Chapter 12
Scarlen could hear her little sister’s laughter, feel her small hand tucked within her own. They ran along the golden stretch of sand close to the palace, the rays of sunlight glistening on the sea, and gulls soaring overhead mixed with their sounds of happiness.
It was a good moment in another unpredictable day, as Father would be home soon, and Mother would usher them to their quarters.
The scent of salty air, warm grains tingling her bare feet, and a stinging sensation in her arm had Scarlen stir back to reality.
Bear was looking down at her as she blinked a few times. ‘You okay?’
It took a moment for Scarlen to gather her bearings, then notice her bandaged arm, dried blood in amber cloth, the sleeve of both her sweatshirts torn. She sat, her head light, and glanced at the woodland before her. ‘How long was I asleep?’
‘You were more passed out than napping, but a good few hours.’
She peered at the overcast sky. ‘It’s morning.’
‘Barely, but we should move now, if you can.’
Scarlen felt queasy as she stood, avoiding her wound, as looking made her feel worse. She’d never make it as a healer. Blood and bones weren’t her thing. ‘What did I miss?’
‘Nothing. But it’s light now, so shouldn’t be long before someone’s attacked.’
‘Worse than me, you mean.’ She huffed at the memory, and how foolish she had been to drop her guard.
They headed into the trees, staying close to the fencing, the sound of the bay gently whooshing nearby.
‘Today’s the day we’ll feel hungry,’ said Bear, moving low branches with his hand while scouting the area. ‘The orange berries are safe. Just make sure they’re a deep, dark orange. No yellowness about them.’
He could rattle on about food all day, she felt too sickly to eat.
She focused on the sound of the water instead, remembering swimming in the sea and how free that made her feel, even the times her father had made her jump off his boat and swim to shore.
She could see how he would get on so well with Warden Cardell.
Both twisted fucks. Her huffing went unnoticed until Bear snapped his head her way.
‘Quiet,’ he whispered, his brow knitted.
‘I can’t help it. I’m pissed off.’
‘You and everyone else in here, but you still have to shut up.’ He placed a finger over his lips as if to demonstrate.
It was a fair point, but still she frowned, her hackles rising at each and every sound, hoping it was the twins so she could act out some sort of revenge. Bad arm or not, she was taking one of them down, as their smugness needed stripping back, and her pride needed to be restored.
It was her father she was really angry at. He was making her pay for her insolence, training her hard for his own reasons, seeing how she would handle herself around the enemy.
Well, how do you like me now, Father? She wanted to yell her thoughts at the sky, but even if he could hear, nothing would change. Six months of shit she was getting, and he was prepared to let her know about it.
Bear’s pace was slow, quite light-footed for his size, as he led the way through more trees, and she wondered if he needed sleep.
‘I wish they’d let us have yard time out here.’ Scarlen shrugged as he glanced over his shoulder at her. ‘Obviously without the murder attempts.’
Thunder roared, halting them while they looked at the darkening sky.
‘Either a storm’s rolling in or Jesserlie is creating one.’ Bear peered at her arm. ‘We’ll need to change that dressing soon.’
‘By the sound of things, we’ll be soaked through to the bone soon enough, so it’ll clean then.’
‘Adoria,’ Milon whispered, and Scarlen turned at once to see no one behind her. She turned back to watch Bear trying his best not to leave too much of a trampled trail behind. He hadn’t heard her brother’s voice, else he would have stopped.
It’s my wound. Making me drowsy, hear things. She assured herself over and over before following Bear.
‘Don’t trust the Rebel,’ whispered Milon, and she froze once more, only her eyes frantically searching for him. ‘Come this way. I know a safe nook.’
A mixture of relief and confusion filled her. How was Milon making contact?
‘Down here, Adoria.’
Upon the ground, hiding in the thicket, was a wispy, pale-green flame flickering, bringing her to her knees for a closer look. It snaked in the breeze, the bright blue eyes of Milon’s peered back inside the glow, and her heart thumped.
‘Reach for me, Adoria. I can save you.’
Mindlessly she touched the top of the flame, the tips of her fingers prickling on contact, then a fierce burn ripped through her hand.
‘Argh!’ Her flesh red and raw from the scald, her gaze on the withering green fire as Milon’s eyes slowly melted, his scream ringing in her ears.
‘No!’ she cried, reaching for him again, but Bear snatched her hand away.
‘Smithson, stop.’
The flame disappeared, and Scarlen sat on the damp ground, shaking, clutching her knees.
‘It’s not real,’ he told her, and she met seriousness in his glare. ‘Jesserlie plays tricks in here. Whatever you saw wasn’t real.’
The burn on her hand objected. Her fingers trembled before him, showing him exactly what was real.
‘We need to get you to the pond. The water will help.’ Bear lifted her to a stand, but still she shook, her thoughts with her brother.
‘The voice sounded real.’
Bear nodded. ‘Yeah, the witch is strong and likes to torment people. All she wanted was to injure you. It adds to the entertainment in here.’
With her sanity in tatters, Scarlen yelled upwards. ‘Isn’t this enough?’
Bear quickly covered her mouth with his hand as she went to rage some more. ‘Shush. You’re telling the others where we are.’
My brother! How fucking dare she? Taking a calming breath, she gave a curt nod for him to let go, as he was right. She needed to be quiet. Composed and able to concentrate. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry, just be careful.’ He scanned the area for threats, then guided her towards the pond.
Scarlen was too shaken to move, but something made her follow, her pains reminding her of the reality of her situation, keeping her away from thoughts of her brother.
It wasn’t easy, as his beautiful eyes, the same as their little sister’s, had gleamed as always, aching her heart for home.
The home that existed when their father wasn’t around. What a different place it was then.
Ria. She remembered. Both Milon and Lancen called her Ria.
She should have known it wasn’t him. Were there other idiots in the Zone or just her?
She hoped she wasn’t the only source of entertainment.
Bear definitely wasn’t giving the watchers a performance.
She needed to take a leaf out of his book and keep things simple.
If only she could climb a tree again. Stay out of everyone’s way until the horn blew.
Thunder boomed again, and the rain trickled at first, then poured, slapping the treetops that gave little shelter.
Within moments she could feel the cold and dampness settle into the marrow of her bones, but she was too angry to care what Jesserlie did next, and as the rain turned to purple hail, she cared a little after all.
‘It’s staining us,’ Scarlen announced the obvious as she watched her hand turn a shade of amethyst. ‘And it’s stinging my burn.’ She flapped her sore hand, hoping for relief, but the colourful hail continued to blast and seep into any flesh it could find.
Bear’s amber top was dyed with streaks of lilac and deep purple, the different shades blending in swirls, and he looked like the fairy in one of her storybooks back home. The thought and the madness of her life had her laugh.
‘Shh!’
But she couldn’t stop laughing. It was so surreal.
The eyes in the flame, the unusual hailstones, the injuries to her body, the prison, the fucking prison she was confined to.
Gazing up at the Rebel through damp lashes, she cracked once more, as her company, her companion in the War Zone, a Rebel of all people, lost all expression.
Nothing was remotely funny about her life, but there she stood, shivering, insane, and purple. I’m fucking purple.
Bear approached her and grabbed her wrists. ‘Snap out of it. You start acting crazy, and they’ll put you in Red.’
‘Maybe the Reds all started here.’ The thought was sobering enough to kill the warped smile. She couldn’t turn into Varklee. Although she now felt slightly connected to his show of lunacy.
‘Life is going to throw you some good and proper shit from time to time. You can’t crumble each time it hits you.’
Scarlen scoffed. ‘Oh, you think I don’t know that? You think my life has been all moonlight and roses?’ She slapped her chest, spits of purple splaying out at him. ‘I fucking hate it.’ She yelled to the sky. ‘You hear that? I hate it.’
Bear followed her eyes, then sighed. ‘We need to—’
Scarlen flopped to the ground and folded her arms defiantly.
‘This isn’t the time for a pity party, Smithson.’
‘I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m just refusing to play the game.’
Crouching, he shook his head. ‘Doesn’t work that way. The game continues until someone dies. And if you don’t get off your ass, it might be you.’ He stood, pointing towards the pond. ‘Now, move.’
A rage burned more than her hand as she stood. ‘And just so you know, I hate you as well.’
‘Well, it certainly makes things simpler.’
Scarlen huffed and mumbled to herself. ‘Oh, what would you know?’
But Bear had heard. ‘What would I know about what? Being stuck in here with a death date hanging over my head? Being fatherless because my father had an accident rushing home while my mother was giving birth to Wyn? Knowing your precious king is inching his way to our land to take the lot? Hearing my mother’s screams every, fucking, night?
What don’t I know, eh?’ But before she could reply, he added.
‘All I know is, I’m here with you, trying to save your sorry ass, and having to listen to you bitch about not playing anymore, then telling me you hate me.
Well, fuck you too.’ And with that, he stomped away.
Scarlen realised all too late that Bear had the dagger. He also had the raving hump, which she thought a tad dramatic, after all, if he was stuck with her, that was on him. She never asked him to be her friend. He claimed her. This is bullshit!
A rustling noise had her scurry behind some shrubbery as the hail turned to light raindrops, the normal colour of rain, which she hoped would soothe her hand of the constant sting.
It was the Pirate from Amber. His soft footsteps hardly crunched a thing beneath him as he prowled closer, blade in hand, wet and purple-stained from the weather, his fair hair matted, his top torn at the collar, his cool eyes alert.
Scarlen held her breath. If she didn’t have splodges of purple all over her, her green clothes would help camouflage her for sure. She had no idea if he had spotted her before she hid. All she knew was, breathing was now a hazard.