The Bridge Beyond Her World (The Boy and the Beast Book 2) (21 page)

“Yes…It’s strange though. I don’t remember much. I think it was pleasant.”

Don’t remember?
Aven glanced again at Pike. Had the brain wipe messed him up that bad? Arentiss’s world, Birth, stuck out in his mind so vividly, as did Bridge. They were so different than Loam, how could one forget an experience like that?

“Back to the business at hand,” said Arentiss. “If you purchase a farm, you will have to hire workers, and as a Guardian, you will not have time to oversee them.”

Aven smiled. If it were not for her uncalloused hands, Arentiss could have passed for a farm girl dressed for a harvest dance. She wore a faded blue dress, tattered at the ends, with lace at the shoulders and back. Without her uniform accentuating her expressionless face, the simple artistry of the dress breathed life into her features.

Daeymara, despite the cotton dress, did not look like a farm girl. Her cropped hair was so short, and cut in such a strange line. It was distinctly different than the long hair that a farm girl wore with pride.

Behind them stood three plainclothed soldiers that had been assigned to them when they left the Guardian’s facility. They chatted amongst themselves mostly, and left them to wander wherever they wished without many questions.

“I’ve thought of that already,” said Aven. “I’m going to rent out most of the land. I’ll keep for myself only a small parcel and hire one worker to tend it. That way when I am able, I can come and work it myself, with my dog at my side.”

He caught a faint smile bend the corners of Arentiss’s tightly closed mouth. “You want a dog with your farm now…anything else to add to our errand list?”

“A sweet wife perhaps,” said Daeymara. “I’m sure Arentiss and I would make perfect matchmakers.”

Aven laughed. The desire to be matched with a good woman ran deep in him. “I appreciate your offer, but a farm and a dog should do for now. Winter will be my matchmaker.”

Arentiss unfolded her arms and took his hand again. Aven thought he detected a scowl on her face. Pike looked at their hands and seemed both amused and curious, but he had said nothing of it so far. It both irritated, and pleased, Aven that Arentiss had decided to take up hand holding again today. Ever since returning back through the portal to Loam, she hadn’t tried it. But here, now, she’d found his hand again. And he enjoyed her touch. He sometimes rubbed a finger along the side of her hand, and inevitably a little smile would break through her expressionless lips, and her fingers would respond to his with a flourish of strokes.

She
was
much older than him. But to his own surprise, that didn’t bother him. What did bother him was that, on the farmland where he grew up, handholding meant courtship. Perhaps if he explained this, she would refrain. But then, he liked that she’d taken to holding his hand.

Also, how would the other Guardians interpret it? What did Daeymara think of it? The uncertainty made Aven uncomfortable. And worse, he hadn’t gotten around to mentioning Arentiss’s little endorphin thrill to his sister. Would Pike or Daeymara say something before he could? It would be an insult to Winter, for it was her role to find him a mate now just as he was to find one for her.

And Winter, she had fallen into a dark mood ever since returning from Bridge two days ago. He had never known her to be so silent, her face so touched by misery, staring for hours at the ceiling above her bed. He wanted to bring her out here. Back to the familiar soil. Back to her woods and bugs and flowers. He hoped to, for he felt the landscape before him held enough healing for the both of them.

They found the farm hovel at the end of a short path. It was built into an oak that rested on the edge of a thicket. Aven noticed that not far from where they stood was a red-tinted glass oval, oddly resting in the middle of the wild grasses covering the top of the home. The woman who owned the farm came out to greet them. The farmer had a face that reminded him of Sky, Harvest’s mother. She invited them down inside her home and promised to explain the strange object in her yard. The soldiers waited above ground while Arentiss, Daeymara, Pike and himself, climbed down into the hovel. It was a much larger dwelling than the one Aven had lived in, having at least three times the size. The design was such that the living space was one large circle at the center, with the other rooms opening onto it. As Aven passed through into the middle room, he stopped suddenly. In the center was a small tree with thick green grasses beneath it. The room was lit red by the beautiful dingy glass above.

No such artistry or adornments had ever graced the farm hovels of the Baron’s land. Beauty such as this was too extravagant for a people scrounging to grasp hold of enough coin to buy their freedom.

The red light filtering through the glass was a reminder of his transformed life. He had been taken out of slavery, and brought into a new world of freedom and peace.

Aven rummaged through the house for almost an hour with his three fellow Guardians following along. Finally, Aven retrieved from his pocket a promissory note that Arentiss and Daeymara had helped him get from the chief merchant banker of the royal exchange.

He handed it to the woman. “I was told this was a very fair price for this property,” said Aven.

Arentiss whispered, “Did you not want to look at the other farms for sale in the area?”

“No. This is the one.”

The woman’s face lit as she read. “Thank you. This is a generous offer. My mate will be very pleased.”

She signed the document immediately.

Aven stared at the walls. These were his now. He was suddenly overcome by something he hadn’t felt for a very long time. Hope. Confidence that his dreams were coming into reality and that the future was stable and secure. A farm was the foundation of life. Of self-sufficiency. Working the soil was what he knew, and what he loved. But it surpassed the simple pleasure of labor to him, for accompanying it was the promise of family, of a mate and children, of meals around a table telling stories of the day’s joys and sorrows. The very things his soul longed for.

Arentiss squeezed his hand, and he almost tapped her a message, forgetting it was not his sister beside him.

“Do any of your neighbors have whelps for sale?” asked Daeymara to the farm woman.

“Yes,” said Aven, “I’m in need of a dog. On the larger side, but friendly.”

“They’re planning on lots of children,” said Pike, “they’ll need a breed that won’t mind its tail yanked by the little ones.”

Aven stared at Pike as if he’d just uttered complete nonsense.
Children? Who’s having children?
Then it struck him that Pike was insinuating that he and Arentiss were…

Aven’s neck burned red hot.

He glared in surprised anger at Pike, whose wistful smile began to fade under Aven’s eyes. Aven remembered Pike as a boy. A boy who loved jokes and pranks and had made Aven and the other neighbor children cry with laughter. Pike was like that boy again. Half of Aven was thankful to have him back. The other half wanted to smack him across his face.

A calming breath took the edge off Aven’s anger.

The joke on him and Arentiss didn’t matter. Pike was harmless now, and that fact washed the redness from Aven’s face and replaced it with a smile.

And more important in this moment, Aven was standing in his very own hovel.

CHAPTER 21

WINTER

Winter left her quarters for the first time in two days, pushed by a final pendulum swing of determination. She found Rueik and Zoecara in the hallway, but stopped only to ask them where Karience could be found.

While in her room earlier that day, she had made several resolutions. She had fought herself. The unexposed, hidden things she’d kept inside were shouted and hissed into the air with the same amount of emotion that had kept them locked away.

“You’re afraid of losing your brother,” she jeered at herself. “He’ll die someday whether you’re prepared for it or not. Is that all that matters? Safety? A happy life? The Makers promised you pain when they gave you the gift. Are you now too weak to handle it? If the Maker hadn’t saved you from the water, you would be dead. If you hadn’t had the vision of the dead bodies and the smoke, you wouldn’t have set in motion everything that led you to be where you are now. You may have died along with your entire family, trying to escape the Baron’s land. One thing is for certain. You wouldn’t be here, with the Guardians, where it is possible to live out what Leaf called you to do—to put under your feet a Beast. The portal is at your fingertips. Are you blind to where you’ve been led, as painful as it has been?

“It’s been joyful, too—don’t forget! Either trust the Makers with every hair on your body or forsake your gift and run away to live a
normal
life.”

Rationality and the absurd were intermixed as she chased every dark corner away with fiery passion.

In the privacy of her own quarters, she had battled more than just herself. She had warred with the Makers, too.

“Can I trust you?” she had whispered into the air again and again, growing accustomed to the emotion and bite of her own voice jarring her ears. “I’m drowning all over again. It’s too dark to see.
Please
. Where are your arms when I need them? If you’re closer than my next breath, then speak to me.

“Did a Maker kill the Sanctuss? The Consecrators believed it was one of you that took her life. I’m trying to understand you, just the same as Sanctuss Voyanta was. She thought you had to be either good or bad. You heard me defending you. Trying to put you on the side of good. But I didn’t have answers. Neither did the Sanctuss when she needed them—when she was still an Oracle. Will it be the same for me? Why do I feel pushed beyond what I can bear? Would you kill me, too, if I turn away for lack of guidance?”

Alone, she’d released everything in her heart. No conscious doubt was left unspoken. No emotion held back.

Mercifully, these feelings that had raged the past two days had calmed, dispelled by the simple creature that faithfully followed her everywhere.

She arrived at Karience’s door, where Rueik had told her the Empyrean spent her afternoons engaged in official business.

Whisper clung to the side of Winter’s face, its blue wings folded up.

As she had wrestled in agony within her room, the butterfly had crawled over her body with occasional voyages into the air to glide about the open space. The creature had comforted her a small amount. A momentary distraction of beauty. But then Winter saw something for the first time. Beyond its bright colors and elegant form, the two dots on the end of its wings took on a striking pattern. She’d sat, mesmerized, shivers electrifying her neck and back as she realized their eye-like form. When Whisper glided above her it was as if a pair of divine, hazel green eyes looked down on her. She couldn’t fathom how the pattern had gone unnoticed until just then. Had they always looked so distinctly like eyes? Had the shape been altered? Or was the true form there all along, but hidden from her comprehension until just now? Was that Leaf’s design? Was that his way to tell her he was there with her, as loyal as Whisper?

It was enough for her. Deep down, it was what she wanted. The being that had touched her so long ago was what she needed to be true. Even if Leaf, or another Maker, would not provide her with answers to questions, they were there, guiding her, not by voice, but by the visions of the seer spirit. And they were good. Somehow they were good. Despite what seemed wrong.

And now she sensed what she had to do to fulfill her calling. And, if she could, save her brother’s life.

Winter opened the door and Karience looked up from a sleek white table. A pen was in her hand and a pile of parchment was stacked messily beside her. A large window filled the entire wall to the right of Karience. The sun poured through, filling the room with a bright glow. The other three walls were lined with art that looked to be landscapes of Loam. A portrait here and there. A shelf spilling over with books was against the wall behind the Empyrean.

“You are just what I need,” said Karience. “A distraction from working on this charter! My life’s work.” She stood and motioned for Winter to join her by the window.

Winter breathed in the view. So high up. And yet safe behind this perfectly clear glass. The window overlooked the portal. It appeared unguarded, but she knew that wasn’t so. Beyond it laid the ocean, blue and green with white foam where the waves were whipped by wind. A large sailing ship ambled across the waters heading out into the horizon.

“Have you talked to the Magnus Empyrean about my becoming a Missionary?”

Karience looked startled. “You are certain of this choice? You’ve only just become an Emissary.”

“I am certain.”

Karience turned back to gaze out the window. “In time it is possible, but…what draws you to become a Missionary?”

“Reaching new worlds,” said Winter.

“An Emissary travels to new worlds all the time.”

Winter stared out at the horizon. “I mean, unprotected worlds.
New
worlds.”

“You’ve visited two protected worlds, and on the safest world of all, you were nearly killed by fringe activists. Is that not enough danger for you?”

Winter sighed. “I’m not seeking danger, danger finds me wherever I am. It is part of my calling.”