The Eden Series: The Complete Collection (29 page)

There were just too many questions, and no answers to satisfy them. Even Aiden was a question in his mind. What would he bring to this battle? What could he realistically accomplish for their side? He was a simple boy of fifteen, living a life that Jameson surely couldn’t understand, and now he had been thrown into the middle of a war between brothers. There was fear in the poor boy’s eyes, uncertainty of his purpose, and he couldn’t help but feel the same way. Turk seemed to be confident that he would come through as an asset, but even he couldn’t explain
how
exactly. The man simply trusted Alistair and the God and Goddess’s wisdom. That was enough for Turk. It wasn’t enough for Jameson, however.

A cough came from outside the tent flaps, signalling someone’s presence. He already knew that cough, however.

“Just come in, Turk,” he called out. “Since when do you announce yourself so discreetly?”

The big man he had called his friend for the better part of his life entered the tiny space with a tense look on his face.

“What is the matter?” he asked, able to read his friend’s face like a book.

“Someone is here with me,” he said ominously.

A figure walked through the tent flaps, a deep blue hood covering the person’s face. Jameson stood up from where he sat, looking to his friend for any hint of the person’s identity. In one motion, she flew back her hood to face him.

“My lord,” she said, bowing low to the ground.

“Diana?” He was surprised by her appearance. He hadn’t seen her since he was crowned, or more so since she had taken her last oath as a witch. The life she had chosen over one with him. Just to look at her hurt his heart. There was still an empty place inside him where she once fit. She hadn’t changed a bit since the last time he saw her. It was as if she were frozen in time. Her long blonde hair was braided down her back, the front of her hair framing her pale round face and clear blue eyes. She was breathtaking, still as much as she had been the first time he laid eyes on her.

He had been in the south at the time, ending his two years there at the sanctuary. Turk had come down to bring him back, a gift from Jameson’s father. He knew Jameson would be happiest with Turk’s presence. They embraced, smiling from ear to ear, after not seeing each other since the last time Turk snuck down there. He showed Jameson the scars that were the consequence of that trip. As a celebration, they headed over to the pleasure district, where there was Jameson’s favourite tavern, with all the prettiest women. They all had long dark hair down here, bronze skin, and dark eyes. Sometimes, you could find one with green or hazel eyes, which popped out of their tanned skin. They were curvy in all the right places, and wore clothing that showed a man exactly what he’d be paying for.

The city was a maze of excitement and excess. The tall white buildings shone like the hot sun down there; even in the night-time there was a brightness about the place. The streets were made of stones, pink and greys, that would lead you to anything you desired. It was a simpler life, one lacking any rules. The soldiers who walked the streets were nothing like they were used to. If someone got too out of control, they would not hesitate to control the situation, but their idea of ‘out of control’ was drastically different from the one in the Capital. It was rumoured what kinds of torture took place in the dungeons of the palace, another example of the extreme behaviour of the south.

It was while they were walking through the crowd of people, heading toward the place where only men went, except for the women who worked there, when they saw the coach coming up the street. The city streets were much smaller than those in the Capital, so it was unusual to see a coach inside the walls. Most people walked, finding a coach to be useless amongst the narrow lanes. This one was rich, white with painted gold leafs on the sides. The drawn curtains were a deep red, signalling someone of importance. A large white horse, one of the wild horses from the west, led it, and a small black man held the reins. What gave the person away was the star and half moon that were painted in silver on the door. Everyone knew what that meant.

Turk gave him a meaningful look as the coach approached them. He gave a shrug to his friend in return, motioning with his head that they should just continue. They didn’t get far before the coach suddenly stopped, dust swirling around the large wheels. The curtain on the door was pulled aside, and they could see her face looking out. Latona was old by that time, wrinkles covering her entire face. No one knew exactly how old the witch was, but some rumours said her age was somewhere in the hundreds. Personally, Jameson always felt nervous around her—she made him feel as if she were looking into his soul. Her white hair hung down around her face; deep brown eyes looked straight at him.

Turk and Jameson stopped, bowing in front of the coach. “Good evening, my lady,” Jameson said politely. “To what do we owe this immense pleasure?”

The old witch smiled at him, acknowledging his formality. “I heard news that you were here,” she said in her smooth voice. One would expect someone so wrinkled and aged to have a haggard voice, but hers still sounded as strong as it did in her youth.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he replied, smiling. “My friend here has come to bring me home now.”

“By permission this time, I should hope,” she said, giving Turk a critical look.
Figures she would have heard about that,
Jameson thought.

Turk smiled, seemingly unnerved by the witch. “Yes, my lady. I wouldn’t dare disgrace my father a second time. Nor could I survive the consequences of such actions.”

“No doubt,” she said and smiled. “I am on my way home as well and would appreciate an escort, if you don’t mind. When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning, my lady,” Jameson answered.

“That shall do. My student and I are staying at the inn by the palace. You can meet us there. Don’t be late.”

“It would be our pleasure,” he said, bowing again. Turk followed suit, his face neutral. The coach took off, offering a quick glimpse of the figure that sat beside her. A vision of white and clear blue caught his eye, and then it was gone a second later. Jameson stood riveted in his spot, watching the coach as it disappeared.

“What is the matter with you?” Turk asked, nudging him in the ribs.

“Did you see that?”

“The old hag?”

“Hush! What if she can hear you?”

Turk laughed. “She is a witch, Jameson, not some super-hearing Goddess. A witch that we are apparently escorting home. Why did you agree to such a thing? Don’t you realize how boring that will be?”

He looked at his friend, exasperated by his lack of responsibility sometimes. Not that he was much better. “I am still the son of the High King. I’m obligated to say yes, even if I don’t want to.”

Turk shrugged indifferently, seeming to accept defeat on the matter. “Shall we continue then, or are you going to continue to stare after her?”

Jameson didn’t mention the other girl to him, agreeing to proceed to their destination. As they sat in the tavern, however, no women there held the same sort of allure that the mysterious girl in the coach had. His mind was distracted, making it hard even for him to carry on his conversations with Turk. Eventually, Turk disappeared with a woman named Isabella, leaving Jameson to sit by himself at their table. After fighting with himself, he got up to leave, knowing what it was he had to do that evening.

The inn was not far from the tavern, the high towers of the palace guided his way. It was the only inn close to the palace walls, so he knew he had found the right one. Scaling the outer walls, he saw that the back of the inn had a private garden area for their guests. A tree stood beside the wall, offering Jameson the perfect leverage to pull himself up. He landed on the other side, right on a large rose bush. He cursed out loud as thorns stuck into his legs through his riding pants. Jumping out of the garden, he landed on the small stone path that weaved through the expansive area of greenery. He didn’t know what he was going to do there, realizing how foolish it really was now that he was there. What would he do in here? There must have been hundreds of rooms in the place, and he had no way of finding out which one was theirs. Even if he did, he couldn’t just show up at their door in the middle of the night. The whole trip had been extremely thoughtless on his part. Deciding it would be better to just leave, he headed toward the back doors, figuring it would be easier to leave through the front than to try to scale the wall again.

As he walked along the small path, he saw a moonlit pond centred in the area. Nearby was a stone bench, where a figure sat reading a book. He would have continued past, until he realized who it was. The light from the moons shone off her hair, illuminating her presence. She was reading with her head down, so she didn’t notice his approach until he stood behind her. Looking up, she cried out in surprise.

“I apologize, my lady,” he said, putting his hands up in defence. “I did not mean to frighten you.” Now that he could see her face more clearly, he realized that she was even more beautiful than he had first thought. Her face was perfectly round, with pink lips and pale skin. She was blushing now—he could see it in the light—adding just the right amount of colour to her cheeks.

“Your majesty.” She bowed, recognizing who he was. “How may I be of service to you?”

He stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to say now that he faced her. She waited patiently, looking nervously at him. “I … just needed to meet you.”

“My lord?” Confusion was written on her exquisite face. He actually felt embarrassed in front of her, the first time in his entire life. Normally, he was so sure of himself with women, but this one took every word out of his mouth.

“I saw you in the coach, and I knew I needed to meet you. I have never seen such a lovely creature,” he said in a rush of emotion. His feelings were new to him—he didn’t know how to properly act. His breathing was quicker, his palms sweaty.

“I thank you for your compliment. It is most unworthy. That being said, I’m not sure what it is you want.”

Everything was perfect about her—her face, her body, her manners, everything. “I just wanted to introduce myself, I suppose,” he fumbled.

“We would have met tomorrow,” she pointed out. “You will be escorting us, remember?”

“Of course,” he answered quickly. “I just thought I’d introduce myself before then.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him questioningly.

“What if I hadn’t been out here?” she asked, bringing up the obvious and embarrassing point he had hoped she wouldn’t notice. “What exactly did you have planned, my lord? Were you going to sneak into my room like I was a mistress?”

His face went hot. He wanted to curse at himself right then for his stupidity. “Of course, I would never do such a thing,” he lied. In truth, he had done that many times, and on every occasion he was never turned away. Even when the woman was married to another, he thought ruefully.

The look on her face changed to a knowing one. It was the same look the witch would often wear, and all of a sudden he remembered who she was. The witch had called her “my student,” which meant this girl was destined to take over when she passed. He looked apologetically at her, offering no excuses.

“I think you should leave,” she said, a slight smile hovering on her lips. “It will be morning soon enough, and we will see one another again.”

“I do apologize again, my lady, for disturbing your evening,” he offered, bowing his head to her.

“Goodnight, Jameson,” she said lightly, using his name for the first time. This was unusual. Most people never used his actual name, especially not someone who had just met him. It was extremely informal to address royalty in such a familiar way. She had already turned away from him again, dismissing him as if he were nothing but a servant.

“What is your name?” he asked, his confidence suddenly rising at her obvious indifference. It was fuelling him. If there was one thing he’d accomplish, it was to make this woman fall in love with him.

“Diana,” she said, keeping her face turned.

“Diana,” he repeated. “Well, Diana, it has been a pleasure. I will see you in the morning. Try your best not to dream of me this starry night; we both know how carried away our dreams can get.” Her body stiffened at his remark. She looked up angrily at him, but before she could protest, he bent down and kissed her firmly on the lips. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away. Breaking their connection, he looked at her with his usual grin. Then, before she could speak again, he leaned in once more, kissing her gently this time on the lips, then once on the forehead.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, straightening up and walking toward the doors that led into the building. He would constantly remind her, in the days and months following that first night, how she hadn’t pulled away. He insisted it meant that she wanted him just as badly from first sight, as he did her. She insisted it was because she felt it would be rude to slap the prince of central Eden.

Whatever the reason was, from that day on he dedicated his time to courting her, and soon enough she had fallen just as madly in love with him. They would often sneak out in the middle of the night together, finding it impossible to do so in the daytime. He was always busy with palace duties, and she was busy with her training. Latona would tell her to end it, stating that it would end eventually anyway, and the longer they kept seeing one another, the more it would hurt. It turned out the old woman was right. When it was time for her to become a witch and take her oath, Jameson’s father had come to him and told him to end it. He told him if the girl wanted to be a witch, then she had to dedicate her life to that. She could not be his wife, and still be a witch. It was not proper for a prince.

Jameson begged her before that last day, pleading with her to stay with him instead. They could live happily together—nothing would ever come between them. She had tearfully told him no, saying goodbye and walking out of his life forever.

Well, perhaps not forever, Jameson thought realistically, but for the rest of the days up until now. She stood waiting for him to continue, but just like at their first meeting, words seemed to escape him.