Fantasy of Flight (23 page)

“Hamish–” I start.

“No. I’ll come with you. Surely the more help there is, the better for your friend.”

“You can’t,” I say. Hamish pulls up short and I see his hurt. I hurry on. “You can’t go where I’m going. And I think you forget I used to be in the fighting rings. I’ll be safe.” His eyes darken. He doesn’t believe me. Even though he’s seen me fight. I gesture helplessly. I don’t know what to say.

Hamish closes the distance between us. His movements are so angry I barely turn my head in time to divert his kiss to the side of my mouth. His kiss is still warm. It’s secure. He would always be there, if I needed him. But I’ve chosen.

I pull away, and meet his gaze. “I go alone.”

Cris exits with the food in a satchel. He’s probably been waiting for us to finish arguing before coming out. He hands the bag to me and I sling it over my back.

“If you see Crystal…” Cris starts.

“Then I’ll be sure to tell her how you both are,” I say and give him a hug. “Thank you. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. Please repeat my apologies to Adox and assure him the sanctuary will be safe if I’m unable to make it back.”

“I’ll do that.” He gives me a brief hug.

Isha lands on feather-light feet behind me. She holds out the material to me. My heart leaps into my throat. I can’t deny a large part of me hoped to never see the symbol of my childhood abuse again. But if it’s my brother, he’ll need help. I need to go back as Olina, not Frost.

Running to my tent, I grab Kedrick’s arrow and slide it into my boot and then grab the wooden band which keeps my veil on. I shove this down the front of my suit followed by the veil. Every time I leave somewhere, I lose more of my possessions.

Hamish is gone when I exit the tent. I ignore the pang of guilt from hurting him and hug Isha goodbye.

“You’ll always be welcome here,” she says.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

I stand at the edge and look down, unafraid with the Soar strapped to my back. I look up at the bright white light in the distance.

I jump.

It takes me much longer to reach just the edge of Glacium than it took Crystal to make the whole journey. She, like the rest of the Ire, has the route memorized. I’ve had to rise to the top of the rocky islands twice to orientate myself. But finally, as the last light is fading, I see Glacium looming in front of me. Last time I trekked to this world, it still took the delegates and me several days to reach the castle from our first sighting of the world. With the flying device, it takes less than an hour until I’m flying over solid ground. It’s pitch black, apart from the thin streams of light struggling through the compact windows of the Bruma houses far below. At least I don’t have to worry about running into a cliff now that I’ve left the Ire.

I make sure to keep the mountains on my right. Hopefully by doing this, I’ll arrive somewhere in the Third Sector. The wind will be an issue, though. I won’t be able to fly in this. I’ll have to land in the Second and travel the rest of the way on foot. My only consolation is it will take the Watch a long time to get this far with their Solati prisoner. I should arrive before them. Maybe I can wait for them along the path and free the Solati before they even reach the castle. Then I won’t have to speak to Jovan at all.

The journey overhead is much quicker than walking. If you keep to the large roads and use the dog sled you could travel from the bottom of the Oscala across to the Third Sector in a single, long, hurried day. When I migrated from the Third to the First Sector with the assembly, it was slower, mainly due to the late starts, furniture and the sheer numbers. That journey had taken three days. If you were travelling through the smaller lanes in the middle of the Sectors I can imagine the journey from one end of Glacium to the other taking a week or more. No wonder I’m only now starting to understand the layout of this world.

My mind wanders as I fly over the Second Sector. What if my brother is here? The logical part of me doesn’t want it to be Olandon. The rest of me longs to see him. A thrill of excitement runs through me. I might see my brother, at last! All the awkwardness at seeing Jovan will be worth it if the Solati is Olandon. I think about the haunting memories of the ball and a terrible thought slams into me. I wrench the bar back.

Jovan announced they were going to the Sixth Sector instead of the Third this revolution! He wanted his army close to the Great Stairway. I could be heading to the wrong sector.

I hesitate for a moment, drifting slowly. What if these plans have changed?

If they went to the Sixth Sector, the watchmen and their prisoner might already be at the castle. If they were going to the Third, then I should have time to get back here if Jovan has changed his mind.

I wrench the bar beneath me and bank sharply in a turn to the Sixth Sector. I lean forward into the bar and soon I’m hurtling through the night as fast as Jimmy.

I soar high above the treetops and between the valleys of mountains, which up until now, I’ve always walked around. Internally, I prepare for what’s ahead. Jovan treats me well. Or he used to. Will he extend the same courtesy to this person? What if he treats him badly because of what I’ve done?

How am I going to look Jovan in the eye?

The castle looms in the distance after one of the most frustrating hours of my life. I angle toward it. The watch won’t see me. I’m still dressed in my tight, black flying suit. And the material of the Soar is dark also. Plus, why would they think to look up? Enemies don’t come from above. Or if they did, we never knew about it before now.

I drop into the courtyard where Jovan once threw me over his shoulder to lock me in my room. I snap the Soar together and hide it behind the single tree against the surrounding stone wall, making sure to wedge the contraption deep so it won’t be found. I might have left the Ire, but I’m determined not to betray them.

Reaching down the front of the bodysuit, I retrieve the soft material. There’s no time to feel sorry for myself. I force down my abhorrence and let my hands work the veil as though it were never off, throwing it over my head and placing the wooden band over the top.

My first thought is that it’s too dark. I stumble toward the door and then decide it’s stupid and lift the veil above my eyes to get to the door. I’ve grown too dependent on my sight.

How casually I lift my veil now. In this moment I know my fear is broken. The moment warrants some celebration, but there’s no time.

It’s easier inside. I sprint down to the archway and when I hear the hushed silence ahead of me, I know something is happening in the food hall. The usual roaring and smashing is absent. They’re here.

I race through the archway, slowing to a jog as I reach the middle of the room. The people immediately surrounding me see me straightaway.

I hear snatches of their shocked whispers. “Olina…Tatuma…alive.”

Gasps fill the hall as more and more people turn to see what the disturbance is.

I stare at the Throne table trying to see past the Watchmen.

I don’t have to try for long. They turn toward the source of the new commotion and I glimpse the person between them.

The person is thin and filthy. Jimmy’s right, they do have black hair, but it’s not my brother. Definitely not. He couldn’t be this sick. This
emaciated
.

The Solati turns his head to me and my world stops.

“Olandon,” my voice is so hoarse I hardly recognize it. I take a staggering step forward and then I’m flying down the hall to his side.

“Landon!” I wrench my brother from the hands of the Watchmen. One tries to pull me away, but suddenly stops the assault and stands back.

“Landon. What has happened to you? Who did this?” I whisper. He begins to shake in my arms.

“Lina. Are you real?” He half sighs, half speaks the words, as though he has no energy to form them. The mere effort of breathing seems almost too much. “You’re alive. You’re really here?

“I’m here, brother. Of course I’m here. Is it the twins? Are they hurt?” I ask as I pull back and look at him.

“Twins…are fine. I thought you dead,” he chokes and pulls me to him with a well of temporary strength. When did he last eat? How did he get this way?

“Shh, I’m okay. You’re okay.” I rock Olandon as I would a child, and look over his head at King Jovan.

The hall is so quiet I could be convinced there weren’t a hundred people or so behind me. Jovan’s eyes are locked on me. His expression is blank, but his posture is tense. I’ve seen him this way enough to know if I were closer, and my veil was off, his eyes would be glittering.

Jovan is beyond angry, he’s livid. Whether at my brother, my entrance or my leaving, I don’t know. But whatever awkwardness I’d envisioned for this moment is not there. Olandon is my priority, not some petty personal drama between me and the King.

“Will he be okay?” I ask softly. Jovan stays sprawled on his throne, scrutinizing me. He’s angry all right, or disgusted, I can’t tell which.

Olandon goes limp in my arms. “Landon!” He can’t have died. Please not him, too. I struggle under his weight, slight though he has become.

Then the pressure eases. I look up as the King picks up my brother’s slim frame. Hands shaking, I put my ear to Olandon’s chest, almost crying when I hear his regular beat.

I sit back and swallow a large lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I whisper. The King doesn’t say a word. But I don’t care, because he is helping my brother. That’s enough for me.

He barks an order at someone behind me. I don’t take my gaze off Olandon to check who it is, but I hear their soft footsteps behind me as I follow Jovan’s striding frame. He carries him to the room I used when I first arrived. The one I thought was the dungeon. Compared to the chamber I occupied as Frost, it is. But there is a fire and a warm bed. With how furious Jovan is, I’m surprised he’s even given us this much. But whatever I’ve found him to be, he’s never been malicious. He drops Olandon onto the bed and grunts something at the person behind me.

He meets my eyes for a split second before lowering his head. He leaves without a word.

I sigh. I turn around and start when I see it is Malir’s wife who followed us.

“Sadra,” I greet her. She smiles at me, a bit hesitantly. I realize what a shock my sudden appearance will be to all the delegates and my other friends.

A servant comes up with water and broth and then Sadra is all business. She pours the liquids down his throat in minute amounts while I wash him. I use pitcher after pitcher of water until he’s as clean as I can get him. Tears track down my face as I discover I can circle my fingers around his lower leg. He’s gaunt, near unrecognizable, and his skin seems papery and fragile. I press the veil into my face to mop the tears as his protruding ribs are revealed.

“Will he be okay?” I stutter. Sadra is clearing her supplies.

“He will need broth and water every half an hour for the next two days. Just a spoonful or two of each,” she says. I nod and see she’s left a pitcher of each beside the bed.

“I’ll return in the morning to check on him.” She heads to the door and then turns back with a smile. “And I’m glad to see you again, Tatuma.” The door closes with a soft thud.

She never told me he would be okay.

I stay by Olandon’s side for the entire two days, feeding him as Sadra has instructed. Someone brings me food, but I cannot eat it. The only times I sleep are the four or five times a day she comes in to briefly check him.

My brother does not regain consciousness during this time and she still doesn’t answer my question. Though I’m too afraid to ask again. I know him slipping under for so long is not a good sign.

It’s night again. I can’t remember exactly what night it is. The third? Maybe the fourth? I catch myself dozing off, and stand to walk around the room. Is it time to feed him again? It must be. I prop his weight up to dribble water and broth down his throat. He groans when I’m done. It’s the first sound he’s made.

“Landon?” I ask. There’s no answer. I talk to him anyway. “You’re okay, brother. I’m here. I’ll look after you and you’ll be safe. I promise.” I lean over and kiss his forehead.

“I love you.”

My head flops to the side as I’m lifted; barely rousing me from the deepest sleep I have ever been in. Strong arms place me on furs. I sink into them like they are feathers.

A hand stroking the top of my head wakes me. Blinking wearily, I look through my veil at Olandon.

“Hello,” I yawn and then sit upright. “You’re awake!”

I twist my way free of the furs to get a better look. His face is still drawn and gaunt, but there is some life in his eyes. And he’s conscious. This has to be a good sign. I stare at him, immeasurably grateful, but still afraid he’ll be taken away.

“Yes. My apologies for waking you, but I’m desperate for some water and cannot get it myself,” he croaks. The old Olandon would have been embarrassed to admit this, but the man in front of me says it factually.

“Of course.” My voice cracks, betraying my emotion. I clear my throat. “I don’t know when I fell asleep.” I smile at Olandon and then remember he can’t see it. I frown as I remember the strong arms placing me in the furs. Had it been Jovan?

He’s so thirsty I give him five spoonfuls of water. “You can have more once Sadra says so. Too much is bad at the moment,” I say. I urge him to rest.

“You haven’t told me off for coming through the Oscala,” he notes. I stroke his hair. Yes, I soon guessed this is what he’d done, after the initial shock of seeing him wore off, though I hadn’t been quite able to believe it until hearing his confirmation just now.

“I’m waiting until you’re stronger.” For now, I’m more worried about
why
he came through. “Are the twins okay? Is Aquin okay? The orphange?” I ask.

He smiles at me around his cracked lips, dry from lack of water. “They’re all fine. And you’re alive. Everything is well.” Except for him.

I sigh and look out of the window as sun streams in. “We have much to talk about.” I turn back when he doesn’t respond and see he’s slipped back into unconsciousness or sleep. I draw the furs over him and move the pitcher back as I watch him.

I’ll have to tell him of course - that I have blue eyes. I couldn’t keep something so monumental from him, not when the consequences affected him as well. I hoped it would be delayed as long as possible. I may have broken my phobia of the material itself, but I fear the act of showing my face will always be unbearable.

The room goes predictably silent when I enter the food hall.

A rumbling stomach this morning reminded me I haven’t eaten in several days. I walk straight to the table and grab two pears and some biscuits. Enough so I won’t have to come back down again until tomorrow. I glance toward the back of the food hall, but I can’t see any of my barrack friends there. They’ve likely returned to the Outer Rings. My plan was to walk straight out again, but a voice calls to me from the front.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Sanjay stands up by the delegate’s table. One more thing I hadn’t been looking forward to. Taking a deep breath, I approach, scanning my group of friends. I see Jacquiline looks unhappy to see me. There are smiles on the other faces. The dread lessens a little.