Second Stone (4 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

As she left the king’s chambers, again flanked by two guards, Emariya couldn’t help but notice she walked a little faster—a little lighter, even. She was headed toward Torian, and together, they were headed toward her father.

Stepping into the sprawling courtyard, she could barely see the remnants of the fire. Had Khane set the fires at Warren’s Rest in Eltar, scorched angry grass would be a constant reminder. Here, though, amidst the characteristic stone and dirt of Thalmas, she had to look hard to see any evidence that there had even been a fire at all. Soot marks on the door. A slightly darker patch of dirt. If only its effects on her were so easily swept away. The fire had burned into her not only an overwhelming sense of her brother’s betrayal, but it had awakened something deep inside her: the undeniable gift of the Warrens. Not that she knew how to use it any better than the gift of the Roths. Still, there was no question about it, she’d…persuaded…the fire to submit. The damage could have been much, much worse. It was infuriating, though, to know she contained such power without any real clue about how to utilize it.

She tried not to think about the fact that she wasn’t the only one born to such power. Emariya knew the gifted blood of both the Roths and the Warrens flowed through her brother’s veins, as well. What she didn’t know was how he would use it.

Emariya made her way through the courtyard to the outer ward of the castle. She headed for the stables, taking in the canvas tents cluttered between the walls. Citizens of Thalmas had begun arriving a week ago, shortly after the couriers began spreading the word of a royal proclamation to be made about a wedding.

Garith, his blond hair brushed neatly back for once, was tightening the girth around a big bay gelding. But it was not the sight of Garith that caused the warmth to spread, leaving her feeling suddenly connected and secure.

Her heart hammered faster, sending a steady rhythm of anticipation coursing through her. Torian stood in the middle of the stable yard, scrutinizing the stable boys as they rushed about preparing the horses. She would have liked to be able to watch him for a minute or two without him knowing she was there, but that was impossible.

Likely drawn by the same unmistakable pull that was capturing Emariya’s own senses—the pull of the Stones—Torian turned and smiled as she approached. It was impossible for them
not
to be aware of each other. They orbited each other. She was his sun. He was her moon.

Torian cocked his head to the side, studying her. His eyes were capable of being an impossibly light gray, almost silver. And they could also be so dark they were nearly black. Today, they danced silver, questioning her. “Did you have a good talk with my father?”

Emariya smiled ever so slightly before nodding. “His Majesty knows more than he is told.”

“You know what they say: believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.” While he was speaking, he drifted toward her. His eyes locked with hers. He stopped when he was standing a few inches away.

“I’d like to believe in what he sees…I think,” Emariya whispered.

Ever so slowly, Torian reached up and trailed his finger along her cheek, igniting a trail of heat. “And what does my father see?”

“Us. Wed.”

“And the prophecies?” Torian asked, his fingers pausing, frozen against her cheek.

“He didn’t seem concerned. But he didn’t give me a straight answer, either.” Summoning all of her willpower, Emariya wrenched her cheek to the side, fighting against the invisible pull to stay connected to Torian’s touch. The intensity of his gaze was too much; she couldn’t take it a moment longer. “He seemed…pleased. I don’t think he would be if he’d seen that we would wed but that the world would suffer…right?”

Gently leaning forward and, kissing her forehead, he said, “Let it be so.”

“You two done yet?” Garith led his horse over, grinning.

Embarrassment flushed across her cheeks. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

With impeccable timing, Jessa hurried up carrying two small packages. Emariya took the larger of the two from her friend and handed it to Garith.

“What’s this?” he asked, shaking it.

“Open it.” Emariya’s voice caught in her throat.

As Garith peeled back the burlap, Emariya thought perhaps she was more excited about his present than he was.

Letting the wrapping fall to the ground, Garith held up the contents. Embroidered with the fern of Eltar, two pale golden squares were paired with two green squares in a design that was similar to the black and silver vestments that Torian’s own men wore. And yet, it was different. Everything about it cried proudly of Eltar, their home.

Torian broke the hush that had fallen around them. “Emariya will be the queen of Thalmas someday, and you are her most trusted adviser. At some point, I hope you, too, will take the colors of Thalmas. In the meantime, it’s about time you looked the part.”

Garith’s eyes met Emariya’s. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. There weren’t words to express the pride and fear and hope all competing for the forefront of her mind. She threw her arms around him in a hug and sighed as his familiar arms enveloped her.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.

She could only nod. For their entire lives, there had never been a truly adequate term for what he meant to her. One of her two oldest friends. Confidant. Playmate. Companion. The one who loved her, but let her go. Now, finally, she could at least offer him something that spoke of her appreciation for the years of loyalty and friendship. Never again could anyone refer to him as ‘just a blacksmith’s boy.’

While Torian and Jessa were both congratulating Garith on his ‘official’ appointment to a role he’d long filled, Rink strolled out of the stable leading Emariya’s white filly.

He walked stiffly toward them, his features caught in a visible war between a desire to bound over to them exuberantly and a strong need to portray himself as being capable of decorum like the other staff flitting about the stable yard. Thirteen long years old, he’d seen more than most and recently had quite a close brush with not having a fourteenth year, yet he suffered from incurable cheerfulness.

“’Ello, Milady! What’s everyone goin’ on about?”

Instead of answering his question, Emariya took Raina’s reins to free his hands and gestured for Jessa to hand him the second package.

“Riya asked me to make this for you.” Jessa pushed it into his hands.

Rink’s gift matched Garith’s, albeit smaller. Trying to shrug into it, he beamed as his arms caught, trapped in the stiff fabric and stuck awkwardly above his head. He smiled sheepishly as Jessa laughed and helped him pull it on.

Emariya’s heart swelled with pride. Garith had also put his new colors over his shirt, and in the middle of so much that was still not quite home, it gave her courage to see the familiar fern of Eltar, a simple token of home as well as a promise that she hadn’t lost who she’d been—an heiress to Eltar—beneath who she’d become—a princess of Thalmas.

“It’s nice to see a little green around here. Maybe we should try on those colors for sport, brother?” Terin teased, bounding up behind her brother and giving him a hug.

“No, no. I think we’ll leave the green to Eltar. Much too bright for us.” Torian winked, returning his sister’s affection.

“Pfft. Gray, black, and more gray. Someday, Lady Emariya, you’ll have to take me to visit Eltar. I’d love to see the spring flowers,” Terin said.

Emariya could only hope she’d get a chance to see them again herself. “I’d like that, Your Highness. Very much so.”

“You behave yourself while I’m gone, you hear? And keep an eye on Father.” Torian’s rebuke fell flat; his tone for his sister held far too much warmth to convince Emariya he was actually scolding.

“Are you sure you won’t let me go with you?” Terin pouted, looking toward her brother with big, round eyes. Her jaw wasn’t as pronounced as Torian’s, which could have been chiseled from rock itself, but still she managed to jut it out defiantly.

Torian shook his head. “No, no. You’re needed here.”

Terin huffed, “Fine.” Turning to Emariya with a slight twinkle in her eye, she said, “You take care of these two for me, all right? Torian wouldn’t know what to do for any length of time without me.”

Emariya would have taken more pleasure in Torian’s mock outrage, but she was distracted by Garith’s sudden flush of color. Beside him, Jessa and Rink were laughing hysterically. Terin, seemingly oblivious to his embarrassment, stepped closer to Garith.

“You’re the only one, save Torian, who treats me like I’m not made of glass. Like a real person. I’ll miss you.” The princess leaned forward and put a kiss on Garith’s cheek, not shy in the least. Garith’s brown eyes grew wide.

Emariya looked to Torian. Jessa and Rink had stopped laughing abruptly. Silence hung in the air.

The prince cracked a grin and said, “Seems all those years of handling Riya have served you well. The Three know you’ll need all the help you can get to have a hope of keeping up with my sister.”

The tension evaporated as the group tittered with nervous laughter.

“I’ve got to go stand with Mother and Father. Soon, brother?” Terin choked out the words, her gray eyes glassy.

Torian nodded, then turned back to the stables, regal bearing overtaking brotherly affection.

Emariya marveled at how fast he could shutter his emotions as he flagged down the first stable boy he saw. “You,” he said. “Fetch the commander.” The stable boy scurried off.

No one else Emariya knew could hide their emotions as well, as quickly. No one else but her…her and her brother.

––––––––

If she thought the official proclamation and the feast that followed had been extravagant, the processional that dictated their departure was absurd.

Their goodbyes completed and their necessities packed, Emariya wanted nothing more than to gallop over the bridge toward the mainland, her sights set on getting to her father as fast as possible, which wouldn’t be very fast at all.

Instead, they traveled at a sedate but proud walk, in an excruciatingly orderly fashion. Tradition declared a banner-bearer would ride first. Reserved as a duty of honor but seldom needed, Rink had been given the privilege. And what a sight he made! Clad in his new colors of Eltar, he sat straight and formal in the saddle while waving the Ahlens’ banner proudly. A perfect blend of their two lands, Rink’s lead made it clear that this journey was about more than Thalmas, and more than Eltar. This was their cause combined.

Two trumpeters followed Rink on foot. Their task was to wait at the start of the bridge, announcing the royals before turning their tone to a dark fervent beat while the army marched past.

Then, symbolically leading his army, Torian followed astride his magnificent black stallion. Beside him, her white filly matching his horse step for step, Emariya looked over and smiled. They were the picture of dark and light, melding together into balanced perfection. Earlier she’d felt the full weight of the citizens’ eyes as she had walked through the throne room to stand before the king, the queen, and the entire kingdom. Now she had no trouble holding her head high, her back slightly arched with elegant grace.

Beneath her, the white horse’s muscles were coiled, ready to burst forward at a mere thought from her rider. Emariya’s own nerves were a fiery bundle as she scanned the crowd out of the corners of her eye. Beneath her flawless facade, terror hid. At any moment, she expected to see Russell’s face leap out from the crowd of citizens lining both sides of the bridge. If he were there, she didn’t see him.

She could feel Garith’s eyes on her back as she rode. He was paired with the commander of the army, directly behind her and Torian. Behind them rode the mounted soldiers, their horses drumming a steady war chant on the bridge with their hooves. Jessa and a few other servants rode at the rear of the group.

With the mainland in sight and the end of the bridge almost upon them, anticipation spread contagiously as it built to a furious crescendo matched by the tone of the trumpets. As soon as their horses’ hooves touched the valley at the base of the bridge, Torian put his heels to his horse. Raina was only too happy to follow as Emariya urged her to keep up with him. Her cloak whipped behind her as the wind caressed her hair. She heard Torian chuckle beside her as she started to pull in front. Exhilaration to be on their way spurred her forward. Desire to lead kept her there.

They didn’t make it far the first day. Sunset descended upon them as they made it to the mainland. Emariya’s breath caught in her throat when she glanced over her shoulder at Torian to see the sun setting behind them, framing the enormous castle. Castle Ahlen didn’t look nearly as foreign and strange now as it had when she’d arrived not long ago. Someday, would she truly call it home?

CHAPTER FIVE

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The blackness that pervaded the air came rushing back, and Emariya fell again into the nothingness. The memories floated just out of reach, and she was left alone in the void of being not quite anywhere. This haze was heavier now. If she tried hard enough, she could move her fingers, or even make a fist. She stretched her arm, touching mist for as far as she could reach.

The ground—if it was the ground—was semi-solid beneath her. Not quite firm, but not quite nothing, either. Concentrating hard, Emariya tried to push against it to stand. She couldn’t get any leverage against the ground. No matter how she moved, it felt the same. Even though she couldn’t push against the ground, her wispy, mist-bound muscles obeyed, and she found herself rising to stand even though she still felt the ground beneath her palms.

She pressed her hands to her dress, but the texture was wrong, like the hard tent floor beside her bedroll. It seemed her sense of touch remained linked to her physical state, while her sight was inside her head, as if in a dream. Could she be sleeping?

Mist receded as she cautiously stepped forward, glancing around. Pooling in thick swirls around her legs, the heavy air didn’t object to letting her pass. She wandered in circles for an immeasurable amount of time before she noticed the air beneath the mist grew the tiniest bit lighter.

Impaired in the darkness, Emariya bumped into her before she saw her. “Mother!” Without even thinking about it, she threw her arms around her mother’s unexpected form. She was so happy to see someone else—anyone else—that it didn’t dawn on her at first to ask her mother how she could wake up. She had worked so hard to contact her mother before, she could be nothing but happy to see her again. Just like the last time, her mother’s touch was strange, yet familiar. Soothing. Warm.

“Hello, Emariya.” Her mother glanced back over her shoulder before facing Emariya again. “Shh now. Stop that.”

Emariya began to cry.

“You’re fine, Emariya. You’re fine.”

“Am I…dead? I’m not, I don’t think…” Emariya’s lip still trembled as she clutched at her mother’s hand like a lifeline.

“What? Oh, of course not, sweetheart. Come here.” Emariya relaxed into her mother’s embrace.

“But why can’t I wake up?” Emariya gazed up into her mother’s eyes, mirrors of her own.

“You just need to stay here for a while, that’s all. I promise it will be all right. I know you don’t understand, and I wish I could explain. Just trust me, please. Everything is fine.” Her mother’s tone was strange. Forced. What was Valencia not telling her?

Emariya drew back and looked at her mother.

Valencia looked over her shoulder again, as if she were expecting someone.

“Why can’t I contact you when I try?” Emariya asked.

“Because you are afraid to embrace your power. You try and keep it contained, controlled. Entering the spirit realm requires a certain amount of abandon that you are hesitant to accept.”

“Did you have trouble with it?” If Emariya had to stay here, she might as well see what her mother could tell her about her gifts. But she still wished her mother would explain why she couldn’t wake up.

Valencia shook her head. “Not really, I tended to keep my feelings masked and fill the roles I needed to, much like you. But unlike you, I grew up with the knowledge of both who and what I was.” Her smile grew wistful.

“Why didn’t Father tell us about our gifts?” Emariya had pondered that same question many times, but had never come to an answer.

Valencia’s eyes darkened, but a feminine smile played at her lips. “I don’t know, truly. I suppose he wanted you to grow to be who you would be without the influence of knowing the power awaiting you.”

“I need to wake up so I can go rescue Father. Do you know if he’s all right? Can you see him?”

Valencia seemed to consider her words carefully. “I have to have faith that your father is fine.”

Emariya’s voice became small, like when she’d been a little girl. “I miss him, Mama.”

Lady Valencia patted her daughter’s hand.

“Were your feelings for Father as intense as the feelings between Torian and I?” Emariya couldn’t help asking.

“Yes. Very much so.”

“But how did you handle it? It’s…it’s so…consuming. It’s like I am disappearing and melting into him. I can barely even think sometimes when he’s around.”

“You aren’t disappearing or losing yourself, Emariya, you are becoming a part of a larger whole.” Her mother flickered in the mist like a candle’s flame teased by the draft of an open door.

If that was true, why was she lost here in the nothingness with no one for company other than her dead mother who wouldn’t tell her why she was here? Emariya turned away from her mother, suddenly angry. She wanted to wake up. She wanted to be back with Torian.

“It will be all right, Emariya. Just give me time.”

“What—” Emariya turned back to her mother, but Valencia was gone.

Sinking to her knees, a wave of loss washed over her.
Oh, Torian
, she thought.
Where are you? And where am I?
She let the blackness darken around her as she searched back in time through her memories once again.

––––––––

On their way at last, the beginning of a routine took shape. Torian and Emariya were always in the lead. The army and its commander—a gaunt, impossibly tall man who went by the name of Plank—spread like a fan behind them. Rink, his chest puffed out with a sense of newly important pride, relayed messages between Torian and Plank as needed. Emariya wondered if that was the commander’s true name or a nickname born of the picture his height conveyed.

Jessa tended to stick close to Emariya. Her friend had improved in the saddle immensely since the last time they’d set out together. While still not confident on a horse, she at least sat easily on the unflappable mount she’d acquired at Calkirk.

Garith—unlike the others, who had settled into easy positions—was everywhere. He rode between the army, behind it, and at the front with Torian and Emariya, acting as their eyes and ears. Toward the end of the second evening, a full day after they had left Castle Ahlen in the grand procession, Garith reported that they had citizens starting to ride with their army.

Emariya listened closely as Torian and Garith conferred.

“Do you recognize any of them?” Torian asked.

Garith shook his head. “No, they aren’t Russell’s men. I think they are just families who’ve left the castle. I saw at least a few women and children, plus the men. They are just moving faster than we are.” He flashed his impish grin.

“Well, they don’t have an entire army to mobilize, either,” Torian said. “Plus, they don’t have to conserve their horses as much. They aren’t traveling nearly as far as us.”

Despite the large group they were traveling with, they were at least making better time than they had on their way to Castle Ahlen. So far, they hadn’t left the vast valley that stretched southward from the sea. Torian called it the Valley of Frozen Fears. They hadn’t traveled this way on their trek from Eltar. Torian had guided them up through the mountains and along the cliffs—a shorter, but more difficult, route. This time, though, the easiest route was also the most direct. They would continue straight south for several days until they reached the first fork of the Uldrich River, referred to mostly as the Upper Fork.

As dusk fell, Torian had Rink take the word to Commander Plank to make camp just ahead. By the time the sun finished its descent, the last of the army had straggled in. Jessa, assigned to Emariya, set about preparing their sleeping things in their tent while the rest of the servants fluttered about starting fires and setting pots to cook. The orderliness of it all and the speed with which it was done left Emariya amazed.

“Has the army traveled out like this before?” she asked, gazing toward the crackling fire. Its warmth urged her to come take a spot closer to it, calling to her like an old friend.

“Aye, My Lady.” Torian smiled at her. “We’ve two outposts near the border with Sheas. When they need to be reinforced, or need a change of troops—it’s not an easy life out here—the army travels, much like we are now. This is nothing new to them, though admittedly the group is not usually this large.”

“We’re expecting trouble in Sheas,” Emariya said, the weight of what they were doing pressing her spirits down. Trouble or not, she wouldn’t let anyone keep her from her father.

“We’re
prepared
for trouble in Sheas,” Torian corrected her. “We can handle it. We won’t be welcomed there with open arms, though, no. And that’s before we even get to Sheas Harbor. Who knows what Hendel’s reaction will be.”

Emariya studied him, looking for any sign he might be more worried than he was letting on before deciding to take him at his word.

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The next day dawned abnormally bright and clear. The near constant cover of clouds that plagued much of the mountainous slope of Thalmas miraculously receded, giving birth to a welcome and unexpected view of the morning sun. As they rode, still in the valley with mountains to either side, Torian couldn’t help feeling a bit optimistic.

Perhaps the sunlight had followed Emariya from Eltar. When he’d first received her brother’s letter proposing their marriage to unite their lands, he’d known the match would be exactly what Thalmas needed. He hadn’t known it would be what
he
needed, too. Even if Reeve’s intentions were less than pure, Torian couldn’t help feeling a bit grateful that he’d given him his sister. Now that he knew her, he couldn’t picture life without her. Be it the pull of the Stones or simply Emariya herself, she captivated him. He couldn’t resist hanging on her every word. It took every bit of restraint he had not to fall at her feet and make a fool of himself. He’d fall on his own sword if it would make her smile. Fortunately, even under the duress of her brother’s betrayal and her father’s plight, she shared her special smile with him often, illuminating his world.

Until he’d met her, only one other had ever evoked such feelings of love and protectiveness in him: his sister, Terin. He’d do anything for either one of them. Anything. But even knowing Terin had not prepared him fully for Emariya. She was just so…alive. And unexpected. At every challenge, he expected her to flinch away, and at each she rose stronger, more confident, unwaveringly determined.

Even faced with Khane’s confession of her brother’s betrayal, she hadn’t broken, while his own heart shattered in sympathy, filling with anger at her pain. The day would come when Torian would see to it that Reeve laid his sword at her feet. He’d make Reeve beg her for forgiveness.

Trying to put aside the thoughts of his heart, he scanned the horizon. It would be time to make camp soon. He needed to stop playing the role of the lovesick suitor and reprise his duty as the prince in charge.

He blushed as he glanced over at Emariya, riding tall beside him. She tilted her head curiously. Torian shook his head, but grinned as if to say it was nothing, and with a smile of her own, she turned her eyes back ahead. By The Three, the things that simple smile conjured in him… She’d be the death of him yet. Although, by the way she stared so intently ahead, he suspected she was struggling just as much as he was for composure.

The pull of the Stones was like a most inconvenient blessing. On one hand, it heightened their attraction, and gave them a sense of everything being undeniably
right
when they were together. On the other hand, it left them feeling desolate and adrift when apart and made them question if their thoughts and feelings were truly their own.

A surrounding sense of contentment kept his shoulders loose as he directed the group to make camp. Sliding easily off his horse, he handed the reins to Rink and reached up toward Emariya’s slight waist to help her dismount. She could have done it on her own, but he smiled, happy that she let him help her, enjoying the spark that flew between them as he lifted her down. She was so light, almost wispy in his hands. As if, if he wasn’t careful, if he made one wrong move, she might slip through his fingers and be gone forever.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!”

Torian’s head snapped up at Garith’s breathless yell. His eyes locked on the pair of riders approaching at full gallop. He was vaguely aware of Emariya behind him, clutching his hand.

The messenger with Garith barely stopped his horse before he was on the ground, running toward Torian. He stumbled forward as he tried to bow and hurry to the prince at the same time.

Not wanting to waste time before the messenger got to what was obviously an urgent matter, Torian waved his hand dismissively. “Speak freely,” he commanded.

Shoving a folded paper bearing his father’s seal into the prince’s hand, the messenger spoke haltingly, “Your Highness, it’s your sister. She’s gone.”

Voices swirled around Torian’s head as everyone fired off their questions at once, but they were drowned out by the darkness engulfing him. He staggered back, trying to clear his head, and nearly tripped over Emariya.

She put her hand on his arm, worry etched across her beautiful face.

While the barrage of questions continued around him, he unfolded his father’s letter. Any hope he had that perhaps his headstrong sister had simply decided to follow him vanished as he read his father’s words. Fury surged through him and he wrenched himself from Emariya’s grasp before throwing the letter toward her.