8. The Edge of Insanity #2
She was the only thought that could banish the anxiety that came with every hallucination.
Larissa’s fierce, protective spirit came back to Darien as he remembered how she engulfed Halla with enough love and anger to strangle her.
Aagen didn’t know which farm Larissa might live on, so Darien’s only chance at seeing her again was on the road back to the Wall.
“Did you hear what I said?”
Darien spun to find the hazel eyes of the same blond boy that had fallen with him from the tree. Perhaps Halla’s age or a bit younger, he held his chin high with adult arrogance. “I said, did you hear me?”
Not real , Darien thought. Before he could decide to speak, another voice answered the first.
“How could I not hear you? You’re not exactly quiet.”
Another boy, nearly the same build and height as the first, stood behind Darien.
Unlike his companion, this boy had wild black hair that he brushed back from vivid blue eyes.
There was something familiar about that gesture, but Darien had no time to ponder as the black-haired boy walked straight through Darien as though he had no more substance than smoke.
Darien sagged against a nearby tree, surrendering himself to watching the hallucination unfold.
Would he know it when he finally lost his mind, or would he experience a slow, unnoticed descent into madness?
“I was listening to Faeir and Móeir,” said the blond boy. “They were talking in the library and didn’t hear me. We’re going to visit the Kingdom of Perle.”
The black-haired boy crossed his arms across his chest, rolling his eyes. “What’s so exciting about that? We’ve visited before.”
“This time is different.”
“How?”
The blond boy paused before answering, mischief playing around the corners of his green-brown eyes and upturned mouth. “I don’t know if I should tell you. After all, it might be a secret for only the Crown Prince to know.”
Crown Prince , thought Darien. There hadn’t been princes since before the Empress’ reign, according to Aagen.
The dark-haired boy snorted. “Sure, which is why you eavesdropped to hear it at all.”
Darien smirked as the young boys bickered.
Could these boys be more than figments of his shattering sanity?
Or were they simply the physical result of listening to Aagen’s stories one too many times?
The boys were familiar in a way that made Darien’s ears tingle.
The dark-haired boy stalked away from his companion as recognition blossomed in Darien’s mind. He knew this child, but how?
“I don’t care about your secret,” said the dark-haired boy. Darien could tell he was lying.
“Sure you do.” The blond boy jerked his head toward Darien. “So does he. Don’t you?”
Darien jolted up from the tree as two pairs of eyes stared at him, waiting for his answer. Waiting for him to engage. Darien hesitated. It was one thing to hear voices in his head, and another thing to answer them.
Frustrated by his silence, the black-haired boy took a step in his direction. “Is he right? Do you want to know the secret?”
The boys’ silence demanded an answer. Darien stood up straight, excitement building in his stomach in defiance against the caution in his mind. He had found the line between rationality and madness. Should he cross this line, he could truly lose his mind.
His mouth turned up at the thought. After all, in all of Aagen’s stories, interesting things hardly ever happened to the sensible.
Darien nodded, letting the two boys grab hold of his injured hands.
Surprisingly, not only was their grip solid, but it eased his stinging skin instead of irritating it.
They pulled him deeper into the orchards until they came upon one of the largest trees, then let go of Darien’s hands and ran past the tree.
When he slowed down, the blond boy beckoned him. “Well, come on then!”
Darien shook his head, smiling at his foolishness. But even as he raised a prayer for protection, his feet propelled him forward. He passed the tree, and everything changed.
T he orchard around Darien disappeared. Tile flooring replaced the soil beneath his feet, and the smell of apples vanished.
He stood inside a massive hallway with high ceilings, great tapestries on the walls, and thick rugs on the floors.
All along the hall were closed doors with runes etched in their frames.
Darien supposed that the Kings and Queens of Old or the Regents of the Empress would have lived like this.
Crown Prince , the boy called himself.
Was this a memory of a time before the Great Hrun ? But if so, whose memory had Darien stumbled into?
As he raced down the hall, Darien realized several things simultaneously.
He was much shorter than before, and he couldn’t see the boys running ahead of him.
Instead, someone ran by his side. The dark-haired child had disappeared, leaving behind the blond boy, who was now somehow taller than Darien.
When he saw Darien watching him, the boy grinned.
His name is Aeron , a voice in his mind said.
The name felt right, even if Darien’s body did not. Raising his hands to his face even as he continued down the labyrinth of halls, Darien noted how small they had become. His legs were shorter too.
“Slow down,” Aeron hissed, yanking Darien’s arm. “You don’t want them to hear us.”
Their feet slowed; Darien passed by a mirror, then nearly tripped as he jerked back to check his reflection. The dark-haired child hadn’t disappeared at all. As Darien raised his hand to brush back his hair, the same child in the reflection mirrored his action.
Somehow, Darien was the boy.
The fear of losing himself in whatever irrationality had sucked him into this world pricked part of Darien’s mind. But there was another, stronger part that longed to know the end of the story, to learn the secret, even at the risk of his sanity.
As if his borrowed body were responding to this desire, he crept forward after Aeron.
They stopped outside a large door inscribed with more runes.
Darien recognized some of them from Aagen’s book, the one they hid during every Inspection.
Aagen had never shared the meaning of these runes with Darien, but that never stopped him from stealing away during the night to flip through the pages of the book.
Following Aeron’s lead, Darien pressed his ear up against the door. Aeron’s conspiratorial grin stretched across his whole face, only inches from Darien’s own; Darien felt its contagious energy and the subsequent smile that split his own cheeks.
Is this what it’s like to have a brother? Darien wondered.
He’s my best friend. Darien recognized the voice in his head as belonging to the boy whose body he now inhabited.
The muffled voice on the other side crystalized into words, spoken by a woman. “I’m surprised Queen Stjarna agreed to our visit.”
Told you , Aeron mouthed. Darien rolled his eyes, pressing his ear closer against the door. Or at least, his body did. He wasn’t sure how much of his actions were his own or the boy’s.
A man answered the woman. “It will be good for her daughter to have some friends. We’ve encouraged this for years.”
Daughter ? Darien felt his mouth move to ask the question before he thought it. Aeron nodded, that same mischief shining in his eyes.
The door opened, sliding away from where it held Darien’s weight as he felt his body crash to the carpeted floor.
From the muffled thump beside him, it was clear that Aeron had fallen as well.
The boys hurriedly rose to their hands and knees as they stared into two bemused faces.
The woman’s dark lips pulled into a smile, her hazel eyes crinkling at the corners.
The man towered over the boys with stern blue eyes set against olive skin.
But Darien could swear that a smile hid behind the man’s thick, curly beard.
“What do you two think you are doing?”
“We were coming to get a book, right, Darien?” Aeron nudged Darien’s side with his elbow, but Darien could only stare.
He called him Darien . How had Aeron known that was his name? Did he know that Darien was inhabiting this boy’s body?
The towering man turned his gaze to the black-haired boy. “Darien, is this true?”
Darien’s mind reeled as he recognized the truth. He knew why the boy had looked so familiar. Whether this was a vision, a dream, or a memory, Darien was the black-haired boy.