TWO
Bryn
I sat down next to Mathilda, and the light mist from the water flowing in the fountain sprayed me like a moist hug. Yellow and orange, and white and black koi fish swam around, coming to the surface for food and gaping with wide, circular mouths.
A sense of peacefulness and serenity washed over me as soon as I sat next to Mathilda. Hearing the water behind me combined with the fresh air of the countryside helped relieve the tension in my shoulders, which subsided slightly.
I rested my hands in my lap as I glanced over at her. She looked like she was asleep. Naturally, I didn’t want to interrupt her. We sat silently together for a good fifteen minutes before she stirred or made any kind of movement. When she finally opened her eyes, I was somewhat relieved. I knew she would be more than happy to hear what I had to say. But as I further considered explaining the dream to her, I was suddenly overcome by fear and real concern. If the dream actually were a vision of the future, I would be the villain, the instigator of all the death and destruction it foretold.
That wasn’t exactly something that was easy to talk about …
“What troubles you, Bryn?” Mathilda asked. Her singsong voice reminded me of tinkling bells. She lifted her eyes to mine.
“You always know what I’m feeling before I even tell you,” I answered with a wistful smile. My hands were still resting in my lap, and I turned my body slightly toward her direction. She opened her heavily lidded eyes and blinked, slowly easing the disquiet plaguing my mind. I wasn’t sure if it were just her expression that was relaxing me or her fae magic.
“It is owing to the fae connection we share through our blood.” She ran her fingers through her long, silvery hair and draped it over her right shoulder. It looked like a river of silver as she twisted it, deftly creating a gorgeous, tornado-like spiral. Her small fingers and petite figure made her appear even more beautiful than I already thought she was. “So tell me, what is bothering you so much that it would cause you to rise in the middle of the night?”
I immediately ached to spill every detail of the horrible dream I’d had. I was so anxious to know what it meant, but inexplicably I found that I couldn’t. Mathilda was a gentle soul, and a beautiful, white halo seemed to hang about her. To fill her head with the awful, bloody visions of something which could have been nothing more than the derangement of my overwhelmed mind seemed suddenly selfish. Or, at the very least, it hardly seemed fair. Even though I’d fully intended to explain the whole thing to her, now that the time had come, I couldn’t.
“I just found it hard to sleep for some reason.”
When she smiled, her green eyes twinkled with compassion and understanding. They visibly possessed an ancient wisdom. Mathilda had always interested me—and I wanted to know more about her—like where she came from and more about her history. But for now, that would have to wait. Mathilda wasn’t the type of person to ask personal questions about. You had to be patient until she volunteered that kind of information whenever she saw fit to do it.
“That seems to be a pattern,” she said as she eyed me knowingly. I was more than sure she could see right through me. I wasn’t sure why I’d lied to her, because she wasn’t someone you could really lie to. She could read people as easily as the words on the page of a book. She glanced down at her hands and stared back into my eyes before I looked away from her. I was suddenly ashamed for even thinking for a single moment that I could keep something from her. But, regardless of that, I wasn’t ready to open up to her yet.
As she studied me with her compassionate, warm smile, I became very aware of her natural ability to comfort me and make me feel secure. It seemed like nothing else in the world mattered to her but this exact moment, sitting side-by-side in front of the fountain. Maybe it was something about her eyes that put me more at ease. I couldn’t say exactly what it was, but from the very first moment I met her, I’d always felt the same way.
“It seems you are not the only one who cannot sleep,” she replied.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I immediately wondered if maybe someone else had experienced the same nightmare. I leaned slightly forward, now eagerly awaiting her next words.
She glanced up toward the castle and whispered, “Listen closely.” My eyes followed hers at the same time that she reached for my hand. But I wasn’t comfortable with other people touching me so I quickly moved my hand away. Mathilda noticed my aversion, but didn’t hold it against me. She just smiled at me in a way that told me she understood how intimacy and closeness made me uncomfortable.
“Listen,” she whispered again.
And then I heard it. A beautiful Scottish lullaby was being sung from the lips of an angel. That angelic voice belonged to Jolie, singing to her infant daughter—the princess, Emma, and my niece. I had never heard anything so rich and beautiful in my entire life. For a moment, I could vividly imagine my niece’s pretty, blue eyes and innocent smile beaming back at my sister. That thought brought a smile to my face—one that was very sincere and real.
“She’s a wonderful mother,” Mathilda said, breaking the silence between us.
“Yes, she’s a great mom,” I answered, but mostly to myself. I glanced around the courtyard, noticing the velvet black mantle of night seemed lighter now—and turning more grey. That had to mean the dawn was on her way. “She’s lucky she had a good frame of reference,” I added with a sigh.
The tinge of jealousy that washed over me for a moment came from remembering how lucky my sister was to have a decent family who raised her. Any affection I received was in the form of endless training, blood, sweat, and tears. And whenever I thought I couldn’t take anymore, Luce would demand that I start all over again.
But envy wasn’t something I wanted to carry around with me; I knew it didn’t do me any good. It was what it was. The sooner I convinced myself of that, the sooner I could get on with my life.
“Do you worry that you will not make a good mother?” Mathilda’s voice broke into my thoughts.
“I won’t ever become a mother,” I replied with a scoff. “It’s not in the cards for me.” I wasn’t mother material in the first place, and furthermore, I had no understanding of what proper mothering was. Never mind there was already plenty of proof that I couldn’t procreate. During the period of time when Luce forced me into breeding, I remained barren.
“Ah, quite the contrary, young Bryn. You will be a mother someday, and when you are, you will be very much like Jolie, wonderful.”
I huffed. Of course, I knew a lie when I heard one. But it didn’t matter. I was fine never having children. The idea of procreating actually left me frigid and cold. No, I had long embraced my status as a warrior. That was something I knew and was good at, not to mention what I was most comfortable doing.
I was raised and trained to fight. My purpose was only to protect others, and I did that by honing my Elemental skills. That was a subject in which I was fully confident. Being a mother required instinct, compassion, and patience; all things that were alien to me. That left me one thing to strive for and one thing only: becoming a warrior. It was the fate I’d accepted long ago.
“You’re much more than a warrior, Bryn,” Mathilda said. My eyes widened as I wondered if she’d read my mind. Was she even capable of reading minds? She placed her motherly hand over mine and a surge of love and positive energy overwhelmed me, yet I instinctively pulled my hand out from under hers. I must not have concealed my thoughts and inadvertently allowed them to be conveyed into her mind. I would have to be better about that.
Warmth washed over me from my own embarrassment. It was one thing to appear tough in the eyes of my peers and family; and quite another for them to observe my vulnerabilities. Luce hated weakness, which taught me to hate it too. I’d been brought up to suppress my vulnerability and fight with all I had for proof of my strength.
Sitting next to Mathilda, I could feel the conflict between my own weakness and my warrior strength. Finally, I said, “I am not cut from the same cloth as my sister, Mathilda.”
“You’re cut from the very same cloth, child. You just had different guardians and different upbringings, but you share the same blood, and the same genes.”
“Yeah, but our upbringing makes us so different,” I argued. I didn’t even know why I bothered. This seemed such a silly conversation, especially considering I would never have children. But I figured it was better than admitting the real reason I came out here. “Even when I’m around the princess, I feel awkward and unsure of myself, like I’m going to break her accidentally or something.”
Mathilda laughed heartily. Her head fell back and her mouth dropped open as she belted out that happy sound. When she finished, she turned her loving eyes toward me and ran her fingers down my cheeks. Another gesture that made me uncomfortable.
“Do you believe everyone is instinctively comfortable around infants? I think not, dear.” She shook her head at the same moment that Jolie stopped singing. I suddenly recalled the reason why I’d left my room in the first place. My heart started to beat faster and I tried to push the violent images aside again. I wished my sister hadn’t stopped singing. Listening to her voice actually calmed me, taking me away from the ugliness of my thoughts.
“Can I ask you something?” I inquired. The sky was now less grey and turning more of a dark blue.
“Of course, what is it, Bryn?”
Mathilda faced me fully in order to listen to my question, and that made me feel important. The way she leaned into me slightly, casting her green eyes on me suggested she was hanging on every word. In that moment, I realized I needed to get my fear out in the open. I had to tell her about my nightmare. “Do you believe that some dreams can be visions or an omen of what is to come?”
Mathilda held my gaze but remained quiet. She was pondering my words, I could tell. I assumed she wanted to answer the question in a way that I would understand. That’s what made Mathilda different from other people. She invested herself in the person in front of her—she always took the time to answer and explain things. And she did it in a way to suit whomever she was speaking to. She wasn’t flaky or superficial. If she were talking to me, she gave all of herself to the conversation. If she were talking to Jolie, she did the same thing. It was an admirable quality and one I never failed to notice.
If ever there was a person who emanated tranquility and peace, it was Mathilda. The kindness in her eyes and the gentleness of her touch made me instantly know why Jolie put so much trust into her. Hell, I trusted her now, and I hardly even knew her.
“Dreams can reflect the subconscious or they might be nothing more than a strong desire on the part of the dreamer. But I also believe that dreams can be visions or reflectors of a future event … either partially or in its entirety. I suppose it depends on the dream and the person having it, as well as how aware they are in their own self-understanding,” she answered.
A silence descended between us for a few seconds as I thought about what she’d said. I rarely ever remembered my dreams. But long ago, as a young girl, I dreamt of a couple whom I thought were my parents. However, I didn’t know who they were. As far as I could tell, Luce was the only parent I ever had.
When I turned fourteen, I dreamt of a stunning and handsome man with haunting, kind eyes. I often dreamt of him throughout my life, usually during events that were especially hard for me. But those were the only dreams I could remember. I deemed them as nothing more than the result of an overactive, childish imagination.
The dreams I had of my parents were sporadic, starting at age seven and ending by the time I turned fourteen. I always chalked them up to nothing more than a young girl’s desire for ideal parents. By the time I turned fourteen, a new reality dawned on me. I knew Luce wasn’t really my parent, despite how often he insisted he was. I also knew I’d never get to meet my real parents or share the love that I envisioned with them when I fell asleep.
The week my dreams stopped was the same week that Luce threw me into a pit with a bear. I was thirteen, and my fourteenth birthday was merely days away. Even now, I can remember it like it was only yesterday. Luce’s cold eyes bore down on me as he forced me into the pit even though I pleaded with him, begging for his mercy. Sure, I was armed with a sword and my magic, but I was also facing an animal ten times my size.
That day changed me forever. The bear was the first live creature I’d ever killed. After I was finished, I stood in my bedroom at the camp, looking down at all the bear blood and other parts of it that stained my clothes and skin. I fell to the floor in a fetal position and cried all night. I cried because I’d killed something so beautiful and majestic, and I knew it was wrong but I’d done it anyway. I’d had to. If not, the bear would surely have killed me. But, regardless, neither one of us had had a choice in the matter. We were both thrown together, and it became a situation of kill or be killed.
That night, my parents, or at least, my dreamt-up version of them, left my dreams for good. That was also the night that he visited me. Mysterious and brooding. He always appeared at a distance, standing with his legs slightly apart and his hands in fists at his sides. With every visit, he lifted his hand toward me as if calling me to join him, but I never did. That was always my cue to turn my back on him. I always ran in the other direction, although I never understood why I didn’t approach him. It wasn’t like he frightened me. On the contrary! This dream man was well beyond handsome, and something about him made me feel safe and somehow protected.
“Did you have a bad dream?” Mathilda asked after giving me more time to process my thoughts.
I nodded. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“A nightmare then?”
“Yes, and I wanted to talk to Sinjin about it, but he wasn’t in his room,” I answered quickly. My worry began to churn my stomach again. “Have you seen him at all this evening?” The dark blue night was rapidly surrendering to a lighter, royal blue as the sun started to rise in the east.
I thought about the last time I’d seen Sinjin. We were training one minute and having a conversation the next. A conversation that made me wince even now; it was still too raw, too close, and too personal.
“Allow me to help you. Allow me to enlighten you as to what physical love can be between a man and a woman.”
I remembered those words as if Sinjin were whispering them in my ear at this exact moment. And I also recalled how I felt like I was caving in on myself and couldn’t breathe. His words didn’t entice me at all; they scared me.
And my response was abrupt. It still weighed heavily on me because I never explained to him how I was feeling, or why I said the things I said.
“No, I will never allow any man to touch me again. Not you, not anyone.”
And then I ran. I ran like a scared child. Following the winding trail that led to Kinloch Kirk, I tried to hide from my own demons—and Sinjin, the only man who could manage to stir something up inside of me. But I wasn’t just running to escape him. I also ran to end all of the foreign emotions that tugged inside me.
Mathilda shook her head. “I have not seen him recently. But I also have not been looking for him.” She smiled. “Was he in your dream, Bryn?”
I ignored her question as the panic of my nightmare began to rise inside me again. “Maybe Jolie would know where he is.” I stood and nodded toward Mathilda as if to say farewell, but I didn’t wait for her response. Turning, I took off, heading toward my sister’s quarters without realizing that Mathilda was close on my heels until I heard her coming up behind me. I turned to face her and continued to walk, only backwards. “I didn’t realize you were coming with me.”
“If it’s okay,” she said with a smile, “I’d love to see the princess.” Her smile widened. “I believe she must be the spitting image of you.”
I laughed. “I hope not, if only for her sake!”
Mathilda didn’t respond so I turned around and kept walking. When I finally reached the nursery, I knocked on the hardwood door. A few seconds later, my sister opened it, taking a step back to invite us in. She looked surprised to see us.
“Bryn, are you okay?” she asked, a concerned expression sweeping over her beautiful face.
Somehow, my sister always sensed something was wrong. Probably due to the scowl she saw on my face.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered quickly. “Do you know where Sinjin is?”
Jolie glanced away shyly and looked guilty.
Although we weren’t raised together, we shared a very special fraternal twin bond. It was there before birth and remained very strong. We both had insight into each other’s emotions, feelings, and even our thoughts.
“You do know where he is,” I insisted, judging by her expression.
Jolie nodded and turned toward her daughter’s crib. With her back to me, she simply said, “He’s running an errand.”
My shoulders relaxed. At least Sinjin’s whereabouts could be accounted for. He was safe so I inhaled a sigh of relief. My entire body grew lighter and less burdened. Just knowing that Sinjin was okay somehow erased the images of his death from my nightmare. It made it okay for me to believe the dream was just that—something produced by my subconscious.
Jolie turned and met my gaze, her hand resting on the crib. “Why do you ask, Bryn?”
Her eyes narrowed and her knuckles went white, making me uneasy again. Glancing from Jolie to Mathilda and back to Jolie again, I managed to reluctantly answer, “I had a nightmare about him.”
“What kind of nightmare?” Jolie asked. She tried to look disinterested but I could see right through it. There was something bothering her.
As I stood in front of my sister, part of me wanted to unload on her. I was dying to tell her about every single horrifying image that entered my mind while I slept. But another part of me knew it was wrong to tell her. I hated to worry her about something that could have been nothing at all.
Plus, I was nervous that maybe Jolie would think that whatever I dreamt of could have been something I actually considered doing? What if she thought I was still out for blood? At any rate, I decided it best not to share the dark visions with her and Mathilda. Not until I managed to gain some clarity about the dream or the vision itself.
“Bryn,” Jolie said, walking toward me and taking my hand. I tried to pull it away from her but she held it tightly in a two-handed grip. “What kind of nightmare?” she asked, her voice sounding so sweet and concerned.
“It was nothing,” I answered immediately, shaking my head.
Did it have anything to do with what happened to you in Luce’s compound? She telepathically sent the words to me. Being twins and both of us possessing magic allowed us to read each other’s thoughts.
What happened to you is going to take a long time to heal, Bryn, Jolie continued. And I know you haven’t discussed it with anyone. I’m worried that keeping it all bottled up inside of you might affect you negatively.
I shook my head and immediately stepped away from her. The memories of what happened to me at the hands of Luce still made me fight the urge to run and hide. Even now. But I hesitated.
Maybe what happened to me at the camp did have something to do with my dream? I thought to myself, shielding Jolie from my words. Maybe the vision I had was simply what I wanted to see happening to those bastards that raped me. Maybe all the anger I continued to suppress was now taunting me in my dreams?
“It was just a nightmare,” I insisted.
“Share it with me then,” Jolie replied. “Maybe it will make you feel better to get it all out.”
I pulled my hand away from Jolie’s and made my way to the open window. The view of the west side of the castle and beyond was breathtaking. The sun was quickly ascending in the sky, bathing everything in brilliant hues of orange and red.
You are tainted, stained, and broken, a small whisper piped up from within me. Everything about you is scarred and unwholesome! You don’t deserve any beauty or a decent life. I wanted to strike back until I realized that small voice was mine.
Bryn, I heard Jolie say in my head again. You can tell me anything.
It’s nothing, I insisted. So stop worrying about it and pay attention to the million and one things you do need to worry about.
You are one of those million and one things, she answered. And I can see how this nightmare is eating you up inside.
There was no chance of keeping anything from my sister. I turned to face her, and her blue eyes seemed so inviting. Her perfect posture, light blond hair, and fair skin made her resemble an angel—one of absolute kindness and honesty. She was right, as usual. I needed to share my awful dream with her—lest it destroy me from the inside out.
“It’s disturbing,” I finally admitted out loud. I figured it would eventually make it back to Mathilda anyway, so I might as well admit it.
Jolie took another step toward me but carefully kept her distance, knowing how uncomfortable I was with close proximity. “Tell me, Bryn.”
The need to share it with someone outweighed my common sense. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to let Jolie in. I glanced at Mathilda who was draped over the crib, giving all her attention to the princess, and allowing Jolie and me our privacy. I turned back to face Jolie and sighed.
Glancing down at the floor, I forced myself to return to my nightmare, and I pulled out the grim details from the overwhelmingly ugly visuals. When I spoke, my voice was low and monotone. I held my emotions in check, keeping them on a short leash, close to me. I had to tell the story without breaking down.
“We were all here in Kinloch Kirk,” I started, my voice already sounding eerie. “I was training with Sinjin in the forest and …” I lost my nerve then. All my courage abandoned me and my voice faltered.
“Go ahead, tell me,” Jolie coaxed, her voice warm and caressing. Hearing the sound of her voice, the princess stirred, cooing at Jolie from her crib. Seeing how attuned the baby was to her mother, I nodded to Jolie, gesturing for her to follow me to the other side of the room. She did, and I continued my rendition.
I closed my eyes, relying on those of my mind to remember exactly what I’d seen. “All of a sudden, screams echoed through the forest where Sinjin and I stood. Screams that were coming from Kinloch Kirk.” I put my hands up to my ears, hearing the blood-curdling screams all over again as I begged my mind to silence them.
“What happened next, Bryn?”
My heart was slamming into my chest and my breathing came in short, ragged spurts. “Sinjin and I ran toward the castle. The place was up in flames, and all I could think about was getting to you and the baby. But …” I opened my eyes and glanced away from Jolie—the nightmare was pumping waves of fear throughout my body.
“But?” she asked. Her expression was confused, and trepidation shone in the huge pupils of her eyes.
I swallowed hard. My fingers twisted like white pretzels in front of me, all of their own accord. I glanced down. For some reason, telling her the next part was something I couldn’t do while looking directly into her eyes. How could I? It was the most horrific and despicable thing I’d ever seen. “But it was too late.” That’s all I could say. Details were not needed unless she insisted on them. And even then, I’d have to struggle to give them to her.
“What was too late?” she asked, shaking her head like she were lost. “You have to explain, Bryn.”
“I can’t,” I said as I looked down. “It’s too horrible, too awful.”
“Bryn, look at me,” Jolie ordered, taking a step forward as she lifted my hand and I forced my eyes to hers. “In order to understand the dream, I need to hear it all—even the gritty details, because there may be something in there that is important. So don’t leave anything out.”
I glanced at Mathilda who was standing a few feet from Jolie, listening to every word. Her long, silvery hair draped over her shoulder and her eyes remained fixated on me while I shared the horrid details of the dream. I nodded at Jolie, but when I tried to continue, I faltered again.
“Bryn,” Jolie encouraged me.
I nodded again and took a deep breath before I proceeded. I couldn’t look her in the face. “You had been raped and stabbed repeatedly,” I said softly, my voice sounding defeated. “Your body lay at the foot of your bed.”
“And Rand?” she asked, apparently unconcerned with herself at all.
It amazed me how she cared so little about herself. She was always worried about others first and foremost. But selflessness was only one of many reasons that made her a wonderful queen. She was also generous in her concern about the well-being of those around her.
As soon as I remembered what happened to Rand, I shuddered and dropped my eyes to the floor. “His throat was slit. Blood was everywhere. On the walls, the floor, the duvet and …” Hot tears stung my eyes.
My shoulders suddenly felt too heavy, as if an invisible elephant sat on top of them. I didn’t know how to continue telling her everything I’d seen. But I had to find the strength and finish the description. What if there were something of importance? Something that would help us understand these visions? What if my biggest fear was about to come to fruition? That fear stemmed from my being here with Jolie and her people. I worried I was endangering them. Luce’s wicked mind was undoubtedly conjuring ways to take his revenge on me. He did it once before, so why not again?
Jolie had her hand to her mouth, and I could tell she was worried. I felt awful for telling her about it, especially if it were nothing but my idiotic subconscious just dreaming up horrible scenes. And the way I told her was totally lacking in diplomacy. I lacked couth—I wasn’t very good at sugarcoating the truth.
“And Emma?” Jolie whispered.
The breath caught in my throat when I thought of the princess. I shook my head and tried to suppress the tears that threatened to fall. I couldn’t allow them to—not now when I needed to be strong. For Jolie. I felt a tear spilling over the rim of my eye. It ran down my cheek and dripped off my chin. I continued to shake my head. No way could I share with my sister what I saw—what those monsters did to my beautiful niece—the princess of Kinloch Kirk.
“My people?” Jolie asked. “And what about Sinjin?”
“Jolie,” I almost begged, loath to return to the ugliness of my mind. I couldn’t stand the idea of recalling the painful images or hearing the screams. “It’s only a dream, right?”
“What about Sinjin?” she repeated, her voice rose and her need to know became desperately apparent. The anxiety visible in her body made me feel my own nerves sparking from within.
It’s only a dream, I told myself while trying to remember the image of Sinjin. “Sinjin stumbled into a trap,” I started. “Even though I couldn’t see him, I was sure the trap was set by Luce. And he was there with a Daywalker, or maybe he wasn’t a Daywalker, but he looked like one. He was young, but his powers were beyond anything I’d ever seen before, but he … he was a child! He looked like a Daywalker, but he didn’t feel like one, if that makes any sense?”
“Go on,” Jolie said, her chin held high.
I nodded. “Sinjin was on the ground and … and he was a mess. He’d been attacked pretty badly. The Daywalker, or whatever he was, lifted his hands into the air and what looked like lightning ricocheted off his fingertips. They were bolts of lightning that he aimed at Sinjin’s body!” I shook my head and tried to calm my frantic heartbeat. “I could hear Sinjin screaming, and now I can’t seem to get it out of my head.” I shook my head again as I caught my breath. “I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t. I wanted to go to him, but I was frozen in place. I couldn’t even move.”
Jolie’s shoulders fell forward as she glanced at the floor and then back at me. “Sinjin was dead?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t keep my tears back any longer. The memories were too painful and too real. “Luce walked up to him,” I persisted, forcing myself to return to the veil of the dream, despite how much I hated it. “He stood over Sinjin and said something about retribution for Sinjin taking something from him.”
“Taking something from him?” Jolie repeated.
“I can’t remember what it was,” I started as I fought to remember, to place the missing piece. “His arm. Luce was missing his arm.”
“Hmm,” Jolie said as she worried her lower lip.
With another deep breath, I banished the dream, forcing myself to focus on the scenery around me. If only I could convince myself the dream wasn’t real. “I woke up in a cold sweat and I couldn’t go back to sleep. It just … felt so real.” I glanced from Jolie to Mathilda and said, “It was only a nightmare though, right?”
Neither one answered me. I faced Jolie, who brought her haunted eyes up to mine, and we just stared at one another for a few seconds before she spoke. “I don’t know.”