Tell that to my racing heart. My legs wobbled as I stood. The horn blasted again, and I turned for the settlement. Hitching my dress, I ran, my hair catching on trees and tangling into knots. I told myself I left the nightmarish dream behind on the shores of the sacred lake, but I hadn’t. Its ghost followed me into the village and smack into the chest of my childhood friend. “Mae?” His gruff greeting zapped shivers along my spine and I trembled, holding in a scream, fearful of what man I’d find in front of me. The Tristram of my childhood or the apparition who’d hurt me, wanted to kill me, in my dream?
“You’re scared? What’s happened?” He softened his stance, shifting closer. The silence he’d been treating me with evaporated into the deep honey warmth of his voice which melted my bones. His chin lifted as he glanced over my shoulder, his hands protectively sliding along my shoulders. I quivered beneath his touch.
“Just a dream.” My words shook like one of the leaves of the forest about to fall for winter.
“A dream?” His wide lips quirked into a smile. “Don’t let dreams chase you, Mae.” His whispered breath fluttered over my skin and the depths of my tummy began to heat. An inexplicable burning ran through my stomach down to my toes.
“It was you. You were hurting me.” I trembled.
Deft fingers swept along my brow, tucking a tangled curl behind my ear. “I’d never hurt you.”
Our gazes locked, and my breath stole through my mouth on ragged gasps.
“Mae, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Alana called out and picking up her skirts of her dress she ran towards us. The whole settlement milled around. Amargen frowned when he saw me. I dropped my gaze. I’d missed yet another day of training. At this rate it would take me fifty years to train instead of the standard twenty. I’d be dead before I became a Druid.
I shivered, remembering the hands around my neck.
Tristram made room for Alana but he didn’t relinquish his occupancy of the space nearest me. “I'm fine, Alana. It was silly, I went to the lake and fell asleep.”
Tristram hissed, his dark eyes burning. “You fell asleep by the lake? Mae,” he admonished. “Anything could have happened to you.”
I shrugged and laughed, although it sounded laboured and unnatural. “It’s the lake. I go there all the time.”
Tristram’s stance was stiff, his hands balled into fists, the muscles of his arms bulging. “Well, Baduri, now you won’t.” His face closed off and I reeled at his use of my official title. He’d never called me anything other than Mae, even when it became clear I’d follow in my father’s footsteps.
“What’s going on?” Tristram marched away, kicking dirt in his wake, so I focused my question on Alana. Her face was pale, her lips bruised where she’d been practising her bad habit of chewing them. “Alana?”
“There’s an army marching north.” She clutched my hand.
“How do we know?” Silently, I sought out Tristram’s broad shoulders. He was still here, but according to my father’s news he was the scout being sent to seek out news.
“Because refugees from the borderlands have come.” Her voice wobbled. “You should see them, Mae. Children. Just children.” She broke off, biting on her lip with such ferocity a bead of blood gathered next to her tooth.
Letting go of her fingers, I marched towards Tristram who stood with Deacon, Alen, and my father. “What’s going on?” I demanded.
Father’s eyes met mine. “Our end.” He didn’t flinch with his words and I could only focus on one thing, Tristram’s dark tortured gaze meeting mine.
8
My throat ached as I swallowed the weak coffee. Running a finger along the edge of the collar on my cotton shirt, I kept my wincing to an absolute minimum. Phil was already watching me with hawk eyes, although she’d insisted she wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’d only been here a couple of days, I didn’t need to be the focal point of gossip for the rich kids abandoned to this hellish place.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Tristan Prince. It was obsessive. I’d woken from my dark dreams thinking of him. He’d tried to kill me, but I still wanted to see him. I should be talking to the school or the police. Why wasn't I? It was messed up on so many levels. Wasn’t that a thing? Stockholm syndrome or something? Maybe I’d call it Fire Stone syndrome.
His eyes and their furious black gaze were haunting me through every moment.
I glanced at Phil. “Can I ask a question?” The silence between us was unsettling and I couldn’t bear it another moment.
Phil raised her eyes from her porridge and gave an encouraging nod.
“Are your dreams weird here?” I studied my coffee to hide the blush tingling along my cheeks.
She chewed thoughtfully, although what she was chewing on considering the porridge resembled wallpaper paste, I didn’t know. “What do you mean?” She slopped another spoonful towards her mouth and I swallowed. The last thing I wanted was food. I could have done with the coffee being ten times stronger.
“I don’t know. Since I’ve got here, my sleep seems all messed up, my dreams are exhausting. In them I’m always outside, always in the forest. It’s like I’m being battered by nature. I always dream of the same people…” I stopped myself from saying man. My face flushed brighter and I returned my stare to the table. “Forget it, I’m just tired.”
Phil kicked me under the table and I glanced up. She was pulling a silly face and googly eyes. I chuckled despite the hideous embarrassment. Her face dropped, and she lowered her voice. “Well, my parents brought me here originally when they were working. I told you that, right?”
“Yeah?” I nodded and sat up, offering her a small, grateful smile. I’d never met anyone like her. I couldn’t help but wonder what my childhood
