She doesn’t respond.
Mom wraps her arm around Brit’s shoulders. I know the words were intended to protect my sister, but I don’t doubt they hurt.
Dufaigh stops his sinister march and stands before Brit. “It is okay, child, you do not have to speak it in her presence. Her shadow must be a tall one to live in.” He caresses her cheek.
Propping her hands on her hips, Brit huffs air through her nose. “You’re wrong. My sister doesn’t treat people that way—and there’s no sun, so there aren’t any shadows for me to stand in. Unless we’re talking about the ones surrounding you.”
“
Brites
,” Mom says, frowning. “You cannot speak to him that way. He is a Leader.”
Brit scowls at Dufaigh. “Well, apparently so am I.”
Perth and his father exchange glances.
“She reminds me of you, Saraid. Tell her to keep quiet or I will find a way to ensure her fate is the same as yours.”
Dufaigh pivots on his heel, marches another few feet, then passes through a doorway on the left.
“Please, Brit, control your tongue,” Perth whispers. “This is not where you and Katriona grew up. You may have been able to get away with speaking to people that way there, but my father is not the forgiving type. I do admire you standing your ground, and he will have a great deal of respect for you as well, but he will also have his eye on you. Try to speak as we do, try to act submissive, or I fear what may happen if you do not.”
“Thanks for the advice, but I’m not submitting to anyone, and I’m certainly not going to have him belittle me. Let me have the same fate as my mother. If more people would stand up to him, maybe he wouldn’t be so feared.” Brit brushes past us then follows the same path as Leader Dufaigh.
“Mom?” I ask, wondering what the hell happened to my sister.
Mom smiles but rubs her hands together. “She has had enough, Katriona. We need to find a Seer, or she will never be happy.”
“Ar—” Dufaigh steps back into the hallway, and I revise my words. “Perth and I discussed that earlier. We will see if we can find one. I believe it will help calm her. She should not speak that way to anyone, let alone a respected Leader.”
“Come along now.” He points toward the doorway with his stubby fingers.
“Coming, Father.” Perth places his hand between my shoulder blades and pushes me forward.
We step through the dark doorway opening into a room so familiar, I want to hide my face for fear the knowledge will somehow reveal itself.
I’ve been here before
.
The communications room looks the same as the last time I was here, minus Arland’s father. I try to look around with nonchalance; the brown-haired man must be here, and if he is, he will likely recognize me.
I spot him standing in the far right corner of the room, deep in conversation with Drustan—the other man who was here when I visited via the chatter box. They stop talking and look up at all of us. Scanning through the faces, they each stop at me then return to their conversation.
Thank you, Griandor
.
“Why did you bring us in here?” Arland asks, coming from behind Perth and me to stand before Dufaigh.
“There is a disturbance at Wickward. Your father is here monitoring it, and I brought you all back here to meet with him.” Dufaigh waves his hand as though the disturbance means nothing to him at all.
“What kind of disturbance at Wickward?” Arland pronounces the word disturbance slowly, probably trying to hide the caution in his tone.
Leader Dufaigh smiles and claps his hand on Arland’s shoulder. “It is unclear the extent of the damage, but the base has been infiltrated. Another failed Leader, Arland. Does this sound familiar?”
He brushes Dufaigh’s hand aside. “Is this the reason there are no guards outside these walls tonight?”
“We brought them in to prepare for their journey to Wickward.” The sinister, yet annoying, Ground Dweller points to a large piece of aged paper with names scrawled on it. “The ones on the list leave at three.”
Brit approaches the table, running her finger down the long list of names and gasps. “Wait, so you’re telling me another base is being attacked and you were out stuffing your fat face instead of trying to help?”
Dufaigh growls, low and throaty, and turns his attention on my sister.
Brit is playing a dangerous game. One that will surely have her locked up and ruining our plan before we ever get to eat. I try to make a connection to her, think of her and her alone.
“
Brit
?”
She keeps her eyes focused on Dufaigh standing before her with a blood-red face. “
What? This guy is pissing me off
.”
“
He’s dangerous, Brit. Just shut up and let him talk without interrupting again. Please
.”
“I am a Leader, child. No matter what your bloodline, if you wish to live, you will keep quiet.” Dufaigh turns to Arland.
“She clearly has a fascination with you to speak up that way. Learn to control her, Arland Maher, or you will be out of two wives.”
Her scowl fades, and we lock eyes. “
What does he mean I have a fascination with Arland
?”
“
As long as he doesn’t think I do, we should be fine. Play into it. Arland is smart enough to figure it out
.”
Brit clasps her hands behind her back and looks at her boot, twisting it on the stone floor. “I am so sorry for talking that way in front of you, Arland. It was just hard to hear him speak to
you
that way.”
Arland puts his arm around Brit’s shoulders, pulling her into him—an act making me squirm on the inside. “You must learn to show respect. Even to those who do not always deserve it.” He looks away from Brit and smiles broadly at Dufaigh.
Backing away, he huffs out a long breath. “I will very much enjoy watching you fall from grace, you—”
“That is enough,” Arland’s father commands, stepping into the room through a doorway in the far right corner. “You will not speak to my son that way. Is it not enough we are at war with Darkness, we need to war each other as well?”
Mom places her hand over her heart and bows her head, a sign of respect; though after what Leader Dufaigh just told us, High Leader Maher doesn’t deserve it. “Kimball … .”
He crosses the room then stands right in front of my mother, towering over her by at least six inches. “Drustan, Annan, leave us.”
Keeping his attention on the men, he waits for them to leave then looks at Mom again. “It is good to see you, Saraid. Where is Brian?” Leader Maher glances around the room, but he knows exactly where my dad is.
Mom buries her face in her hands. “He died a long time ago, Kimball.”
Leader Maher pulls her into a hug. “He was a good man. I am sorry to hear of this.”
The amount of acting going on here is incredible.
He holds her at arm’s length, then tips his head in the direction of where he entered. “The meeting room in the back will be more appropriate for our conversation. After you.”
Leader Dufaigh takes off first, followed by Mom, Brit, Perth and me.
“Wait here, son,” Leader Maher says.
Peeking back, I notice he has his hand wrapped tightly around Arland’s elbow.
“Keep moving,” Perth whispers.
Arland and his father watch as Perth and I cross through the doorway. I can only imagine the questions that will be asked. Only imagine the lies unfolding before we have a chance to tell a large enough web of them. Of course Arland’s father already knows the truth, but we need for him to stay on board, and we need Arland to stay here.
Alive.
Perth leans in close to my ear. “Do not worry; Arland will be fine.”
“It is not only him I am worried about,” I say as low as possible. “It is everything.”
We lock eyes, and I’m positive he understands I’m worried about the lie. Positive he knows Arland’s father will have to go along with it—at least the part about Perth and me.
“Me, too.”
“They are such a lovely couple,” Dufaigh says, interrupting my quiet conversation with Perth.
We’ve entered into a small room. One long table is situated in the center with a dozen or so chairs surrounding it. Clear glass jars filled with white wax and warm candlelight line the table. Hand-drawn canvass maps cover the walls, denoting bases and enemy hideouts in different colors.
Dufaigh sits in a chair at the head of the table—a seat I’m sure is not intended for him. Light flickers on his face, creating shadows under his milky-blue eyes and chubby cheeks.
I stop in the middle of the room, not sure where to sit and not sure I want to get any closer to him.
“Take a seat next to me, Perth. Katriona, do not fear, child. You may sit next to him.” Dufaigh points to the seat closest to him.
“I was concerned you would have brainwashed your daughter against my son. Having her willing to marry Perth and not the least bit interested in Arland Maher seems almost too good to be true. Are you ready to perform the Binding spell now?”
“No, Father.” Perth holds out a chair for me.
I sit down then take his hand again once he’s next to me. Perth may be cold and lacking all of Arland’s marvelous qualities, but having someone to hold onto does tremendous good for my nerves.
Dufaigh narrows his eyes. “What do you mean, son?”
“I wish to court her properly, sir. Our time together has been full of bloody battles. We could use some light-hearted fun before we commit to one another forever.” Perth picks up my hand then places his frigid lips on my knuckles.
“Is that not what you wish for, too, my love?”
“I … I—”
His father rests his clenched fists on the table as if he wants Perth to see his anger. “This will not do. We need a wedding. Our people have endured great losses and need something to bring cheer. Your marriage—”
Perth lowers his head, reverting to a state of submission. “Father, I do not wish to displease you, but this is what we desire. A week or two is all we need, then once we are Bound, Katriona and I will go out and fight off this terrible Darkness.”
“More nonsense. I will not allow you to risk your life out there.” Dufaigh waves his hand toward the dirt ceiling.
“But how will we end the war?” Perth asks.
“Son, you will direct what little army we have left to fight out the war.”
“But Katriona has the power to save us all.”
Dufaigh wears a look resembling the man I once thought Perth to be: cold and hard. With eyes fixed on Perth, the heartless Leader stands and digs his fingers into his son’s right hand. “You will not speak another word. If Katriona wishes to fight after you are Bound and she has relinquished her position to you, then so be it.”
Perth reveals no outward signs of pain; he mirrors his father’s angry gaze. “You would have me send my wife out to fight while I remain behind … in hiding?”
“She is a Light Lover, Son. It should not matter to you.” Dufaigh looks at me then flinches.
“I am not quite sure how it is you have fallen for her. She bears the same distrustful eyes as the rest of them.”
“Her life and my honor do matter to me.” Perth squeezes my fingers so tight my bones ache. He fears his father; standing up to him must be terrifying.
“Do you want your time to court her, or shall I have Leader Wilde perform the spell now?”
“I will do no such thing without both of their consents,” Mom says, slamming her fist on the table. “You have crossed the line, Dufaigh. Your son wishes to give the people the very thing you ask for, and you challenge him? And worse yet, you say he should send his wife to fight alone? How dare you! Have you lost all
your
fight?”
Dufaigh looks from Perth to the other side of the table, fingers still dug into his son’s hand. No words are spoken, but there’s fire behind the eyes of my would-be-father-in-law.
Mom shakes her head. “No, I see you have not lost all fight. Only you fight for all the wrong things. Nothing has changed with you over the last twenty years.”
Arland and his father walk in. Everyone looks up or turns around.
Side-by-side the two men could be clones of one another, minus the gray streaks in High Leader’s hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes.
“I apologize for my tardiness. I needed a moment to speak with my son—alone,” he says, stopping at the head of the table. “Would you mind moving from my seat, Dufaigh?”
Without a word, Dufaigh releases his grip on Perth then moves to the other end of the table. Leader Maher claims his seat while Arland sits next to Brit then takes her hand in his.
I try not to stare, try not to allow the faked affections bother me, but they do. She hid her love for my best friend from me for years, now she gets to pretend to be in love with my true love—gets to kiss, hold hands and have acceptance. This was my half-baked telepathic idea, but I hate it already.
“I hear congratulations are in order. It seems Brites and Arland have fallen in love as well as Katriona and Perth. This works out well.” Leader Maher offers a smile reaching up to his striking green eyes, making his crow’s feet grow to his hairline.
“However I am sorry, Brites. I must send Arland to Wickward to rescue the other Draíochtans. I am sure you understand?”
“I am so sorry,” Arland whispers next to her ear.
I cannot take this
.
“
You have to, Kate. I promise I will not do anything, and I promise not to enjoy this.”
Brit meets my eyes and smiles. “
Although his hands, his smell, his—”
“Stop
!”
She looks away from me, back toward Arland’s father. “I understand, sir. He will be missed, but he is very good at what he does.”
“I have a request to make.” Perth watches the lying pair with his nose turned up in disgust.
I do my best to match his look. With the googly faces Brit’s making, it’s not a difficult task.
“What is that request, Son?” Dufaigh asks.
“I wish for Arland to be on Katriona’s security.”
Leader Maher laughs a low, almost bemused laugh. “
Security
?”
Perth doesn’t look away from his father. “I know you do not trust Arland, and in many ways neither do I, but you cannot deny his ability to fight off daemons and unruly Draíochtans. Katriona will need security, Father. Think of all the men here who would wish to have her as their own. She will need a guard with her at all times.”