Wilde's Fire (Darkness Falls #1) (24 page)

“Do not apologize to me. Arland is the one who had to explain to everyone how you thought your family must have died.”

I stop turning the crank on the butter barrel and stare at her, mouth wide open. “What?”

“How else was he to excuse you from duties for two days? You are lucky we kept everyone away from you. You would have felt pretty bad when the others tried to share their stories of pain and suffering with you, in an attempt to make you feel better,” she says, full of sarcasm.

“Make me feel
better
?” I ask, not sure how stories of painful loss can help anyone.

“Commiserate, make you feel good; however you wish to look at it.”

Flanna is right; if everyone shared their stories of loss with me, I probably would’ve locked myself in my room for a month. Brad might be sick, but I have not lost him, and I still have a chance to see my sister and mom again. These people have gone through hell. Nothing in my life can compare to anything they’ve experienced.

“How can you tell what time it is?” This has been bothering me since I arrived.

“We can feel what time it is. You may not see the sun in the sky, but it is there, hidden by Darkness. I can sense it when it rises and sets. Has the sun not always been something you have focused on?”

“I always notice the sun, but here, I cannot feel it.” I remember stepping onto the porch the day before our trip, watching the sunrise, and feeling the warmth of its rays on my skin.

Chills crawl across my arms.

“Clear your mind. Close your eyes, and think about the sun.”

I do as she instructs, and think only of the bright, orange fireball in the sky, but I don’t feel anything. “Nothing.”

She closes her eyes and smiles. “Try every day. If you try hard enough, you will feel it.”

“Do you do this every night?”

“What?”

“Cook, clean, work in the stables, prepare for the next day.”

“Before you arrived here, I had kitchen
and
stable duties. Your help in both has allowed me a lot more free time. I would have finished with everything much earlier, but I allowed you to wallow all day, so we could be alone for a while after dinner.”

“It hardly seems fair you have both duties.”

“A lot of things are unfair, but we live in difficult times. If you have not noticed, there are not a lot of women around here. When Darkness attacked, most of the women and children were killed first. We were the easiest ones to attack, and the pain of losing us made the men easier targets. It also nearly made breeding impossible, so our chances of survival went down further. Only the strongest of us survived. I am good in the kitchen, and more patient with the animals than most of the men. I was willing to accept these duties.”

“You will not have to do them alone again.”

“I know, that is why I love you so much. Now, get back to work. I am sure Arland will be here looking for you soon, and we have not peeled the potatoes yet.”

“You love me?” I say, playing along.

“How can I not? You have shown me more kindness than most. And you make my cousin smile.”

“Where has Arland been for the last two days?” I ask, worrying about his safety for the first time since I stormed away in the stables yesterday.

“He is more than likely trying to figure out how to get you through that portal.”

“Oh.” I’ve treated Arland unjustly these last couple days. I don’t know if he assumed I was upset with him or not, but he did not deserve the temper tantrum I threw—or the silent treatment.

Flanna hands me a knife, and we peel the potatoes without talking, cubing them and setting them aside for breakfast in the morning. She tells me to go to bed, after I yawn for what feels like the thousandth time, but I’m not skipping out on her. If she has to be awake, I will stay up with her.

We take only a few more minutes to finish preparing the kitchen for tomorrow. Turning to head off to bed, I stop when I see Arland leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks nervous, and doesn’t greet me with the smile I’m used to seeing.

“Hi!” I say in a high-pitched tone, taking a few steps toward him.

He offers a nervous smile, as he stands straight. “Do you still wish to have alone time?”

I look over my shoulder at Flanna and mouth a silent
thank you
. If it weren’t for our talk earlier, I might have told him I
did
want more alone time, and that I’d never bother him again. “No. I’m sorry I was so rude to you earlier.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Arland holds out his arm for me.

I accept, and we go to our room.

Pushing open the door and moving aside, Arland allows me to enter first. I walk toward the bed, but he grabs some towels and my hand, then pulls me toward the bathroom without offering time to protest.

“That bad, huh?” I ask, bringing him into a full fit of laughter.

“You only smell a little like goats,” he teases.

“Well you smell like—” I put my nose to his chest and sniff his shirt. “Good. No, I mean, bad.” Truthfully, he does smell good; like a man, but also like the forest on a dew-filled morning.

Arland snuffs out the candles burning in the hall while we walk. The only light left burning in the base—at least on this side—comes from the candles we hold in our hands. He opens the bathroom door. Steam from the spring greets us as we enter; the candles flicker out of control. He sets his on the floor next to the enclosure, and I do the same on the other side.

We take off our clothes. I climb into the water first. The bath is refreshing in more than one way—my skin gets clean, Arland and I are talking again, and my heart is less broken. I tell him all about my day with Flanna—leaving out the part about my misunderstanding of his feelings—and how I’m going to help her from now on. He doesn’t disagree; she shouldn’t be the only woman responsible for feeding an entire army, but he’s going to take on stable duty with me. The task will be ours to share. Flanna will no longer be responsible, unless we’re not around. Everything seems equal, so I agree; plus, it gives me guaranteed alone time with him.

“Has she professed her love for you yet?” Arland asks, pulling my head to his chest.

I place my hand on the surface of the water and wiggle my fingers, watching the ripples. “She has.”

“My cousin does not normally make friends with others.”

“She seems nice enough. Why would anyone not want to be her friend?” I lift my head to see his face.

“She is born of Leader blood. People treat her differently.”

“Like they do you?”

“As they soon will you.”

“If I live.” I place my cheek against his chest; warm water plays at the corner of my lips.

“You will live.”

“Are people appointed to leadership by blood lines? No elections, no choice?”

“There is only choice for High Leader, but even that is not for the public to decide.”

“Who decides?”

“All the Leaders come together to choose.”

“How was your father chosen, if he took the position a year after the war began?”

“The decision was made years before. Fifteen men and women are chosen as High Leaders, well in advance of their terms. If something happens, and the duty cannot be fulfilled, another person is ready to take their place. Some on the list never serve.”

“Then you know who will take your father’s place after he quits—or however that works? How long does someone remain in that position?”

“I will tell you more about being a Leader, but later.”

Does he not want to talk about politics? Is there something he has to hide? I listen to his heartbeat speeding up, then slowing down, speeding up, then slowing down. I don’t ask, but I am dying to know what he’s keeping from me. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, then lets out a deep breath and sits in silence.

I’m so comfortable in his arms, in this endless supply of perfectly warm water, that I drift in and out of sleep.

“Kate?” my sister says.

“Brit?”

“I’m sorry I never told you the truth about who you are. Brit and I are waiting for you to come get us.” These are Mom’s words, but my sister’s voice.

“We can’t get through; we’ve already tried. Arland says Griandor has closed the portal until I fulfill my prophecy.”

“Griandor would not do such a thing, but his sister would. Explore your heart, Kate.”

“What does that mean?”

“Figure out who . . . .”

“Mom?”

“Kate?” Arland’s gentle voice interrupts.

“Mom?” I ask, hoping to hold onto the strangest dream I’ve ever had.

“I asked if you were ready to sleep, but I already know your answer.”

Arland scoops me out of the bath, then sets me down on the floor. He wraps a towel around my body, one around himself, then carries me to our room. Arland returns me to my feet and turns his head.

I strip out of the soggy things, then slip my nightgown over my clean skin. Once dressed, we crawl into our bed, and I curl into him. I’ve become addicted to the feel of his arms around me, the warmth of his touch on my skin.

“You never allowed me to apologize for not getting through the portal to your family,” he says.

Portal? The dream. My mom talking with Brit’s voice … .

“I believe we should meet my father, soon. Two weeks should be long enough to get everyone ready.”

I rest my head on his chest. “Everyone?”

“We will leave a few behind, to care for Brad.”

The thought of leaving Brad behind steals air from my lungs. I don’t know what to say, so I shake my head. “Does Griandor have a sister?”

“He does. Her name is Gramhara. What makes you ask?”

Yawning, I close my eyes. “A dream I had about my mom.”

The rapid beating of his heart fills my ears. “You have very interesting dreams.”

“What is Gramhara the goddess of?”

“Love,” he says, breathless.

Pulling my head from his chest, I look into his eyes; he stares at the ceiling. Whatever he’s thinking about, his thoughts are far away from here. I duck my head back into him and fall asleep.

aking up in Arland’s arms, after a dreamless night, makes me happier than I imagined a man could make me feel. I’m safe, calm, warm, and happy when I’m with him.

He’s still sleeping. Sitting up in our bed, I practice
feeling
the sun. Flanna said I should clear my mind, reach out for it. What better time than now, while I have no one distracting me?

Crossing my legs, I rest my hands on my knees, as if to meditate. Really, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I guess starting this way is as good as any.

Where are you, sun? What time is it?

I don’t honestly expect an answer. And of course, I don’t get one.

I picture blue ridges on mountains, green leaves on trees, the bright orange horizon, and the rolling pastures of our farm back in Virginia. I think of the swimming hole, the clearing, Darkness, the dying trees, what Encardia would look like if the sun were shining right now. “Where are you, sun?” I ask again, this time a little too loudly.

Arland sits up in bed, concern written all over his face. “Are you having dreams again?”