. “Been thinking about what you told me. About your sister.”

  “What about her?” My stomach tightened. Would he tell me why he was so opposed to her?

  “You said you wouldn’t go home until you found her true love. But why are you looking for him out here? Shouldn’t you be looking back in Asylia?”

  “No, not in Asylia.” The quiet refusal slipped out automatically. I took a moment to think it over. Was it possible Bri’s true love could be found in Asylia? Every instinct told me it wasn’t.

  “No,” I repeated, my voice firmer this time. My sister was so strong, brave, wild, and free. She couldn’t possibly belong with a soft, comfortable Asylian.

  “Why not?”

  “An Asylian man wouldn’t be enough for her.”

  Si laughed, the sound a short, surprised bark. “Fair enough,” he said after a moment, his eyes glinting with some secret humor. “Fair enough.” He shifted, clearly uncomfortable when his back brushed the rock behind us.

  “The ink hurts, doesn’t it?”

  He gave me a wry smile. “Doesn’t feel good. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Let me heal it.” I reached for his back, but he grabbed my wrist and kept me from touching it. “Please, Si. I hate feeling so useless.”

  “You’re not useless.” An odd look came into his eyes. “You likely saved my life, mage girl. You’re far from useless.”

  “What do you mean, I saved your life?”

  “You think the Masters would have let their deliveryman live after I brought you to them?”

  I shuddered. “I don’t know.”

  “When you healed me, you brought me out of my darkness. Helped me think and see clearly for the first time in a year.” His words were quiet but urgent, like he was willing me not to argue with him. “You’re the furthest thing from useless.”

  “So why won’t you let me heal you now?” I tried to twist out of his grasp, but his large, strong hand encircled my wrist too easily.

  He shifted his grip and brought my hand between our bodies. “I told you. It’s our way. Has been for generations. The ink is something we must endure.”

  “But why?”

  “To make us stronger. To make us less fearful of suffering. To … to remind us who we are.”

  “And who are you?”

  “A Badlander.” His words held a trace of resignation. “That’s who I am.”

  I sighed. I felt like he’d just stepped away from me, but he hadn’t moved. His fingers were still around my wrist, brushing my skin and making me shiver like before. “I’ve stolen your jacket. And now, you’re out here, cold and in pain, and you still won’t let me heal you.” I smiled and attempted to lighten my tone. “You Badlanders certainly know how to suffer.”

  “It’s for the best, Princess.” His answering smile showed the dimple in his left cheek. “You know what happens whenever you heal me.”

  “What?”

  His smile widened. “You don’t remember?”

  You should kn
ow that whenever you heal me, I want to kiss you. “Right. Um … yes. I remember.”

  Si laughed quietly and released my hand but didn’t move any farther away. If anything, he seemed to lean closer. “At least I warned you.”

  I swallowed. “Fine, fine. I won’t heal you, then.”

  Si’s smile faded but didn’t disappear completely. “Not sure that’ll solve the problem after all.”

  “What do you mean?” My pulse sped up again, but this time, not from the argument.

  “It seems I want to kiss you all the time now.” His eyes held mine with magnetic force.

  I bit my lip. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

  His brows lowered in a frown, but he leaned closer. “And why not?”

  “Because you’re not supposed to go around talking about kissing someone unless you mean it.” I should lean away. I should stand up. Why wasn’t I moving?

  “I sure didn’t say it by accident.”

  “I just mean …” I couldn’t think clearly with him so close. I pulled back and stood abruptly.

  Looking wary, Si stood too. “What? What do you mean?”

  The distance helped, as did the cold wind between us. “I mean that maybe in the Badlands, you can kiss whomever you please, whenever you want.” I lifted my chin and forced myself to look him in the eyes. “But in Asylia, kissing goes along with courting. Meeting my parents, making your intentions known and all of that. And courting goes along with marriage.”

  Now that I was further away, it was hard to read Si’s shadowed expression. “You Asylians have rules for everything, don’t you?”

  “No, don’t make us sound like that! It’s not about following rules. It’s not as though we have a list of steps for flirtation.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  “It’s about doing things in the light, not in the dark. Not in secret.”

  “Sounds like a rule to me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. His neutral tone gave none of his thoughts away.

  It was killing me not to be able to guess what he was really thinking. “It’s not about rules. It’s about making sure a couple treats each other well, with honor and respect.”

  “Just like your old beau treated you well? The one who didn’t put up a fight when his mother sent you out of Asylia, whose mother is still seeking your life even now? He sounded like a real gentleman.”

  “I …” I shook my head and faced the starry sky. “He let me down. But it was a little bit my fault, too, because if I’d been thinking right, I would never have gotten involved with a man whose feelings weren’t sincere, who only admired my beauty and had no serious intentions toward me. I wasn’t thinking about any of that. He was a prize to me, and I just … I just wanted to win.” The bleak statement felt like a slap. I stared hard at the stars and wished I could be home, taking refuge in Ella’s sugary baking instead of having this conversation.

  To my surprise, Si chuckled. “You and Anders,” he said quietly. “And me too, if I’m honest. Maybe you’re a Badlander, deep down. Competitive to a fault, just like me and my brothers.”

  Maybe you’re a Badlander. I knew he was teasing, but the statement made my chest feel funny—I had an odd ache of longing and regret. “Maybe.”

  I forced a light laugh. “Anyway, I’m following the rules now, if that’s what you want to call them. Because the last time I kissed a man who only appreciated my beauty, my life fell apart. So no more talking about kissing when we’re alone in the woods, got it?”

  “Got it.” I heard humor in his voice, but when I faced him, his expression was sober. “Shall we head back to the cave? The twins should be done soon.”

  If Si was finally behaving like a gentleman, why did I feel so disappointed?

  Chapter 26

  “You’re back.” Damian waved from the bunks. “No more curses out there, huh?”

  “Not that we found,” I answered, surprising myself by smiling despite the still-fresh memory of the cursed shawl.

  Si was silent, as he had been since we’d left the cliff. I glanced at his face, hoping to catch some glimpse of his thoughts, but his expression was inscrutable as he picked up the crossbow resting on his pack and settled in a corner to clean it.

  “Damian, any more for you?” Edward leaned back and set down his instruments as Basil vacated the chair and slowly, painstakingly, put his shirt back on.

  “Not yet.” The way Damian met Edward’s eyes for a moment made me think the words held some other meaning.

  “Good, good. Glad to hear it.” Edward nodded to Anton. “Your turn, son. It’s time. Have you made your choice?”

  There was a strange tension among the brothers as they watched Anton, waiting for his answer. Wouldn’t he have already chosen his tattoo motif years ago, at age thirteen, like Si had told me?

  Anton sat on his bunk, his forearms resting on his knees. He studied his bony hands like they held the answer to Edward’s question. When he finally lifted his gaze to Edward’s, the gravity on his youthful face made my breath catch. “Yes.”

  Edward fiddled with his instruments, his movements casual, seemingly unaware of the tension. “And what is your decision, son?”

  Anton stood and squared his shoulders. His long, gangly form nearly reached the cave’s ceiling. If he kept growing, he’d have to bend over to walk around the cave. He cleared his throat. “I want to finish it.”

  The old man nodded to himself, as though he’d known all along what Anton would say. “Come on, then. I’ll do as much as I can tonight.” He waved a hand at the others. “The rest of you, get some sleep. We might be at it all night.”

  “You ready to tell us, or what?” Si’s voice was a low rumble. He watched Anton closely, his bow resting in his lap.

  Anton swallowed. “Might as well.” With jerky movements, Anton stripped off his shirt and spun, showing his back to his two older brothers.

  They flinched, but when Anton turned around, Si schooled his expression and shook his brother’s hand, inclining his head in a humble gesture. “It’s an honor, brother.” Why was his voice suddenly hoarse?

  Damian copied Si and motioned for me and Anders to join the other boys over by the bunks. “Come on.” His voice was no steadier than Si’s. “It’s past time we got some sleep. Just leave them to it.”

  Si joined Anton at the table and went back to cleaning his bow. I followed Damian to the bunks, casting one last glance over my shoulder, still unable to see Anton’s tattoo.

  “But what is it?” Anders sounded tortured. “We’ve waited three years to find out!”

  “Double-axe,” Damian muttered. He wouldn’t look at me or Anders. “The enduring servant.”

  ~

  I slept fitfully and woke as the last of the boys left for the mine. Si and Drew were finishing their victus at the table, so I joined them.

  “What do your tattoos mean?” I was disappointed—and, to my chagrin, a bit impressed—that none of the boys had let me heal them last night. At least they all seemed to be recovering well.

  “I have the stag.” Si scooped out the last of his victus, finished it with a ruthless swallow, and shook himself as though shaking off the taste. “It means I’m a leader, a provider. I hunt for my family, not for the love of the hunt or chase, but because of my family’s need. Anders hunts for food, yes, but also for the thrill of it, for the challenge. He lives for the chase, and that’s why Edward gave him bear pawprints.””

  “What about Damian? He has leaves and vines, right? I saw them sticking out of his collar and sleeves.”

  Si nodded. “He’s the closest thing we have to a healer out here. He’s given his life to saving others from illness and injury whenever he can. Preserving life is his mission, so Edward gave him the growing vines.”

  “But why didn’t he need anything added to it, like you did?”

  “Each leaf represents someone who died under his care. He feels responsible, I guess, even though most of those who come to him out here are already past sa
ving.” Si glanced at Drew then stared at the table. “He didn’t need to add to it because no one has died in Damian’s care since Edward’s last visit.”

  The heavy statement hung in the air. Drew must have heard this before, because he continued to flip through his fairy tale book and eat his victus, one little half-spoonful at a time. If Damian, at my age, had so many leaves tattooed on his body that they stuck out from his shirt collar and sleeves, how many Badlanders had he tried to save and lost?

  My stomach turned, and I was glad my bowl of victus had been scanty. “I see.”

  I took the broom off its hook by the hearth and swept beneath the table, keeping my head down to hide my dismay. Which of the brothers would end up as leaves on Damian’s vines? Was that thought what kept kind, gentle Damian from being as boisterous and competitive as the rest of his family?

  A heavy feeling came over me, weighing my shoulders down like my lost sentinel pack. Damian shouldn’t have to bear such pain alone, especially when the cities were overflowing with magic used for every frivolous purpose.

  How many times had I used my magic to heal a friend’s blemish or to offer a boost of fresh energy before a school exam? All while a hungry, magic-less young man carried the lonely burden of healing lives that knew nothing but suffering.

  The local Badlanders? Who cares about them? Shame washed over me when I remembered my words to my father not so long ago.

  I cleared my throat. “So Anders got the prints for now because his chase will never end.”

  Si lifted his feet so I could reach the debris beneath the table. “Right. He’s the true hunter.”

  “And Basil got your mother’s name, because …”

  “I think because they had a special bond. She was just like him. Quiet and smart. Very smart. She could make anything from the odds and ends of city scraps that make their way into the Badlands.”

  I tried to imagine a quiet, female version of Basil surrounded by seven, boisterous sons, surviving in the wilderness through sheer wit. “She was the toughest of all of you, wasn’t she?”

  Si laughed. “There’s no doubt.”