Her Dangerous Visions (The Boy and the Beast Book 1) (14 page)

She was tired of questions.

What kept her head above the chaotic waters, stirred by the unknown, was her memory. The awe she experienced in the presence of that Maker could not be undone. It carried her onward and pushed aside her doubts—even as she stared at the uncertainty of the Baron’s fortress, with the questions of what the summons meant for her and Aven.

Ahead, the fortress walls were bleak and practical. Five guards stood at the gates. Instinctively her hand moved to the twine necklace. Surely the Makers would conceal Whisper; she shouldn’t have to worry as she did. The guards’ ugly expressions drew her concerns toward herself. She hid her fear behind a calm face, expecting to be stopped and harassed, but none said a word. As she and Aven passed them, the large gates opened and, just inside, a man dressed in strange clothes beckoned them to enter. He was tall with a trimmed beard. A stylish green cloak was draped over his shoulders, held together in the front by a red jeweled clip. Such extravagance she had only seen on rare occasion when one of the Royals paying the Baron a visit passed by on the roads.

“Winter and Aven I presume?” The man’s voice was astonishingly rich and deep. It almost sounded fake. “The Baron has instructions for you; follow them to the letter, and it will go well for you.”

She nodded cautiously, as did Aven.

“Excellent. Come with me please. My name is Zamlah, and I’ll be overseeing your stay tonight.”

Two guards followed behind, as the tall man led them down a path that turned into a garden. Flowers of every size and color adorned the ground while vines and ornate ferns decorated the walls. Nothing she saw was from their local woods or grasslands. Winter found herself wondering about the distant lands the beautiful flora had come from; what fantastic scenery surrounded them in their native settings. Though beautiful here in this garden, they looked like wayfarers far from home. Their true beauty lay outside the fortress walls, in the wild places these strange flowers were transplanted from. The untamed design of the Makers was a reflection of something at the heart of the universe. It held power. And some unfathomable purpose she desperately wanted to grasp.

“My woods are far more exquisite
,” she tapped to Aven.

“This is what our hard labor earns,”
replied Aven.
“Gardens for our Baron to stroll through.”

“So serious. I was lightening the mood.”

“You were tree kissing.”

“Mouth shut.”

“It is.”

She grabbed his fingers and held them tight in her fist.

Aven smiled and shook his head. She reached up and ruffed his hair playfully.

Zamlah turned and peered at them before stopping beside a bare stone wall. Overhanging the wall was a white dwarf tree with red leaves. Winter found it especially gorgeous.

“You two look rather haggard for an appointment with the Baron.” Zamlah bent and picked a silvery flower with a pink center, then reached out to Winter and tucked the flower in her hair.

It took all her strength not to recoil from his touch.

The wall slid open and Zamlah waved for them to enter. “Do what the girls inside tell you. I’ll return shortly.”

In through the small opening was an expansive bedroom. Dozens of candles lit the walls, hung from chandeliers, lined the baseboards, and rested on stands and tables. Heavy red drapes had been pulled back from a long couch bed covered in what Winter guessed were silks. A horde of young women sprang on them the moment they entered. They were dressed in loose, weightless robes, none of which covered much of breast or buttocks.

The fortress concubines. Winter disliked them instantly.

“I’m Maizy,” said a woman with cheeks as red as sape berry. “We’re going to pretty you up for your meeting tonight.”

Meeting?

“Undress,” said Maizy. “We have new clothes for you.” She was the largest of the girls, voice strong, eyes dominant. Winter noticed that none of the women looked much older than herself and all were beautiful in different ways.

She and her brother obeyed. Winter was careful to remove her tunic and Whisper’s glass jar together, to keep it unseen.

One of the women whistled softly. “She’s got decent size.”

“Be as big as you, Lyda, when she’s with babe,” said a short, slender girl with a smirk.

A handful of girls giggled and they began chatting. “…my father was a farmer…sunshine turns the skin dark like that…should perk him up, see if he’s bigger than the Baron’s twig…bite your tongue, Neena…handsome faces, both of them.”

The women fitted clothes on them, gossiping irreverently as they prodded and adjusted. In a strange way, it reminded her of when she was a little girl, how her mother would clothe her, adjusting her homespun dress, smiling and fawning, as if she were a doll to be made perfect. Winter found her disdain for the girls ebbing. They were gentle and not unkind. Three girls toyed with her hair, braiding and teasing out her black strands.

She glanced at Aven. He had been adorned with an emerald green doublet over a long sleeved white shirt. His pants were dark leather, tied with a brown sash. It was as if they’d stolen some of the guards’ fine off-duty clothing and put it on her brother. These were items you only wore if you had money to spare, and you had to travel to Anantium for such fare.

A huge mirror was brought out. Winter’s mouth fell open when she saw herself. It was her same crooked nose on her same simple face but, somehow, the girl she stared at looked beautiful. She loved her hair, twisted up in braids that left her neck bare, and wisps of hair that fell down along her ears. The Baron’s girls fit her in a plain blue dress layered over a white lacey top. The white sleeves stopped just beyond her elbow. A brown belt was tied to her waist. The garb was simple, but there was elegance to it. Like the flowers neatly placed in the garden, she felt beautiful but out of place. She reached out quickly and took Aven’s hand.

“What’s this about?”

He squeezed her hand. She searched his eyes but found her own questions there.

Deftly, Winter bent and withdrew Whisper’s jar from her old clothing, and quickly placed it around her neck.

“A strange keepsake?” said a slender, redheaded girl with a nose every bit as perfect as Winter’s was crooked.

“It was my father’s gift to me,” lied Winter.

The redhead nodded with a kind smile.

Before long, the Baron’s concubines led them from the spacious candlelit room into a stone hallway adorned with animal pelts and heads. The teeth of the predatory animals showed prominently, their gums rolled back. Mixed in amongst the carcasses were tapestry and paintings of the Baron in full, royal regalia.

Walking in such fine clothing, Winter couldn’t help but feel something strange was happening. Had their fears been unfounded? Could something good possibly come from the Baron’s summons?

Or were these nice clothes dead man’s dressings?

No, they couldn’t be. The Makers had a destiny for her.

She recalled her last vision of Aven. Alone. Would this vision come to pass tonight? Would they be separated forever? Even though she feared that fate, she knew she could handle it.

But not Aven.

Her brother would only sink deeper into his self-hatred. She was scared for him, but what more could she do? He only turned her attempts at encouragement back on her, threatening to bring her down to share in his misery. He hated the Makers, the very beings that filled her life with breathe and power. What other hope could she offer Aven?

None. He had to come to peace with the past on his own. With her or without.

Tonight, she felt certain of one thing. The ground would shake beneath her feet.

CHAPTER 14

AVEN

Aven stared at the animal heads hanging on the corridor walls. Memories surfaced as if out of a dark sea. The screams of loved ones echoed through his thoughts. The last time he was in this corridor, had Harvest or his parents still been alive? Were they breathing their last breaths as he feebly tried to save them? Tried to undo what the words of his mouth had set in motion?

And Winter. What would happen to Winter tonight? Nothing else mattered to him but that question.

He leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. Why couldn’t he and his sister be left alone?

“You alright?”
tapped Winter.

“I’m scared for us.”

Winter squeezed his hand. “
Stay hopeful,”
she tapped.
“We have to be brave.”

“We can’t kid ourselves,”
tapped Aven.

“What are you scared of?”

“You already know,”
he tapped.
“I don’t want to lose you.”

Winter clamped her hand onto his fingers, as if to say,
Stop! Stop being scared.

When she relented, Aven tapped, “
You’re horrible at hiding your visions. I know you foresee it. Something will pull us apart.”

“I may be able to stop it from happening. But either way, you can’t put all your weight on me. If we’re ever apart, I want to know you’ll be alright. You have to be alright without me.”

Aven felt sick. He knew she was right, but what did that matter? She was the only person left whom he loved. He hated himself. Hated how weak he was. But he couldn’t change how he felt, no matter how much he searched for something to latch onto. Something strong.

Winter was all he had.

“Sit,” said Maizy, motioning to a wooden bench beneath the
antlers of a large elk head. “Zamlah shouldn’t be long.”

“What does Zamlah do for the Baron?” asked Aven.

“Why, he’s the Baron’s ambassador to the Royals. You should know that. You work for the Baron, don’t you?”

Aven stared at Maizy. Were they so sheltered in the confines of the fortress not to know what life outside was like?

“We’re told nothing,” said Winter. “We’re farmers, little better than slaves.”

Maizy and the other girls looked skeptically at them.

“Why have we been dressed up?” asked Aven.

A girl with dark curly hair shrugged. “You’re meeting with the Baron tonight. I assume he wants you looking presentable. We weren’t told anything else.”

“Baron Rhaudius will fill you in,” said the deep, unmistakable voice of Zamlah. He stood in an archway and waved for them to come.

Aven turned to follow, but when he did, a streak of movement caught the corner of his eye. The Baron’s girls screamed. Aven turned, but too late. A muscular body slammed him against the wall. Cold metal pressed into the side of his face, cutting into his skin. A contorted face drenched in sweat came nose to nose against his.

Harvest’s brother, Pike.

“Stop it, Pike!” shouted one of the girls.

“Let him go!” screamed another.

Zamlah’s voice boomed over the rest. “Pike, you imbecile! You’ll ruin everything!”

Pike’s eyes bore deep into
Aven’s. His hot, panting breath reeked of fermented drink. The blade’s bite lessened slightly, and Pike whispered, “I will kill you. One day. I swear on my family’s graves, I will watch your last painful breath.”

Suddenly the chorus of girls screamed again. Pike turned his head, confused by the sound, just in time for a ceramic vase to explode against his face. The knife flew out of his hand and he staggered back, slamming into a table, sending pottery and glass sculptures crashing to the floor.

Zamlah rushed over to Pike. A guard ran down the hall, sword drawn. Winter dropped the remnants of the vase in her hand. Aven stared at the scene in shock. His sister had just cracked the skull of the Baron’s son.

“Let me see your face,” Winter said to Aven. She touched his cheek gingerly. “It’s bleeding, but it’s not deep. I thought Pike was going to kill you.”

Aven glanced at Pike groaning on the floor beside Zamlah and the guard.

“I hope I haven’t made things worse for us. I was scared. I didn’t have time to debate instinct.”

“You did what you had to do. I would have done the same for you.”

“Get your hands off of me!” shouted Pike, enraged. He stood, holding his head. Blood ran down his hands, soaking into the sleeve of his white shirt. “Aven,” he growled. “I’ll kill your ugly twig of a sister too. I swear, I’ll finish the job my father couldn’t do!”

Four more guards arrived. One of them grabbed Aven from behind and locked his arms behind his back.

“Let him go,” said Zamlah. “He’s the Baron’s guest tonight. Clean up his face, girls. Makeup, whatever you have to do. I want him ready in ten minutes.”

He turned to the guards. “Accompany Pike to his room. No more drinks. We need him sober and cleaned up by morning.”

Zamlah’s words confounded Aven’s fears. Whatever the reason he and Winter were there, they were being protected. Even from the Baron’s son.

_____

AVEN

Baron Rhaudius was waiting for them in the same room where Aven had met him before. Aven stood, holding Winter’s hand with Zamlah beside them. Seeing the Baron again, in this same room, hearing his same droning voice, it brought surprising emotion along with it. A deep anger coursed under his skin, a hatred he’d stuffed deep down inside threatened to spill out onto his face. Aven exhaled slowly.