I search their ranks for Lance, finding him at the back again, his eyes watching the streets. He does that when he's trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. He'll go into his Sinister Fox mode and turn everything off. I rode with him yesterday, wanting to make sure he knew that I was there should he want to talk. He didn't, and after Darius and all of them misted away and told us to keep going south, I made sure he got an earful about how he'd regret not going with his sister to make sure she didn't get injured or anything. He told me that she was in perfectly capable hands, which made me gape and then go on a whole other yelling spree.
All the guards pushed their horses faster and we soon fell slightly behind them. I could tell that they thought it was a private matter - which it was - but that didn't mean I was going to stop yelling because they were uncomfortable with hearing us argue. We fought for the few hours that they were all gone, all up until The Ginerva showed up covered in black, sticky, rotting, goo and said we had a change of plans. I leaped out of the saddle I shared with Lance when they got there, practically jumping into Nilsa's arms when they said we needed to mist to Litchelle.
I'm still mad at him. He doesn't want to talk to me, fine, but he needs to talk to someone - anyone. I couldn't give a lesser shit about who it was. Heathens, I'd even be thankful if he talked to Will. It'd be so much better than him keeping it all inside and never saying a word.
He catches my eye as everyone starts to mount their horses. I can see the pleading in his own eyes past the balaclava and hood, and though my heart tugs towards it, I end up jumping in front of Nilsa on her horse. If he's not willing to talk, then neither am I. It's as simple as that.
It doesn't take us too long to make it out of the city. Everyone's got a conversation going, falling easily into banter and laughter. My mind's too worried about those people who will likely leave sometime tonight to head for Cadorelin. We'd never know if they died in four days' time. We won't know how many will be dead by the end of it, and we can't give one of these bracelets to everyone.
"Why don't you have water wolves?" I ask Darius. He looks at me with raised brows. I glance around, finding everyone having stopped their conversation to look at me. "What?"
"It's been two hours and you haven't said a word," Nilsa explains. "That's rather abnormal for you."
"Shut up." I can feel her smirking behind me. I turn back to Darius. "Why don't you have water wolves?"
"Probably because he can't control water," Mak points out. I shove a middle finger in her direction.
"I know that, asshole. I mean...Clarice can make wolves like a baker who bakes cookies by the dozen. Where's your fire...lions or tigers or otters or something?"
"Otters?" Darius gives me his 'really' look.
"Hey, I'm not one to judge."
"I see it more of as a fire...dragon," Ethan says, squinting up at the sky as if he's picturing it flying above us.
"A fire dragon would be pretty cool," Henry agrees.
"Do dragons exist?" Mal asks Vanya.
She laughs, then takes note of his serious expression. "Wait, you're serious? You really think I would know?"
"I don't know. You all just seem to know everything."
"I'm one-hundred and twenty-nine, not a hundred centuries old." She shifts in her saddle, shaking off the insult of her age. It's like calling a twenty-year-old a hundred and fifty. I think.
"Oh, my bad," he says sarcastically.
"The closest thing we've seen to a dragon was the Banevenin, and that was yesterday," Rohana interludes, cutting in before Vanya can leap off of her saddle and tackle Mal to the floor. I'm partially saddened that I won't get to see the fight.
"Honestly, Mal," Ozzie scolds, pulling his horse up beside them. "You're stupid to think that these immortal women who were born decades before us on nothing but a secluded island, ruled by magical beings, and plagued by an evil overlord who could summon mythical creatures from the Underworld such as the Banevenin and Raver, could have ever seen a mythical creature such as a plain dragon."
Several snorts rise out of The Bhaltayr's noses, and I am trying really hard not to succumb to my own laughter. They do have a point.
Dee pulls up alongside Ozzie and leans over. "Duck."
"What?" A second later Mak's arm hurls a decent-sized rock at his head. "Ow! I-"
"Don't look at me. You deserved that," Darius says when Ozzie looks to him for defense.
"He's right." Mak hurls another rock, but this one hits Mal in the head this time "That's for calling Vanya old."
"You're all old - young! You're all very, very young." This time I do laugh at Alister's close save before Mak threw a rock at him. Where is she getting those rocks anyways?
"So where's your wolf?" I ask Darius again, returning to the subject at hand before another one of these idiot boys gets a lump on their head.
He smirks at me for a moment before answering. "You still have that bracelet I gave you?" I hold up my wrist with the glass ball bracelet, the flame flickering inside. He unsheaths one of his small daggers, holding it out to me by the blade. "Break it."
I stare at the knife, a dozen dark thoughts flying through my head. I have a knife, but it's in that tricky sheath that I have yet to find a way to open. "What?"
"Break it."
Slowly, trusting that Nilsa will take the knife should I accidentally drop the sharp blade, I grab the handle and take the dagger. I take even breaths as I untie the twine and then set the glass ball on top of the saddle horn. Gripping the handle, I point the tip of the blade upward. I keep my eyes glued to the small flame, not trusting myself with looking at the sharp edge. I glance at Darius one more time, unsure of why he's having me do this. Then I take the pommel and smash the glass with it.
The flame inside bursts to life, stealing my breath as its heat sears my skin but never burns it. A bird-like cry calls out, and then the flame is rising above our heads.
I look upward, my jaw hitting the ground when it sees what the flame has become.
"What is it?" I hear Winston ask.
"It's a fire phoenix," Clarice answers.
One big fire phoenix. Just one of its wings is easily longer than the water wolf's body length. Its eyes burn so bright they're white, its tail fanning out into a hundred flaming feathers, and its talons look sharp enough to slice through flesh and bone.
It's...beautiful.
It's some eighty feet up in the air, but I can see every detail on its body. It cries out again, its voice just as harmonious and beautiful as its design. There'd be no doubt in anyone's mind that this creature is here to help when they hear its call.
It flips and then swoops down, shrinking to the size of an eagle as it lands on Darius's outstretched arm. "Still prefer an otter?"
The phoenix's head turns to me, and unlike any other bird's head that would be making quick movements, hers just glides, as if she were a goddess and all too ethereal for such animalistic behavior. "No. This is fine."
A proud smile dances on his lips as he chuckles. I can't take my eyes off of the bird or that tail that looks fluffy despite it being made of flames. How is that possible? How is any of this possible?
I suppose I'm just waiting for myself to wake up back in my servant's quarters that held a dusty bed and single nightstand, and then realize that my reality is the fact that none of this happened, and I never had this grand adventure of friends and love, and my life is just plain pathetic. And when I wake up and try to go back to sleep to come back, nothing but darkness drifts into my brain. All I'll have are the snippets that I can remember because, despite everything, my brain will erase most of it. This could all be a dream, and wake every morning scared that it's all gone.
The phoenix flaps its wings, lifting easily off of his arm and hovering over us before swooping in front of Víđarr. The wolf yips up at it, his tail wagging. I'm pretty sure if Víđarr wasn't carrying Clarice on his back, he'd go and play with the phoenix. Clarice has a wide grin at both his reaction and the new mystic oddity soaring overhead, though, which makes me happy.
"You know," Nilsa whispers so low in my ear that I can barely hear her. "There are two types of people who hesitate to grab a blade. One who knows the damage it could do unto others, and one who knows the damage it can do unto one's self."
"You need not worry, Katarina. There are too many people in this world who would stop that blade before it could so much as tickle your skin. If you do not believe that, then remember that Darius gave you that bracelet, and though you would have to break the glass to free the phoenix, it would've broken through if you tried to harm yourself. Remember that when you wear this."
She holds up another bracelet with a flame in the glass ball. Gently taking the dagger still in my hand and then cradling my wrist, she ties it around it and lets go, leaning back and leaving me with her words.
I already knew that there would be people around me who would be an anchor against the depression I can fall into. I already knew that I'd be protected from my own dark thoughts, but the thing is, I haven't had any recently. I mean there's the occasional freeze-up when I can get into overthinking episodes, but nothing more. Nothing...nothing as bad as when I used to glance out of the windows of Claritia's rooms and stare at the floor, wondering what it'd feel like to fall. Would it hurt when I landed? Or would I feel better and rid of the loneliness and pain and the quiet around me but the roaring in my head?
Nightmares may take me there every now and then, but I wake up cradled in Lance's arms, and everything fades away. I talk to Clarice and everything fades away. I joke and play with the new friends I've made, from pirates to idiotic boys to powerful women, and it all turns to background noise. Every time I notice it I realize how their company, their friendship, is the thing that makes everything go away. It's the loneliness that brings it all back.
I hate loneliness.
We stop an hour later, pulling out food and water for both us and the horses. I keep one eye on Clarice, waiting until she finally separates herself from Darius's hip to grab her hand and pull her towards a tree with a few rocks to sit on.
"Kat, what are you doing?"
"Come on. Sit." I tug her down onto one of the rocks and sit across from her. We're far enough away where no one can hear us so long as we don't yell. I hand her some cheese and jerky before leaning toward her. "Spill."
She glances between me and the food, her brows bent in confusion. "Spill what? The cheese?"
"What? No - spill the gossip."
"Uh...I don't..."
"Oh, for Saint's sake, must I spell it out? What's going on between you and Darius?"
Her eyes suddenly snap to the food in her hands and she fiddles with the snack uneasily. "What - nothing."
"Okay, first of all, you answered that way too quickly. Secondly, you've become a terrible liar. And third, you're avoiding eye contact with me which tells me that you're lying and there is something going on between you two."
"Nothing's going on between us," she mumbles.
"Oh, really? Then look me in the eyes and say it." Her eyes find mine and her mouth opens, but no words come out. My face breaks out into a wild grin. "You are totally falling for him."
"I am not," she snaps, casting a worried glance around us to check for listening ears. At this point, there is no distance that could stop certain heightened hearing ears from listening, and they all already suspect themselves, so no point in hiding it.
"Yes. You are. You like him." I poke her in the arm playfully. "You really-" poke "-like-" poke "-him." Poke.
"Of course I like him. He's my friend."
"Oh. I see." I force my smile to settle and calm, sitting back and away from her. She relaxes as I continue to hold my tongue, and I can't fight off the insistent grin that returns my cheeks to their lift. "But is he just a friend?" I ploy.
"Yes."
"Or is he something a little more?" She doesn't answer, but her jaw does seem to be really digging into that jerky. "Oh, he totally is. Look! Even your pets know it. They're practically fucking."
Okay, that's an exaggeration, but Víđarr and the phoenix have been playing like pup and chick ever since Clarice dismounted from his back. The phoenix will dive beneath his head and he'll lean into her tail feathers as if the fire isn't at all the complete opposite of water. Whereas I look at them with a chuckle, she stares with horror as if the phoenix landing on the wolf's head and his attempt to bite her is, in fact, sexual.
"They are not," she protests, loudly enough to make a few people glance over in question. She dips her head quickly, cheeks turning furiously red in seconds.
I watch them for a little longer before turning back to her, determined to fry her until she admits it. The words die on my lips when I find her eyes glossy and a tear rolling down her cheek as she chews sadly on a piece of cheese.
"Clare..." Her bottom lip starts to tremble, and then a whole parade of tears is rolling down her cheeks. Now I'm the one staring in horror. "Clare, what's going on? What's wrong?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing, I just..."
"Does this have to do with last night and why you and Darius fell asleep next to a bucket of vomit?" She only cries harder until the quiet tears turn into choking sobs. I glance over to where everyone else is gathered, finding several of them looking over at us. "I...Okay, okay. Look, I'm sorry, okay? Just, please stop crying."
"I c-can't."
I look away from her again, finding Darius's eyes locked onto her. He takes a step and I shake my head. His eyes snap away from her to catch my movement and thank the Gods for it because if he came over here, I'm pretty sure she'd never talk. This clearly has something to do with him. Or it could be her hormones going every which way with the pregnancy and all. Willa told me to keep an eye on her last night, explaining how the signs of pregnancy in a mortal are different from an immortal.
He doesn't take her eyes off of her but he does stop walking towards us. Knowing him, he's likely using his air element to listen in on her words. Can't have that. I glance at Rohana, hoping she can do something about it. She doesn't look entirely okay with her Queen crying, but she turns to Darius, saying something before leading him away. A few moments later I hear swords clashing.
What's with everyone and their nonstop training? I'm tired from sitting in a saddle, and they still somehow have energy?
I turn back to Clarice, taking the cheese and jerky out of her hands before she drops the food to the floor. "Okay, okay. Deep breaths, Clare-"
"He almost died yesterday."
My whole body goes still. "What?"
"He - he was using the-the fire element t-to k-kill the Banevenin, but then it was swallowing him an-and-"
"Darius was swallowed?" My legs straighten and I march-
"No, I got him out b-but his stomach was ri-ripped- ripped open and there was so much blood..."
"That was his blood all over your dress?" She nods, her tears double-timing it.
I had thought the blood was that of dozens seeing as they had all been throughout Litchelle to help with the injured or the dying or those mourning the dead. I thought it was dried because she had been out there for hours, and I knew Darius was injured, but seeing as he had been walking I didn't think much of it. Thomas never said anything either, nor did the Bhaltayr or Ginerva.
I don't go with them for one Gods damned day and one of them nearly dies.
"Okay. okay. Deep breaths, Clare," I tell her again, moving to sit next to her. "In through your nose and out through your mouth."
She calms down, her breathing finally becoming even until the tears stop falling and all that's left is her stuffy nose. I take a few deep breaths of my own, trying not to freak out that Darius nearly died yesterday. He looks perfectly fine swinging a sword now. "Tell me about last night instead. Why were you and Darius on the ground?"
"I threw up," she answers plainly.
"Yeah, I know. I had to dump it out. What I meant was why did you throw up?"
My eyes automatically snap down to her stomach, picturing the little form of life forming there. I wonder if it looks like an actual baby or a thing with horns and claws.
"I had a nightmare about being tortured, and then about Darius dying because I couldn't save him." Oh. "What if I didn't save him? What if Willa hadn't been there or if I didn't have these...powers? What would have happened?"
"Well, this whole thing kind of started when you got the powers, so I'd say none of this would be happening if you didn't control the elements - but it's not your fault that everything is happening because you do have them," I amended quickly. "The world is a crazy, unpredictable place. If it wasn't you and Darius, then it would've been someone else. I'm just glad it isn't. You two are by far the better choices out of all of us."
"I don't know. You seem pretty qualified for the job."
"Ha! That's because you don't remember who I was before all of this." The moment the words leave my lips, I want to take them back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"It's okay. It's a fair point." She shrugs her shoulder as if it really didn't bother her.
I keep my mouth shut, afraid that I'll say another stupid and insensitive thing. She picks the cheese and jerky up from the rag I put on the smaller rock beside us and starts chewing on a piece of meat.
"You should talk to him."
"What?"
"My brother," she says in between bites. "He looks like he wants to talk to you. You should go talk to him."
I glance over, finding Lance talking to Alister who's too busy fiddling with a knife to notice that Lance's eyes are locked onto mine. I look away before I get trapped in his stare, which always happens before I end up closing the distance between us and jumping into his arms.
This is not the place, nor the time.
"Your brother and I are not talking at the moment," I say quietly
"Why not?"
"There's just...he's got a lot on his mind with the Winter's Ball getting closer, you having to attend, you in general, and your family -"
"My family?" Crap. I wasn't supposed to say anything. "I thought Lance was my only family."
I try several times to come up with a sidestepping explanation, but nothing good forms. "Even if he was, you have all of us to call family. Anyways, he's just...his mind is running a million miles a second, and it's making him lost and distant, and every time I try to untangle a few things for him, he pushes me away. So I'm done trying to help. He'll come to me when he wants to."
She nods, chewing on her jerky while I try to resist the urge to look over at him again. I can feel his eyes burning into me, which only makes it harder.
"Lance is stubborn." I scoff in agreement. "But the only way to get through his stubbornness is to keep pushing. If you stop then he'll lose hope that he has someone who will always be there to get his head out of his ass, and then he'll distance himself for real. You can't let that happen, Kat, because if it does then the Lance you know will become the assassin you hear stories
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