Echoes of Fae: Book One of the Divine (18 page)

              Melody buried her face into the young Conjurer’s shoulder and wept silently. She listened to his heartbeat and closed her eyes. The small Pramacretine saw his anger when he spoke of those men. She could see him holding back, but his rage had been palpable. She saw herself wrapped in his arms as he carried her away. She had felt only safe with him, even with the questions she had about his life.

              Melody thought about his hand as it passed through where her flesh should have been and how he felt within her Ether. She imagined every wanted kiss that lingered between them and desperately willed them into being. She longed to be his for the rest of her life and then remembered it was not destined to be very much longer. To her dismay, her doubt of his character tickled the back of her mind.

The Recovery

              Morning broke with ease, but eyes glued shut and not a soul wished to rouse from their blissful slumber. The Helacorn guards dozed, but remained somewhat alert outside the stables. They had chosen to keep watch and admitted to hating low ceilings. The morning dew collected on their hair, causing a luminous glow in the sunrise.

              Daarsh made his way through the inn, waking the cavalry. They stirred unenthusiastically, as they heard a loud groan from Thane’s room up the hall. Then came a loud thump resonate through the quarters. Melody smiled broadly at her favorite brother’s antics. He had either rolled listlessly from his bed, or thrown a boot at the door. It took the group only about an hour to get out of their beds and they had not roused themselves enough to dress. Worn to the bone, none minded their exterior to the least. They entered the dining area in their bedclothes. While the inn customers noticed them, they did not seem to be surprised or affected at all by the appearance.

              “Do ye want something to eat?” Daarsh asked, addressing the ragged looking party. They all consented gratefully on a hot, fresh meal and ate ravenously. Daarsh seemed particularly pleased to be feeding his new royal friends – so pleased that he did not ask them for payment for room or food. This caused a bit of an uproar, but they surrendered reluctantly. Melody asked Daarsh if she could have a word with him. He consented and led her to a back room.

              “Daarsh, we are trying to be careful about who knows who I am,” Melody whispered. He nodded.

              “On account of your being the Divine?” Daarsh asked. Melody nodded unhappily. “I understand.” Melody smiled. She hugged him tightly for a moment.

              “I am so very sorry about your mother,” Melody said glancing back at Cybil. Daarsh saw whom she looked at and nodded.

              “Thank you, my lady,” Daarsh answered. He led her back to her friends.

              Cybil sat beside her brother and as she finished eating Haroah suggested she get Thane to look at her back, to inspect the damage of her burned wing remnants. The two Helacorn guards were back inside, leaving the groom to watch after the fugitive. They all cringed at the sight of the stubs of Cybil’s former wings. They knew that wings were the natural insignia of what Helacorn were. Haroah did not have wings, but this was because he was not born with them. This common occurrence did nothing to dissuade Yirah from giving him flirtatious glances. The sisters decided to inquire about the half-lings.

              Yirah, being the outspoken sister, sat beside Cybil. Thane requested she wait to ask questions until after he had thoroughly bound the wounded flesh. The obvious mechanics of her former wings were magnificent. He could tell by the weight of them that they were hollow, yet thick and strong. Captivated by the creamy darkness of her skin, Thane felt a pang of guilt for the primal thoughts and shut them off as best as he could. He found the girl beautiful and had no way of getting his head around it.

              Thane was a Healer and had relinquished all pleasures of his own flesh in order to maintain purity of heart, mind and body. This, he knew, was the true path of a Healer. Fancies of the flesh were dangerous when one was required to heal so many creatures - some irresistibly beautiful. The job of a Healer required sanctity and indifference. Their hands were merely for curing, bandaging, aiding, and nothing more. Healers maintained level heads in order to treat everyone equally.

              Her wounds were healing, but they were still in danger of infection. He announced she was to have the bandages changed twice a day. Once when she woke, once before she was to sleep she was to go to the Healer and have her wounds redressed. The burns on her back and shoulders were bad enough for her to have to endure, but an amateur had quickly done the amputation. He inspected the area. Cybil made no protest. She lied on her stomach, shy and red with embarrassment. Tears of pain gathered on the floor beneath her face. She felt the dizzying lightness of the absence of her wings and the agonizingly heavy absence of her parents.

              Melody had come down stairs with the rest of them, but she sat alone in a corner of the room. They felt she might need time for herself so they chose to let her alone for the time being. Daarsh refused to allow this. He sat beside her. Melody smiled at him.

              “I hope you don't mind I hired them men,” Daarsh said.

              “I do not,” Melody replied, “I am glad you did.” He looked at her quizzically. Finally, he smiled.

              “My mother would've liked you,” he declared. Melody laughed but it faltered and she looked sad.

              “They say a spirit is like an energy or Ether that surrounds you and stays always with you until the end of time,” she said, smiling slightly as she thought of her own mother. “It is said my own mother literally gave me her life. Sometimes I think I can sense her in my soul. I like it; it makes me feel like she did not just leave me,” Melody shared. Daarsh smiled happily and closed his eyes. “Thane’s mother, the First Macretine of Agoura who died in battle, wrote a book about fleshless spirits and energies. It is quite intriguing,” the Pramacretine said thoughtfully. Daarsh did not hear her. She did not mind much. He looked up and saw two people were sitting at the bar expectantly. The big man patted Melody with one giant hand and excused himself.

              Melody leaned back in her seat and hummed lightly. She was not sure why she loved to sing it, but the song of the Legion of Agoura was her favorite to sing. The words were ancient and written by a Bogfee. The woman was the last of her kind. When she passed, her people were extinct. She was a member of the alliance that Melody’s grandfather had constructed at the beginning of the war of Fae. Men performed the song before every battle and somehow the words brought hope into their hearts.

              They eventually titled it when the war ended - “The Echoes of Fae.” Melody began to sing the words, enjoying the tickle of Ether on her lips. The room filled with husky warmness and smiles. To her surprise, even some of the Human customers recognized the song. They looked to her and smiled appreciatively.

              The Pramacretine and her cavalry departed during midday and arrived at the palace late that night. Melody spoke very little. She retreated to her room and locked the door, her heart heavy. Most of the cavalry also withdrew to the comfort of their own rooms. Jennifer offered to share her guest room with the newest member of their group. Cybil graciously accepted the room and with it, the company.

              Once the two were dressed for bed, they fell out of their dark silence. Jennifer sensing her companion’s discomfort, she sat on her bed and smiled. Cybil smiled back.

              “I have never actually met an Infeline,” Cybil said, her smile genuine. Jennifer could not help but find the young woman compelling.

              “Not many have,” Jennifer replied with a grin. “We are hard to come by, since the war our numbers have been thinned and the rest of us keep quiet about existing.” Jennifer picked up a silver brush and began to release her wild, curly red hair from its braid. “How is your back?” the Infeline asked, changing the subject. “Do you need anything for pain?”

              “No, thank you. It hurts just enough to keep me level, but not enough to impair me,” Cybil answered.

              “That is different,” Jennifer said as she crawled into the bed. She looked at Cybil and admired the abnormality of her skin, since she had never heard of a dark Helacorn.

              “My mother used to say pain was the threshold of clarity,” Cybil rolled into the bed and pulled herself into the covers beside Jennifer. She squirmed about until finally she settled onto her stomach. “My mother was a philosopher and my father was an architect. Of course, neither of these things get one anywhere in the world today.”

              Jennifer smiled and asked, “So, do you get your unusual skin color from your father?”

              Cybil shook her head in the pillow, “No, my mother. She had dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair and pitch black wings.”

              Jennifer’s eyes widened. “How unusual that is!” The Infeline exclaimed, gazing curiously at the lumps on Cybil’s back where her wings once were.

              “Most agreed with you, the dark Helacorn used to be bountiful. They were the only Helacorn with sensible males and brilliant females. They were killed during the Fae war for their difference,” Cybil informed.

              “How did your mother survive?” Jennifer asked.

              “My grandmother disguised her as a C'ghalie and put her into the care of a Conjurer. The man raised her with his son, who taught her to use a sword and fight with her fists,” Cybil smiled thinking of her mother. The young Helacorn girl buried her face in the pillow and let the hot tears fall from her eyes again. “I wish I had saved her,” she whispered into the pillow. Jennifer patted her hair. After a long stretch of time, Cybil looked up at Jennifer, tears staining her eyes. The Infeline’s breath escaped her in a startled cry.

              “Your eyes!” Cybil stared at Jennifer, not comprehending her incomplete thought. She got up and went to the mirror; her eyes were a calico of pale blue, gold and burgundy.

              “My eyes have changed colors,” she knew it was a sign, but did not know what it meant. She went back into the bed and rolled onto her stomach once more. Jennifer stretched wide, body part by body part like a tiger and yawned.

              “I am tired. We will think of this phenomenon when morning greets our pretty heads,” Jennifer advised. Cybil agreed with a yawn and closed her eyes. Both women fell into a deep slumber within moments.

              The moonlight was thick and gentle. Melody’s bare feet gracefully traversed the white stone walkway winding through the garden. She stretched her arms wide, inviting the cool breeze to join her. The wind blew as if it reacted only to the Pramacretine and gave her an otherworldly look of levitation in her flowing gowns. She felt at peace and wanted to remain in the moment for the rest of her life. She knew it would not last and lowered her arms. She moved her feet forward silently. There was a cough behind her, causing her peace to crumble and she whipped around, startled. Jax witnessed a change in expression so different he felt as if he had seen her transform.

              “I saw you outside of my window,” Jax stated, apology hiding in his eyes. His voice was low and soft and Melody felt it wrap around her. She smiled happily and held her hand out.

              “You look pasty in the moonlight, you know,” Melody said while trying not to laugh, though it bubbled through regardless. Jax walked to her and took her hand, a smile on his face that the young Pramacretine thought made him look very charming.

“You look lovely,” he said heavily. “As lovely as oxen get, I suppose,” he grinned. Melody pushed him and laughed happily.              

              “Do you think we could possibly get more agonizingly sweet, Jaxon Callfah?” She asked, laughing.

              “I would loathe raising any expectations,” Jax said. He pulled her back to him by the hand. He looked at her face, which was flushed with laughter and he wished he could always make her smile. He watched her lean into him, the air between them grew warm. Melody smiled uncertainly. Jax felt his blood boil in his veins. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. They stood silently, happy with the closeness.

              “Would you like to walk with me?” Melody asked, wrapping her hand around his. Jax felt his hand tingle familiarly from her touch. It rattled him to the bone. Guilt coursed through the Conjurer.

              “Yes, we should talk,” Jax said, his face dark. Melody nodded resolutely. They entered the secret tree once more and Melody wrapped it in some Ether to make it actually a secret tree. For a long while, they were both silent, facing each other.

              “Is my father still here?” Jax asked. They had returned during sleeping hours, so only workers knew they were there. Melody shrugged uneasily. “He probably is,” Jax sighed.

              “Jax, please,” Melody said, leaning back. “I like you, but I have not been able to trust you. I need to trust you, I have a huge role to fill that I cannot jeopardize over blind love.” Her face etched with anxiety in the semi - darkness. Jax hung to the word love, his heart racing far ahead of him.

              “You are right to protect yourself,” Jax whispered. He pulled himself into a tight ball in front of her. In the shadows, Melody could not see his face. She could sense his anxiety. After a little while, she could feel a shift in him. He hardened himself. “I was sent here to dispose of you,” Melody heard him confess. She scrambled back as far away from him as she could. Not for fear of his attack, but out of shock and pain from the statement.

              “My father sent me,” Jax said. He did not move a muscle. Melody gasped for air. She had not expected this.

              “Why?” she choked. Jax rubbed his temples gingerly.

              “You are the Divine,” Jax stated, “My father is in league with Rovingae.” The Conjurer listened as Melody hyperventilated. He gave her a while to calm down. He admitted to himself that he was surprised she had not run away. She inched closer to him as she calmed.

              “You did not kill me,” Melody said, her eyes searching his face in the darkness. “Why?”