Chapter Seventeen
The perpetual crimson sky always left Aidan unsure of time. He gained a rudimentary understanding of time by activity in Ghost Tower. When noise and bustle ceased in the courtyard, it was likely evening. When the equivalent of midnight approached, a soft rapping sounded on his door.
Aidan paused from aimlessly flipping through a book, and lifted his head. Gil never visited his chamber, and Carys had no compunction about barging inside.
"Come in!" he said, tensing for danger.
The door swung open and an unkempt blonde head peeked inside.
Surprise jolted Aidan as Carys carried food into his room, the best looking fare he had seen in the Curselands.
The usual questionable meat adorned the tray, but accompanied by a loaf of black bread, something resembling cheese, and even an apple.
Cleaned up from Demon Dell, she wore a sleeveless sable tunic.
The strange notion of her being attractive entered Aidan's mind.
He discarded that thought. Her hair resembled a haystack, her skin pasty, her dark eyes deathly and face more lifeless than a statue.
Any stirrings were brought on by the cleanliness and the dress.
No one dressed that way in the Starlands.
Not even the barmaids his friend Ellar bedded.
Carys wobbled, still woozy from the ordeal. He sprung up, taking the tray from her and setting it down. "You've apples here?" he asked, prodding the suspiciously appetizing fruit.
"There's an apple tree in Ghost Tower." She picked up the tantalizing apple. "Fruit cannot grow in the land of death without powerful magic."
She held it out to Aidan. He eagerly took the apple, his good mood restored by the texture of true food. "Why don't you make more fruit with magic? Or do you... and I just get leavings?"
"Like I said, it takes strong magic to grow fruit down here.
" She sighed as he bit into the crisp apple.
"A long time ago, a witch and her son wandered these wastelands.
They took refuge in Ghost Tower. Only she had no food for her son.
She still had a strain of pure Star Magic in her blood.
She made the High Sacrifice, her own spilled blood nourishing the ground and growing the tree.
It's said her blood is in every bite of the apples. "
Aidan choked, since he had swallowed his bite before Carys concluded her tale. "She killed herself... to make apples?"
She gave a little shrug. "Death for life. That's how it works in the Curselands."
"It shouldn't work that way!"
She pushed a strand of hair out of her face, making her black eyes more prominent. "Why? As my brother says, you cannot get something for nothing."
He considered her words and placed the appalling apple down. "Is that why you bought me the blood fruit? As fair trade for not speaking the truth of our connection to Spiky?"
"No, it's for not attacking my brother with Spi..." She blinked and her brow scrunched. "Who in the unspoken name of the Blood Dragon is Spiky?"
"The Curse Creature." Aidan picked up the hard bread. "He needed a name, don't you think? No one died for this bread, did they?"
"Not as far as I know." She tilted her head. "It's a beast. A deviation brought about by Curse Magic. It hasn't any need of a name."
He took a bite of the tasteless bread, forcing down the stony chunk. "Don't you feel it, Carys? Spiky has feelings. He's angry at being restrained, yet respects us for defeating him. He has more honor than most down here."
"It can't feel things." She moved toward his window. "You are weaving your own feelings onto the beast, like a tapestry on an empty cloth."
"Is Spiky any different from me?" He crossed his arms. "Just because I am under your spell, am I any less of a man with thoughts and feelings? Did you unweave my tapestry and weave your own upon me?"
She stared at her feet. "Spiky is a stupid name."
"Then conjure up a new name."
"I've never named anything in my life."
"Never?" Aidan shook his head at her limited imagination. "Did you never name dolls as a child?"
"I didn't have dolls. Just poppets for magic."
He sighed. "I suppose I'm not that surprised. But if you can't think of anything, I'll dub him Spiky." He opened the bottle on the tray and poured the scarlet liquid into a pewter goblet. "Is this wine... or blood?"
"Wine... or the closest that we can manage down here." Carys crept over to him. "Blood is actually why I wished to speak with you."
"I didn't think you were here for my company." He took a gulp of the bitter wine. "Now what about blood?" She dropped a small scattering of something on the tray. He squinted, trying to see in the dim light. "Bloody grass. Is this some sort of Sacrifice Magic?"
"Grass doesn't grow down here."
"Did it come from my realm?" He frowned, trying not to think of the attack on Dalon. "Or was there some sort of sacrifice for something as petty as grass?"
"No." She picked up a blade of crimson stained grass as if it were precious.
"This grew today, when your blood splattered on the ground.
I think because you were summoning magic.
.. or perhaps it was some combination of Demon Dell and your own magic.
Something about your magic and blood made the impossible happen. "
He wasn't sure if he liked where this was going. "It's just grass."
"It's not just grass!" she said, an earnestness tinging her voice. "It's life! You brought life to this world without even trying. Imagine what you could do if you tried. So much more than a handful of grass and an apple tree."
"I don't want to imagine." He slammed the goblet down. "So perhaps my blood could make an orchard? I'd have to die for that to happen... except that I can't die. I won't sacrifice Bella to this curse for a few lousy apples. I wouldn't even end your life for a few lousy apples."
Confusion shadowed her face. "Truly? Not even my life?"
Aidan scooped up the foul apple and examined it. "Certainly not for an apple. Perhaps an orange?"
She frowned.
"It was a jest," he said, wondering if she had ever seen an orange.
"I know," she said with a sour expression. "I've heard enough jests from Gil. I just don't understand you. I don't understand why you helped today. I don't understand why you don't want me dead."
"I won't have Bella die."
She shook her head. "That's why you won't kill me. That's why you will save my life. But you don't even want me dead. How can you not? Your feelings made Spiky... I mean, the beast want to attack Cal. And you near had it go after Meical. But not me. Why?"
"You know why..."
She stepped closer. "You should still want me dead.
I ruined your life. The Curselands always bring out our worst qualities.
Even you, a man of honor, wanted to hurt people today.
That want, that desire, flowed through Spiky.
.. but it wasn't about me. And aside from not attacking me, you didn't attack my brother.
Your hatred of him should have overwhelmed Spiky, especially since you are so new to controlling the connection.
I was terrified in that moment that Meical would die.
But Spiky didn't attack...you didn't attack and I don't understand. "
He remained silent as she broke off. She glanced off to the side, as if unable to even meet his eyes.
"Why are you this way?" she whispered.
Compassion was too ingrained in Aidan's soul.
He couldn't stop himself from taking her hand.
Too cold to touch, with old scabs and scars roughening her skin.
She flinched, and he let go. "I'm not sure how to explain it to you," he said.
"I'd like to say in that moment that I was strong and wise enough to stop Spiky. But I didn't. You did it."
"All I did was knock you down."
"In that split second, perhaps through the connection to Spiky, I felt your love.
" He bit his lip as Carys raised her head in confusion.
"The love for your brother. Perhaps I'll never understand how someone can be so wicked and still love true, but I felt it.
It would destroy me if my brother was killed. I couldn't do that to you."
"Why?"
There were logical reasons. If he attacked her brother, she would harden her already stony heart. Make life worse for Aidan. He wanted to find her compassion, but that quest would become futile. But he hadn't thought of those things.
He had thought of a girl who might lose her brother because of him.
"I don't know," he mumbled.
She crossed her arms, as if hugging herself for warmth. He almost offered her his blanket, but it stunk from his filth at night.
"I think it's your blood that grew grass," she said, switching the topic. "Your ancient Star Magic is likely the only reason you haven't been tainted by the Curselands. Your blood could change everything here."
"I am not dying for an orchard," he said, a bleak jest.
"Aye, even if you weren't so fearful of losing the princess, you wouldn't sacrifice your life for something so small." She appeared reassured that he wasn't that noble. "But there are things you can do with your blood, your magic, without having to die."
He tapped his foot. "Why should I wish to help the Curselands?"
"You care about Gil." She gave a knowing look. "I'd wager you are the sort who cares about children. There are children here. Surely you've seen a few on the grounds."
Aidan froze. "Why would anyone bring life into this land of death?" he asked in a harsher tone than he intended.
Shadows swathed her face. "I don't think you want to know the answer to that question."
His stomach lurched.
She shrugged. "But some tumble through Jumping Portals. Meical grants them refuge if they serve him. Would you deny them fresh food, pure water?"
Guilt churned inside, probably just as she intended.
"But perhaps you've learned that acts of honor aren't rewarding?" She cocked her head. "After all, there should always be an appropriate exchange."
She turned gliding from his room, like a shadowy specter. Things didn't feel finished between them and, sure enough, she returned in a few moments. She carried a glass bottle of clear water, too clear for the Curselands, and a small porcelain dish.
He coughed. "I like water, but you ought to be offer several barrels, considering what you want of me."
She knelt down on the floor. "This is Seeing Water," she said, tapping the bottle. "When you pour the water, you may see anyone you desire in any realm."
"Anyone?"
She gave him her version of a smile. She resembled the witches of legend, tempting the honorable from their righteous path. "Anyone. No beast or place, only living souls. Do you wish to try it now?"
"What precisely do you need from me?" he asked in a faint voice.
"Your assistance and a little blood." She tilted her head up at him, an uncomfortable blend of false innocence and wicked siren. "You shan't have to tend to the mystical waste anymore. What do you say?"
A noble knight would refuse. But Aidan nodded. She patted the floor, gesturing for him to sit. His heart pounded and his instincts screamed to run.
He joined her.
She dangled the bottle until he took it and then slid the dish toward him. "Just pour a little. You don't need much."
His hands were so shaky and sweaty that a few drops splattered the floor. Once certain that he poured enough, he shut the bottle.
She nodded. "Pick up the dish and envision the one you most desire to see."
He held the dish, trying to control his jittery hands. There was no question of the one he desired to see. The water churned faster and faster, not once spilling a drop over the edge. An image appeared on the surface as it settled.
"Bella..."
The filmy, flickering form in the water was more vivid than his fading memories. Her dark curls piled up, strands framing her face. She leaned forward and, for just a moment, Aidan thought she saw him.
His heart clenched. "Bella can't see me?"
"No." Carys peered into the water. "I used this once to watch both of you and..."
Her words were lost to Aidan. He was lost in the spell of Bella. The way she bit her lip, the way she squinted her eyes. She must have been reading by candlelight. Her beauty wasn't dimmed by staying up late.
Seeing her alive made all of his pain worthwhile. "Bella..."
His heart jumped. Bella paused reading, lifting her head as if listening to him. Then she turned back to her book. Aidan couldn't tear his eyes away, only having a dim awareness of footsteps and the door shutting. Carys didn't wait for his answer.
She knew what he would do.