Wilde's Meadow (Darkness Falls #3) (2 page)

Cupping his cheek with my hand, I stand on my toes and kiss his nose. “I know, and it’s a war we will win. Now, let’s go. People are waiting for Arland and Katriona Maher.”

Chapter Two

Sitting in the great room with Arland’s hand in mine—not Perth’s—still unsettles me. No matter how much acceptance we’ve received, I cannot push those weeks of pretending to be in love with someone else out of my head. When Arland and I are around others, I find myself glancing away, making faces, tensing up—all the things I was supposed to do before he and Brit disappeared. Back at Watchers Hall, before meeting Dufaigh—or any other Ground Dweller aside from Perth—I didn’t have an issue with affection. Actions that never bothered me before, scare me now.

No matter how united the Draíochtans appear, no matter how much magic or confidence I have, I still worry I will lose Arland at any moment, that one of the tragic deaths I’ve seen him suffer so many times will come true.

He squeezes my fingers between his. “You said you would have fun, but your thoughts are a constant stream into mine, Kate. I know you are concerned about the visions”—Arland clears his throat—”about my death. We took note of them all, where we were, what attacked us, and the words you and Dughbal exchanged. We are prepared, and even if we cannot prevent what you have seen, we must live and enjoy our lives while there is still time.” He stands, offering me his arm. “Will you dance with me?”

There’s a farewell party going on around us. The tables and chairs have been pushed closer to the walls, opening up the great room for dancers. Arland and I have sat in the back left corner all evening, away from everyone I’m supposed to be enjoying our last night here with, away from the music, the eyes, the forced happiness.

Pre-war celebrations are disturbing. Everyone in here knows we may fail and that some of us may die, yet our people smile.

“They are here to honor life, Kate. Now, are you going to honor ours and dance with me?”

I get up, then hook my arm through his. He sweeps me through the crowd, which parts as we approach, leading me to the center of the room. The music is fast, the atmosphere energized. Candles burn in wrought-iron chandeliers over our heads, in sconces lining the walls, in jars on every table. The sweet scent of jasmine mixed with the warm scent of bread and chicken fills the air.

Arland holds up his hand and waits for me to mirror his action. I glance around, take in all the smiling faces, see the children beaming with wide eyes, watch the Leaders dancing with their partners, notice my mother and sister laughing at a nearby table, then press my palm to his. Arland and I lock eyes and skip in a circle. I switch hands, spinning around to my next partner without taking my gaze from Arland. We trade partners six more times, dancing by Cadman, Saidear, Deverell, Leader Murchadha, Ula, Vanora, and so many others, touching hands with each of them as we pass. Drums reverberate in my chest. Our boots resound with muffled echoes off the mixed stone and earth floor. Laughter, combined with hypnotic melodies of the flutes and lyres, sets my soul at ease. Dancing with my husband, with our friends and former enemies, makes me smile.

Returning to where we began, Arland grins as our fingers meet. “Having fun yet?”

“Yes,” I say, breathing heavily from the dance, ready to go around again, but the music stops, and people spread out like ants in the earth, returning to their seats.

Mom and Brit are still talking and laughing at their table close to the large, round wooden doors. They spot me staring, then Mom motions for us to join, although with the sudden paleness on my sister’s cheeks, I’m not sure she’s looking forward to this encounter. Grabbing Arland’s hand, I take a deep breath and tug him over to my family—the other part.

“Hey,” Brit says, avoiding eye contact and shifting in her seat. “Come to say goodbye to Mom?”

Arland holds out a chair for me, and I sit.

“There are no goodbyes, Brit. We will see her again.
You
will see her again,” he says.

“And
you
can’t say that for sure.” She scowls at Arland, then turns her attention to me. “Don’t even ask. The Seer didn’t tell me whether I would die or not. All she gave me was some confusing poetry and said I couldn’t share with you until the time was right—”

“And she didn’t say when that time may be—I know. I’m getting used to everyone keeping things from me whether they want to or not, Brit.” I shift my gaze to Mom. “I am going to miss you though, Mom. I wish you could come with us.”

She cups my cheek with her shaky hand. “Someone has to ensure order is maintained while you are gone. Plus, I will be needed when the other Draíochtans arrive from the mountains.” Mom drops her hand and stands. “I have something I’d like to give you. Come with me?”

The three of us follow her through the giant doors of the great room, through the hall, then down the stone steps toward our quarters. Candles flicker as we pass, casting wicked shadows across the aging stone and earth walls. Away from the party, the base is eerily quiet. Everyone in my small army spends their lasts moments of peace saying goodbye to family and friends, but as usual,
our
time involves secret meetings.

Mom passes my room, continues beyond three more doors, then turns right. “I will just be a second.”

Brit grabs my left hand and leans against my shoulder.

“What do you think Mom has for you?” she whispers, stray strands of her brown waves tickling my face.

“Knowing this world, it could be anything.”

“Whatever she has will be confusing, I am sure.” Arland squeezes my fingers. “If your mother is involved, cryptic is too.”

Mom returns holding a silver tin about the size of a sandwich, appropriately contained in a sandwich bag. She takes a deep breath. “When you are at a loss, when no other options present themselves, when you have no direction and are not sure where to turn, you may open this. Do not peek, do not rush to see what this tin contains, for if you do, you will disrupt order and stray from the path of Light.”

I swallow hard, reaching out to take the odd gift from her. “How will I know?”

Mom presses the tin into my hands but doesn’t let go. “Promise me, Kate. Promise to trust your instincts, to listen to your heart, and to always do what you believe is pure, honest, right.”

I nod.

Mom narrows her green eyes, pink fading from her cheekbones, blanching to a sickly shade of white. “Promise me with your words.”

“I … I promise, Mom.”

“You will know when the time is right if you always do those things.” She smiles and lets go. “The three of you need to rest. Oh, and Flanna asked me to remind you about the armor.”

Arland laughs.

“Seriously?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

“Wear it, Kate. If hounds attack you again, it may be the thing that saves your life.” A tear wells in the corner of her eye. “Wear it for me?”

Rubbing the raised, scarred skin on my forearm—thanks to my deadly encounter with the hounds in the forest—I nod again. “Fine. I will wear the armor for you
and
Flanna. I don’t know why she felt the need to bring you into it.”

“Thank you, Kate.” Flanna’s happy voice rattles my core. She emerges from the shadows, blue flames dancing on her palm, an impish grin on her face. “I brought your mother into it because she is an expert manipulator. One bat of her eyelashes and just about anyone does what she asks.”

Sliding between Arland and me, Flanna winks and then stands before Mom. “I wanted to thank you … for everything. May we see each other again soon.” Flanna kisses Mom’s cheek, then heads further down the hall. “See you in a few hours.”

“
What was that about
?” I think, looking up at Arland.

He stares after his cousin. “
Your mother has helped Flanna control her grief for Lann
.”

“Morning will be here before you know it; you three should get some rest, too.” Mom pats my shoulder. “I will come by your rooms and wake you for breakfast.”

I wrap my arms around her, soaking her in one last time before we head off into a battle that will certainly change us forever. “I love you, Mom.”

She squeezes back, nearly expelling all the air from my lungs. “I love you, too, Kate. Take care of your sister.”

Brit joins our hug, stealing my breath.

I gasp.

“Sorry.” She steps away and laughs, staring at the floor.

“Arland”—Mom reaches out her hand—”bring my daughters back alive.”

He takes her forearm instead and pulls her into a hug. “I promise they will both return with their lives.”

Tears trail down Mom’s cheeks and hang from her chin. “Thank you. I know you will try. Good night, and sleep well.”

“Good night, Mom,” Brit and I say together.

Arland hooks his arm through mine, and I Brit’s. The three of us walk in somber silence down the hall, pace slow, heads down, staring at the strange package in my grip, all lost in a jumble of unreadable thoughts. When people are confused, scared, or blocking what I’m trying to read from them, their thoughts are like illegible words scribbled on paper. Impossible to comprehend.

My sister kisses my cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Arland and I enter our room, lock the door behind us, then head straight for bed, removing our clothes and allowing them to drop to the floor along the way. I keep the tin with me, clutching it to my chest, wondering what odd help it may hold. He settles into bed first and holds up the covers. Crawling next to him, I snuggle my head on his shoulder and tuck Mom’s gift under our pillow.

“Are you afraid?” He asks the question as though he already knows the answer.

“Yes.” I think that’s why I didn’t want to dance, didn’t want anyone to see us, and didn’t want to celebrate; this war has only just begun. Everything I hold dear, everything I love more passionately than I imagined possible, could be lost.

“If we die, we die fighting.”

I close my eyes. “Together.”

He draws the silken covers up to my chin, then secures his arms around me, clasping his fingers over my shoulder. “Until I draw my last breath.”

Unease settles in my stomach, makes my legs ache, chest constrict, and eyes water. I breathe in, deep and ragged, memorizing this: Arland, love, hope, a bed, covers … things I may never have after this war ends. “Until I draw my last breath.”

Chapter Three

Thump, thump, thump
.

I hate that stupid door.

Burning from lack of sleep, my eyes flutter open. I rub them, but my effort does little to help. Arland’s arms are still wrapped around me, and if it weren’t for us needing to get started before 5:00 a.m., I’d ignore the knock at the door and stay in my husband’s arms forever.

“
Kate, we’re waiting for you guys in the hall. You’ve already missed breakfast.
” Brit’s ability to jump into my mind grows more powerful. No longer do we have to search or force our thoughts onto each other; now we just talk, much like my connection with Arland, but without the magical bond. “
Cadman, Perth, and Flanna are getting annoyed—and Arland’s dad wants to say goodbye.
”

I haven’t seen High Leader Maher since the night Arland and I were Bound. My father-in-law has worked tirelessly to prepare Willow Falls for the arrival of the other Draíochtans from the Gorm Mountain range base. He wants everyone in a single location in case we need more soldiers for the war; plus, Mom claims it will be easier to make sure everyone returns to their proper home if we leave from the same place.

“
Why’d you wait so long to wake us up?
”

“
We figured you’d want to … .
”

Sucking all the warmth from the rest of my body, my face radiates like an efficient space heater. I would like to do exactly
that
, but we’ve been asleep. “
We’ll be right there
.”

I snuggle into Arland, breathing in his warmth, then place my lips on his chest.

“Arland, we have to go. Apparently everyone gave us alone time, and we used it to sleep,” I whisper, drawing my leg over his.