Wilde's Fire (Darkness Falls #1) (26 page)

He chuckles. “Of course. Have you seen enough, or would you like to see more?”

“We can keep going; I have definitely not seen enough.”

Leading me from the garden, Arland explains how Flanna lights the candles throughout both buildings in the morning, and he snuffs them out at night.

The next stop is the communications room. It’s the first time I’ve been able to peek in here. My expectations have not been met. Back home, if someone had said a military communications room would be full of nothing more than a few chairs, I would have laughed. But that’s pretty much all there is here—three chairs, and one long table with a small wooden box sitting on the corner, buzzing with static. The contraption appears to be an old radio, but there’s no electricity in Encardia.

“What is that on the table?”

“That is a chatter box. When someone wishes to send a message, an announcement is made through the box. We connect to it mentally, but when the message is delivered, an apparition appears in the room.”

“An apparition? Like a ghost?”

“No, the person fully materializes, but cannot stay for long. Staying in the device takes a lot of energy and concentration. Aside from the box to communicate with other bases, we can also connect with people, which is why we have this quiet room back here.”

“You don’t need the box for that?”

“No.”

I nod. It’s the best I can come up with. A telepathic army is like something from science-fiction movies, not from reality—certainly not my own.

Arland closes the door and leads me up to the stables. “Mirain has missed you.”

“I was acting very selfishly,” I say, guilt creeping into my thoughts once again.

“You have handled yourself quite well. If it had been me leaving a happy world full of sunshine, I might have tried to escape this place to get back there, several times by now.”

So he did think I’d try to escape. I knew he wasn’t worried about anything getting into the stables. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Arland looks down at me and smiles. I know he would never leave his people, and neither will I. It wouldn’t be right, even if I have only recently discovered Draíochtans; they are my own and need help.

Mirain sighs a few times when I walk into her stall.

I rub her between her eyes. “Hey there, girl.”

I use the wall to help me mount, but Arland stands in the stall with me. “Are you going to get on Bowen?”

“I would like for you to ride with me.”

I slide from Mirain. “Next time, girl.”

She whinnies when I leave.

Arland climbs onto Bowen, offers me his hand, then pulls me up. Wrapping my arms around Arland’s waist, I lean into his back.

“Where are we going?”

“To the river.”

Once clear of the stables, Bowen gallops at full speed, following the familiar path toward the perimeter. I’m not used to sitting on the rear of a horse, but I could get used to holding on to Arland this way. I lock my hands around him. His torso blocks the cold air from hitting me, and his muscles flex more strongly, the harder he rides. I enjoy the closeness of our bodies, how right I feel when we touch.

Arland turns Bowen left off the path. Our pace is much slower through the trees. I try blocking the thoughts of daemons jumping onto me from the branches, but I can’t. Fear pricks up my arms. My hold on Arland tightens, and I look all around.

He glances over his shoulder. “Kate, there is nothing to be afraid of. I had my men run a thorough check of the spell around the perimeter, before bringing you out here.”

“But daemons can get through, though, right?”

“They can pass through, but would not know you are here.”

“Flanna told me the spells can fail.”

Arland clasps one of his hands over mine. “Everything is going to be okay.”

His touch calms me; I decide to trust him—not that I ever haven’t. I rest my head on his back again and allow him to ride Bowen without further distractions.

The sounds of rushing water become louder, the farther along we ride. I cannot see anything, but we must be very close to the river. The trees here are greener than those closer to the main path; the grasses growing up around us still have life in them. Bowen’s hooves clop as he steps on small rocks lining the ground. Arland rides us forward for another five minutes, then stops at the edge of a cliff. The sound of the water is deafening.

“We are here.”

“Where?”

“As close to home as we can get.”

“The Meadows?”

“Yes.” He climbs down Bowen, then offers me a hand.

I take hold of Arland and slide from the horse. “Do you miss your home?”

“I miss my mother, mostly.” His voice is quiet and full of sadness.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t old enough to understand the loss of my dad, but I wish I knew him,” I say, trying to empathize with Arland.

He points across the dark space in front of us. “The Meadows is about thirty miles on the other side of this river.”

I feel the emptiness around us, and hear the river flowing below, but I cannot see more than ten feet.

Arland turns to me. “From time to time, I come out here by myself, so I can think. I feel close to my mother here, to the past, to hope for a better future. All the leaders from around the world lived there; it is where we will live when this is over.”

Part of me wants to blurt the question
together
, but I don’t. He’s brought me to his special place, where he feels close to his mother, and where he comes to think when times are tough—I’m not going to take anything away from what this section of the forest means to him.

“You asked who Perth is,” Arland says, his tone flat.

Fear builds and rises in me. “Y-yes.”

“Perth is a Ground Dweller. His people built the underground structures we now call home.”

“Flanna told me. She also said there was a price that had to be paid.” My palms sweat. Something tells me this conversation is not going to end well. “Arland, what price had to be paid for their help?”

Arland grips my hands in his. “
You
were the price.”

Thankfully he’s holding me up, because I could fall over any second. “Excuse me?” I say, shivering.

His words stole warmth from the air.

“Perth’s father, Leader Dufaigh, was jealous of your father and the reverence so many people had for him. The Ground Dwellers knew from their own Seer, a war was coming, and they were aware you were going to be an important part of that war, but they did not know, fully, to what extent.”

“What did my involvement in the war have to do with my father?”

“Dufaigh, and our High Leader at the time, were threatened. Your father was already powerful; having a daughter who would play an important part in ending a war made him practically unconquerable.”

“Unconquerable? What could conquer him?”

“A quest for power. The Ground Dwellers wanted it—and still do—and the High Leader did not want to lose it. Your father had plans to restructure the way we govern our world. He wanted Leaders to be chosen, not appointed by blood.”

“He wanted a democracy? Elections?”

“Yes. He did not think it was fair to have High Leaders chosen years in advance, before knowing what their true personalities were like.”

“But that’s fair. Why would they not want that?”

“Your father would have won the initial elections without any problems. Dufaigh and the High Leader were selfish, and afraid of losing everything, so they made a deal for you to be bound to Perth by marriage.”

I ball my fists, clench my teeth. “So bound means marriage?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s it? My life is not my own. I already belong to Perth?”

“No, not yet. Before a proper marriage takes place, your mother must cast a Binding spell over you and Perth. Even if she were here, I doubt she would willingly do so. However, if you are discovered, I am positive the Ground Dwellers would seek a way around your mother.”

I draw in a deep breath. “And why would any of this hurt my father?”

“They were sure your father would lose the election if he was connected to the Ground Dwellers.”

“Were they right?”

“The changes never took place. Shortly after the deal was made, your family disappeared.”

“Because I was born, and my parents had to get me away?”

“Yes, and Dufaigh could not have been more pleased by the disappearance.”

“With my father out of the picture, why am I still promised to Perth?”

“When the war began, news of your prophecy made it around to some of the other Leaders. Dufaigh thirsted for power, so he decided not to rescind the marriage agreement. For fear of what the Ground Dwellers might try to do to me, my father kept quiet about my part in your future. But I imagine when they learn we have been sharing a bed, they will try to kill me,” Arland says, taking my hands and squeezing.

My head feels like it will explode. I cannot believe someone would think it’s okay for my marriage rights to be
taken
away. As if I’m something that can be traded for favors.

I want to yell at the world, tell off whoever it was who made this deal. “Arland, I am not the type to be told what I can and cannot do.
I
will decide who and when I will marry.”

Arland doesn’t respond.

There’s so much he’s been holding back, about me, about him, about
everything
. “What did your prophecy say about you?” I demand.

“That I would be Keeper of Light,” Arland says, leaving out loads of detail, I’m sure.

“What else?” I demand again.

Arland kicks a pebble into a tree.

“What else?” I ask, my voice a little weaker this time.

He leads me to a boulder a few feet away, and we sit down. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes, I’m sick of not knowing as much as everyone else.”

“Prophecies are not always definite—people and visions can change. Sometimes they do not make any sense to us, and sometimes they are clear.”

“I get it.”

“My prophecy said I would be Keeper of Light, forever, even after Darkness fades. It stated, as long as I held Light in my arms, she would be safe, powerful, and the world would be guarded from evil. Light’s happiness means Encardia’s Light. There is a lot of other information that does not make much, if any, sense.”

He’s already given me enough to make my heart stop.

We have to be together for Encardia to be safe, but how can Arland and I have a future when there are those who seek power, and know he stands in their way? “So, if Perth’s father was aware of this, he would kill you for it?”

Arland stares at our fingers laced together. “If Perth, or any Ground Dweller, knew who you were, they would kill me. Never in our history has a Coimeádaí
not
fallen in love with the one he was protecting.”

Is he trying to tell me something? The dreams I’ve had for years—of Arland holding me, us making love—they were all true. Maybe not entirely, but I was so happy in his arms, so at ease. The world was almost always bright and cheerful when we were together. It wasn’t until he died that the dreams became dark, except for the one of us in the cave behind the falls. “Can’t your father reverse the promise made to Leader Dufaigh?”

“While it is possible for my father to do that, he will not. Our people do not need a reason to war with each other while Darkness is here.”

“But—”

“He has to maintain peace, Kate. There is nothing he can do—no matter what he knows.”

“So, he’ll let the Ground Dwellers make decisions for him and allow the world to die?”

“He is not controlled by the Ground Dwellers, and the world will not die. But another war would give Darkness the opportunity to finish us off.”

“Did your prophecy mention anything about
you
dying?”

“No. And Perth does not know, and cannot find out, who you are.”

“But you told him I’m from The Meadows. Won’t he be able to put it together?” I ask, suddenly concerned about everything I’ve said and done and every step taken since I’ve been here. Would it be enough for Perth to realize who I am? He stared at me for the longest time while I sat in the dining room yesterday; does he already know?

“He would not be expecting you to say you are from The Meadows. Your family has been missing for over twenty years. But I am sure his father has told him of your prophecy. If we discover your magic, we will have to keep it from him. I will not allow him to be Bound to you, even if I have to fight everyone to protect you.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Tell me something. Do you feel different when you are around me?”

“Y-yes,” I stammer. I’m afraid I might have a heart attack if this rapid pace keeps up.

“You fight better around me, you can
see
the sun when you are near me—”

“Do you think you have something to do with my magic?”

Arland smiles nervously. “My prophecy said you would be safe
and
powerful in my arms. I believe I might have something to do with it.”

If I had to describe every feeling coursing through me right now, my explanation would come out all confused—which is probably the best way to sum them up. I get the sinking suspicion I’m not the only one with emotions here, but he still resists getting any nearer to me. I’m shaking; anticipation, frustration, fear, excitement, anger … I’m not even sure why.

Arland puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls my head onto his chest; his heart pounds.

“I am sorry,” he says.

“What are you sorry for?”

“That I had to bring you out here to tell you this. I did not feel comfortable talking about it where someone might overhear.”

“It was for the best; if you told me back there, I might have hurt someone.” I try to make light of the situation.

“And I am sorry for what Anna said.”

“She’s a child; they know nothing about secrets.”

He laughs.

“So, in order for you to become High Leader, you have to be Bound to someone?”

“Yes.”

I bite my tongue, afraid to ask if he’s been promised to someone else, the way I have. His response has the potential to break my heart.

“Perth watches you.”