Lives of Kings (24 page)

From this distance, he was clumsy. Being smaller, I had a lot more space to deal with. The instant he took a step back, I caught his foot in midair with a strong gust of wind and used my magic to rush myself forward, actually knocking him over.

In my peripheral vision, I noticed Seth and Garrison had come to watch. Someone cheered. It was probably Garrison.

While Michael was down I reached for something sinewy to restrain him but couldn't find anything. Not being prepared cost me time, and he was back on his feet in an instant. He reached and my feet left the ground. I hadn't thought of actually lifting or moving people before.

Air rushed by me, keeping me afloat, and I tried to redirect it at him. It worked, and as a blast sent him flying, I also careened backwards, straight into a tree.

As much as Michael would apologize to me, I knew it was my fault. It was like pushing somebody while standing on ice. My own magic forced me backwards, and as my back hit the tall, rough tree, my head snapped back. The last thing I remembered was a crack in my ears and then everything went black.

I was rushing forward with my eyes closed.

Why?

I panicked, thinking I would trip over something, but it turned out my own arm was wiping at my eyes. I was crying, rushing from one dark, damp room to another. Someone's footsteps sounded behind me as I turned and paced back and forth. I didn't care. I was angry. Upset. Frustrated. Disappointed.

A big part of me wanted to pick up the entire structure and toss it into the ocean beyond the walls, with me in it. My emotions were spinning and I felt different than in most of my memories. I was spryer. I was more powerful. I guessed I was younger. This was confirmed when I finally turned and saw who had been following me. Michael.

He was younger as well, his beard short and blonder than I remember from later memories. He was also leaner and more muscular than in the memories I had of us before our deaths. How long would it be until we'd go together into battle against the Godelan?

For now, he just looked at me helplessly. I knew he didn't know what to say.

“You need to calm down,” he told me.

“No,” I shot back. “I refuse.”

He went to the door and poked his head out, as if listening for something.

“They will be dismissed soon, and they will come, and you know he will need your blessing,” he said.

I knew the “he” in question was Seth.

“Why does he need anything from me anymore? He goes by his father's wishes,” I said bitterly.

He looked at me as if he was going to slap me. “You need to pull yourself together. You're going to disgrace yourself and our entire family.” It was a warning. “Your father will find you another match.”

I wanted to scream and kick, but I somehow forced my voice down.

“I don't want another match,” I said through gritted teeth. There were more tears in my eyes. My throat felt constricted.

I turned around, wanting to make my suffering just a tiny bit more private, but a thick hand rested on my shoulder.

“I'm sorry. I truly am. But this is how we live here.”

“Then I don't want to live here,” I blurted out.

He sighed. “Think about it. This is a marriage of convenience. You know the king does not expect love from either side.”

I turned in disbelief. “This is supposed to make me feel better?”

He sighed, raising his eyebrows as if hinting at something beyond his words. “All I am saying is that you cannot rule out your chances of being together at all. He does not love her. You just won't be together in the eyes of the king. Or the tribe.”

I stood back. Shocked. Absorbing his words. “That's not right.”

“It may be argued,” he fired back, “that being forced to marry the person of your father's choosing is not right either.”

I wiped away my tears, considering his words. Could it work?

“But,” he said, placing both hands on my shoulders and looking very seriously into my eyes, “I mean when I say that you will not be together in the eyes of the king. Or the tribe. Do you understand me?”

I understood the meaning of his words. No one could ever know.

Shouts came down the hall. Still sniffing and wiping at my eyes, I was forced against the back wall of the small room. There was no furniture. Just two shelves by the door, and we leaned against them, hidden from view.

“Why are we hiding?” I whispered.

“Do you want to answer questions in your state right now?”

I shook my head.

“Be careful of how you present your feelings,” he told me. “Give yourself away and you won't even receive the chance of discretion.”

Again, I understood the subtext. Michael was suggesting an affair was the only way I would not have to lose Seth completely.

I gulped down my last few sniffles and fell silent as footsteps approached. Modern Gwen couldn't recognize the voice, but the old me knew who it was.

My chest flooded with anguish. The voice belonged to past-Moira. The woman who would have the only thing I had ever wanted, despite never even asking for it.

I hated her and then immediately regretted my feelings. Judging by her tone, she wanted this marriage as much as I did. She was being forced into a situation. I couldn't hold it against her. I vowed to try to make the best of this.

“Mother,” she yelled. “Mother, let go of me!”

It sounded like she was being corralled through the hallway.

“Shameful!” a woman's voice cried. “Shameful behaviour in front of the king. So disgraceful.”

“I don't want to marry him,” past-Moira replied. It was practically a growl.

“Foolish child,” he mother chided. “How can you be so surprised? You have been told that you would be queen since birth. I have groomed you for this your entire life. Do you not want it anymore?”

I could feel the guilt layered on even from a room away. Past-Moira's voice softened.

“Of course I want to be queen,” she said. “The king can't control any of the neighbouring tribes and kingdoms. He's weak. I'd be queen now if I could.”

Her mother shushed her but didn't discourage the treasonous talk.

Someone sighed.

“Is there no other way?” past-Moira asked.

“No,” her mother replied.

I heard footsteps as they walked farther away, though we stood still behind the shelves for minutes after the muffled voices had faded.

I opened my mouth, about to tell past-Michael that I was going to see the king. I would expose past-Moira for how she had spoken about him, and maybe he would call off the marriage. But before I could move, past-Michael extended an arm across me, barring my way.

“Don't you even think about it,” he said.

“Why not?” I demanded. “You heard what she said.”

“She's not wrong,” he replied. “Besides, you go to the king and then what? You think he will call off the marriage because of some gossip?”

I opened and closed my mouth uselessly.

“No,” he told me. “You're going to live your life and accept our ways. You're also going to remember this, and in the case that she ever raises a word against you for your future actions, you will have this weapon to hold against her. Understood?”

I nodded, feeling lower than ever. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't how I wanted to live my life. But I was trapped.

I opened my eyes to the worst headache of my life. I winced and tried to roll over, thinking I would throw up. There was something wet on the back of my neck that trickled down as I moved.

As much as I didn't want to know, I reached and felt with my fingers. The area behind my ear was tender. When my fingers came away, they were covered in blood. I lay back again.

Everyone was hovering over me. Michael was apologizing, Seth and Garrison were staring helplessly, Kian was trying to ask me something. I couldn't think straight.

The grass I lay on was soft. The sky was still bright blue, as if only seconds had passed. Everything seemed to lull me to sleep, though as soon as my eyes began to close, Kian would shake me awake again.

My mind wandered to the memory. Why did that come back to me? Had Michael brought up instances where he had profoundly affected my life with his advice or instruction? Had Moira always been so self-serving that her actions now weren't really my fault?

Eventually, Kian's voice cut through the ringing in my ears and his shaking me got annoying enough for me to wriggle out of his grasp. I sat up, very, very slowly. Everyone was staring at me as if they expected me to burst into flames.

The memory had made me upset. Residual emotions from the past still affected me, though less now than before. The feeling of being trapped and abiding by someone else's rules hadn't gone away. I knew it wouldn't. My life now was as limited as my life then, and yet I proceeded with both for what I thought was the common good.

“I want to go home,” I said.

“G
wen
, eat your oatmeal.”

I waited until my mother turned around then slid it across the table to Michael, taking his empty bowl and placing it in front of me. While I didn't want to treat him like a garbage disposal, the food was terrible, and he seemed ready to eat anything.

My parents sat on stools eating their own awful oatmeal behind the kitchen bar. They were on another diet, and so all of the food in the house seemed thicker, browner, and more tasteless than it had to be.

Our kitchen table had only ever been made to accommodate three, maybe four people, so every meal was like a game of musical chairs as Seth, Garrison, Michael, Kian, and I tried to find somewhere to perch.

I couldn't complain. We had arrived unannounced, and for the all that they hadn't seen or heard from me in months, and then I showed up with four other strangers, my parents were being very accommodating. The house only had three bedrooms, one of which was an office, so my four friends were camping in the living room.

It appeared as though Kian's intricate though completely spontaneous lies about my whereabouts had worn off when he lost his magic in December. When he first showed up around the house in September, we had together made up some story about why I had to go with him. I couldn't even remember the details myself.

It was strange to think of myself as I was then — curious, terrified, and adventurous. What was I now? The only thing that came to mind was travel weariness.

With no magical cover story, my parents hadn't known exactly where I was or what I was doing for months, but at least they were still under some kind of magic telling them it was okay that I was gone, and that I would be back. Which was a good thing, or else I would have come home to hysterics.

As it was, walking up the vaguely familiar driveway was nerve-wracking. I had no idea how they would react. But luckily it turned out I had worried for nothing. My parents were happy to see me, and I was happier than I could have imagined being back in Oregon, even though it didn't truly feel like home.

The difference between my parents and me was obvious, though we had always gotten along peacefully. Still, even my friends' eyes widened when they saw my mom and dad.

Both veterinarians who preferred to work from a clinic they had built in the house so that they would never have to leave, they were quite stout. Large, in fact. And their personalities matched their physiques. Loud and happy, they bounced around the old house, the creaky wooden floorboards protesting with each step.

I let it all sink in. Though my hands shook as I knocked on the door to what was technically my own house, I happily received several bone-crushing hugs and made quick introductions, dodging all the questions about where I had been.

I mumbled something about school and hoped the magic placed on them earlier was still strong enough to have them drop it. They did. Though my dad gave Kian the same look he had given him the first time they met, what seemed like forever ago. It was a raised eyebrow with a scowl, which stood out since he was the happiest person I knew. Aside from my mother.

Falling into our quiet life was easier than I thought it would be, even if we had four guests. My parents made them feel welcome, didn't delve too deep into my travels, and were otherwise quite busy with the clinic.

Howls and barks rang out at all hours of the day and night, and it was funny to see that my own home in Oregon, in what was not an extraordinary life, was harder for my friends to get used to than some of the exotic places we had been.

Back in Australia, the decision to come had been made fairly quickly. We were all tired of being on the road. And without knowing when our next clue to a direction would appear, all we could do was wait. It only made sense to hide out somewhere familiar and comfortable. Not that Oregon was either of these things to me. I had lived there for only a few short weeks before Kian came into my life.

For the next few days after hitting my head in the woods, I had to sit still and be woken up by Kian every few hours just in case. The result was grogginess and general unhappiness. I couldn't wait to leave, though I hadn't been able to bring myself to face my parents, talk to them, phone them, or lie even more about what I was doing.

The result was that I missed them. I felt burned out and needed the break.

Shortly after the first memory of Michael, I began having others at random points in the day. Moving made me dizzy, so I attributed it to boredom mixed with daydreaming. Phrases, small actions, or even just the birds outside my window would trigger scenes I hadn't thought of before. A full moon brought back glimpses of hunts, scouting in the woods with friends from a former life.

As if the knock to the head had broken open some kind of floodgate, the memories were coming to me now mostly as knowledge, not entire scenes I would relive.

Michael, it seemed, had dubbed himself my chaperone in our past life. After Seth's marriage to Moira, it was Michael who offered to be a lookout for our meetings. He hadn't trusted me not to be seen. This, mixed with everyday ancient life, filled my dreams and thoughts during the days when I couldn't move much at all.

A few days after getting to Oregon, we tried to find a quiet spot in the woods for using magic. I was still sore everywhere, so I sat out with Kian while Garrison, Seth, and Michael ran through a series of routines.

By this time, Michael had remembered our last days of his own accord. Kian's strategy of endless training worked. Michael was also stronger, but it was still brute force. The art of delicacy wasn't something that came easily to him.

“Do you remember when we met here?” Kian asked me suddenly.

“Of course,” I replied.

How could I forget? I fell off a cliff, landed on the ocean as if hitting the pavement, fainted, and got kidnapped by him. It was a big day for me.

“You looked so scared,” Kian laughed.

I turned to him, surprised. “Why are you laughing? Is it funny how scared I was?”

He shook his head, unable to put on a straight face. “It's just strange to think of you then,” he said. “It was raining. You had put stuff all over your face and it was getting wet, making you look like an inkblot. You were tripping over your own feet.”

Despite the warning signs of my crossed arms, raised eyebrows, and creased forehead, he didn't stop laughing.

“That was makeup, thanks,” I told him, embarrassed and bitter. “I was tripping over my feet because a past life inside of me was pumping magic through my system, and I was a little scared because there was a creepy drifter following me through the woods. Is that unreasonable?”

Kian shook his head, still smiling.

“Oh, as if you were well-travelled and all-knowing back then?” I snapped. “With your old-style talking and your robotic movements and your cryptic everything?”

He threw up his hands in surrender. “You are right,” he said. “You've changed me. I was broken when we met.”

I wasn't expecting that. I immediately felt bad for bringing up his strange traits, most of which he seemed to have abandoned during our journey together.

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“You were my first real contact with this new world,” Kian replied, as if it was obvious. “Looking for you was the first thing I had ever done that wasn't under the watchful eye of the Godelan, or of Magician. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was kept on a short leash for a long time. And I let myself be, because of what I was promised. Maybe I didn't even believe it, but I had no choice. If I had admitted to myself that I was being used, what was I supposed to do with my life? You gave me a reason.”

The conversation had shifted from light to heavy very quickly. Always being surrounded by the others, Kian and I rarely had a chance to speak alone. Even though we shared a room in Australia, it had been purely functional — first for Michael's snoring and then for my possible concussion. And if it wasn't as utilitarian as we were both making it out to be, well, neither of us had the time or the right words to talk about it.

“Come walk with me,” Kian said.

Still lost in thought, I didn't move as he got up and reached out to help me up from the fallen trunk. I took it. Every moment we had found together in the last while had always been intruded upon.

Now, while Seth, Garrison, and Michael were busy and had even wandered off slightly, we finally had a chance to be alone. Not that I knew what to do with that chance. My stomach turned as he took my hand and didn't let go, even as we walked side by side. Some people call that butterflies. I lean more toward nausea.

“What did it feel like when you … changed? Started feeling your past?” he asked.

We walked along the same road on which I had tried to catch the school bus. Soon, my last year of high school would be over without my ever having set foot in a classroom. Sudden panic overwhelmed me when I thought about the worldly things I was abandoning, including a diploma. I let the thought linger as I considered my life after our mission.

“It felt like I was drunk,” I said. “Heightened senses and awareness, but at the same time the paranoia that I could be imagining all of it.”

He smiled.

“Are we meant to die?” I asked.

Perhaps I said it so calmly because I already knew the answer.

“I don't know,” Kian replied, squeezing my hand tighter.

“What other purpose would we have in this world other than to defeat the Godelan?” I asked rhetorically. “There's nothing to do for us here after that. No place in this world. We must have been intended to die in the process.”

“The same could be said for me,” he said. “Certainly I don't have a place in this world either, but I intend to try my best to live. Besides, you're talking about your past life. After the Godelan are done, she has nothing else to accomplish. You can have a life.”

I remembered how it felt not to possess magic anymore. It was lonely, like a hole in your heart, or missing something that you know won't be back. I didn't know how I'd feel about that.

We came to a stop in the middle of the road.

“What?” I asked Kian. He was smiling knowingly.

“Recognize this spot?”

I looked around.

I didn't, but I knew what it could be. This was probably where I had tripped over my feet, fallen down a slope, got a million bruises, and ended up in the ocean. It was the first, but not the last, clumsy fall Kian would see me take.

I walked to the edge and glanced over. It didn't look like anyone had been crashing through it. Funny how nature could pummel me, but I hadn't even left a mark on it.

“It seems like a long way down,” I said.

“It was,” he agreed.

“You know, when I fell, I remember how nervous you looked,” I said. “You tried to grab for me. I think I knew in that split second that you probably weren't trying to kill me.”

Kian laughed. “Nervous? I was terrified. I finally find you, and then you tumble over the edge of a cliff. I had no idea your magic would save you.” He joined me by the edge, looking down. “I was running after you, getting ready to jump in the water.”

He had seemed so steely and distant, it was strange hearing about his perspective. I was thinking about what would have happened had I not been the first one found when he took my hand again and pulled me back to the road.

“I don't have magic anymore,” he told me.

“So you won't go running in after me if I fall again?” I asked, batting my eyelashes and playing the perfect damsel in distress.

He turned and gave me a look that caught me off guard. I knew the next words out of his mouth were going to be sincere.

“Of course I would,” he said. “But I don't have magic anymore, so it probably wouldn't end very well for me.”

My stomach did an extra flip as he came closer. I suddenly felt my mouth go dry.

“You know I would do anything for you, right?” he said, taking another step toward me.

I could only nod. To any other two people, the words might have sounded romanticized or exaggerated. After what Kian had put himself through to save me, I knew it was the truth.

Slowly, he leaned until his face blocked the wind, and I was enveloped in warmth. Our lips met and I could do nothing but enjoy the moment as the cold April day faded and I only lived in the space between us.

This was different than any other time in the last months when Kian and I had actually found some time to be alone. There was no confusion or vexation. For the first time, there was only honesty and complete understanding. As he wrapped his arms around me, I was ready to sink into this feeling forever.

A loud boom sounded from nearby like thunder, shaking the earth beneath our feet. We jumped apart. Instantly my heart was pounding.

My first reaction was to look up at the sky, thinking lightning had struck the woods just on the other side of the road. It was a grey day, but I dreaded that the noise wasn't a natural occurrence. Seconds later, my fears were confirmed as I heard Seth yelling my name, and then Kian's.

We ran at full speed back to where the others had been using magic and going through the drills Kian had taught us. I nearly tripped on a root but managed not to fall. Pain like fire raced up my ankle and into my leg, but I kept going anyway.

Kian, whose long legs had given him an advantage when running in the forest, got to the clearing first. He stopped suddenly and I nearly bulldozed him by careening straight into his back. He was looking around, resembling a bird more than ever as his brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side, listening. I saw why quickly enough — the clearing was empty.

“Kian! Gwen!”

Seth was yelling again. This time we followed the voices to a hollow. Long and narrow, but deep and filled with dirt and leaves, it looked like a trench separating one part of the forest from the other. Close to where a boulder ended the grotto, Seth and Michael huddled over an unconscious Garrison.