'Michael said you are leaving at first light?'
He nodded. 'Don't be offended by what I am about to say. I just need you to know that Sara will be changed.'
'I know that,' she said softly.
He shook his head. 'You know that she will be different, but what none of us can know is how long it will take her to heal from all of this, or if she will at all. I saw the blood on her gown. There were more wounds than I could tend to, Ariana. When we return, her hands will be bound and she will probably be under the influence of whatever the healer can provide to dull her senses. I didn't want that to take you by surprise.'
'When… I mean, will you not return her soul sooner?'
'I won't even attempt it until we're well past our borders.
She smiled as he finished his sentence. As he looked at her, it was clear by his expression that he didn't understand the sentiment behind the gesture. 'You said, 'our borders.'' She said the words slowly, each syllable precious. She wanted nothing more than for him to loosen the burdens that he carried, and while this was not a promise of such things, it was a hint of what could be.
'I didn't mean…'
She silenced him with a kiss. 'You are one of us,' she whispered, her lips still touching his. He smiled, but remained still. She leaned back, met his eyes, and found a trace of mirth in them. 'If you would prefer your own company, I'd be happy to turn around and — '
He grabbed her just as she'd looked away. Then, with such tenderness that it made Ariana weak, he traced her lips with the pad of his thumb, as if to memorize every inch. When he kissed her, the world fell away beneath her.
The sensation was strong enough to make Ariana feel as though her heart were no longer beating. Her eyes were closed, but visions were before her. They were no longer in front of the lake, but in the temple in Arcadia, haunted by faint images of another embrace, another kiss. She heard both of their voices, hushed in the darkness, at first unable to understand the words, just that they were laden with sorrow and weighted by fear.
Then, Garren's voice, though she could still feel his lips unmoving on hers, said soothingly in the darkness, 'I will find you.'
She pulled away and looked at Garren, searching for any trace of what she had just experienced. He tightened his grip, letting one hand slide through her hair, and leaned down to rest his cheek on the top of her head.
She couldn't speak, hearing the echo of his words in her mind — the looming feel of darkness like the swell of warmth before a spring storm trailing along her skin.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Aiden was too afraid to move. He stood frozen, his eyes searching the crowd. He reached to his belt, fingering his dagger lightly to assure himself that it was still there, though if he… were out there, it would do Aiden little good.
After several minutes, he started to wade back through the humans to the castle. He couldn't look at them for fear of seeing him again so he kept his eyes to the ground until he reached the wall. Everything appeared as it should have; nothing out of place, no glances, no whispers. He laughed under his breath, having convinced himself that he'd been hallucinating. To consider anything else was ludicrous.
After he entered the south hall, he returned to his room and paused. Something was wrong. He couldn't quite place what it was. There was a stillness in the air, an absence of something perhaps, the lingering of something that had been there, but was now gone. He glanced at Sara, her eyes no more focused than her voice sounded whenever she spoke with him. Hollow. His head hurt, anger swelling inside him. He pushed his fear to the back of his mind. He had other things to consider. Things like Garren's sudden shift in perception. Aiden had been so angry with Garren that when he saw the girl Tadraem had described to him, he felt nothing but blind hatred.
Now, in the quiet of his room, Garren's absence became real. He felt discomfort in his chest and rubbed the tightness away with the heel of his hand. The room spun and he felt uneasy in his stance. He leaned over onto the bed, lowering himself down to rest on the very edge.
He looked at Sara. 'I would never have suspected him of treason. Not him. When we were children we would talk of when everything would come to fruition, when the realm of man would finally fall. How weak he was to betray his beliefs so easily.' His face warmed and he felt his eyes sting. 'I hate him still, even as he lies dead and rotting in the ground.'
His voice trembled as he spoke, his hand shuddering as he brought it to his face to wipe the sweat from his brow and the tears as they fell from his eyes. He rose from his seat and walked to the window, suddenly smelling the horrid stench of burning bones and flesh. Their cries had been drowned out by the sound of the all-consuming flames. As much as they deserved it, such a thing was not something he cared to see, the death of the very same men who'd just ridden with them into Palingard and had stood by Garren's side. They knew better. Garren had told them on many occasions that were he ever to falter in his decisions, to do what the faith would have them do — had he not faltered?
Then, hesitantly, he sat beside Sara. He leaned sideways and looked into her eyes. 'There is hatred for me in those eyes.' He gripped her chin with his hand, pressing his fingers into her skin and turned her face to his, truly looked at her for the first time since he'd met her. Her hair was dark blonde and fell thick at her shoulders. Her eyes were light in color, not quite blue or green. Her face was bruised in places, several cuts still healing along the outer edges of her jaw from where he'd hit her, not remembering to remove his metal-adorned gloves.
Sara's lip was cut at the lower right corner of her mouth. He watched her chest rise and fall with breath, the nape of her neck move where her blood flowed just beneath the surface of her skin. She was by far more beautiful than any of the other breeders he'd seen. He ran his hands through her hair, something that had never crossed his mind before now. It felt soft in his hands, sliding between his fingers. It reminded him of a moment that was nothing but a vague memory now, standing in the darkened hallway, resting along the wall next to her. He was but eight years old at the time. He'd kissed her. It was brief, but he remembered her hair more than anything. It was dark, like the color of night. It was nothing like Sara's, but it felt the same.
The tightness in his chest deepened, as though all of the muscles were contracting at once, making it impossible for him to draw a full breath. He closed his eyes, blinking away more tears. Then, before he'd considered his actions, he leaned into Sara and brushed his lips against hers. For moment, he lost himself to the feel of her gentle mouth and a sense of comfort that he'd never known, but when he cradled the back of her head in his hand and deepened the kiss, pressing harder against her wounded lip, Sara whimpered in pain and woke him from his trance.
He withdrew, horrified that he'd kissed her. He wiped his mouth, cursing under his breath and rose to his feet. He had to repeat it in his mind to make certain of it. He'd kissed her — not something looked upon favorably by any Ereubinian, faithful or otherwise. He reached his hand back and struck her cheek, his palm scraped against her lip, splitting it open the rest of the way.
His hand shook as he stood and he held it in front of him, as if it weren't his own. He flexed it, watching his once familiar skin move as the joints bent to his will. Sara sat listless, her back against the wall, blood trickling down her jaw. It ran down the nape of her neck and stained the neck of her gown. He could take no more. Without a word, he turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. It was still there — whatever he'd sensed when he'd entered the room. But he shook it free as he crossed the threshold. There were greater things afoot and his rightful place at the right hand of Ciara was coming. He could feel it.
He resisted the urge to turn around as he made his way down the hall and around the corner, finally coming to the dining hall where he rid himself of it completely. This was his time, and he wouldn't let it escape him as easily as Garren had.
