Wilde's Meadow (Darkness Falls #3) (9 page)

It’s not that far.

Struggling against the invisible force around me, I pull myself toward the ledge and reach out my arm. A crisp, fresh breeze blows against my skin. I’m so close.

But the force pulls me back again. “Open. Your. Eyes.”

I shake my head, afraid to yell at this dark magic. The voice sounds so much like Arland’s, so much like the man I love. I would recognize him if his arms were around me. Wouldn’t I?

“Open your eyes, Katriona Maher. Perth is about to jump off the ledge, too. I cannot save you both if you do not snap out of this.” Warmth greets my lips.

Arland
. He’s kissing me.

Awareness strikes through me. My eyes
are
closed. I force them open, then look around. People are everywhere, screaming, tugging each other away from the ledge. Kent smacks Muriel, then she opens her eyes. Brit jumps on Vanora’s back, knocking her to the ground. The horses stand in the middle, unfazed by everything going on around them. We should have tied ourselves to the animals.

“I’m so sorry,” I mutter, ashamed to meet his eyes.

“You will never plummet to your death while I am around.” He lifts my chin, a strained smile curving up one side of his face.

“Did anyone go … over?”

“No.”

“Get away from the edge, you idiot,” Rhoswen screams. I would recognize her voice anywhere. She spent every morning and evening with me at Willow Falls, dressing me for Dufaigh’s parties.

Arland releases his tight grip around my middle, then glances toward the ravine. “Promise to stay right behind me?”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll stay next to you, but what about them?” I hook my thumb toward everyone behind us.

“It appears the others have the situation under control. However, Vanora may hold some hostility toward Flanna and your sister.” He laughs and starts for Perth.

Gripping Mirain’s lead rope as though it’s my lifeline, I hurry to keep up with Arland, then peek over my shoulder.

Flanna hooks her arms under Vanora’s, holding her still while my sister smacks her face over and over.

“Wake up!” Brit screams.

I have a feeling enemies are being made. Vanora isn’t the forgiving type.

“Mom. I hear you. I knew you were still alive,” Perth yells, drawing my attention forward. He flails his arms, trying to shake Rhoswen.

She may be smaller than me, but she and Perth are similar in builds. He pulls at her long, blonde hair, fighting to get away, to hurt her, but she doesn’t give in. And I doubt he even knows she’s there.

“Arland, she’s already injured. You have to stop him.”

“Give her a minute, Kate. She was at the back of the line near your sister and me, and for whatever reason when we entered this place, she bolted for the front as soon as Perth acted out. Maybe she did not wish to see one of her kind make a mistake when given an opportunity to lead, but I believe it speaks volumes
about
their kind that she is helping at all.” Arland doesn’t look away from the only two Ground Dwellers in our small group. I doubt he will allow Perth to hurt Rhoswen or himself, but Arland’s idea is interesting.

Is this an experiment?

“No,” Arland says, reading my thoughts. “I am not experimenting. Aside from building the bases and providing weapons, Ground Dwellers have never aided in this war. I wonder if they would have if the curse were not in place. Whatever the case, situations like these are where warriors are born.”

Rhoswen slaps Perth; the sound reverberates off the walls.

He tumbles back, then shakes his head. “Rhoswen?”

“Your mother is dead. You know this, Perth. Now, are you going to lead us through this place, or are you going to jump to your end, too?”

Eyes widening, Perth takes in the dangerous scene. All color washes from his cheeks, minus the bright-red handprint from where Rhoswen saved his life—she’s now slapped two people today.

“The spells do not affect you?” he asks, looking back to her, voice flat.

“After passing through here enough times, you become immune to the spells.” Rhoswen brushes past him, disappearing into the darkness.

Mirain snorts.

“You don’t think she’ll run into any daemons, do you?” I whisper.

Arland smiles the faintest of smiles. “Even if she does, she appears to have the wherewithal to handle herself.”

“I failed.” Perth kicks a pebble over the edge.

I listen, waiting to hear the stone hit the bottom, to land in the water, wait for some indication as to how far I was about to fall.

“I am sorry, Arland, Katriona.”

“Count the heads, Perth.”

He meets my eyes, confusion settling into his features. “What do you mean?”

“You are responsible for thirty lives. Count the people. We’re all still here. Failure is not measured by the mistakes you make, Perth, but how you respond to those mistakes. You haven’t failed yet.”

Arland grabs my free hand, then squeezes. “
Your father used to say that.
”

“
Did he
?” My heart warms at the thought of sharing words with the father I’ve never known. “
Mom said that once, after I failed a test.
”

“Okay.” Perth smiles, displaying the same expression I must have had after Mom tried to make me feel better. “Okay, everyone. We need to keep moving. Mount your horses, and ride out of here. Fast.”

He climbs his animal then kicks his heels into her sides, bolting toward the exit.

“Where’s Bowen?” I ask.

Arland tips his head back. “Behind us, but I am staying with you.”

He gets on Mirain, pulls me up, then wraps his warm, strong arms around me. Arland’s presence is reassuring, comforting, welcome.

I lean into him, but keep my eyes open. I do not want to see anything else this cave has to offer.

“In theory, Perth’s idea of keeping us apart made sense, but I wonder if he is still somehow trying to prove himself to you, Kate.”

“What do you mean?”

Arland snorts. “I do believe he fell in love with you at Willow Falls, and I believe he wants to expose me as unnecessary.”

“A Seer told him if he tried to obtain a future with me, he would live a life without love, Arland. Why would he want that?”

“There have been many who were not supposed to love you, for many different reasons, but loving you is like loving the sun. You are warm, smart, full of energy and life. You are pure, Katriona Maher. How could he
not
want to try?” Arland kisses my cheek, sending chills down my arms.

I bite my lip. “I hope you’re wrong.”

“I hope I am, too,” he says as we exit the caves. “I am sure we will find out.”

The pebble didn’t make a noise, not one I’ve heard at least.

Glancing over my shoulder, I count the others as they pass through the opening in the stone wall, making sure the caves release all of us. Everyone’s eyes are wide, and many faces are drained of color, but our people are alive.

I meet my sister’s gaze and sigh, tension draining from my arms. She’s covered in scratches—probably from Vanora—but she smiles.

“Welcome to The Meadows,” Arland mutters, not a single ounce of pride lining his voice.

Looking around, I can’t blame him. There’s nothing special here, only more dying trees and rotting vegetation. Dughbal hasn’t spared his wrath on a single acre of land.

So devastating.

Chapter Eight

Since my Aunt Cairine lived in The Meadows and was recently killed, and for many other reasons, Arland thought this place would be perfect to begin our quest for Dughbal. He attacked the capital lands first, hardest, and without any remorse.

But now, the dark god isn’t showing his strength. Unlike earlier when we weren’t ready for him.

We’ve ridden for hours through the thick Baccain Forest surrounding The Meadows, and not a single daemon has crossed our path. Arland sent out scouts to check for tracks, but Tristan and Kent returned without any leads.

I’m searching for Dughbal, ready to fight him face to face and give him his opportunity to kill me and steal my powers, yet now he hides his army.

I fear he’s playing a game, one we’re not familiar with the rules of, one that could get us all killed before we learn which move to make first.

“We need to seek shelter, Arland,” Flanna says, riding up next to us. She glances back at the others, worry putting unusual creases in her forehead. “It is late, and the soldiers need to eat and rest.”

I pat Mirain’s neck, glad Flanna’s being peaceful now. “The horses should rest as well.”

Mirain dips her head as if she agrees.

Arland pulls on Bowen’s reins, and he stops, then Mirain and Luatha follow his lead.

“And we need to communicate with the other groups to see if they are also having issues finding daemons.” Arland turns toward our group of bleary-eyed soldiers. “Cadman, take Tristan and find a safe place to rest.”

Cadman and Tristan ride away from our procession and head toward their left, deeper into the forest, further away from The Meadows.

“Flanna,” Arland says. “Take an inventory of our food supplies, then assign cooking duties to an able body.”

She gasps. “You mean … ?”

“You no longer need to prepare food, but you will still be in charge of the person who does.”

“Rhoswen,” Flanna calls, riding off fast. She’s wanted to pass off kitchen-type duties for a long time. And I think until she overcomes her grief, she needs less to worry about.

The Ground Dweller appraises Flanna with a look of utter smugness, turning up her chin. Rhoswen purses her thin lips and stares down her long nose at my Confidant. Not a good way to start a friendship, but Rhoswen hasn’t calmed down since the Crossing Caves, and I still don’t know why she was so upset in the first place.

I’m going to have to get to know her better.

“Smiling never killed anyone … well, not while Dufaigh is not around.” Flanna stops in front of the Ground Dweller, a huge smile on her face. “You cook?”

Rhoswen’s gaze flits to Perth, then back to Flanna. “Yes. Cook, clean, do hair—anything the daughter of a servant is expected to do.”

“A
servant
,” I whisper, not looking for a response. I guess the title makes sense. She was at Dufaigh’s beckon call, ready to do my hair, remove the dirty clothes from my room, provide me with clean gowns every morning.

“Every society has members who fall into classes. Do not try to tell me the world you grew up in was any different.” Arland keeps his voice low, but I know he interpreted my assessment of her status all-wrong.

I’m not mad Rhoswen is a servant; I just never put two and two together. I thought she was happy working for Dufaigh as a dresser. I didn’t realize her duty was because of what class she falls into, but given how bitter she was toward him, I should have known better. “Where do servants live?”

“Trust me, Kate. Their lives are not hard. Whatever you are thinking is not true. Servants lived in town, sometimes with the Leaders they worked for, and were treated well. The only difference is they cannot be Bound into Leadership.”

“But my mother said Draíochtans are free to choose.”

“Not all. I doubt your mother paid much attention to that rule. It did not affect her.” Arland sighs. “I need to assign duties for our break. I will return.”

He rides away, pausing by each soldier and instructing them of their responsibility for the night, reminding me there are still so many things wrong with this world.

All people should be free to fall in love, no matter with who, or no matter their class.

“Do you feel sorry for her?” Perth asks, startling me by his closeness.

“Sorry? Only that she cannot choose who she wants to marry.” I watch Flanna and Rhoswen disappear into the darkness, oddly chatting back and forth like they’re old friends, probably discussing some mutual hatred of all things kitchen duty; they follow in the same direction as Cadman and Tristan.

“She can choose.” Perth rides in front of me, wearing a grin saying he couldn’t care less about whom she’s allowed to be with.

“As long as it’s someone in her class. That’s sad, Perth.”

“How would her falling in love with a Leader be any different than any other person falling in love with someone they cannot have?”

He’s right. Not everyone gets what they want, or who they want. Perth knows this well, although I don’t believe he truly understands love. We have friendship, but even
he
didn’t trust me as much as I trusted him. On the night of my Binding with Arland, Perth thought we were abandoning Willow Falls. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have followed me out of the base. The only thing he knows how to care for is himself, but that doesn’t mean he won’t change.

“You’re not sorry for her because you feel the same way?” I ask.

He shrugs. “More or less. If I have to get used to it, so should she.”

Still so cold when it comes to other people’s feelings. “And I thought misery loved company. Maybe if she wasn’t your father’s servant, you would like her more—or is it that you still don’t trust her?”

“Cadman and Tristan have returned,” Arland interrupts. “Are you ready to go?”