CHAPTER XIII
STORIES
Arens is one of three.
Or at least that’s what Keane, Desmond, Holis and Canon are all whispering about now as they stand at the foot of the bed.
The words traitor and human lover were carved into his abdomen under his shirt, along with a note of warning that he was just the beginning. Hearing that news makes me cry in my sleep, the tears pouring down my cheeks in absolute silence as I lay heavy in the middle of the bed.
“She summoned the air out of us,” Holis’ voice is filled with hushed awe.
“And killed all the forest animals around her in the process,” Desmond replies.
My heart breaks at the comment, feeling his narrowed glance on me from afar.
“She was distraught,” Canon’s voice offers in consolation. “While she couldn’t control the power, can any of us blame her? Haven’t we all been there?”
I smile at the First Guard in my sleep.
“We have,” Desmond’s voice is still hard, “the countless times I’ve lost control in my youth…”
“But how many of those nearly ended with you taking a life?” Keane replies coolly.
No.
There should be no coolness behind that voice. Especially when it comes to me.
My frown is deep, wanting to reach out to Keane.
“She needs training,” the King continues, his voice calm and cold. “There is only one person walking in the Old World who knows how to do what she did. Who knows how to summon the air around us…”
He is willing, that deep and old voice enters my mind again, clouding my thoughts as I drift into a heavier sleep.
“Storm?” I barely whisper, feeling all four sets of eyes land on me.
I sit up swiftly from bed, startling Keane at my side.
The King sits in an armchair, one that he’s pulled from the fireplace in our room, resting heavily against its cushion next to the bed.
I watch him grip the oak pen and slab in his hands, eyes finding mine as he stops his writing.
I quickly look towards the balcony and the dark night outside, the cool air pushing through the slightly open double doors.
“Esme,” my eyes find Keane’s again, understanding Etter now.
I drop my legs to the side of the bed and place my hands at my side, pushing myself up. Keane looks at me curiously, his calm and cool demeanor from earlier still holding strong.
“Lady Esme,” my voice is harder, looking back at him in expectancy.
The King stands up slowly, eyeing me quietly before he nods and moves towards the door in his Discerni speed. Canon is standing out front, looking past Keane’s shoulder to meet my gaze with a small sigh of relief.
“Get Desmond,” Keane demands.
I fall swiftly back onto the bed, unable to keep myself upright. My head is pounding. I look down at my clothes, noticing an old pair of brown Knowledge pants and a simple satin shirt of green. Keane has changed me out of the attire from earlier that was soaked in Arens’ blood…
Ancients.
Arens’ blood.
Arens.
“How long?” I turn my heavy head to him, watching as his brown eyes hold mine from across the room.
“Just the night, Alexis,” he grimaces and walks forward, eyes darting across my face in concern.
“Arens?” I inquire in a whisper, already knowing the answer.
“All three arrows were made of green agate,” Keane shakes his head softly. “One was logged against the side of his heart. He had no chance.”
I bring my hands to my face and close my eyes, letting my head weigh heavy as I fight back more tears.
“He called to me, Keane. I heard the fear and desperation in his voice. What in the Old World was he doing out there?”
“Ancients,” I sob. “He called to me! Asked for me in his last words…”
I can’t stop the cries that consume my whole body, the tears falling into my hands as my chest heaves forward. Keane’s strong arms are around me within a blink, standing between my legs as he bends over and pulls me up into his chest, letting me cry in his arms.
This isn’t right.
What happened to Arens isn’t right.
What was he doing out in the woods? And why was he alone? Calling for me?
I can’t erase the sound of my name on his lips, of the pleading desperation that was trying to get out, willing me to find him. I can’t get the vision out of my head of his body hunched over, so much pain in his features as he died alone.
“This isn’t right,” I breathe hard into Keane’s chest, feeling another sob take over as his arms tighten.
Arens was a good man. A young man. Someone who dared to speak out quietly on Woodlands and his life there. He was someone who deserved to leave the court and find another, one where he could live simply and in his own happiness.
“No,” Keane’s voice is hard, “it’s not right.”
They found out, Lady Alexis, Arens’ painful voice fills my mind, knew that I shared their secrets.
Oh, Ancients.
This is all my fault. I pushed the young man. I approached him and his curious eyes with my own questions, wanting to learn more. I asked him to tell me more at the coronation, a room filled with thousands of ears just ready to listen in.
I bring my hands forward in anger, pushing against Keane’s chest with tears falling down my face.
“Where is he?”
“Alexis,” Keane’s brown gaze is sad on mine.
“Where is he, Keane?”
Keane sighs, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.
“We’ve wrapped him in the woods. He rests beyond the inn…”
“We need to send word to his uncle, Sir Bainov,” I nearly start crying again. “You met him, in Brierman.”
Keane nods his head solemnly. “I’ve already asked Desmond to send private word.”
My eyes immediately dart around the room for the Bird of Ash, spotting him looking at me in his perch above the bed.
Bring him, Storm, I move out of Keane’s hold. Bring him now.
Stormfall spreads his wings wide, his yellow eyes piercing mine as his old voice fills my mind.
He comes, Alexis.
I stare at Stormfall in awe. The sound of his voice and the heaviness behind it is unnatural, truly embodying the Ancestor that he is. And this whole time I’ve been commanding him without any understanding as to his true nature, without any respect…
No, Alexis, that deep voice greets me again, you accepted me only as you knew. Do not find fault. We are here now and talking to eachother. Our connection is finally strong enough.
I fall down on the bed with a heavy sigh, bringing a hand to my temple to quell the ache. Stormfall glides gracefully into my lap as Keane takes a step towards us, his brown eyes watching silently.
“Hirovale is coming,” I whisper quietly.
The King nods in response, taking another hard step towards me as his hand reaches for Storm’s back in caress.
“I can hear Storm in my mind,” I whisper again, timidly looking up at Keane.
Keane gives a soft smile. “I’m glad you’ve finally found eachother.”
“You’re angry with me…”
“Worried, Alexis,” his hand stills on Stormfall as the air in the room begins to thicken.
All three of us turn our gazes towards the balcony doors, watching as one slowly starts to open before a thick black boot takes a step inside.
Hirovale has a heavy face, his golden eyes falling directly on the King with a grimace as they both nod to eachother in silence.
There’s no casual pep in his step, no smiling lips that greet mine in their usual amusement.
Instead, he turns to me now as the Ancient of Death and Exploration, his features hard and calm, no longer with that youthful look about him.
Hiro walks tall and determined into the room, the air moving at his whim as I remain quiet.
"Tell me what you saw," Hirovale speaks directly to the King. “Then tell me what you felt.”
A hard knock falls across our door, opening into the room as Desmond enters without needing approval. His eyes immediately land on Hirovale, the Master Informer dropping to his knee in an instant as he lowers his head to the ground.
“It is good to finally meet you, Desmond Conrad Bardot, third son of Zander Bardot and Prince to the Kingdom of Disce.”
Hirovale flicks his eyes off Keane with a small nod. “Rise, Prince. We have much to discuss.”
My heart is pounding in my chest as I notice Canon frowning from outside the door, hearing, but not seeing, Hirovale’s voice. Desmond slowly stands back on his feet and reaches behind him, closing the door with a small thud.
“What you saw,” Hirovale repeats with a hard voice that is so unlike him, “and then what you felt.”
I grip Storm firmly in my lap, hating that all three men are now standing before me while I sit on the bed, my body still heavy.
“The argents caught her eyes,” Keane’s voice is steady, “after his death. They were flying in the woods above the two of them. She looked at two just briefly before their bodies stilled and fell to the ground…”
“And the rest of the woods?” Hirovale narrows his golden eyes on me, making my heart pound even harder.
He knows.
“Everything was affected,” Keane shakes his head slowly before taking a seat next to me, pressing his thigh against mine in small comfort. “Everything and everyone besides Stormfall.”
“And what did it feel like?” Hirovale’s voice remains calm, eyes tearing off mine to look at the King and his brother.
Why is he asking that question?
The Ancient’s golden gaze flicks back on mine, catching my breath.
“It felt like power,” Desmond responds quietly. “Pure, raw, untapped power.”
“What?” I breathe out heavily, turning to look at the Master Informer.
“I’ve never felt any summoning like it before, Alexis,” he shakes his head. “I could feel your hatred and your anguish. I could feel the summoning pushing out of you as if it wanted to consume us all.”
No, my head darts back into my hands as I give a small cry. No, this can’t be.
I almost hurt my friends.
Almost killed them, Hirovale’s voice corrects.
“Take it back!” I jump from the bed and glare at the Ancient. “I don’t want it! Take it back, Hiro. Find someone else to give your summoning to.”
I’m too weak, my head spinning in both fury and despair as I feel my knees buckle below me. I fall forward, but Hirovale is there to catch me in an instant, his hands wrapping around my waist as I sink into his chest and begin crying even more, unable to stop the sobs.