Sign of the Throne: Book One in the Solas Beir Trilogy (10 page)

“Not nearly as stylish as yours,” Jon teased, tugging on her shirtsleeve. She was wearing a red and white striped button-down top with white piping around the cuffs of the sleeves and along the neckline and hem of the shirt. Her pants matched the top. He looked at her feet and laughed. “Even your slippers are color-coordinated. Are you trying to impress me?”

She laughed and wiggled her red velvet slippers around. “If I was trying to impress you, I’d have done my hair.”

He studied her hair. It was pulled back into a French braid. It was a little mussed up, but he liked it. She was pretty cute with bed hair. “I thought you did.”

She giggled and patted down a few strands that had come loose. “Oh, you’re
smooth
, Jonathon.”

“That I am,” he smiled. “I missed you today. I had pool duty all by my lonesome.”

“I know,” Abby said. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I missed you too. But I did have a good day off.”

He looked down at her, surprised that she was being affectionate after he had just hit on her.  Usually she pushed him away if he said something halfway flirtatious.  Cautiously, he put his arm around her. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Cassandra invited me to the Autumn Ball at the inn, and I get to wear this amazing dress,” Abby explained, snuggling up against him. She looked up at him. “And, assuming you’re not doing anything that night, I would be most appreciative if you’d join me.”

Jon smiled. “
Most
appreciative, huh? Are you asking me out on a date, Abigail?”

He felt her face grow warm against his chest like she was blushing. He looked down at her, but she looked away
, and it was too dark to tell if her cheeks were red.

“Sort of, but not exactly,” Abby said, staring at her slippers as she shifted her feet. “Not a
date
date, you know, but more of an I-want-to-go-but-I’m-terrified-to-go-alone-and-I-need-my-best-friend kind of date.”

“Hmmmm,” Jon feigned disappointment. “Well, when you put it that way, it’s just soooo appealing. I guess I’ll have to check my calendar and see if I have any prior engagements…”

She looked up at him. “
Jon
.”

Truth be told, he
was
a little disappointed—he wouldn’t have minded a real date, but he hid his feelings with a grin. “Kidding. I’d be honored to escort you, m’lady. What do I have to wear?”

“It’s black tie, so you’d have to rent a tux,” Abby said. “I’d be happy to pay for it though, since I’m the one asking you to come.”

“Eh—no worries. I think I can cover it,” Jon said. “My job pays
really
well.”

Abby laughed. There was a hole in the hem of his T-shirt. She stuck her finger through the hole and tugged on the fabric. “Oh yes, you are just rolling in dough, aren’t you?”

Jon shoved her hand away. “Hey—no messing with my shirt. It’s vintage.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Abby teased. “Anyway, Cassandra said they’re hiring a car and will come pick us up. It’s not that far away, but in heels…oh, and also they needed to rent a nicer car because Aunt Moira is coming. Apparently Riordan’s car isn’t quite up to her standards.”

“What a
lovely
woman,” Jon said. “How do you feel about her coming?”

Abby shrugged. “Awkward, but we don’t see each other too much. I think she’s moved from hating me to pretending I don’t exist.”

Jon frowned. “I don’t get it—what’s her problem?”

“I have no idea,” Abby said. “I thought I was a pretty charming person. Even more so, considering how her face twists up with disgust every time she sees me.”

“Obviously the fault lies with her—you are nothing if not charming,” Jon said, taking Abby’s hand.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his hand.

Jon smiled. “I say we turn the tables and ignore
her
. We’ll have a good time just to spite her.”

Abby nodded in agreement.

Jon looked at Abby. It bothered him that Moira was rude to her. He hadn’t met the woman, but he hoped she would be nice to Abby at the Autumn Ball. Abby was a sweet girl, and she deserved to have fun. Jon was going to have to set Moira straight if the woman had anything rude to say to Abby when he was around.

He was glad Abby had asked him to go, and not just because he wanted to protect her from a cranky old lady. He looked forward to what promised to be an amazing night with his best friend, even if it wasn’t a real date. But there was another reason he was excited to attend the ball. It was the reason he’d woken Abby up and asked her to sneak out with him. But now that she was sitting beside him, he was a little unsure about how to approach the topic. What if he hurt her feelings? He sat beside her in silence for a few minutes. She was looking up at the night sky, watching the stars. Finally he decided to go for it.

“Abby?” Jon asked.

“Yeah?” She turned to look at him.

“Do you think Marisol will be at the Autumn Ball?”

Abby stared at Jon. “Probably. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just…something interesting happened today,” he said.

Abby raised her eyebrows and let go of his hand. “Define
interesting
.”

“Well, you were gone, and I don’t know where Michal and Monroe were, but my shift was over and I was getting ready to leave, and…”

“And?” Abby asked impatiently.

Jon grinned mischievously. He could tell by Abby’s tone of voice that the suspense was killing her. “And Marisol came up and we just started talking,” Jon said. “It was nice. She’s kind of different when her friends aren’t around.”

Abby smiled. “I thought maybe she liked you. So, what did you talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jon said, relieved that Abby seemed okay with his interest in Marisol. “School, college next year. She’s really smart. She’s thinking about law school eventually. She’s funny, too—it was easy to talk with her. Kind of like how it is with us, but you know, a little more…”

Abby nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. So what are you going to do? Are you going to ask her out?”

“I don’t know. I want to, but it scares me a little, too.”

Abby gasped in mock amazement. “You? Scared to make the first move? I thought you were immune to rejection. Fearless.”

“Oh, I
am
,” he laughed. “But this time, it’s different. For the first time, no offense to you, it feels serious. I don’t want to screw up.”

“You won’t,” Abby said, taking hi
s hand again. “Just be yourself. I think she already likes you for that.”

“You’re right. Thanks, Abby.” He gave her hand a little squeeze.

“Hey, as long as she treats you well, she has my blessing,” she said.

“So, what about you? Any more crazy dreams?” Jon asked.

“Ha—you have no idea.”

“What happened?” he asked, concerned.

“Long story,” Abby said, and then told him what had happened at the Buchan house with the shadow boy.

Several days later, after school, Abby decided to take a walk through Newcastle Beach. She told herself she needed to clear her head, and thought walking along the beach might be a good remedy. But the truth was she was hoping to run into David again. No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she was more drawn to him than ever.

Halfway between the old mansion and the beach, she noticed a commotion. Several large alley cats were harassing a raven. The bird was putting up a good fight, but was outnumbered and being overpowered.

“Hey!” Abby shouted. She ran toward the feline predators, waving her arms wildly. An oversized, bob-tailed black cat bared its teeth and hissed at her. She kicked at it, and it got the message, slinking away.
Is it my imagination,
Abby thought,
or are housecats bigger than they used to be? That black cat had to have been the size of a cocker spaniel.

Gently, Abby scooped up the raven, inspecting him for wounds. Nothing looked broken, but when she ran her fingertip along the edge of one wing, the bird
trembled and pecked at her hand as a warning. “All right,” she said. “No more touching that spot. Let’s get you home.” Cradling the raven in her arms, she slipped through the mansion’s gate.

Once inside, the bird wriggled free from her grasp and took flight, gliding low over a tangle of green bushes that looked oddly familiar to Abby.
I’ve been here before,
she thought.
In my dream.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white.
The doe?
Noticing an opening in the knotted snarl of green, she entered an overgrown maze, dark with branches crossed overhead.

Trying to remember the pattern of the labyrinth from her dream, she stepped further into the darkness, her arms stretched out to guide her. She turned corner after corner and came to a circular clearing in the center of the emerald maze, with passages leading in three directions.

Which way now?
As if in answer to her unspoken question, she heard a rustle above her. Looking up, she saw two golden eyes staring down. Her raven friend cocked his head and then dived into the labyrinth, flying low in front of her. He landed in front of the middle passage a few feet away and hopped impatiently, waiting for her to catch up. “Right behind you,” Abby said. “Show me.”

She followed the rave
n through a twisting passage which was becoming increasingly familiar. Soon, she knew, she would reach the opening to the beach. Would David be waiting for her, like in the dream? As she turned the last corner, she held her breath in anticipation, fully expecting to see him. Instead, the labyrinth halted abruptly in a solid green dead end.

Then
Abby gasped in horror. A haunting figure appeared before her. Facing the wall, the hag wore a ragged dress that might have been white long ago, but was now a dirty gray. Stringy white hair hung down her back and a withered arm hung limply at her side. The hag turned, revealing a ruined face and a hideous milky-white eye.

The hair on the back of Abby’s neck stood on end. She backed away, terrified, stumbling over a thick root jutting out from beneath the labyrinth wall, then pressed up against the hedge to keep from falling.

The old woman bent down, and the raven hopped into her arms, his golden eyes beckoning to Abby. Abby searched the woman’s face—wretched as it was, the face was kind, and the woman did not seem to intend harm. The woman’s good eye was a piercing blue, and Abby recognized it as belonging to the beautiful raven-haired woman from her dream.

“Hello, Abigail,” the woman croaked. “I have been expecting you.”

DREAMWALKING

“
C
ome,” the woman motioned. “We have much to discuss.” With a slight limp, she slid past Abby and began making her way to the labyrinth’s entrance.

When she exited the dark maze, Abby’s eyes stung as she stepped into the sunlight. The ruin that was left of the mansion looked like it was straight from the pages of
Great Expectations
, and the woman bore a fearsome resemblance to mad Miss Havisham in a tattered bridal dress. All that was missing was a moldy wedding cake.

“What happened to you?” Abby whispered, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes, her curiosity overcoming rudeness.

“I will tell you everything soon,” the woman assured her. “But first, we need to get inside, away from spying eyes.” She nodded toward the estate’s gate, where Abby could see the large alley cats had returned and were watching intently, tails twitching. After Abby’s encounter with the shadow thing that had turned into a black cat, the woman’s statement didn’t sound crazy at all.

They entered the damaged mansion, and the woman led Abby into a long, wood-paneled hall. Broken glass littered the floor from the remains of the tall, gilded mirrors on the walls. A shaft of light illuminated the room, highlighting particles of dust floating in the air. Looking up, Abby could see the source of the light—a framed dome of glass, now with fine cracks spreading like a spider’s web, but still intact.

This used to be some kind of grand ballroom,
Abby thought.
Now I know I’ve been here before—the first dream with the little boy. But the room looked different—the mirrors were still whole.

The mansion must have been all but destroyed in the infamous Newcastle Beach Quake decades before. What was strange was that while most buildings in Newcastle had sustained only minor damage, this one was almost leveled. It looked as though one wing had collapsed. Maybe the mansion wa
s resting on a sandy foundation since it was so close to the beach. But then again, the inn was right across the street and had hardly been affected.

The woman pulled open a set of doors, and Abby followed her into a room filled with a large swimming pool; the air felt warm and moist. Surrounding the pool were large ceramic pots glazed in a multitude of rich colors—cobalt, scarlet, tangerine, and chartreuse. After the quake, the mansion had suffered years of neglect. Against those odds, this room was surprisingly well-preserved. It had become its own ecosystem, and the plants were thriving, feeding off the pool’s condensation. Rays of sunlight filtered through the dirty glass panes stretching floor to ceiling on each of the three walls opposite the room’s entrance. The glass appeared frosted, covered with tiny droplets of moisture. The woman pushed the heavy doors closed, blocking the cool air wafting in from the ballroom, and Abby felt a dizzying wave of heat as the temperature increased.

A giant seashell-shaped bowl encrusted with algae sat at the far end of the pool, and though water no longer coursed over its scalloped edges, Abby could hear dripping liquid echoing and reverberating off the walls. The pool was half empty, but still deep, and under the thick slime of algae on its walls, Abby could make out an art nouveau pattern embossed on the tiles.

Overhead, waves of light undulated on the ceiling, reflected from the surface of the water. The ceiling showcased a mural with an undersea motif, also in the art nouveau style. A beautiful mermaid floated serenely in a coral bed. Her delicate features, the scales on her tail, and her flowing green hair were highlighted in gold leaf. Behind her, in a deep cobalt and teal sea, was the outline of an underwater doorway on a mound of rocks. The frame of the doorway was intricate and exotic, Asian-looking.

The woman gestured to an antique pair of Chinese garden stools by the edge of the pool and sat down gracefully, arranging the folds of her ruined dress. Hesitantly, Abby sat beside her and waited.

“My name,” the woman said, “is Eulalia, and twenty-two years ago, I did not look like this.” Beginning with the assassination of her husband, the queen explained the events leading up to her disfigurement.

Abby needed some time to take it all in. Eulalia’s tale was strange, almost delusional sounding. Even so, there was something about the sincerity in her voice that made her story seem rational, like it was perfectly natural that there should be portals to a magical, parallel world filled with mythical creatures, and that she, this person who looked anything but majestic, should be a queen. If it weren’t for her own vivid dreams, her visions of David and the powerful connection she felt to him, and the experience she’d had with the shadow boy at the Buchans’, Abby might have thought the woman was crazy. But, because of her experiences, Abby found herself giving Eulalia the benefit of the doubt.

“Your own sister did this to you?” Abby asked.

“Yes. She did,” Eulalia said, without the tone of self-pity Abby might have expected. “She coveted what she could not have and betrayed me.”

“And where is she now?”

“I have not seen her since that fateful night. I know she cannot have crossed back over since she destroyed one portal and closed another. Sometimes I feel her, like she is near, but hidden just out of reach, impossible to find.”

“And the baby? He must be grown by now.”

Eulalia nodded. “He is. You have met him.”

“I have?”

“The boy from your dreams, and the boy I lost are one and the same. His human parents named him David Corbin.”

Abby shook her head. She was the one who had lost her mind—or else she was dreaming again.
That’s not possible. Is it?
It wasn’t that she couldn’t believe what she was hearing—after all the strange things that had happened in the past few weeks, it was easy to suspend her disbelief. The idea that David might be connected to this woman made a strange kind of sense, as much sense as any other explanation Abby had gleaned from her dreams. But she felt overwhelmed with questions, like she was trying to solve a puzzle with missing
pieces
.
“If it’s David Corbin, why hasn’t he come to you? And how do you know about my dreams? Where do I fit into all this?”

“My son has been kept from me all these years. Just as I have been imprisoned within the boundaries of this estate, he has been shielded from my presence. He has no knowledge about who he is or where he comes from. All my efforts to break the barrier myself have proven futile. I have, with some assistance, gotten a message to him, but Lucia’s followers made sure those who helped me were punished, and I am sure he has since forgotten all about the Sign of the Throne. I am sure they
made
him forget,” she added bitterly.

“The Sign of the Throne?” Abby asked.

“Yes, I will explain that in good time,” Eulalia responded. “First, allow me to answer your other two questions. The reason I know about your dreams is that like you, I am a cai aislingstraid—
c’aislingaer
for short. It means, ‘soul who walks in dreams.’ In our dreams, we have the power to see the future and to connect with other dreamers’ souls. In this connection, we can see into their thoughts and know what they have experienced and what they will experience. We do not have the ability to see everything, but the stronger the emotional bond, the more clearly we can see.

“And that is also the reason it is difficult to see those who serve the Dark. Unless they plan to interact directly with someone connected to you, their intentions and actions are veiled. Dreamwalking is like walking in the dark of night with a torch lighting your way. You can only see what is illuminated by the light. And because we have free will, the future is always changing. Nevertheless, once something is set in motion and gains momentum, it does tend to occur. Because of this, and because people tend to act within certain patterns, you can make fairly accurate predictions about what will happen. Do you understand?”

Abby nodded. She wasn’t sure she really understood about dreamwalking, but she saw no other alternative than to agree.

“I will try to teach you all I know about being a c’aislingaer. Now, as to your second question. The reason you are here is that I need your help. With each passing hour, the Darkness grows stronger. You have seen it yourself. If David does not take the throne of our kingdom before his twenty-third birthday, the dark lord Tynan Tierney, the Kruor um Beir, will be freed from the Wasteland and will rule. If that happens, both our worlds will be thrust into darkness, and there will be no stopping him. Monstrous creatures will enter your world, feeding off everyone they find. You have already connected with David—now your task is to remind him who he is.”

“How?” Abby asked. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to believe, to help, but how in the world could she relate this story to David? She couldn’t even hold a normal conversation with him, much less one like this.
Impossible,
she thought.
Just impossible. Hi David, you don’t know me, but it’s the craziest thing...

“I can see that you have doubts. It will not be easy. For thousands of years, my people, the People of the Light, have kept the Darkness at bay in a world hidden from yours.”

“Hidden how?”

“There are many other worlds you cannot see. Mine is only one of them, hidden behind the veils of time and space, a parallel universe—another planet, if you will. It is a place much different than your world—smaller, but much older.”

“What is it called?” Abby queried.

“Cai Terenmare. The name has great meaning to me, but I am afraid such an old name does not translate well literally. Metaphorically, however, it means ‘the soul, resting at sea.’”

“That sounds beautiful,” Abby said. “You miss it?”

Eulalia laughed, but Abby could hear no joy in her voice. “Horribly. It
is
a beautiful place. The view of the Western Sea from the Solas Beir’s castle, where I lived…my heart aches to think of it. That word,
cai
, has several meanings—‘soul,’ ‘heart,’ ‘home.’ The name of the castle, Caislucis, literally means ‘house of light.’”

“But if another language is spoken there, how is it you speak English?”

Eulalia laughed again, and this time she seemed genuinely amused. “So many questions, young one, and rightly so. I speak many languages. It is the gift of tongues, passed down through the blood of my people. Wherever our journeys take us, we are able to converse in the languages of other worlds. And some of our words have even become part of your world, influencing your languages, your cultures. There are stories about us that remain in your world, even if time has muddied the truth about what we are.”

“So, you’re not human, but that means you are…?”

“My people are powerful shape-shifters, nearly immortal, waging battle in forms representative of our true nature, our souls. That is why you first saw me as a white doe in your dream. Once we reach maturity, we never grow old. We
can
die—if we drown or are consumed by fire, poisoned by silver, or torn apart by those who serve the Dark. Still, as long as we can return to the pool of healing at Caislucis, we can heal from almost any wound.”

“So, once you return home, you’ll be okay?”

Eulalia nodded. “Yes. I will be restored, if only I can return.”

“Tell me about the Darkness.” Abby urged, finally giving in and accepting the odd turn her life was taking. If there was any chance to help, any hope for success, she would need to know as much as possible about what she was up against.

“Like my people, those who dwell in Darkness change shape to match their nature—but they are twisted, deceptive creatures who thirst for blood and power. They feed off those in the Light and all living creatures in your world. They are the Kruorumbrae, the Blood Shadows, and they have the ability to drain the life force from a body. They can even change into someone who looks and acts familiar to you, stealing that person’s body and using it as a disguise. Make no mistake—the Darkness
is
strong. Up until now, we have always had a Solas Beir among us who has kept the balance of power.”

“What is a Solas Beir?” Abby asked, mesmerized.