Wilde's Army (35 page)

Perth shakes his head. “He is gone.”

“
No
. He’s not gone. He can’t be gone.” My vision clouds, my knees tremble. “No.
No
. Not my love. Not—”

Perth’s cold hands cup each of my cheeks now. His mouth is wide open, and I’m almost positive I’m kissing him in a way I never imagined I would. My eyes are closed, but everything appears blue—I’m glowing.

Pulling away, I offer him less of myself and drop my hands from his waist where I had my nails dug into his skin.

“That was … .” Perth whispers.

I spare a quick glance at Arland—his mouth hangs open, his eyes don’t meet mine. He leans beside Brit’s ear.

She nods and they turn and walk away.

No
.

No
.

Not Arland
.

I lost him in my vision and in reality.

The wooden doors slam closed behind them. A piece of stone falls from the wall and crumbles on the floor.

No one watches Arland or Brit though; everyone stares at my body covered in blue flames. No one can possibly understand why my magic displayed itself. Arland cannot even understand
why
it happened.

But he must think I enjoyed kissing Perth.

And now I’m not protected from Dughbal. My heart sinks to my stomach. If Arland ever forgives me, I could lose him anyway. I hate this. I need to make the list of my visions, the list Brit suggested. I need to prepare for all Arland’s possible deaths. I need to find a way to save him, and I need to end this war.

Lorne glances around the room. “Where has Arland gone off to? It is a good thing your father has other soldiers to help protect Katriona, Perth.”

“I am sorry,” Perth says, tearing his gaze from me to look at his uncle.

“Arland. He is gone. Deverell will have to escort her to her room. I will keep them posted outside her door tonight in the off chance Arland does not return.” Lorne shakes his head. “Your father will have him executed for this.”

“No, Uncle Lorne, my father will be very happy Arland ran off. Let him fall from grace publicly.” Perth reaches for my hand again. “I will escort Katriona back to her room then meet my father.”

Lorne laughs. “After that display, I do not understand why you do not go through with the Binding right now. You could have a very interesting evening.”

I squeeze Perth’s fingers between mine as hard as I can manage. He cannot believe I enjoyed that, or his uncle’s comment.

Maura jabs the perverted Ground Dweller’s ribs. He smirks, rubbing his side. “It was a mere suggestion, Maura.”

She and I meet eyes; hers are the faintest shade of brown, like coffee with way too much creamer. “I believe Katriona needs rest, and Perth needs to meet his father. There will be no Binding tonight.”

”And you know my father will get more enjoyment the longer we string this out and hurt the Light Lovers. If you see my father before I do, tell him I will meet with him shortly.”

Perth rushes me out of the great room—everyone must assume we’re going for more of what they watched, but in private. Once in the hall, he slows his pace then lets go of my hand. “What happened?”

I gasp, afraid to admit what happened, afraid to admit death may be Arland’s fate. “I had a vision.”

“That much I could decipher, but you went cold on me … you barely moved and I thought you had decided not to go through with the lie. Then you whispered ‘No’ in my mouth and kissed so … passionately. I have never experienced anything so wonderful in my life, Katriona. Please, kiss me again.”

He pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around my waist, stealing my air, my hope, me … .

“I know you do not love me, and I know you never will, but please, one more time, kiss me like that.”

Tears stream down my face, and I cannot stop them. Wriggling free from Perth’s embrace, I run away. He follows, but I don’t stop until I reach my room. I push through the door, slam and lock it closed behind me, then throw myself onto the bed.

Pounding comes—first in my head from crying too much, then at the door. I ignore whoever it is.

Dreams haunt me all night long. Sitting up in bed, I realize I fell asleep with my clothes on. I reach out for the sun to see what time it is—four in the morning, according to the position of the stars and moon.

My head still throbs, and my throat is dry. Someone laid out a baby-blue silk nightgown for me, so I slip from my ridiculous velvet dress and into the more appropriate one. I tiptoe to the door then unlock the top bolt, praying Arland is out there.

The hinges protest, echoing down the hall. Only the guards Deverell and Cyric stand outside my room.

“Can one of you get me a glass of water?”

I don’t know which is which, but the same Ground Dweller who held open the door for me and Perth to enter the great room, is the same one who nods then walks up the stairs.

“Will you be needing anything else?” the other, short, blonde man asks.

“What is your name?”

“Cyric.” He grins, looking me up and down with his beady, white eyes.

I hide myself behind the door. “Well, Cyric, can you bring my sister to me—and where is the other guard? I was told he had to remain in sight of me at all times.”

“No one has seen Arland Maher or your sister since the celebration in the great room, but if I see either of them, I will be sure to send her your way.”

My insides shake, but I remain calm on the outside. I know I can’t keep this up though. “And Arland?” I purse my lips.

Cyric clears his throat, wearing an expression saying he doesn’t care. “He will return, but whether he is put in charge of you again is up to your future husband.”

“Thank you.” The water no longer important, I close the door, go back to bed, then crawl under the covers.

Staring at the ceiling, I replay the events of the evening through my mind, but the disappointment on Arland’s face haunts me more than anything else. His eyes, full of sadness, couldn’t even meet mine. His expression, blank, empty, didn’t reveal any of the warmth I’ve grown used to. If he ever wants to see me again, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do—a lot of making up.

Someone knocks on the door.

I bury my head under the pillow and hum the song Flanna sang for me when I was afraid at Watchers Hall, her peaceful melody of words about Griandor and the sun, and try to sleep.

Another knock echoes through my head, adding to the pounding ache.

“Go away.” I throw my lumpy down-filled pillow across the room then flip onto my belly. Unless Arland is outside my door, I’m not answering it. Considering how dangerous that would be and after what happened tonight, there’s no way he’s knocking.

Once the person outside my door gets the hint, I curl into a ball and sob myself to sleep.

Thump, thump, thump
.

People banged on my door all night long. No one around here seems to learn. I’m sure if whoever it was had pressing matters, they would have barged in, but no one did.

Thump, thump, thump
.

“Fine. I am coming. Just stop pounding my door.” I throw the blankets from my legs then step onto the cold, stone floor with my bare feet. Wrapping my arms around myself, I pad over to the prison exit then turn the handle.

“Good morning, Katriona.” Rhoswen holds up a tray of food with her left hand and carries multiple garments in colors of wine, blue, and gold with her right. Her face is swollen, black surrounds her eyes, and her lips are cut open.

“I brought you breakfast and clothes. Are you going to tell on me for something else today?”

I suck in a sharp breath, bringing my hand to my mouth, not sure what to say about her appearance. “I … .” I think about what Dufaigh told me, about how if anyone disgraced my family I should punish them immediately. As much as I hate to do it, taking in her wounds, I know I must. This has to be another test.

“I am not sorry. You insulted someone I love and therefore insulted Encardia … .”

She scowls. “May I come in?”

“Yes.” I put my arm out and move aside.

Rhoswen hobbles toward the table in the center of the room then places the tray down. “You really should light a candle or two. Not good for the girl who brings light to be surrounded with so much darkness.”

She snaps her fingers and all the candles in the glass jars on the floor spark to life.

“How … ?” I ask, spinning around to take in the sight.

“You have no idea how to play with Ground Dweller magic, do you? Only that ridiculous child’s magic of the Light Lovers.” She shakes her head, tossing the velvet garments over the tall mirror at the back of the room.

“And to think we thought you were different. You do not know anything at all. You are perfect for the Dufaighs. You may actually be worse, considering you have the power to end it all … you said so yourself.”

I hate having to play this game—she’s so convincing as someone fighting against Dufaigh—but I have no choice. How do I know who to trust and who not to? Griandor said to trust those around me, but does that apply to the dresser as well? Does it only apply to people I knew before I came here? The gods should have given me more. Why did they send me here to screw everything up? I could’ve just fought Dughbal; I didn’t need to involve all these people.

Perth said Rhoswen was not on our side, and I know I can trust him, but everyone else told me not to. I want to scream, but resort to balling my fists and marching toward the wounded woman in my room. “Now wait just a—”

“Look,” she says, bruised arms crossed over her chest. “Your words do not convince me, your anger seems directed elsewhere, and your love for Perth is as real as Dufaigh being a kind man. Do not lie to me—and do not for one minute assume I believe your lies. You are playing some game none of us understand, but we are smart enough to know we have never understood everything.”

I move closer to her, try to send magic to her, to help heal her wounds. I don’t know why, but I want to believe her. Why would she allow them to beat her so horribly if she were on the Ground Dweller’s side? “We? There are more?”

Rhoswen narrows her light green eyes—

Her eyes
. Yesterday they were nothing but white, and today, they have color to them. Just like Perth’s have made slight changes. Could it be the Ground Dwellers who are on the right path have eye color? What if they can all be saved? Maybe that’s how I unite our kinds? I bring the Ground Dwellers to the path of Light by interacting with them? Maybe I should tell her everything, help her understand what we’re doing here. Maybe she’ll tell others, and they’ll help. “You—”

Stop
. Griandor’s voice booms in my head, nearly bringing me to my knees.
She is not ready and neither are the other Ground Dwellers. Your work here is not an easy task. Take caution. Take time
.

Rhoswen taps her foot, lifting a golden eyebrow. “You were saying … ?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Would you be willing to teach me Ground Dweller magic? I would hate only to know the powers of the Light Lovers. Do the Sea Dwellers have magic, as well?”

“Amú ama, tá sí,” she mutters.

“What?”

Rhoswen points to the chair, revealing a long cut running from her wrist up to the middle of her chalky-white forearm. She notices me staring and pulls her tunic sleeve down to cover the wound. “I said you are a waste of time. Even if I teach you the magic of all Draíochtans, it will not matter. The only way Darkness will ever be defeated is for all the worlds to be opened and for
all
people to fight together.”

Please tell me she’s not right, Griandor. Please tell me you only meant I had to unite everyone in
this
world. There’s no way we can travel into all the others with what little army we have left. I don’t even know where the other portals are, or what madness we might face in those worlds. I only know of Earth, and I know no one there would believe this. Griandor
?

I collapse onto the cushy, suede-covered chair and close my eyes. “That does not matter to me. I will not be involved in the fight, remember?”

“You will die like the rest of us then,” she says, dragging a brush through my hair without regard for the amount of tangles—or my scalp. “And I guess I will die
today
when you tell Leader Dufaigh what we spoke of?”

Gritting my teeth, I clench my fists around the armrests on the wooden chair. “I suppose so—and maybe you deserve it.”
God, forgive me
. I’ve broken Arland’s heart, made Perth long to kiss me, lost my best friend, have no idea where my sister is, don’t know if my mother will live another day, and I’ve just sentenced this woman to her death.

“I will refrain from braiding your hair today. It appears you do not like Light Lover traditions even though that is your heritage. It is a shame you are not more like your parents—”

“
Enough
! Just show me what to wear then leave.” I’m too conflicted to have her here. I want to help her, but can’t. I want to protect her, but can’t. I want to find Arland and escape this place, but can’t.

Rhoswen gasps and drops the brush on the table. “Wear the burgundy dress; it will go best with your eyes.” She pauses, looking at me hard and long. “I pray for all our sakes you change.”