Chapter 4. Brother.
The warmth of the fire reached my skin as my eyes adjusted to the brightness.
“What in the Kingdom?” I stumbled backwards, my back meeting the bark of a willow tree.
A wall of flame surrounded the palace, keeping Wurdulacs safe within the stone walls: forcing intruders away from their sanctuary.
Despite the frustration that spread through my veins, I couldn’t help but marvel at the effort the Wurdulacs put into keeping the palace secured during the daylight. Though my appreciation was short-lived, for the rays of sunshine grew from the horizon, ushering me towards the only nearby shelter.
The woods ended its dance with the snowstorm long before I turned onto the small path towards my sanctuary.
My heart galloped inside my chest when the old, beaten down cabin appeared from its hidden spot in the meadow. Seeking shelter in the one place Caleb expected me was foolish no doubt.
If I wanted a chance to finish what I’d come here for, I needed to escape the cabin before Caleb arrived.
The wooden steps by the door’s threshold creaked as I retrieved the hidden key from the slit in between the door frame.
I supposed Francis worried not for the intrusion on his family’s home when it held nothing of value but his memories. Though the guilt of being here without permission still left a sour taste in my mouth.
I yanked the lock open.
The house seemed to have aged at least a hundred years since the time I was here last. The floors creaked with every step I took, the quiet whispers of the walls silenced.
A strong smell of sandalwood hit my senses when I entered the room I’d resided in before.
Children’s old paintings and books with worn out covers still occupied every corner of the room, yet... As though a hurricane went through the room, it felt more disorganized than usual; it felt odd, it felt empty.
It felt empty despite the small bed that almost took up the entirety of the room, despite the wooden chest of drawers in the corner, overflowing with dozens of trinkets.
A painting of two people laid atop the chest. The oil canvas cracked and yellowed with age, dust covered the faces of a couple. A man and a woman sat in an embrace, their smiles shone through the painting.
The woman’s features were similar to Francis’: brown curly hair, warm, tawny skin, sharp cheekbones, her eyes the color of onyx. She was a true beauty as she leaned against the man in their embrace.
The man was the exact opposite: white as snow hair, nearly translucent, ivory skin, his eyes' rims carried the color of ruby. He shared his smile and the shape of his eyes with Francis.
I laid the painting back down when my legs sunk onto the bed: exhaustion and hunger arising from the shadows.
My eyelids heavied on the small opening of the window where the paint had fallen off with age. Shy rays of sunshine peered into the room; their thin lines shone bright in the darkness.
My hand stretched towards the light until my fingers felt the burning warmth. My hand shook from the sensation, yet I dared not to move away. The dust waltzed under the beam. My skin burned.
I waited, and waited until the pain was unbearable, and then some more.
My skin turned the color of a rich burgundy before I moved from the sunshine flame.
My heart raced as I assessed the injury; my lungs filled for the first time since she’d left me.
I closed my eyes, letting the pain spread through my body, reaching every corner of my mind, until my soul quieted from its cries. The pain felt good. I was broken.
I sat on the bed, my eyes watching the light move inch by inch, until it disappeared and the room had become gloomy once again.
Taking my boots off, I made my way into the sheets that Francis and I had shared that night. His pillow still smelled like jasmine, and I let myself drown in his aroma, hoping it would deter the nightmares that were inevitable companions to my sleep.
Grotesque visions invaded my slumber; the rustle of the cabin overwhelmed my rest, shielding me from the nightmares that patiently awaited my failure—
My eyes flew open at the sound of heavy boots behind the black painted window.
My heart raced before I could register the danger, panic squeezing my chest in its strong fist. My hands reached for the dagger attached to my belt.
The main door to the cabin creaked open as I hurried to my feet, ready for whatever was to come.
Everything in my body rebelled against the impending danger; my mind screamed at me to flee, yet my legs stood frozen, waiting to face the disruption.
After what seemed eternity, the door to the room opened. Caleb stood at the threshold: his hands up in surrender.
My brows furrowed as I pointed my dagger at his chest. The dagger that surely couldn’t stand against Caleb’s skill and the sword—my sword—strapped to his back.
“You stayed.” He broke the growing silence between us.
“What do you want?” I rasped, my voice still hoarse from sleep.
When Caleb didn’t reply I raised the dagger higher: pointing the blade at his exposed neck.
“I—” His jaw flexed before averting his gaze.
“Don’t waste my time.” My fingers tightened around the hilt.
“I need your help.” Caleb sighed. “I know how to deal with Kane and his loyalists.”
The dagger nearly fell from my grasp: surely I was asleep. “Get out.” I rolled my eyes, pointing towards the door with my blade.
“I need your help.” Caleb repeated with the same calmness as before. “Cordelia—”
“Unbelievable,” I hissed. “For years you’ve been betraying the people that loved you, choosing the monster instead, and now you want to deal with him.
” I seethed. “And you expect my help after everything you have done to me.” My body trembled as the corners of my vision darkened. “Am I supposed to believe you?”
Caleb staggered backwards. “I am telling you the truth.”
“Supposedly.” I shrugged. “What in the Kingdom do you want from me?”
Hope shone through his eyes when they met mine as though I had already agreed to whatever he would ask of me. “I need the instructions to create Royal steel.” He started. “Perhaps you know where your mother kept the archives...”
A bright laughter—foreign to my ears—broke through me.
“Why in the Kingdom would I tell you?” An odd, unnatural, smile spread across my face.
“So you could run to your father and destroy all of us at once? I might be a fool for coming here, but I am not mad, Caleb.” I rolled my eyes.
“If that’s all, you should run back to Kane before he starts suspecting your disloyalty. ” I choked when his name left my lips.
Goosebumps traveled through my skin when Caleb took a step forward. I raised my weapon once again.
“You are a fool for coming here, Cordelia.” His voice dropped a few octaves; my hands trembled as I squeezed the hilt of my dagger harder at his sudden change.
“You are delusional if you think you can kill him yourself. You need my help as much as I need yours.” Caleb chuckled, taking another step forward until the point of my blade touched his skin.
“Next time Kane sees you, you will be begging for death.”
Little did Caleb know, I already begged for such an outcome in my prayers. “I am not afraid of him or you.”
A sinister smile spread across Caleb’s face. “You should be.”
“And you dare to wonder why I refuse to help.” I seethed. “Get out, Caleb.”
His lips turned into a thin line before he retreated a step. I wondered whether he was following my orders, yet his voice reached my ears anew. “After what Kane has done to you and Mories—”
“Mories?” My heart stopped at the sound of my childhood nurse’s name.
“She is alive.” Caleb swallowed, his eyes staring into the distance. “Barely, but she will live.”
I forced a breath in, trying to calm my galloping heart.
“I couldn’t take it anymore.” Caleb continued. “Not when he hurt someone I know as my true mother.” The lighting of the room must have been playing tricks, for the tears filling Caleb’s eyes could not have been genuine. “I know there is no redemption for my actions.” He whispered.
“You are right, you don’t deserve redemption.” I spat out. How dare he cry over what he’d brought upon us all? How dare he feel sorry for himself when the dead wouldn’t take another breath?
“I want to make things right, even if it’s the last thing I ever do, Cordelia.” Caleb sighed. “You were right.” He nodded. “I am a coward who could not stand against evil. But I am ready to change for my true family.”
Claps sounded through the room followed by a low laughter. The man with amber eyes leaned on the doorframe, a familiar smirk spreading across his face. “Such a great speech.” Francis clapped once more. “You should write it down.”