Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) (18 page)

Neve pipes up. “I will mind her.” He winks at me playfully.

I roll my eyes.

Kiar and Neve become my friends over the next couple of

days. My mother is never around, always off with Morrick.

Tristan and Legis are off on a secret mission nobody will tell me

about, and Alana avoids me like the plague. When she’s around,

she’s just plain nasty.

I explore the caves with Neve and Kiar whenever we’re left

alone, which seems like always lately. The cave tunnels are a

maze and I would get lost if I were on my own.

One of the days, I ask Neve about his fire affinity. “Could

you show me?”

Neve and Kiar exchange looks and both of them answer in

unison with a big grinning yes. We find a small room and place

our torches in holders on the walls. Neve takes centre stage and

tells Kiar and me to stand back, which deserves an eye roll.

Neve and drama go hand in hand.

“Welcome, all.”

The annoyed look on our faces makes him less dramatic.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He holds out his hand, palm up, and spreads

his fingers. “Lux,” he says. A small ball of fire hovers above his

hand. I stumble back in astonishment. Kiar steadies me. Neve is

delighted with himself. “I can’t believe I did it on the first go.”

Kiar answers my confused look. “He is not very powerful

with fire. Air is his main affinity.”

“I can be good with fire. Watch,” Neve says, self-assured.

“Neve, don’t,” Kiar warns. But it’s too late. The room

becomes engulfed with flames. The flames cling to the walls

and ceiling, sweeping through the room.

Just before it hits us, Kiar grabs my hand and pulls me into

his chest. “Aeirus,” he roars, and then the heat is gone. I stand

out of Kiar’s arms but still hold his hand. We are in an air

bubble. I can see Neve in his own bubble of air, but sweat soaks

his clothes.

“He is hurt,” Kiar says while pushing our air bubble through

the flames as we make our way towards Neve.

The fire is circling around the room. It reminds me of our log

fire at home. Dad would have it roaring on cold winter nights.

The doors of the fireplace have glass so you can see inside. The

flames cling to the roof of the log fire, but that’s because no air

can get to it. When Dad opens a little vent, the air rushes in, and

the flames return to normal.

“Why are the flames not leaving the room?” I ask Kiar as we

continue to make our way over to Neve.

“Because Neve called it here.” Kiar is sweating by the

time he reaches Neve and encapsulates him in our bubble.

Neve collapses to the ground; his hands are badly burnt.

I drop to my knees. “Neve, can you hear me?” No reply.

I check for a heartbeat. It flutters under my fingertips. He is

unconscious. “We need to get help, Kiar,” I shout up at him,

starting to panic.

“Hold my hand and try to help me.”

I start to feel frantic. “Help you how, Kiar? Shall I fly us

out of here?” My voice has reached a hysterical pitch, making

me sound unrecognisable. Kiar is panting now. “Neve is the

one with the strong air affinity, not me . So please just take my

hand.” He’s as frightened as I am. I grab his hand. “Close your

eyes and picture our bubble expanding into the room until all

the flames are out.”

Kiar’s hand is slick with sweat. I try so hard, but when I open

my eyes, I see our bubble is getting smaller.

Kiar collapses to his knees. “I can’t hold it much longer.” The

strain is visible on his face.

I pull Neve’s heavy body closer with a serious amount of

effort and it drains all my energy. I have to lie down as the

bubble is caving in, making it hard to breathe. Oh God,

we’re going to die, I think. Kiar’s breath is becoming shallow

and Neve is still unconscious. “Kiar… do… something.” My

own breath is hard to catch. The air is so hot now.

Kiar lies beside me, still trying to hold the air around us, but

it’s starting to shimmer. Dots appear in front of my eyes. The

heat is intense. My own body is covered in sweat. I lick my dry

lips. Water, sweet water, I think.

Cracking noise erupts above us. I look at the ceiling and

can see small cracks appearing. A drop of water trickles

from the first crack. Am I seeing what I want to see, or is

this real? Then more cracks start to appear, getting wider;

water starts to sprinkle from the cracks, dousing the roaring

fire slightly. Then I hear a thunderous crack just before a

part of the roof collapses.

I grab Kiar’s hand as a wave of water pours out, rushing

towards us. The impact bursts our tiny bubble and sweeps us

against the wall. My back bashes against the rock, taking my

breath away and filling my lungs with water. I’m too weak to

react. Darkness sweeps in.

I wake to Kiar screaming at me. He rolls me on my side and

I painfully cough up water. My back is in agony. We’re still

sitting in water, but it’s reduced to small puddles. Kiar shakes

Neve awake. I sit up carefully.

My eyes fall on Morrick standing in the entryway. Neve

grunts with pain from his hands as he examines them, but when

his eyes fall on Morrick, he turns as white as a ghost. None of

us move.

“What the hell happened here?” Morrick’s anger at this

moment reminds me of Tristan’s. Deadly. I don’t want Neve or

Kiar to get into trouble. This was my idea, after all.

“The roof collapsed,” I say while standing on wobbly legs.

“We’re lucky to be alive.” My voice quivers, not with fear, but

the cold. Morrick doesn’t reply.

“Get up and go back to the main room,” he says to Neve and

Kiar. As Neve passes, Morrick touches his shoulder. “Get your

hands looked at.”

Neve’s face pales even further. “Yes, sir.”

Damn, I forgot about his hands. How to explain that one

away?

Morrick doesn’t seem interested in further explanation. He

turns and leaves, calling back to me over his shoulder. “Come

on, Sarajane.”

I follow him back to the main room. My mother is rubbing

ointment into Neve’s burnt hands. When I arrive, she throws

me a worried glance. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Fine. Just need to change.” I lie and make my way to

my room. I can hear my mother telling Alana to help me. The

last thing I need or want is her help. Slamming the door of my

room, I hope Alana gets the message that she isn’t welcome, but

it doesn’t stop her.

“So did you have fun?” Her words are laced with mockery.

I ignore her and start to remove my tunic. The ache in my back

is torture. Alana goes to throw me another smart comment, but

the sight of my back silences her. Turning to the mirror, I glance

over my shoulder. My back is a mass of colours. It looks like

someone has splattered colourful paint all over an easel. Jesus,

it looks bad.

Alana starts filling the bath quietly as I examine myself.

“The bath will ease the pain and the lavender will relax you.”

I have to look at her twice, but she seems genuine. She’s right.

The lavender soothes me.

Chapter Eleven

Saskia

(Sarajane)

M
orrick keeps Neve and Kiar busy for the next two

days so I never get to talk to them. My back is healing

really fast. I wonder what Alana really put in my bath.

I never ask, as she’s back to being her usual obnoxious self. My

mother has become distant, and whispered conversations cease

when I’m close by.

Today it’s only Alana and me left with Liber guarding us.

“I’m going to my room,” I announce. Alana continues her

cleaning and Liber just nods.

The door across from my room is left slightly open. Normally

this door is locked. On days of exploring, I tried this door, but

it was always locked. It’s a study filled with really old books

and scrolls. A writing desk is tucked away in the corner. After

retrieving a torch from the hall, I place it in its holder, giving

light to the room. A sheet of paper is lying on the desk. Two

small stones keep it in place. I walk closer to take a look. My

name is circled at the top of the page. I read down farther. The

handwriting is squiggly and hard to understand, but I can make

out some of it.

Shows signs of water affinity, level three. But uncontrollable.

Beside this is a list of five elements:

Air

Earth

Water

Fire

Spirit

Wate
r
is ticked off. Then it continues on to sa
y
, She is not

aware of her path yet, but in time, her destiny will be revealed

to her.

I look over my shoulder and listen carefully to make sure no one

is coming. When satisfied, I continue to read. The handwriting

changes. It’s easier to read now, but more disturbing
.
Experiment 1

Calm was influenced upon day three, five drops in tea.

Successful.

I clutch the page, pushing the stones aside. I knew the tea

tasted funny. The day my mother and I went for the walk, I

knew my emotions felt suppressed. My mother was right;

something was wrong, and now I knew Morrick was drugging

me. For how long? And why?

“What are you doing?” I jump and let out a screech. Liber

looks at me, full of suspicion.

“I was looking at the books.” I hide the paper behind my

back and lower it back onto the desk.

“You’re not allowed in here.”

I swallow. “Oh, I’ll just go to my room now.”

Liber stands in the doorway, but after a few nerve-wracking

moments, he lets me pass.

Sweat runs down the back of my neck. Experiment. The

word sends a chill through me. I want to confront Morrick,

but I know I’m better off just keeping an eye on my food and

drinks. Morrick is our way home, and what if he denies it?

Did my mother know? I bet Alana was involved. She’s always

organising my baths. Oh God, she’s made the tea for us every

night I’ve been here.

I refuse dinner that night and go to my room, complaining

of a headache. I can’t meet anyone’s eyes without wanting to

confront them. My mother says good night and offers me a hot

cup of tea. I reject it. “I’ll be fine in the morning, Mum.”

She looks at me, worried. “Okay. I love you.”

Guilt wells up in my heart. “ I love you too,” I say from under

the covers. The door clicks closed and I’m alone.

Sleep comes and goes.

The room is pitch black when I get up. My stomach rumbles from hunger. I make my way to the main room. Torches are still lit in the hall and main room. No one is in sight. I find some bread and cheese and sit down in one of the armchairs beside the smoldering fire and begin nibbling on it. My stomach stops grumbling when I finish everything.

“You must be Sarajane.”

I jump up off the chair, startled, and am faced with a young

man. He has blond hair slicked back and a hard white face.

He’s handsome in an unusual way. He wears black clothes, but

his robe is snow white, trimmed in gold with a high collar. The

material looks like fur.

“Who are you?” My question makes his grey eyes squint.

“Prince Clive. Has my father, I mean our father, not

mentioned me?”

I sit down on the arm of the chair. I have a brother? I can

only shake my head. His eyes are the same as mine.

“Oh, I am very surprised.” He looks anything but surprised.

“You’re my brother?” I still can’t believe this. Why did Mum

not tell me?

He holds up one long finger and grins like the Cheshire

Cat. “Half-brother. You see, my mother is the queen and your

mother is a servant.” His face twists with disgust. “You are the

result of a foolish king.”

My heart breaks a little and then too much makes sense—the

protection we are getting, the luxury of the caves. “Morrick,”

I whisper.

Clive laughs cruelly “They never told you? Well, they are

very good at hiding things.”

I feel lightheaded and stupid. How could I not have seen this?

“I am so sorry,” I say without looking at Clive, and I mean it,

but this seems to anger him.

Before I know what’s happening, Clive grabs me by my hair,

throwing me onto the rocky ground, taking the skin off my

knees and palms. The impact vibrates through my body and a

squeal leaves my throat. I look up at Clive in horror as he takes

out his sword

“You will be sorry.” His blade strikes my arm, sending

a searing pain through it. Blood starts to run down to my

fingertips, trickling onto the ground. I get up off my knees and

make a dash for the door, but he grabs me by the hair and drags

me right back, until I’m on the ground again. When I look up at

him this time, the hate on his face brings tears to my eyes.

“Why?” I ask as he raises his sword and swings it behind his

back. It whooshes towards my neck. An arrow whizzes across

the room in a blur and impacts with Clive’s wrist. He drops

the blade just inches before killing me. I follow the direction

that the arrow came from and my breath catches in my throat.

Tristan is lowering his bow, his cold eyes fixated on Clive.

Clive holds his wrist, screaming in pain, which soon turns

to anger. He raises his other hand “Lux,” he roars at me

and a ball of fire comes rushing towards my face. I raise my

hands to fight it off. I can hear the whiz of another arrow.

My head swings in the direction of Tristan as he raises his

hands, blocking the fire with a solid wall of air. The air

smothers the fire, extinguishing it.

Gurgling noises bring my attention back to Clive. An

arrow is embedded in his neck. Blood gushes through his

fingers as he tries to cover the wound. Another figure catches

my eye. Morrick lowers his bow. Clive staggers, turning

around. His face is one of disbelief and horror as he looks

into his father’s eyes, and then he collapses on the ground,

blood pooling around him.

My stomach gives way. Placing my hand over my mouth

doesn’t stop the sick. I throw up, the food I have just eaten.

My hand is covered in puke. No one speaks. I’m frozen

with the horror of what just happened.

My mother, Neve, Kiar, Liber and Alana come into the room

and halt when they take in the scene before them. My mother

races to me, landing in the pool of Clive’s blood. On her knees,

she reaches for me. “Sarajane.”

“Don’t touch me.” I push her away, while I cradle my arm. “Don’t come near me,” I scream. Tears stream down my face. Morrick helps my mother off her knees. “You are a monster,” I roar at Morrick.

“I just saved your life,” he throws back through thin lips. I

can’t believe nobody is saying anything about Clive’s dead body.

“You killed your own son.” My words are cut off with sobs.

I look at my mother as I stand on quivering legs. “This is your

fault, taking another woman’s husband.” My temper flares.

“You’re disgusting.”

Morrick’s hand strikes my face, landing me on the ground

again. No one has ever put their hands on me before. Fresh

tears prickle my eyes, and no one seems to breathe. Strong arms

wrap around my waist and lift me off the ground. I look up at

Tristan, but he’s staring at Morrick with a clenched jaw.

“The next time you do that, I will not stand by and do

nothing, my lord.” He looks so defiant.

Anger and humiliation cross Morrick’s face.

I don’t look at anyone as Tristan carries me from the room.

He puts me down when we get to my room and helps me to my

bed. I sit on the edge and sob. Tristan kneels down in front of

me with a basin and cloth. He doesn’t speak, just brushes my

hair off my swollen cheek with a gentleness I would’ve never

known he possessed.

My body goes rigid at his touch. He takes my stiffness for

fear. “I will not hurt you.” He dips the cloth into the water and

squeezes it, releasing it of its contents before pressing the ice-

cold rag to my face. I flinch with pain. But he keeps it pressed

against my cheek. Taking my hand, he places it over the cloth.

“Keep that held to your face.” After retrieving warm water and

another cloth, he checks my arm.

“Is it bad?” I ask.

“No, only a flesh wound. You will be fine.” After that he

cleans my knees of ripped skin and blood. After inspecting

my palms and putting a fresh cold cloth on my face, he tidies

up.

“They drugged me,” I whisper. When I meet Tristan’s gaze,

it is stone.

“King Morrick is the finest king we have ever had. Drugging

you would be pettiness that is beneath him. Do you understand?”

His words are ice.

“Get out now.” I rise and point at my door. I don’t know why

I expected him to believe me.

Tristan doesn’t move a muscle. “Sit down, Sarajane,” he says

as he moves towards me. I hold his fierce gaze for a moment. My

stomach gives a little flip at his closeness, causing me to look

away and sit down. “Morrick is your father.”

I can’t listen to this. “Stop. He drugged me.” Tristan throws

me a warning glare. “I have proof. In his study, I found a paper.

He wrote it all down.”

Tristan’s fingers sink into my shoulders. “You broke into the

king’s study?”

I push him away, sick of being manhandled. “No, the door

was open.”

Tristan shakes his head and turns to the door. “Get some

rest.” And then he’s gone.

I sit there dumbfounded for a while after he leaves. Lying

on my bed, I cry myself to sleep. I only get about an hour’s

sleep; the commotion in the cave wakes me up. I get dressed

in my travelling clothes, leaving my hair down. I hope it will

conceal my swollen and bruised cheek. I take a deep breath

before leaving the room. I need to be strong.

The main room is a bustle of activity. Neve is gathering

supplies from the kitchen area. I look around the room, my eyes

falling on the spot where Clive lay in a pool of his own blood.