“And he doesn’t love her, Ara,” Mike said. “He loves you. If anyone should be worried, it’s David.”
“Why should he be worried?”
“Is that a joke?” He sat up a bit—probably to be taller than me again. “You’re here, miles from home, with a guy who’s crazy about you—a guy you’re spirit bound to—while David’s forced to stay at home wondering what you’re doing, praying the bad guy doesn’t come back to take you away again while he’s not here to protect you.” He breathed out through his nose. “And he knows what you’re like, Ara. You never listen to anyone; you never do as you’re told. He has to rely on the very guy, whom he doesn’t trust to be with you, to protect you above all else and then comfort you when you’re feeling low, care for you if you get sick—stop you from doing stupid things. He should be worried, Ara. Not you.”
I nodded. “I guess I never thought of it like that.”
“That’s because you’re not a guy.”
“Noted.” I smiled.
“Now—” Mike climbed out of bed, took my cup, and his warm, autumn eyes crinkled on the edges with his smile. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning for training.”
“Great.” I snuggled down into the warmth Mike left behind. “I can’t wait to meet all the knights.”
“They’re just as excited.” He went to walk away then stopped. “Oh, and, Arthur wants to come watch you train, too—he’s eager to see your powers.”
“Really? Should we let him?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. You seem to be all buddy-buddy with him.” Mike shrugged. “It’ll be fine. If he is a mole, he won’t attack now anyway. You just need to hurry up and figure out his plan.”
“He has no plan, Mike,” I said, rolling over. “He’s opinionated, but he’s not a mole.”
“We’ll see.” Mike blew out the flame in the lantern and closed my door.
My eyes stayed open, looking above me to the unspoilt sky through the glass dome. Across my room, the soft white curtains billowed in the summer breeze as it snuck through my open balcony door, blowing a gentle tickle of warm air across my nose and lips, like a goodnight kiss from the evening. I could hear the ocean in the distance now with the manor going quiet, room by room, all around me. It was peaceful, serene, but empty.
The walls seemed to swirl then, the open space narrowing me in to my own little world, and behind the loving eyes of the unknown man in the glass, sunlight suddenly shone through, making them sparkle, warming his whole smile. I smiled back at him as the light flooded down my walls, blotting out his face, my pillows, my dresser, until spring spread out around me—my only cage the long grass, rising up past my shoulders and cheeks with the wet scent of soil and crushed daisies.
I slid my hand across the ground, knowing the boy next to me would reach out and wrap his fingers through mine.
“Can you show me another?” I asked, suddenly standing above this boy and girl, holding hands in the grass; the sun shone down, making the girl’s yellow dress almost transparent, showing the outline of her thighs and hips in a shadow under the fabric.
The boy rolled up on his elbow, bringing his body closely alongside hers. “I’ve shown you so many already, Ara-Rose.”
“Shown you what?” I asked, stepping closer.
She looked at me then, her blues eyes taking my breath as they reached right between my ribs, starting my heart. “Memories,” she said to me.
“Of what?”
She just smiled and looked back at Jason—left behind in the realm of moments gone. “Watch, and you’ll see.”
Dark sky swallowed us whole, taking Jason away again, leaving me alone in a windy clearing—nothing but a stormy sky, the wide arms of our tree, and, in the distance, two boys—running. A ring of light shone down onto the clearing over them, presenting their memory in daytime, while I stood on the cusp of dark and light.
“David! Wait. I can’t…” The smaller boy folded over, dropping his hands to his dirt-covered knees. “I can’t breathe.”
“Good,” David called over his shoulder, laughing. “Then I shall win—again.”
The boy tried to run for only a second more before flopping to the ground, tucked into a small ball, his shoulders lifting with each raspy, tight breath.
A shadow covered his face, taking the warmth of the sun, and he looked up, green eyes so bright, at his brother. “What are you doing, Jason? Get up,” David said.
“I can’t,” he wheezed. “Get…get Aunty.”
But his brother only shook his head, his face lit with humour. He toed Jason’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back. “Stop pretending. Arietta doesn’t love you more because you’re sick—she only pities you.”
“Please?” Jason reached up, his face going white around purple lips. “I can’t…I can’t bre—”
“Father says it is God’s will.” David kicked Jason’s hand away. “He says we should stop healing you.”
“Brother? Please?”
But David backed away. “Maybe he’s right.”
“N-no.” Jason curled into a ball again, tucking his knees to his chest.
“If you want to live, brother, perhaps you should pray.”
But Jason didn’t hear those words; his breath became short, shallow, as David walked away, disappearing into the glare of the sun.
I ran over and knelt beside the shuddering child. “Jason,” I whispered, wishing I could be an entity of the past, reach out, touch him. But when he looked up suddenly, it was to a great, fluffy hound, licking his face, waking him from the drift of consciousness.
“Petey?” he said, wrapping his arm across the dog’s neck. “Get Aunty.”
And Petey ran, bouncing over the fields faster than possible, barking, calling out for all who might be near.
When Jason opened his eyes again, the room was mostly dark, lit only by a fire burning nearby, while the softness of a mattress braced his tiny body. He looked up into the soulful blue eyes of a woman with honey blonde hair.
“Jason.” She touched his face.
“Aunty.”
“Shh,” she said, stroking his cheek over and over again. “Don’t try to speak, my love. Just rest. You’re safe now.”
He nodded and closed his eyes, but opened them quickly, revealing thoughts which took that sparkle from his soul. “Aunt Ari?”