Birth Stone Page 2

  Terrin. She tasted the name in her mind, like forbidden fruit. Her spine tingled. She knew she would never utter the words aloud. People didn’t go around saying the King’s given name. He was simply The King. And he ruled over them. As far as most people were concerned, that was all anyone needed to know.

  I wonder if he’s kind to Alec?

  She tried to picture his face. Fat. Ruddy cheeks. Red frizzy hair, a mustache and long, coarse goatee. Ruffled blouse and skinny, tight-clad legs. Perhaps some shining armor for a painting. A golden jeweled crown on his balding head. Such were the descriptions she had heard through the grapevine. But how much truth was to that, she didn’t know. The royal court was so far removed from the common people that she hardly knew what the King was for. The castle quite literally sat on its own island, removing itself from the majority of the constituents. The King was an enigma, and her heart told her there was a vital reason for the secrecy, beyond intimidation and grandeur. It was her own personal puzzle, something she wouldn’t speak about but which she desperately wanted to solve.

  Suddenly, there were two large hands on her shoulders, grabbing her from behind. She let out a shrill cry, turning swiftly and stumbling back out of reach. Only to see her idiot brother gasping for breath as he clutched his stomach, his shoulders shaking in a fit of mirth.

  “I should whip you criss-cross with a willow branch, you disgusting brat-child!” Lyra seethed.

  “HA!” Alec shouted, recovering, “I got you good, sister. When will you lighten up and learn to be a little less tense?”

  Jutting hot air from her nostrils, she scoured the ground at her feet for a large stick and, finding one, snatched it up and shook it his direction. “You ugly, overgrown ogre!” She charged at him with the stick, a scream of laughter on her throat, only for him to sidestep the petty blow and grab the weapon as easily as taking it from an infant, throwing it to the other side of the trail with a heaving laugh. Their laughter faded easily and Alec beamed at his sister. Lyra clutched her stomach and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

  “I’ve truly missed you, little one,” Alec said, his eyes twinkling brightly.

  Lyra ‘s heart swelled, and she thought for a minute it would overflow into tears of gratitude. She held the flood back, catching her breath. She blinked, trying to understand why she was so emotional this time. Something about the way the sun was filtering through the trees, or the cool wind mixed with warm air, felt like she was reliving a past time, that these moments would become cherished and bittersweet memories.

  Shaking her head to rid herself of the feeling, and mounting her horse quickly, she readied to go, when the sound of distant horse hooves caused her pause. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw them. Two white horses traveling quickly their way, their riders men, dark, their skin and their dress. Shining silver armor clothed them. No helmets. Then she noticed the royal crest, a red sword piercing a diamond, on their chest armor. And her heart sank. Her brother was already riding toward them.

  “Halt.” a booming voice sounded, one of the knights raised an arm. They convened in the middle of the trail. Lyra, heart hammering in her chest, glanced at Alec, whose expression was barely veiled incredulity.

  “What is this about? You must have been only a half a day behind me, I didn’t see your ship yesterday.”

  “We are permanently stationed in Breckton in service to The King, sir. We were just notified of your arrival. And we have a message for you, by order of his majesty.”

  Lyra spoke before realizing she had, her voice a burst of unbridled outrage, “How is that so? Breckton is our neighboring village. I've never heard of---of knights in the mainland. Who ordered you? How did you know he would be here?”

  The knights didn’t even glance her way. The bigger one extended his arm toward Alec, a scroll in hand. Alec took it, shaking his head and unraveling it quickly. Eyes scanning down the paper. His nostrils flared and his face reddened.

  “Well?” Lyra let out a huff, “what does it say?” When he locked eyes with his sister, his face paled.

  “I'm wanted back at court.”

  Her stomach bottomed out.

  “When?”

  Alec stared blankly back at the scroll before answering softly, “As soon as possible.”

  Lyra blanched. “That's--that's ridiculous, you only just got here!” Her voice rose several octaves, “damn it all, Alec, this has gone too far!.” Alec glanced quickly at the knights, inclining his head and murmuring thanks. The guards nodded and turned their steeds on the wide trail, disappearing into the darkening shadows of the forest.

  “I will need to find Captain Jameson tomorrow morning. If I am to leave tomorrow, I will need to rest. Let's get back.”

  Alec’s voice was soft with an underlying anger. He was trying to bury emotion, but his eyes held a faraway look, as if all his hopes had crashed and smoldered into ash. Lyra was focusing on breathing.

  “This isn't fair. This isn't right. You don't have to do this any--”

  Alec’s head snapped up to face her, his face blank except for the intensity of his eyes, “Yes. I do.” And he continued in front of her. Once again, she was left trailing behind, alone, with unanswered questions.

  ✽✽✽

  Back at the cottage, dinner was winding down. Lyra and Alec sat comfortably in wicker chairs lined with their mother’s crocheted blankets and a few furs from Alec’s hunting trips. Alec had eaten his fill, rubbing a taut belly, while Lyra hadn't eaten much at all. Her stomach was heavy with unease. Aunt was asleep, as she always was at eight o’clock in the evening. Silence deepened the void between them, the only sound the slight creaking of Lyra’s rocking chair. She rocked steadily and stared at the wall, refusing to meet his gaze. Finally, Alec stood and stretched.

  “Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning.”

  Lyra didn't answer and didn't take her eyes from the wall. A few seconds passed and Alec left the room. A wayward tear ran down Lyra's face and she didn’t bother wiping it away. She would be alone again soon.

  Her life was mostly isolated, this she knew. Though she taught children, and though she loved the children, and she appreciated her aunt, she had never experienced a strong connection with anyone but Alec. She spent her days teaching the children, reading, cooking, and working in the garden. Such were her only past times, and yet those things yielded no real companionship, no real joy.

  Her parents were dead, gone fifteen years past. The thought of their passing, drowning at sea, never failed to twist her stomach into knots. Each day she thought of them, and each day she willed her mind to bury the thoughts and the memories, and the pain along with them.

  Her brother was her only friend, as pathetic as that sounded even to herself. Every year she waited eleven months for that single wonderful month in which they could be comrades and best friends again, how they were as children, before mother and father left them, and before Alec was called to work for the King. She felt in her heart that Alec was slipping away from her. What if he did not return next year?

  Most other women she knew her age were married with five or more children. The prospect never appealed to her and she was bad at pretending to care about gowns and weddings and courtship. The other women didn't understand her. There was something broken in her.

  But marriage was companionship. It meant fitting in. Maybe it was time she tried to fit in. Maybe then she wouldn't be so lonely.

  Edwin immediately popped into her head--the tall, fair man who had been trying--and failing--to court her. He had arrived in their village a year ago and had been pursuing her for the past three months.

  He hadn’t gotten very far in that endeavor. Lyra had shut his advances down as quickly as they came. Not that he wasn’t sweet, not that he wasn’t easy on the eyes. Because he was. And all the local ladies knew it. His light blonde curls, deep blue eyes, and fair skin made him boyishly handsome. Tall stature, thin build, but not without muscle. And not without coin. Lots of it.

  Yes,
he was the catch of the town. Added to that his gentlemanly manners and scholarly constitution—indeed, he made a fine choice for any lady.

  He was the Schoolmaster and library’s scroll translator. He oversaw the school teachers’ lessons, making sure they stayed on task and were up to the current theories and history the elder scholars had passed to them through the years. Not that Lyra got that deep into her teachings. She taught small children, after all. She did strive to keep up with theories and history of the land the elder scholars beyond the mountains had translated into thick volumes sitting in the town library. Lucky they were to have Edwin, with his connections to such prestigious scholars. They wouldn’t have most of the books in their library if it wasn’t for him. She did admire his commitment to education.

  She thought hard about his attempts to court her. Why hadn’t she felt anything? It wasn’t that he hadn’t been a gentleman. He’d been a perfect one. Calling on her at school just to bring her flowers and ask about her day. His chivalrous smile and bow, his eyes never leaving hers. He did this for two months before he asked if he could call on her at home. She had thought at first it was just his way of greeting the school teachers, another duty his job entailed. She remembered the burning of her cheeks that day and the twist in her stomach. It wasn’t out of excitement—but shame and regret. She didn’t want to encourage his advances, she didn’t intend to lead him on like a horse to a dry trough. She had said no, and except for the brief falter of his brilliant smile, he had shown no anger or resentment. And the next day, he was there, standing in the doorway of her small, modest school room, with a bouquet of wild flowers clutched in his soft hand to apologize for being “forward.”

  He had continued visiting occasionally for the next three months, speaking to her after the children had gone home, helping her tidy her school room, sometimes offering a new book on astrology or the old gods, or some other mystical ancient book. She had gladly accepted the books, and was glad to have someone to call a friend, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted something in return, that there was something more behind his blue eyes that others weren’t seeing. Something calculating and secretive, watchful.

  He wants my hand. It’s only natural. An unwed man, in search of a wife. She rationalized with herself. Surely someone as committed to learning, someone as respected and gentlemanly as he couldn’t be all that bad. She leaned her head back against the chair and let out a pent-up sigh, scooped her long, golden ringlets to one side of her neck and closing her eyes.

  And I’m lonely.

  And a burden to my aunt.

  And a burden even to the King, apparently, if he has to buy me horses.

  If she accepted Edwin, she could forget about her family’s strange involvement with the mysterious King. That connection that was like a dark pit in her mind, emanating constant foreboding through her body and veins. If she married, she could forget about her brother and his constant absence. Most importantly, she would have a companion for life. And she wouldn’t have to leave her village. Sitting forward now, a sense of excitement zapped through her nerves. She was sure she could learn to love Edwin, and with such coin in her pocket, she could release her brother from ever having to worry about her and Aunt. She blinked a few times, a hint of a smile waiting for release.

  Yes, she had made up her mind. She resolved to encourage Edwin’s wishes to court her. For the first time in a long time, a sense of ease and satisfaction bloomed into her heart. Picking up the burning candle on the side table to her right, she stood and made way through the small hallway to her bedroom.

  She would visit Edwin first thing tomorrow morning.

  Chapter 2

  The sea air was brisk and salty and whipped around Lyra’s high cheekbones like cross faeries. The coolness as welcome. It distracted her from the pain of watching her brother leave again, after only being with her for one day. Half a day, at that. Alec readied his two bags and a single, stoic crewman carried them aboard the ship. Alec kept one of the bags, a small, hemp one that fit in the palm of his callused hand. Lyra eyed the bag with excitement. She didn’t think she was going to get one this time around, but there it was.

  Alec met her eyes with a familiar hint of mischief, though his wariness shone through. He nodded to Lyra’s hand and she opened it, palm up, waiting for the gift. Alec opened the drawstring and tipped the contents into her hand. A gem, so brilliant it paled her surroundings and appeared to be glowing from within. It was perfectly smooth like glass, and shone a hazy opal as many colors spilled out when she moved her palm in circles. Lyra’s eyes widened at the sight, her voice stuck in her throat. Of all the stones Alec had brought back her from his journeys, none were as magical as this. And it felt indeed, that—magical. The word popped into Lyra’s head before she could think. She swallowed, words failing her. Her eyes snapped back up to her brother’s. His eyes were glowing, a touch of intrigue lingering in their depths. A knowing smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

  “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” He said at last.

  “Yes! Wh-where did you find such a gem?!”

  Alec’s smile reached his eyes. “The mountains.”

  Not expecting him to respond, Lyra’s smile disappeared and her eyes widened even more, if that was possible.

  “Thane Mountains?!”

  Alec nodded once. “The very one. It’s called Moonstone, I believe. I found it hidden under a pile of pebbles in a creek. I was lucky to find such a treasure, and when I did find it, I thought it would be a perfect gift for my loyal sister.”

  Lyra’s heart sank. She felt it was the last traveling gift she would ever receive from him. Why did this time feel like a forever goodbye. So final. Lyra almost dropped the precious stone, but returned it to its bag and pocketed it with shaking fingers instead.

  “Alec, when will you be back? I can’t believe he has you going as far as Thanes. Most folk here think Thanes is a myth.” She searched his face, hoping for a clue that he was going to elaborate on his outrageous travels.

  “He?” Alec asked quizzically, asking who she was referring to.

  “Yes, he. Him.” She gestured as if she were speaking in code, “The King.” She whispered the last bit, eyeing the waiting crewman up on deck. She could see him leering at her from above.

  She looked away quickly when Alec chuckled. “You speak of him like he is a sorceror. It’s just Terrin. He’s no more my master than you are my mother.” His mention of mother pinged something inside her. Suddenly the air was too cold. She rubbed her arms.

  “No, I am not mother,” she said quietly. That discussion would open too many wounds, so she stopped talk of mother at that.

  She was still astonished at his talk of the King. That name sent a bolt of awareness through her belly, again. Terrin.

  “How is he not your master when he directs every move you make? When you have to swear your allegiance, when you are gone forever from the company of your family. You don’t have a life, Alec. You are losing your years. Don’t you want a family of your own one day? A wife, some children—“

  “I should ask the same of you,” he replied wryly.

  Lyra blinked. “I—I intend to—to do just that.”

  He shook his head, pity in his eyes. “Lyra, I don’t hate this life. Terrin doesn’t own me. If you are worried about being alone..please. Open up to the people here. Stop waiting for our childhood to restart. That life is over.”

  Her brows furrowed and she turned away, heart beating fast in a surge of shame.

  “Okay,” nodding her head as if reconciling, “yes, Alec, play out your adventures. Erase the last bit of family you have left. Mother and father are gone, why not erase me too?” She began walking up the dune but Alec grabbed her hand.

  “Lyra, don’t do this. I have to board now. Don’t do this, not when I’m about to leave.”

  Whipping around, Lyra cried accusingly, “Why, are you not returning?”

  Alec’s eyebrows dipped low, his countenance unreadab
le.

  Lyra’s face widened in astonishment, her jaw slack. She knew it.

  “You’re not coming back, are you?” she whispered.

  Alec wrapped his arms around Lyra, stroking her hair and rocking her slightly, as if she were a child. She could almost imagine it was father. Lyra didn’t return the embrace. Instead she stood stiff, arms at her side, her face stony. Alec pulled back after a moment, arms outstretched, holding her shoulders. His eyes misted, reddening around the rims.

  “I love you, dear sister. I always will. Remember me, when you look at the gems from my travels. Keep me in here.” He touched her temple, then the place over her heart, and gave her hand one last squeeze before turning toward the ship. Lyra stood frozen, watching him board, until he reached the dock and leaned over the railing, looking down at her. He smiled then, the same smile he always gave her when he was leaving. A smile of peace, of the hope to return. But Lyra felt anything but hope and peace. She felt desolation and confusion.

  Her world swirled in a watery smudge of her welling tears. When she blinked and they fell down her face, Alec was gone from the dock. Taking one last look at the great mahogany ship and it’s billowing sails, and she turned, starting up the dune, the sand giving under her delicate feet. An albatross above let out a sorrowful song.

  Every step brought her farther away from the sea, her brother, the untold past and murky future that awaited him.

  Every step felt part of a funeral march.