Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) (30 page)

She
nodded. “Now that we’re wed, what happens? You said going back to your village
would be unpleasant.”

“It
won’t be easy. The Elders will call a hearing and decide my punishment. Despite
what they decide, I’ll have to move out of the village. It’s for Guardians
only. But all of that won’t matter if my mother kills me first.”

She
raised an eyebrow at the joke and then realized he was not kidding. “This is
serious, isn’t it?” she asked. “Will your mom really be that mad?”

“It’s
a strict law, and I’ve made it more unforgiveable because it puts you at risk.”

“That
doesn’t seem fair. How can they expect us to follow the law if our powers make
the decision for us?”

“They
don’t expect you to follow it,” he told her and sat back on his heels. “They
expect me to, and I’m not exactly blameless. When I first started having
feelings for you, I was required to remove myself from the situation, and from
being your Guardian. I didn’t. I made a choice and they’ll hold me accountable
for it.”

“What
will they do to you?”

“Banish
me from the kingdom,” he answered. “It’s only a matter of how long. It could be
a year or it could be forever.” His body remained relaxed at the decree, but
hers tensed. She gripped his hands tighter.

“They
can’t. They won’t.”

“We
can’t stop them. They’re the final authority on all Guardians.”

She
stood. He rose to his feet as well, bringing his hands to her shoulders.

“Even
over the Queen?” she asked. “Even if I insist on keeping my husband within my
kingdom?”

“Even
if.” He chuckled. “Though I imagine if you raised enough of a fuss, I’d be safe
from permanent banishment.”

She
lifted her chin. “I intend to.”

“Good.”
He smiled, squeezed her shoulders, and then allowed his smile and the gaiety of
the moment to slip away. “Meg, you do understand it’s the only thing I’ll be
safe from. I’m a target already. Without my sensing powers, I won’t last long.”

“I
know,” she said, her voice soft. “Are you certain the repercussions aren’t a
rumor? It wouldn’t be the first time a tale became known as reality and if it’s
always been forbidden—”

“I’m
certain. We aren’t the first to do this. Before the war, it was a loose
warning, a choice—remain a Guardian or follow where love led. Not many
chose love, but those who did were living proof of the sacrifice it took to
break the rule. After the war started, the Elders declared it a law. A few
people have still chosen love over their powers, but none of them have lived
long enough to answer to the Elders.”

“Have
you tried using your powers?” she asked. “There’s no danger here, nothing to
sense. Maybe—”

“Meg,
stop,” he interrupted again, a warning of impatience in his tone. He drew his
hands to the sides of her neck, and pressed his forehead to hers. “We can’t fix
this. You need to accept that. It’s out of our control.”

She
covered his hands with her own, closing her eyes as pain washed through her.
She had no problem accepting the loss of control. Nothing had been in their
control this week. They rode the days like swells in a storm, holding to each
other and somehow surviving on wit and luck. Mostly luck. But as long as they
made it through, she was okay with it. She was not okay with losing Nick, and
she did not intend to accept his death. She could not believe Vivian, with all
her wisdom and foresight, would invite Nick to Earth and not understand this might
happen. It seemed foolish, and her mother had never been a foolish woman.

A
spark of understanding grew within her mind, fed by a few graceful letters and
a string of nonsensical lines.

Nonsensical,
until they had context.

She
pulled away from Nick, stepping back in her excitement without warning. She had
to be right. She was certain of it, so certain that she could not keep a smile
from her face. Confusion blanketed his.

“They’re
wrong,” she said to him. “You’re wrong.”

He shook his head. “I
know this is hard, but—”

“No,
Nick,” she turned to the table and the backpack, rummaging through it for the
amulet. “It happened differently for us because it
is
different. Mom
told me so I wouldn’t have to worry about you, but I didn’t understand.”

“I
don’t either. You’re not making sense.”

“I
know,” she conceded. “It’s because I can’t find it. Here it is,” her fingers
wrapped around the velvet pouch and she tugged it from the bag, turning to him.
“She left it in here.”

She
slid the amulet out of the bag into her hand, then flipped it over and popped
open the secret door. “Aldin found this,” she said, “and this.” She poked the
paper out of its hole and set the necklace aside. Then she unfolded the paper
and handed it to him.

He
looked from her to the paper, and then back to her.

“Read
it,” she insisted.

He
dropped his eyes back to the writing and frowned. “This doesn’t mean anything.
It doesn’t negate—”

“You
don’t recognize the handwriting?” she asked. She took a step closer to him.
“How could you not? It’s Mom’s.”

“I
recognize it,” he said, looking back at the paper. “But it’s impossible to tell
what she meant by it.”

“It’s
not.” She snatched the paper back from him, upset he could not see it as
clearly as she could. “When the two houses that cannot be together join as
one,” she read, “they will become stronger; the world will be reborn and once
again have hope.” She looked up at him. “That means nothing to you?”

“It
can mean whatever I decide it means,” he responded. “That’s the trouble with
prophecies. When you’re desperate enough, it becomes what you want instead of
being what it is.”

She
felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Two houses,” she pressed forward, “as in the
Guardians and everyone else.”

“Or
two different families,” he countered, “or two literal houses, or two villages.
As I said, it could be anything.”

She
crossed her arms, glaring at him. “Until you add the next line, ‘That cannot be
together join as one’. It can only mean one thing.”

“That
two feuding tribes need to sign a treaty,” he said. “It could have been written
long ago for Zeiihbu. At least, that’s how I interpret it. But you think it’s
about us being wed.”

“Can
you truly argue against that? Mom gave this to me for a reason.”

“I
can because I’ve known Guardians who wed and lost their powers. It’s hard to
ignore that for a piece of paper with fuzzy analogies that, incidentally, could
have been put in the amulet at any time. You don’t know Vivian meant it for
you.”

“I
do know.” She slapped the paper onto the table, raising her voice to punctuate
her anger. “But if you’re so certain this means nothing, what does it hurt to
try using your sensing power? Sense my power. If you can’t, then it’s settled.”

“Fine,”
he matched her tone with one of equal animosity, and then stared at her with
the same heat. A minute dragged forward, then a second before he shook his
head. His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Tears
welled within her eyes. She dashed them away with the back of her hand, and
when he reached for her, she pushed him aside and fled the cabin.

§

N
ICK LEFT
Meaghan
alone outside, giving her both space and time to sort out her thoughts. Her
reaction had hurt him more than he cared to admit, but he understood. This week
had been too much for her. And perhaps it had been too much for him, too.

To
keep busy, he tidied up the cabin, ignoring the paper she had left on the table
until he had nothing left to distract him. Then he stood over it, studying the
small piece of parchment with equal loathing and curiosity. Meaghan had seemed
so certain it meant something. He had not wanted to shatter whatever hope she
had clung to, but she had left him no choice. And for a moment, his heart had
leapt when he thought his sensing power had worked. But the power pushing back
to him had felt stronger than anything he had sensed from a single person
before. It had more closely matched the level of power three Guardians would
produce together. Although Meaghan’s power was rare, it was not strong, and he
realized that meant his brain had tricked him into feeling something so he
would not have to face the grief of feeling emptiness.

He
picked the paper up from the table and read it again before setting it back
down. He could see how Meaghan could interpret it the way she did. And the
promise of hope would lure anyone into believing it applied to them. Hope had
been elusive lately. But false hope was worse than having none at all, and he
blamed Vivian for instilling that in Meaghan. Although Vivian had been a gifted
seer, she had also continually failed in one area. She had never found it
important to provide translations for her visions. She would write things or
say things in the veiled way she received them, trusting that the person needing
the message would understand it at the right time. It was too risky for his
taste. It made more sense to make the message clear so there could be no
ambiguity, no misinterpretation. Things were not always so obvious to everyone.

Things
aren’t what they seem.

Parts
of his last conversation with Vivian drifted across his mind. She had been
right. She usually was. But something about it bothered him. He sat down at the
table, staring at the paper as he tried to remember. Why did it feel so
important?

Because
sometimes she delivered prophecies in plain speak. Had she done that to him? He
cleared his thoughts and focused.

They
had talked about Meaghan and his attraction for her. She had known, and that
had surprised him, but he had not had time to dwell on it. How long had she
known? Perhaps longer than he had. She had told him to follow his heart, and he
thought she had meant to ignore what he felt for Meaghan, but what if she had
meant the opposite? What if she had meant this? She had said something else that
had struck him as odd at the time. Something in the prophecy reminded him of
it.

He
frowned down at her handwriting. The conversation danced around the fringes of
his mind, but he could not recall it. In anger, he pressed his hand over the
paper, covering it, and then shoved it away. It slid off the table and
fluttered to the floor, landing upright at his feet. Taunting him, he thought,
and debated setting fire to it. It would disintegrate to ash in seconds, and
then he would be done with it.

But
he would be no closer to discovering its truth. He leaned down to retrieve it.
As his fingers closed around the paper, a single word jumped from it,
commanding his attention—
strong
. He crushed the paper in his fist,
its presence forgotten as his mind latched on to the memory that had eluded
him, on to the words she had spoken.

Sometimes
you have to give in to weakness to become stronger.

He
uncurled his fingers, and then smoothed the crumpled paper onto the table.
“When the two houses that cannot be together join as one, they will become
stronger,” he read, and understood what Vivian had been trying to tell him. He
had to give in to his love for Meaghan for their mission to succeed. He did not
know why. He did not know how. But he knew doing so had made Meaghan stronger.
Meaghan’s interpretation of the first part of the prophecy had been correct. His
mind had not tricked him. He had not lost his powers. He had only sensed what
had happened to hers.

He
stood and went outside to tell her. She sat on the top porch step, her arms
wrapped around her knees as one hand stroked an overhanging branch from the
raspberry bush. A flicker of light caught his attention from the trees and he
paused, surprised by it before he sat down next to her.

“I
could use some breakfast,” she said, letting go of the branch. “But it would
take a miracle to get anything around here.” She turned to him. Tears shimmered
in her eyes. “Will they let us eat in your village before they take you away?”

“There’ll
be a feast for my return, and for yours,” he promised, then slipped an arm
around her shoulders, pulling her close. “They won’t take me away from you,
though. They’ll understand when we tell them. They won’t have a choice.”

“When
we tell them what?” she asked, resting her head against his shoulder. “That we
broke the law? That we took a risk which could cost your life?”

“No,”
he said. “That Vivian predicted our wedding. You were right.”

She
raised her head and stared at him. “You said it didn’t work.”

“I
thought my sensing power wasn’t working because what I sensed from you was too
strong. But I was wrong. You’re stronger now that we’re wed, and so am I.
Look,” he pointed toward the trees. Sapphire crystals twinkled bright in the
sunlight where white had hung the night before. “The color change means they’re
infused with a stronger power. When they’re blue, we’re invisible. Someone has
to know the cabin is here to use it. With white, anyone who needs it can find
it. It takes the power of two strong Guardians to turn the crystals blue. I
shouldn’t be able to do that on my own.”