24 #2
Meanara strides ahead, through and into the dark space behind the entrance hall, her head raised high, her shoulders perfectly straight, her long, pearl-colored hair held back loosely by colorful ribbons.
Delicate, arched ears peek through the curtain of silken strands.
They are slightly larger than any other fae ear I’ve seen and bent a little downward.
Through the smoke, I spot other healers, who bow their heads to her in greeting.
She bows her head back, a gentle smile on her face.
Her aura is pure. Maybe the purest I’ve ever seen.
At the end of the large hall, I follow her steps that lead down into a long, rectangular room dipped in twilight cast by a few candles flickering with white fire, the air thick with steam and fragrant with herbs.
“This is where the healing spring is born out of the mountain,” she explains, her voice echoing between the high walls. She gestures to a wooden chair. “Sit. Let me see what she did to you.”
I obey and sink onto the simple, wooden stool. I suck in a sharp breath, though, as I try to wriggle out of my shirt and fail.
“Let me,” Meanara says and carefully starts to help me pull it over my head. Her eyes finally come to rest on the black tattoo that graces my palm and a part of my wrist that has been hidden by the long sleeves until now.
“A bargain,” she says, her pink eyes darkening, as if she feels its dark nature. Like a heartbeat. A pulse. I resist the urge to pull my hand away when she takes it, studying the ornament. It flickers as her thumb graces the wings. “With Caryan.”
My eyes fly to hers. “You…” A memory flashes through my mind. Not mine, but one of Caryan’s. One I plucked from his mind when I was in it, after he gave me his blood to save my life. “You’re the healer who saved him,” I whisper.
A dark thread of sorrow twines along her aura before it is gone again. “I am,” she explains gently. “Why do you carry a bargain with him?”
I bite down my lip. “It was the only way to save my friends. Caryan would have killed them.”
She watches me in a curious, assessing way. “Brave,” she states finally.
I look away. “Brave to go against Blair ,” I retort evasively, hoping she won’t pry further, because I’m not ready to talk about anything related to Caryan.
But all she says is, “Blair carries a lot of pain, but she’s not evil.”
This makes me frown. “You can tell that?”
“Her soul tells me,” Meanara says.
“You can see their souls?”
“Yes,” she confirms, as if it were nothing. “So no. It was not bold. But your bargain certainly was.”
“A lot of people think it was foolish.”
“And do you—think it was foolish?”
“No. It was all I could do to stop him. I would do it again anytime,” I say with a wave of fury at the memory of it. I wonder what she makes of that.
But all she says is: “I don’t know many who would do such a thing. Offer a part of themselves to someone, let alone to Caryan.”
The way she speaks his name makes me halt. There’s a thread of sadness again in her aura. Why? “You know him well?” I can’t help the question. My curiosity is getting the better of me, and a part of me hates myself for it.
“Caryan was here with me in this very room for almost two years,” she says.
I can’t help but look around, taking in the room with a new kind of curiosity. Two years.
I flinch as her fingers glide over my collarbone, probing the injury.
“I’m going to mend this, but it might feel strange,” she says gently, then a warm current of power starts to knit my bones together.
“And no, I don’t know him well. Although he did spend a lot of time here.
” Her eyes follow the movements of her hands, slowly gliding back and forth over my injury.
“But I did make a bargain with him once, too.”
I startle at the confession. At the smooth way she delivers it. A woman I have just met.
Her blush-colored eyes find mine and they are veiled by something I can’t put my finger on. Her aura is suddenly overflowing with everything. As before, when she first saw me. Strange.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly tight. “Did you…regret it?”
Her eyes soften, but the storm in her aura stays as she surveys me. “Do I regret having changed the prophecy?” she asks, not unkindly. “I long ago learned that we are but small figures in the worlds.”
I try not to flinch out of reflex as she brushes a strand of hair out of my face. The gesture is very gentle.
She releases me with a strange feeling in my body. I wonder whether it’s her magic or the…unexpected conversation.
“Thank you, for healing me,” I say.
“I only mended your bones,” she replies, and I wonder what she’s seeing in my soul.
I walk toward the door but pause. “About Blair and what just happened. Could we keep this between us? She needs time. It was my fault. And I guess all hell will break loose if the high lords find out. I don’t want her to get into trouble.”
The beautiful healer tilts her head in a curious way. “Your fault how?”
“I made her come here, hoping she would follow because of the guardian bond between us. And now she’s unhappy, and on top of that, she thinks I did it because I think she’s not capable of living her own life and that she’s weak.
Which I totally do not think. I think she’s one of the strongest people I know. ”
“Interesting how many things you notice,” she says, surveying me again.
I meet her eyes. “I can read auras, like you can read souls. It’s all there. I should have known better.”
Her eyebrows raise. “I’ve never encountered anyone who has similar talents.”
“One of the high lords can do something similar,” I say, thinking of Ronin.
“Ronin, the witcher?” she asks, surprised.
I nod.
“Huh. I healed him once, before he joined Caryan’s court. I didn’t know, though. And he didn’t tell me.”
“Maybe because it’s a burden sometimes, and we like to pretend that we don’t have it.” I shrug, the gesture sending some strange sensation through my freshly healed bones. “At least I do.”
Meanara’s eyes soften. “I agree that it burdens one with a responsibility others do not have.”
“I should really go, talk to Blair. But please—if you tell anyone, she’ll be thrown out, and the truth is, I need her here. Want her here, guardian bond aside.”
“Maybe you should tell her what you truly think about her,” Meanara suggests.
“Maybe,” I agree and leave.
***
Aris is waiting for me outside. He lies curled up in a ball close to a spring, no doubt absorbing its warmth, but his tail is swishing restlessly, telling me he’s still on edge. I wish to ask where he was while Caryan was here healing. But I know he can’t tell me.
I look down at the tiles under my feet, worn smooth and shiny by many soles. Old. They are so old. Strange to think that Caryan walked here, too, briefly, after I was born. Then I try to get the thought out of my system.
“Are you alright?” Aris’s voice cuts through my dark mind, and he lifts his cute head to look at me.
“Meanara is…special,” I say.
I can feel him starting to say something when he is cut off by something sharp. Coercion. Again. I swear I see him grimacing before he hangs his head.
“I’m sorry, little one. I wish I could tell you more.”
I nod and kneel to press a kiss on his soft-scaled forehead. “I know. Not your fault.”
We leave the temple. I look down at the campus that is now alive with students again, a cloud of them spilling out of the main entrance, probably heading to the city for a drink or a stroll. It’s the weekend, after all. And I realize that I watch them with a strange kind of longing.
I let my shields slide down a bit when Aris says, “It will get better, little one. You might be one of them one day.”
“Not so sure. Especially if weekends mean being locked up in those archives, translating ancient tomes.”
“One step at a time. Beeatrisa can’t make you do that forever.”
I sigh. “I’ll never be like them, Aris,” I whisper, although he can hear my mental voice perfectly fine. “Never so unburdened.”
“You are just fine the way you are. It is enough.”
I think, Not enough for Riven to like me, but I’m careful to keep my mental shields up so Aris is not forced to listen to my brooding.
I reach out and let my fingers glide over the soft scales of his body. He leans into my touch, pressing up against my thigh as we reach the steps leading outside, the path winding like a snake through the hip-high grass toward the university buildings.
“Wait. I don’t want to go back, Aris. Let’s just stay out here a while longer,” I say.
He grunts but pauses. “What did you have in mind?”
“Something fun.”
“Fun? Like catching sheep and goats?”
“Like flying,” I say, smiling at him. Truly smiling at the idea of being far away from everything, even if only for a few moments.
“But are sheep and goats included?”
“If we happen to come across some, I think they’re fair game.”
“Deal.”
We walk back to the meadow before he shifts. I climb up his body until I find the scaly divot between the two massive spikes at his strong shoulders.
Aris growls as he rises to his full height, and I’m more than glad no one can see us here—not even from the temple—because standing in this form, he’s almost as large as the trees of the Emerald Forest.
He spreads those magnificent wings wide before he starts beating the air into submission, and we soar up and up.
My heart rate skyrockets, but as soon as we are flying, I calm. I let go of his scales, stretching my arms wide while the wind whips my hair. I once rode on a fairy horse through the desert, but this…this is what I was born for.
Aris’s scoff under me rumbles in confirmation. “See? I knew I never picked wrong.”
I just laugh as we fly ever higher toward the stars.