Wilde's Army (32 page)

“Leave us,” he says with no warmth in his tone.

“Yes, sir.” Rhoswen glances at me then disappears behind the heavy door.

Closing the distance between us, Perth places his hands under my elbows, taking care of me as he might a delicate flower. His chest presses against my back.

“Why are you so close to me?” I ask.

“We are about to step out for a celebration in our honor, and you ask why I am so close to you? You should get used to it.” He takes a firmer hold on my elbow then spins me around to face him. “They will expect us to show affections for one another. Will you be able to handle that?”

“I honestly don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Don’t?” Arland’s voice startles me. He stares at Perth with hostility I’ve never before seen displayed.

Brit walks in behind Arland, adorned in a new tunic and pants—nothing fancy for her. I’m the only one wearing a dress. She closes the door then trails behind him over to where Perth still holds me up against his body.

Shaking free of him, I run to Arland then wrap my arms around his neck. “Do not. Are you going to correct me every time I make a mistake?” I ask for the millionth time.

“If it will save your life … yes.” He holds me back. “It is too dangerous for us to hug even here, Katriona.”

“Sorry.” I back up then stand by Perth.

“His father will expect a show, so give him one. Kiss if you must, hold hands, sneak off, but do not go overboard. He will suspect something if you are too enthusiastic.”

“So I have permission to kiss the Great Arland Maher’s woman. How wonderful is this?”

I punch Perth in the gut.

“Definitely do not do anything like that in front of my father,” he says, wheezing. Perth grabs my hand then laces his fingers with mine.

I stare at our hands.

“So what were you and Rhoswen discussing?”

“She said you and your father are evil and everyone is sick of your family’s ways. She thinks I should leave and fight, and that she can sense I am good.”

Perth’s face drains; his color reminds me of the cloud I visited when I died. “We must tell my father.”

“He will kill her. Why would—?”

He grabs my forearms and shakes me. “She was trying to trap you. What did you say to her? Did you tell her anything?”

“Get your hands off her, Perth.” Arland sticks his arm between us, knocking Perth back a bit, then stands with his arms crossed over his chest and glares.

I watch the two, sure the testosterone will make one of them explode any moment. “What could I say? She asked if I had the power to end this war; I told her yes. She asked why I do not just go out and fight; I told her I cannot. Then she asked if love was involved, and I told her yes.”

“And that is all?” Perth asks.

“Yes. Your knock interrupted us from talking about anything else.”

“Do us all a favor. The next time anyone asks you anything, throw a fit. Whether they are on our side or not—and there are not very many Ground Dwellers who are—we cannot risk exposure. Be mean, threaten them, punch them if you have to, Katriona, but do not let it pass by lightly.”

Throw a fit? Perth’s father is deplorable; he’ll kill anyone who stands against him, or he’ll at least see them and their family diminished to nothing. I swallow hard. “Do you know which Ground Dwellers are on our side?”

“Yes, and Rhoswen is not one of them.” Perth mimics Arland’s stance. “You should be the one to tell my father.”

“
Me
? Why?” I ask, throwing my hands up.

“You have something to prove to him; I do not.” The corner of Perth’s mouth twists up. “Put on your best demure face. Make him think you do not understand how anyone could say we are evil, and mention how she offended you to the core.”

Brit rolls her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Kate would never speak that way.”

“No, Brit, Perth is right.” Arland stares at me, melting my insides with a combination of love and fear. “Kate has something to prove, and Dufaigh has spies. I do not doubt Dufaigh sent Rhoswen to test your sister.”

“But she’s a terrible liar.”

“Why don’t you lie for me then?”

He smiles. “Don’t?”

“
Arland
!” I say, stomping my foot.

“I am sorry. I am only trying to protect you.”

“I know, but I meant what I said. Brit is a wonderful liar, and I am not. You and I have things we need to talk about. Does it not make sense for her and me to switch places?” Never mind getting me out of kissing Perth and her Arland.

Now everyone in the room aside from me has their arms crossed over their chests.

“I am not going to kiss Perth for you. I’m not that good of a liar.”

Perth makes a small squeaking noise.

She puts up her hands. “Sorry, Perth, no offense.”

“Oh, none taken. I am just the man no women desire. Feels wonderful.”

She raises an eyebrow then looks at me with the same impatient scowl as before. “Do you seriously not trust me with Arland?”

“I do. I am just … .”

“Afraid to lie? Afraid to kiss Perth and hurt Arland? Afraid for me to kiss Arland and it hurt you? I can read your thoughts without even being in your head. I’m your sister, remember? You are smart and confident when you use your magic, why not when it comes to other things? You need to do whatever it is we’ve come here for, and you need to do it fast.” Brit turns on Arland; she’s taking control. She’s either not afraid anymore, or she’s beyond her tolerance level.

“Out in the hall you told your dad to send Cadman and Saidear to Wickward, but Kate needs an army. When will they be back?”

“It is another fifty miles to Wickward. Assuming they have no issues with daemons and are able to regain control of the base, it could be a week.”

She steps toward Perth, arms still crossed over her chest. “Okay, Perth, your dad said you could have two weeks to court Kate?”

His eyes widen. “Not specifically, but I believe we can get away with two weeks.”

“Kate, you have to unite everyone?” Brit asks, turning to me.

I love watching her take control. She’s just like our mom. “Yes. Where are you going with all this?”

“Well, the thing is, you’ve been given time to find a way to unite everyone. Perth’s dad won’t force him to do anything for at least two weeks, two of the best soldiers for your army will be back in a week, and all of that gives you time to do the uniting. I cannot do this for you; it was your task, your place in this world. We don’t know what mine is, but I don’t think it was to fill in as temporary Kate when life gets too tough. If you need to talk to Arland tonight, I won’t get in the way, but I will not kiss him for you,” she says, pointing at Perth. “And I won’t lie to his dad for you either. So don’t ask.”

“You are right.” I sigh. “This is my problem, and it was wrong for me to ask you to do anything. I will throw the fit to Dufaigh, kiss Perth—”

“You make that sound awful.” Perth stares at his feet.

I ignore his pouty lips. “And then if I can borrow you for a while, I will talk to Arland.”

“Okay,” Brit says.

“Meetings with all of us will only draw attention—we should go.” Arland holds out his hand.

Brit heads toward the door first, followed by Perth, but Arland stops me on my way by.

“I will not enjoy this any more than you, but please, do not worry about my feelings. I know where your heart lies.” He kisses my cheek then nudges me to pass.

Walking away from him is like walking away from my foundation; every step cracks another piece.

Perth offers me his hand. “Ready?”

“I guess.”

Brit opens the door, and the four of us make our way through the dark halls. The floor and walls are made of stone, but time has not done this place well. Dirt reveals itself through fissures, like nature is trying to reclaim what doesn’t belong. The further along we travel through the ancient base, following along twisting paths and up staircases, the stronger the smell of food becomes.

Our pace quickens. Another set of stairs is a minor inconvenience on our quest for sustenance. Suddenly the worry about the lies and my mom and everything else fade away, and all I think of is chicken and bread and vegetables. The warm smell of wheat and flour transport me back home to the farm. Mom would bake bread on the weekends and serve it to me and Gary after long hard days of work.

Boots clack on the steps as we run up. Breathing heavy, we round another corner then come face-to-face with two huge, round wooden doors armed with guards easily recognizable as Ground Dwellers. The more I meet, the more I realize their lack of color and size is what gives them away. These guards don’t carry spears or swords; instead, they are outfitted with leather battle armor on their arms and chests. Their eyes reflect no emotion. Their faces are hard and empty.

“Why does the great room need guards?” I ask Perth, tugging at his hand like an innocent child.

He kisses my forehead. “For your protection, of course.”

“Are these big oafs planning to move from our way?” I bat my eyelashes.

The one on the left laughs under his breath and steps aside. “Katriona Wilde I presume?”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Not as important as you.” With a nod and a smile aimed at me, the small man takes hold of the door’s iron handle and tugs. He groans and pulls with considerable effort, and after what should have taken a strong man a few seconds, the door opens allowing light and smells and music to pour out into the hall.

“After you,” he says, holding out his hand for us to pass.

Linking arms and thanking the guards, Brit and Arland go through first. I open my mouth to say thank you as well, but Perth pinches me.

“Ow. Why did you do that?”

He winks at the chivalrous Ground Dweller then looks down at my arm. “I did not do a thing.”

I pinch him back.

“Ow. Why did
you
do that?”

Patting his hand, I say, “Stop playing games, Perth. I am hungry, and we have serious business to speak with your father about.”

He chuckles. “This is why I love you. You are always about business.”

The music stops. There could be no worse time for this. Hundreds of people fill the room, scattered about like small cliques at a high school dance, and every single one of them have their eyes on us and will surely hear what I’m about to say, but I have to say it. As much as I don’t mean it, I have to say it.

Keeping my eyes on Perth, I squeeze his hand—mostly to keep from falling over, but onlookers won’t know that. “And I love you because you have a way of making me smile in serious times like these.”

No one speaks. The music doesn’t restart, and I’m afraid to look at anyone. I gather up my courage and peek ahead at the Leader’s table—it’s about twenty feet away. Arland and Brit have already arrived and watch Perth and I as we approach; neither appear the least bit fazed by the exchanged I love yous. However, those sitting at the Leader table share mixed looks of wide eyes and wide smiles.

Two empty chairs sit behind the middle of the table while two more empty chairs sit behind its right side. I don’t have to guess to know who the ones in the middle belong to, and it makes me sick. High Leader Maher belongs at the center of the table, and if not him, it should be Arland and me. Perth has no business there.

“Glad you could finally make it. We were beginning to worry your guard had failed you as he has failed so many others,” Dufaigh says, standing. He looks down the other side of the table at High Leader Maher, Leader Murchadha, and the beautiful woman next to him, then my mother.

“Show some respect. My son is here with his future wife. Soon he will rule Encardia. Stand.”

“There is not much for him to rule,” someone calls from behind us.

I look over my shoulder, but cannot tell who made the comment.

Dufaigh shakes his head. “It is a shame you cannot control your people, Kimball. If any of my own spoke that way, I would have them killed.”

Leader Maher glances into the crowd. The strong man from the communications room when I visited through the chatter box is not here. Something in him is gone. Fight. Tenacity. Passion. I don’t know how to describe it, but the way he looks for whoever spoke out makes me think he’d like to tell the person to shut up and stop bothering him. Maybe he’s ready to die or sick of the fight.

After twenty years of this, I’d be done too.

“Never mind who dishonored their Leader, right Kimball?” Dufaigh returns his attention to us and places his hand on top of his fat belly. “Please, Son, Katriona, come take your seats. Arland, Brites, you may have a seat at the end. Enjoy it while you can, for soon you will have no place at this table.”

Arland squares his shoulders. “I would rather sit with the people. Keep your seats. Brites?” He offers his arm, and she links hers through, then they walk away.

I wish I was her right now.

“Suit yourself then.” Dufaigh glares after Arland. “Make sure you are always within sight of Katriona.”

If Dufaigh only knew how important that was to his own survival, would he still be playing these power games?

Perth takes my hand and leads me to the other side of the table. He pulls out my chair, and I take a seat next to High Leader Maher. He offers me a smile, but little else as far as pleasantries go.

Dufaigh snaps his fingers. “Camlin!”

A Ground Dweller comes from a door behind the Leader table then waits by Dufaigh like a dog waiting for commands. “Yes, sir?”

“Bring these two their meals. The girl should have extra portions”—Leader Dufaigh glances at me—”she could stand to gain a few pounds. And tell Abenzio to play more music. This is a celebration and everyone is standing around staring.”

He faces the crowd. “Eat. Drink. Have a good time. My son is here with the long lost Katriona.”

Heat rises into my cheeks. I should take his concern for my weight as a compliment, but coming from him, I know it’s not—plus I’ve seen myself in a mirror, I’m not a pretty sight.

Perth leans next to my ear. “I believe you look beautiful. No matter what, and no matter who you truly love.”

“Tha—”

Flutes tweet out a sweet melody, interrupting the chattering crowd and my thanks to Perth for his unwelcome compliment. Camlin returns and places a plate with a heaping portion of food in front of me.