Wilde's Army (20 page)

“Where?” I ask.

“To our new hiding spot. I have been here before. In fact, most of the area along the river I am familiar with. My father had me memorize the land in preparation for times like these—or in our case, this exact time.” Arland doesn’t look at me, but doubt fills his voice, and his internal monologue fades away.

Why would he shut me out? I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I focus my concentration on his thoughts, on what he’s feeling, on making a connection to him as I’ve done with Brit when I had trouble accessing her mind. I want to understand his doubt, want to know exactly what he’s thinking.

Power builds in my chest, burns with excitement, sending waves of fire rolling out from my core. I imagine entering his mind through our connected hands, up his arm, shoulder, through his neck and finally to his brain.

Arland’s snaps his head in my direction. “
No, Kate
.”

Descending his body, drawing back into my core and fizzling out, the fire withdraws. But the lack of magic gives way to anger. “
You’re allowed to get into my brain, to know what I’m thinking and feeling and seeing, but I am not allowed to do it to you? I share thoughts with Brit, have heard Flanna and Cadman and your thoughts before. Why am I not allowed now? What are you holding back from me, Arland? Please, your feelings have been so full of doubt, your eyes, your emotions, everything about you tells me you know something, or don’t know something, and it’s driving me crazy. Spit it out already, what’s wrong with you?”

“
We will talk later. We are here
.”

Convenient.

I refuse to look at him. I focus on where we are and everyone around us. A dense growth of winged sumacs looms in front of us. The thin, green leaves are shriveled and limp, but still provide hearty coverage and will protect us from being seen or getting wet—not that I’ve ever witnessed rain here. With our hands still connected, Cadman leads us inside and around the sparsely located branches. Once everyone is under the canopy, I sense the soldier’s relaxing, feel their need to collapse.

“You may let go. Sit down and rest,” Arland says, holding firm onto my hand.

As the soldiers and children drop their connections and take seats on the ground, the golden sprites fly away, returning to the earth from which they came.

“Once Ogilvie and Gavin return, we will reset the spell around us, eat, then sleep for three hours.”

Complaints and angry scowls geared toward Arland fill our hiding spot. He remains unyielding, standing still, breathing even, as though their outburst doesn’t bother him at all.

My mom stands. She squares her shoulders and holds her head high. “Calm down.”

The authority with which she speaks mirrors that of Arland’s. While the magical connection is broken, his agitation from her interruption rolls into me, making me take a step back. He’s led these people for ten years; her help is unwarranted and unwelcome. For a glimmer of a moment, he narrows his eyes, then settles himself, taking a deep breath.

“I am afraid we need to continue moving until we arrive at Willow Falls. There is no telling if we left a trail, or if the spell covered any of our scents. A few hours should be sufficient to rest your feet. If you wish to survive, this is what you must do. You are all aware of this; tonight is not the first time any of us have been on the move.”

A hush overcomes the complainers, taking with it their scowls. Mom sits next to Brit and Keely, never looking away from Arland. I’m not sure why Mom has a sudden need to overrule him, but if I had to guess, it’s all a part of her overall plan.

“Wait outside for Ogilvie and Gavin with me?” he whispers.

“Okay. Will we talk?”

He purses his lips and furrows his brow, but nods.

I feel the soldiers’ eyes on us, on our connected hands, on the hope we bring. Maybe we’re still connected somehow, or I’m making it up in my head, but I’m glad to get away.

Besides, Arland has some explaining to do.

He pushes an overhang of leaves from our way then allows me to pass through the exit first.

“It is very dark here, Arland,” I say as a way of breaking the tension. It’s dark everywhere.

He lets the weeping branches fall back into place, clenches his left hand into a fist, then opens to reveal a small blue flame. The act is so simple, so normal, I almost laugh, but instead, I mimic his action with my right hand.

We carry matching fires through the dark to a nearby pine then sit on a pile of rust-red, dry needles and rest our backs on the trunk. I lay my head on his shoulder, irritated by my concerns, but somehow eased by his comfort.

Holding his left hand in front of him, he turns it over a few times, as if inspecting the quality of his magic, then puts it up to my right hand and laces his fingers with mine. Flames rush up our arms. “A few days ago, you could only burn with fire during battles, now you have learned to create light in your hand, hide large groups of people, connect with your sister—Kate, you are unbelievably powerful.”

His compliments are a distraction. “What are you hiding?”

A long sigh fills the empty, dark forest with so much noise; I fear any daemon could find us. “I am not hiding anything but my concerns of the unknown, Kate. Your mother said herself my father did not share my entire prophecy with me. Your dreams have all predicted my death; your memories of those deaths—when I saw them in your head—were like torture to me. Seeing you broken, watching you allow yourself to be killed or wish death upon yourself—I do not want you to do any of those things if death truly is my future.”

My breath catches in my chest, tight and constricting. I sit up then turn to face him, look into the beautiful emeralds I’ve loved even before seeing them in real life. The doubt I didn’t understand before is there now. He doubts he’s going to live, doubts he’s going to be there for me, doubts our marriage will ever take place … he doubts
everything
. “You will not die, Arland. You said so yourself. I need you to believe in that. I have heard
everyone dies
so much since I’ve been here, but without you, I have no magic and these people have no Light—that much of your prophecy we understand. So, you will not die, Arland. Do
you
understand me?”

His eyes meet mine then look me over in such an intimate way I feel the need to check if people are watching. “Your confidence has increased, too.”

Arland is wrong; it’s not confidence but my will to live, to love, and to survive which makes me say these things. I shake my head. “There was a time in my life where I was sure of everything, but those times are long gone. Now, the only things I am sure of are the only things keeping me going. Does that make sense?”

He smiles. “As I said, your confidence has increased.”

I nudge his shoulder. “You are impossible.”

“
Me
? You refuse to allow me to pay a compliment when one is deserved. You know you are supposed to talk like us, yet when you become angry, you talk like your normal, beautiful self. Need I go on?” A smile lights his eyes.

“I don’t feel more confident, but I guess I am. At least I’m not begging the magic and the gods for help. And I don’t feel the need to talk
properly
while alone with you,” I say with the urge to stick out my tongue.

He tugs my arm, and I give in, nestling into him again. “We were not alone when you decided to be angry about hearing the others’ thoughts. You said Perth was enjoying your outburst at me, but I think Perth enjoys a good argument no matter who is involved.”

I startle, but Arland holds me to him, forcing me to stay calm. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t speaking like … like whatever it is I’m supposed to. Like an Encardian, like everyone else.”

He runs his fingers through my hair and down my arm. Chills course over my skin. “I know, but there will be no second chances at Willow Falls.”

A crack of a dry branch snaps behind us. We jump to our feet and draw our weapons, flames covering us.

“Hey”—Brit shouts, holding up one hand in surrender while the other grips a torch—”it’s just me. No need to go stabbing, or shooting anything with an arrow.”

I slide my sword through the loop on my belt. “Maybe you should announce yourself next time. And where’d you get that torch?”

“I literally just stepped out from under the tree, but I’ll be sure to shout so everything we’re hiding from can find us before we’re hidden by magic. And you can relax; I’m not a shifter. Go on. Check me out. Do whatever it is you do.” She swirls the torch around in the air, surely drawing more attention to us.

“Cadman showed me how to make it, then he lit it for me because I don’t have a natural knack for magic like you.”

Not being able to trust anyone kills me, especially not being able to trust my sister. I close my eyes.

Reveal her true form
.

There are no pulsing black bands of shifter. No threat. Just the inside of my eyelids.

“I’m glad you don’t trust me. You’re learning. After what happened, you shouldn’t trust anyone.”

Opening my eyes, I see the serious look on her face and relax. “Is everything okay? Why did you come out?”

Brit all but closes the large gap between us. “Perth asked if I’d talked to you about keeping secrets yet. When I told him no, he said I should because we’ll probably not have another opportunity before Willow Falls.”

She bats her lashes over her wide, expectant eyes. “So, you two ready?”

Arland doesn’t think she’s as good at hiding things as she believes herself to be, but she is our only instructor. He opens his mouth—

“We’re ready, but first, what secrets have you kept hidden?”

“If I tell you, they won’t be secrets anymore. Let’s just say you’ll never guess and leave it at that?”

Is she playing a game of her own now? “Brit, I—”

“Kate, whatever her secret is, it is clear she is not willing to divulge.” Arland points to the tree. “Shall we sit?”

Brit pushes past us then takes our seat. She rests her back on the sap covered trunk. I don’t understand why, but she’s making me wish she’d go away.

The light from my glowing body glistens on her face, changing her green eyes to a warm shade of aquamarine.

She points her finger at me. “See that look right there, Kate. I know my attitude drives you crazy. The slight lift of your eyebrow does you in. You can’t let your emotions show.”

Great. So now Mom and Brit are telling me to control my emotions while Griandor tells me to let them free. “If you are going to tell me—”

“Whatever you’re thinking just stop. What I’m going to tell you is this: every time you see Arland, I want you to picture something you hate. Think of Perth.”

“Brit, he’s not—”

“Then think of his dad, or the bad guy, or Brad—”

I march toward her, hands propped on my hips. She’s really driving a wedge into my side. “Brad wasn’t a bad guy, Brit.”

She rolls her eyes, but I see something else there too. Confusion? Excitement? I don’t know what it is; she’s impossible to read right now.

“Don’t tell me you still believe in him? Poison or no poison, not only did he punch Mark Evans, he punched
you
and spit in your face, and he’s d-dead.” The way she stumbles over the word dead … maybe Arland is right, she can’t hide anything any better than us. Whatever Brad—or the poison controlled Brad—did to me, she must have a lot more good memories of him like I do. They were friends, too.

“I don’t think he’s entirely dead, Brit. He’s still in there, and if … no, when we win this war, Griandor promised to restore Brad’s life, heal his heart, and return him home.”

Tears fill my sister’s eyes, and she wipes them away with her tunic sleeve. I’ve seen Brit upset before—the worst was when she arrived here—but not like this. She doesn’t cry.

“What do you mean he’s still in there? Kate, he
hit
you. How is it possible you still see good in him?” she asks, hands flying out, eyes full of accusation.

Will Flanna react this way, too? I hope not. I don’t understand why Brit is fighting against Brad so hard. I take a deep breath and squeeze Arland’s hand for support—he hasn’t heard everything I’m about to say either. “You cannot say anything to
anyone
. Including Mom. Do you understand? This is all I have.”

She nods.

“When everyone was taken, Griandor visited me, but before that, his brother visited me in Brad’s body. I don’t doubt Brad felt betrayed when he woke up and found me and Arland together”—and he had every right to—”but his anger wasn’t actually
his
. Dughbal tried—”

“
Dughbal
?” Arland asks, guarding tone.

Casting a sideways glance, I see his arched eyebrow. He’s waiting for an explanation. “Yes, Arland, Dughbal. Do you know of him?”

A blank stare. “No. I have never heard of him.”

“I don’t understand. You knew of Griandor and his sister Gramhara, but not their brother Dughbal?”

He rubs his chin. “No, but please, go on.”

I look away from Arland, back to Brit. “Well, Griandor told me his brother helped wage a war so powerful it destroyed the gods’ favorite world of Elysia.”

“So it
was
destroyed.” Arland sighs.

”Yes.” I nod. “Dughbal fights for the same thing as Perth’s father. Power. The gods shift control over the worlds, to maintain balance, but Dughbal was unwilling to give up control of Elysia, and his refusal started a war.”

He leans forward, much more interested in this conversation than my sister. “With Elysia gone, why does Dughbal still fight?”

“Well, when that world was destroyed, the gods vowed never to fight each other again. Griandor said it was peaceful for a long time, but his brother got bored and caused a lot of issues. Their father punished Dughbal by sending him to live amongst men. Unfortunately, he was able to convince the daemons to follow him, and he wanted to fight here because Encardia was second best only to Elysia. And since no one used old magic anymore … .”

“But the gods do not fight, why does Dughbal not leave?” Arland asks.

“He’s hoped to pull them into the battle for years, but instead of fighting him they use me. Griandor and Gramhara picked me for—well that doesn’t matter—they picked me, and I have to kill Dughbal.”