Wilde's Meadow (Darkness Falls #3) (28 page)

My screams fill the darkness.

Chapter Nineteen

Mirain walks with her head and tail down, and I keep my eyes focused on my saddle horn to avoid eye contact with Perth, to avoid bursting into tears. Everything that happened, every death, every scream, every stupid, limp piece of grass, I’d seen before. In my dreams. In my visions. I prevented nothing. I
saved
nothing.

Bowen follows close behind us, matching the depressed body language of me and Mirain. Perth rides Flanna’s horse and leads us along a well-worn path.

We’re heading to The Meadows’s town square. Perth says now that Dughbal is dead, all the Leaders will return there, and it is where we should wait.

“Will Cadman and the other soldiers know to come here?” I ask, breaking the cold silence.

“If any of our people survived that battle, they will know to come here.” He glances over his shoulder and squints as if searching for something in the distance … or someone.

Rhoswen
.

My mouth floods with salty liquid. “You’re worried for Rhoswen? Why didn’t we stay and help them, Perth? Why did we leave? We could have protected her. Let’s go back. We can find her and look for Arland.”

Perth turns to me, drawing Luatha to a halt. “He is gone, Katriona.”

Mirain stops as well.

“You already said that.” I purse my lips.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and the pity in that sound breaks my anger.

“There wasn’t a b-body. He’s alive, Perth. He has to be,” I say, shaking my head. Arland’s agonizing scream replays in my memory, causing every nerve in me to burn and ache for the man who brought me to life, who created life inside me. I cradle my arm across my belly, tears hindering my sight. I look up at Perth, but all I see is a warbled outline of his pale face. “I can’t lose hope. Please, let’s go back?”

He wipes away the tears with his thumb, but more continue falling. “I promised Arland I would bring you to safety if anything happened to him, Katriona. I will not fail him. I will not fail
you
. You have changed me, saved my people, and killed Dughbal. Your safety is important. You know
he
would want it.”

“That’s the promise you made to him at the Crossing Caves?”

“Yes.”

I nod. Arland would want me to go to safety, and I’d fight him tooth and nail, and then he’d smile at me and get me to do whatever he wanted. I gasp. I’ll never see his captivating smile, never see myself in Brit, never hear Flanna’s sarcastic laughter. This is so cruel, so unfair. To hell with respect, I turn my face toward the sky and scream. “
Why
? Why the
hell
did you do this to me? What did I
ever
do to deserve losing everything over and over? Am I not allowed to have a good life? Am I not allowed to be happy? Was Arland right, loving me is punishable by death? Well your brother is
dead
! Where is Brad? Can my sister, Flanna, and Arland have their lives back, too, or do they mean nothing to you?”

The wind picks up, kicking dust and leaves into the air and blowing the tops of the trees. Bright, white moonlight peeks through a break in the shroud of looming Darkness, shining upon us.

“K-Katriona?” Perth grabs my hand with his sweaty one. “I do not think it wise to yell at the gods.”

I stare at him, open mouthed, fury rippling through me. “They took everything from me! I did all they asked, but do you see Brad here? Do you see anyone? It’s just you and me, Perth. What if Rhoswen is gone? How would you feel? I’m
pregnant
! My child won’t have a father, won’t have an aunt or a crazy cousin. So excuse me if I’m mad.” My body bursts into flames, and Mirain rears.

Bowen lifts his head and Luatha sidesteps, blowing out huffs of steam from her nostrils.

Perth sighs. “I am so—”

“Don’t you dare say that again. Just don’t.”

“Okay, but please calm down. If you are pregnant, you need to take care of yourself—and I know Arland would agree with me.” He squeezes my hand. “You will make it through this.”

His words match those spoken by Arland so many times over. So many times I believed them, but not anymore. How can I make it through this? How will I explain these events to my child? How will I do anything when all I desire is to curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep?

I’d love to tell Perth to take me home, but I don’t even know where home is anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever have a home to go to now. I want my husband, my fear céile, his comfort, his laughter, his strong arms, his smile, his warmth, his love.

“Katriona?”

There’s so much I want, but is it really that much to ask? I want the life I was beginning to have. I want family, friends … this is all a dream. It’s just a dream, and I’m going to wake up any moment. None of this is real. I smack my face, hoping to snap out of this, to open my eyes and be in my dorm room at Virginia Tech, or in bed at the farm, staring up at the stars Brad and I put on my ceiling all those years ago. Again and again, I bring my palm to my cheek, pinch my hand, punch my thigh, but I’m still trapped in this dreadful place, still sitting atop a beautiful horse, still face to face with a man I don’t want to be face to face with, no matter how far we’ve come. I have to turn around. I have to find Gary and Mr. Tanner. I have to make sense of what happened to Arland. Why did my sister give her life away? There are too many weird questions for any of this to be real. Too many … .

“Katriona.” Perth moves his bony fingers from my hand and wraps them around my wrist.

I jerk away from him, then punch my thigh again.

“
Kate
! You are in shock. Let me take you to The Meadows. The Bheagans said the town is clear; we can go to Arland’s childhood home, assuming it is still standing.”

Arland’s childhood home. It may smell like him, may have something I can touch and feel, something I can hold onto while I cry. “Okay.”

“Hand me her reins,” Perth says, holding out his hand.

“What? Why?”

“In case you change your mind before we arrive.” He opens and closes his palm, demanding the leather straps.

I sigh. “Here.”

Digging his feet into Luatha’s sides, Perth leads Mirain, and Bowen trots behind.

Small wooden houses built into the hills line both sides of the path. Raw, crooked logs support the roofs and white dirt walls, and brown grass acts as shingles atop the structures. The homes blend in with the natural landscapes, complete with large, jagged, gray stones forming fences and lining empty flowerbeds. I imagine in better times, this place could be gorgeous, peaceful, full of children laughing and playing with their friends.

Children
… .

My heart squeezes. There are no words to describe how I miss Arland, how I need him, how I want him to welcome life into this world with me. I rub my belly again, stomach aching worse than my heart.

“We are getting closer,” Perth says, eyeing my trembling hands.

Nodding, I remain silent, watching as the trees become less prominent while signs of civilization dominate. The further along the path we travel, the larger the homes become. More modern in appearance, these earth dwellings look like someone took the hull of a sailboat, flipped it over and put a chimney on top. The walls facing the path are constructed from wood, and the same dead grass covers the small slats on the roofs.

Gray bricks replace the natural terrain road as we enter a town with rows of narrow shops. The horse’s hooves clop on the more solid ground, echoing off the buildings and reminding me how quiet it is here. The street veers to the right and runs in a circle around a tall, barren chestnut encircled by a bench.

I close my eyes, remembering my first meeting with Arland at Watchers Hall. The chestnut and the bench there are a perfect replica of what lies in this town’s center. Images of his emerald gaze, his strong jaw, and his slightly crooked nose fill my mind.
You are Encardia’s only hope.
If only I realized then how much I’d have to give up to help. Maybe I did. Maybe that’s why Gramhara gave me her power of love, to know better and run like hell to get away.

Guess I missed the signs like usual.

“You still with me?” Perth asks.

I meet his eyes, wishing I could see Arland instead.

“You do not need to speak. You acknowledged me; that is enough.”

I return to taking in my surroundings, memorizing the place Arland grew up, the place he longed to go back to after the war. His home is so different than anything I’ve seen in Encardia. The town looks normal, Earthly, not a rugged compound built underground to hide people from danger; The Meadows could be from a storybook. A metal shop’s thick, wooden door is open and dangling by the top hinge. A butcher, a bakery, and a furnishings store—these are a few places with their hand-carved, wooden signs still intact, hanging from horizontal, wrought iron poles. Everything a small existence would need to survive, with or without magic, is here.

Perth stops at a gorgeous stone cottage. An a-shaped roof resides over the tall structure. The left side of the house sweeps in a steep downward slant to the ground, and a wide chimney protrudes from the right side of the home. The door is circular, adorned with rusted, black hinges, and a knob oddly situated in the middle.

“This is it.” Perth slides from Luatha then offers me his hand, helping me from Mirain.

“Is this a home for High Leaders?” Nothing else appears nearly as majestic, nearly as
captivating
, as this.

He shakes his head. “Arland’s father was not High Leader at the time the war began. Maoilriain was, and he lived in a place much larger than this on the other side of town, but it was devastated by fire, as was he.”

Perth unsheathes his sword, gently takes my hand, then leads me up the stone steps, checking over his shoulder every few seconds.

“Shhh.” He releases me, then turns the knob.

The hinges squeak, jolting my already worn out nerves, as Perth opens the dull door covered with flaking red paint.

“Follow me,” he says, motioning for me to join him.

If anything is in here, his sword will do very little by itself to protect us. I focus on my wounded heart, on my sister, on Flanna, on Brad, on my father, on my … A-Arland. I choke.

My
love
.

The god who did this to me is dead, but I’m still angry, angry at the price I had to pay, angry it hurts so much.

No
, I must focus on protecting me and Perth. We’re alive; we’re what’s important right now, but I can’t. No fire rages in me. No passion. No Arland. He and I together were the key, and he’s gone.

I’m alone.

Tripping over the doorframe, I tumble to my knees and make no effort to get up. I lean my forehead on the cold floor and cry, tears rushing from my eyes and landing on the wood in a steady stream, forming small pools. “Why? Why me? Why so much evil, so much loss?”

“The house is clear,” Perth says, rubbing his hand on my left shoulder blade. “Come sit down. I will tie off the horses and find some wood.” He slides his palm down my arm then takes my hand in his, lifting me from the ground. “Will you be okay?”

I glance around the airy room and spot a rocking chair by the fireplace. I wonder if Arland’s mother rocked him to sleep there when he was just a baby, if she read him stories by a crackling fire to put him to sleep, if she held him tight just to tell him she loved him. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to sit in that chair.”

Perth cups his left hand over mine, sandwiching it between his other, and nods. “I—”

“Just go, Perth.” Walking away and wishing to be alone, I escape his worried looks and run my fingers along the top of the chair, leaving a trail in the thick layer of dust.

A small spider scurries down a spindle of the backrest, then hides under the seat.

I look over my shoulder and find a thin cloth lying across a counter between where I stand and walls of empty bookshelves. Rushing over, I grab the fabric and shake it out, clouds of dust zipping away. I wipe the counter, a square table with purple and green quartz stones resting on it, the slate mantle, and finally the chair. I toss the rag aside then prop my hands on my hips, spinning in place, inspecting what else needs tending.