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She watched as Lydia’s eyes filled with
tears. “My mother died trying to save my life.”

Kira didn’t know what to say. She’d lost her
father when she was four, too young to remember him, and she and
her absentee mother’s relationship was hit and miss. “I’m so sorry,
Lydia.”

“Enough questions. She needs to rest.”
Octavion reached for the water bag and helped his sister sit to
take another drink. When she lay back, he tenderly brushed a tear
from her cheek.

“I am glad you are well,” he said.

She flashed her uneven smile. “Well, don’t
think you’re off the hook for pouring that poison down my throat.”
Then her expression turned more serious. She glanced at Kira, then
back to him. “Thank you for not listening to me. I just didn’t
want—” The words caught in her throat. She clearly held back more
tears. “After Serena . . . I just couldn’t do that to you—to
us.”

“Shh, be still. It is over now.” He pulled
the covers up around her shoulders.

Kira felt as though she eavesdropped. Using
the lean-to for support, she clumsily stood and turned to walk
away. With tired and trembling limbs, she grabbed the corner of the
shelter for balance and paused there with her back to them.

“I will protect her. You have my word,” he
whispered.

A knot formed in Kira’s throat. What kinds of
things would she need protecting from? She let go and worked her
way back to Octavion’s shelter. When she stumbled, Octavion was
there, guiding her back. He helped her down and covered her much
like he had Lydia. When Kira opened her mouth to thank him, he
placed a finger to her lips.

“Shh . . . I reacted badly. I am sorry.” His
expression, weary with regret, met hers. Still searching her face,
he drew back his hand. “You have another question. I can see it in
your eyes.”

Actually, she had a lot of questions, but one
in particular wouldn’t let go. She nodded, then looked over at
Lydia, who was getting another drink. “Why was Altaria so
bitter?”

“As we told you, Lydia’s spirit is very
strong, but physically she can only take so much. As Altaria, she
can endure more and has the ability to alter her form slightly, as
you saw in her face. I thought perhaps she could change the wound
and fuse it back together enough to stop the bleeding, but each
time Lydia tried to force Altaria to be in control, the wound
deteriorated more quickly, the opposite of what I’d hoped. It was
very painful to have her kindred spirit take over when she was
wounded so badly. It did not help that Altaria fought the
transformation.”

“That’s why she screamed?”

“Yes. In a way, her spirits were fighting.
Lydia is usually strong enough to make her kindred spirit take
over, but in her weakened state, Altaria had a choice and refused.
It is not often they have a conflict, but when they do, it does
not
end well.” He paused for a moment. “I’ve never seen her
in so much pain.”

“So, does everyone in your world have a . . .
a
kindred spirit?
” she asked.

“No, it is rare. We have heard stories and
rumors of such gifts from ancient history, but as far as we know,
Lydia is the only one in many, many generations. Now, I have a
question for you.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.”

“Are you hungry?” He smiled.

“Starving.”

Octavion brought Kira and Lydia an assortment
of fruit, bread and small chunks of cheese. At some point, Lydia
gave into sleep. Kira was about to do the same when Octavion
brought her a small cup. Rolling to one elbow, she pressed the rim
to her lips and drained the liquid, a sweet fruit juice that was
unfamiliar to her.

He nodded his approval. “Sleep well,
Kira.”

Kira opened her eyes expecting to see the
clearing. It took a moment for her to focus, but when she finally
saw well enough to recognize her surroundings, she lay on her bed,
staring up at the two kitten posters tacked to her ceiling.

Kira blinked hard.

It can’t be. It was so real. Did I dream
it all?
She threw her legs over the side of the bed and sat up,
catching her reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of
the room. She was a wreck. Not only was her hair a tangled mass,
but her clothes looked as though she’d been dragged through a
marsh. She glanced to the left of the door where her jacket hung on
a hook; below that sat her white sneakers. Bits of grass and dried
leaves covered the shoes.

She closed her eyes and tried not to think
about what the physical evidence meant. She didn’t want to know how
much of it was real and how much may have been her overactive
imagination. She was home. Safe.

Kira brought her right hand out in front of
her and turned it over, exposing the jagged scab that trailed
across her palm and the tiny thread of silver that wound around her
wrist, more solid proof that what she’d been through was real.

A sudden surge of bile rose in her throat.
She jumped to her feet and ran to her bathroom just in time to flip
up the toilet seat and heave the contents of her stomach into the
bowl. She fell to her knees and placed both arms on the rim,
waiting for another rush of vomit to swell in her throat. When it
didn’t come, she turned to sit on the floor, leaning her back
against the wall.

The house was eerily quiet. She listened for
any signs of her mom or Paul, but heard nothing. A cold shiver ran
up her spine. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around
them. She couldn’t think. She didn’t
want
to think. When she
began to shiver, she stood and turned on the shower, then stepped
in, clothes and all. She stood under the spray until the water
began to cool, then adjusted the tap. One by one, she peeled off
each piece of clothing, letting them fall to the shower floor in a
heap. Streams of mud flowed away like blood seeping from a
wound.

When she’d used up all the hot water, Kira
turned off the valves and opened the shower door. Across from her
hung a full-length mirror—a stupid place to put it, really. Who
wants to look at themselves, naked and dripping wet? Kira swiped
the mirror with her hand, only to see that the blurred image before
her seemed different somehow. The subtle change wasn’t in her
face—it was in her eyes, the way the small stream of light coming
from the window made them glimmer and shine.
Okay, Kira, snap
out of it.
She wrapped an oversized towel around her body and
walked back to her bedroom.

Octavion tossed the memory stones into the
hot coals to cleanse them of the scouts’ memories, then turned to
check on his sister. She’d thrashed around for most of the night,
mumbling Shandira’s name and asking for their father. Octavion had
hoped her nightmares would cease over time. For the most part they
had, but the encounter with Shandira’s scouts had brought them back
tenfold. He’d never seen her like this. He swore under his breath
and stood to get another log for the fire.

“Kira?” Lydia whispered.

The sound of Kira’s name made his heart
clench. It was his fault she’d endured so much pain healing Lydia.
As grateful as he was to have his sister alive and well, he wasn’t
sure he could make that choice again. Not if it meant Kira dying in
the process. Without her knowing it, she’d managed to soften a
little piece of his calloused heart.

Octavion looked over his shoulder to see if
Lydia had woken, but found her eyes closed and her body still. He
hesitated for a moment, then continued to the pile of neatly
stacked firewood and selected two logs off the top. He paused as
the memories he’d plucked from the scouts came flooding back. The
image of his older sister, Shandira, had haunted his dreams as
well.

Shandira was the oldest of the three royal
children—in her nineteenth year when he’d last seen her—but was by
far the strongest and most beautiful of his two sisters. There’d
been a time in their youth when she’d been Octavion’s favorite.
While Lydia preferred wearing fancy dresses and attending to her
studies, Shandira was more like Octavion. She looked forward to
days when most of the castle staff was dismissed from their duties
so she could wear boy’s attire and have Octavion teach her to
fight. She was a strong opponent and knew how to use her weapons
like a seasoned warrior. It had never crossed his mind that she
might use those skills against him.

“No!” Lydia’s arms flew up to protect her
face—yet she still slept.

Octavion tossed the logs on the fire and went
to her. Perhaps hearing her native tongue would help calm her. He
knelt by her side and gently stroked her forehead as she relaxed.
“Moorishta, nara sei,” he said. “Young one, be still.”

Lydia drew in a deep breath and slowly opened
her eyes. “Father?”

“No, it is me.”

She rubbed her face with her hands and looked
around the clearing. “Wow, for a minute I thought I was home. That
was weird . . . but good,” she added.

Octavion smiled. “How are you feeling this
morning?” He helped her sit and handed her the leather bag filled
with water.

“Not sure. My head is still fuzzy, but I seem
to be a little stronger.” She pulled out the cork and took a long
draw from the bag. “I think I should get up and walk around today.
I need to get my strength back.”

“I agree. Perhaps Altaria can help with
that.”

Lydia grinned. “Exactly what I was thinking.
She got me into this mess. She can get me out, right?” Her cheerful
disposition faded when she glanced over at Octavion’s empty
shelter. “Kira’s gonna be mad.”

“She has a kind heart and will forgive you.
We both know she needed time to let things settle, and it is not
safe for her to be here right now. With a dark moon approaching . .
. we had no choice.” He’d already gone against his heart and risked
her life once. No way would he risk it again, especially at his own
hand.

“I know you’re right—it just won’t make it
any easier for me to explain. Did she wake at all?”

Octavion stood and offered Lydia his hand.
“She stirred when I placed her in your car, but I am not sure she
will remember.”

Lydia was halfway up when she stopped and
sank back to the ground. “Car?
You
drove my car?”

Octavion smirked. “How else was I supposed to
get her home? Taking the scouts to the other side of the county
completely drained me. I had to wait half the night just to take
her as far as the bridge.”

“But . . . you can’t drive.”

“I taught you how to drive, did I not?”

Lydia stood, this time with a little help
from her brother.

“No, you taught me how
not
to drive,
remember? You said cars were too slow for you.”

Octavion gave a wave of his hand, dismissing
the subject. “Kira arrived safely, and your vehicle is tucked away
where no one will bother it.”

“Good.” Lydia turned and warmed her hands
near the fire. The memory stones glowed bright white with the heat
of the coals. “And the scouts—did they give you any trouble?”

“Just the blonde. His mind is like the jaws
of a lion. He would not let go of seeing your face change to
Altaria’s. I finally had to rid him of some of his childhood
memories. He will be lucky if he remembers his name. And I am sure
the physicians will poke and prod the albino for days. He was not a
Royal, so his blood shouldn’t be too different, but I am sure they
will find some abnormality in it. Whatever her scouts get, it won’t
be near what they deserved.”

“Do you think they are far enough away? What
if she finds us?”

Octavion picked up a long, thin branch and
stirred the fire, knocking the memory stones into the cooler gray
ash. He poked at them for a moment, then picked them up with his
bare hands. They felt cool to the touch. “I couldn’t find any
memories of them reporting their position, so we are safe for now.
I’ve already begun gathering our things as a precaution. By the
time she figures it out, we will be gone.”

Lydia spun around to face him and grabbed the
stick from his hand, throwing it to the ground. “I’m not
leaving.”

“Lydia, it is no longer safe . . .”

“No, Octavion. I’m not moving again. If we
leave, it will be to go back to Xantara. Let her come—we will
fight.” The sudden burst of adrenaline sapped most of her energy,
and she grabbed his arm to steady herself.

Octavion took her around the waist and guided
her back to her shelter. “Perhaps you need to rest more. We will
discuss this when you are stronger.”

Lydia pushed him away, using the shelter for
support. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

A low rumbling growl settled in his chest,
but he didn’t dare argue with her. He’d done that too many times to
count. Truth was, he didn’t want to leave either. It meant leaving
Kira behind. Something he wasn’t ready to do, not after dreaming to
be near her for so long.

After getting dressed, Kira wandered down the
hallway and peeked into her mother’s open bedroom door to see if
she was home. The room was a mess as usual, but there was no sign
of her or Paul. She continued through the house and into the
kitchen. Still nothing. Kira glanced at the kitchen clock and
sighed. As much as she didn’t want to go to school, she knew she
had to. It was Wednesday and she’d already missed two days.

By the time she walked to school, it was
after ten and her English class had already started. She decided to
go to the office and make sure they knew she was there and then
hang out in the library until Phys. Ed. She shared that class with
Lydia—maybe she would be there.