15. Chapter 14

We make our way slowly and well-hidden to the gate, not a word spoken between us. Not until I hear the slam of metal as it closes after us, Kirian slips a man a coin as we pass, and Thorn Row is behind us, do I realize it"s too late to turn back. "What now?" I finally speak. Kirian doesn"t answer, his attention caught on the seemingly empty hillside.

"Don"t worry." He finally says. "You will be taken care of. These people will not harm you." He affirms, and I believe him. Suddenly from where Kirian"s eyes were concentrated, five men on horseback appear from behind the hill. Followed by a carriage in the color of midnight. I notice there is no insignia or crest on it. The carriage stops in front of us, and Kirian greets the elderly man, who exits with a bow of his head. I take a step closer to Kirian, following his lead, tipping my head down in a silent bow. I rein in my fear as best I can, making sure to take shallow breaths so that the men around me do not see my chest heaving. I swallow multiple times to keep the contents of my stomach from rising, and my hands begin to sweat. When will this stop happening?

To distract myself, I memorize the man before me. He is covered in fine jewelry. Gold rings occupy every fragile, sun-spotted finger. The bracelets on his arms clink together as he moves, and his robe, the same color of deep blue, blends into the carriage behind him. Golden thread flashes as the wind takes the hem of the robe in its grasp. He holds a shaky hand out to Kirian, who kisses the largest Stone that adorns his middle finger. Then he turns to me and holds out his hand in the same fashion. I ,too, make to kiss the Stone, although I have no idea why. My body almost detests the touch, but I force my lips to the ring anyway. When he lifts his head in approval and looks up to Kirian once more, revealing the spot beneath his chin. A wrinkled tattoo of an eye centered over his Adam"s Apple.

The men on horse"s are now in a circle around us as Kirian exchanges pleasantries with the man. I quickly pull my hand to my side when I realize I"m nervously twirling my braid behind my back.

While they all have their attention on Kirian and the man in the robe that stands before us, my own attention goes to those who surround us. I squint into the sun, looking for something, anything to tell me who they are. These men are not in the same tan as the Soldiers here in Thorn Row. Their dark uniforms hold no distinguishing marks either. The less I find the more I know that they belong to The Spent. Suddenly, I have the urge to run, but as I am surrounded, where would I go?

I quickly talk myself down from the ledge. I have to do this. To end the torture, to rid myself of this. They would not be collecting magic users if they did not know more about it. Keeping Kirian"s promise of safety in my mind, I have made the decision to let these people take me to The Spent. No matter how many times my legs tell me otherwise.

I slide my eyes along each man on their horses, watching them as they concentrate on the conversation between the two at my side. They eagerly await their next orders that must come from the wrinkled man, their leader, no doubt. All but one man, whose uniform is not the same fashion as the others, he lets his eyes wander. To the mountains I realize. His face bored as he adjusts on the saddle.

He does not notice as I take in his raven-colored hair, strands of it falling into his face. His jaw clenches and unclenches many times. What is he looking at? I follow his eyes to Shadow Gate, the blue mountains in the distance, ones that no one occupies anymore, not farther than the Uncharted Territories anyway. A sight to behold and one that is unique to the northern parts of Stone, while the other parts of Stone are filled with plains and rolling hills. Equal but different beauties.

I make to look away, but then I see his line of vision change. He now burns a hole in the back of Kirian"s head, his eyes red as smoldering embers. The atmosphere changes then. I could have sworn it did as I beheld the man. I have half a mind to step to the side, placing myself between them, to protect Kirian from the fire behind the ravens" eyes. It will do no good. I"m tall, but not as tall as Kirian and much too small to cover any of his huge body with my own.

"Let us depart soon." The old man"s voice makes my head snap to his attention once more. He takes a step back, holding out a hand as he gestures to the door. When I do not move, Kirian places a reassuring hand on my lower back and guides me forward. I look to the old man and then to Kirian, and his gentle eyes meet mine before I take a step inside. Trapped, I think to myself as I sit between the wooden walls of the carriage.

The men disperse on their horses, either making their way behind or in front as if they have assembled like this many times before. My thumbs twiddle on my lap as I watch them, nerves getting the best of me. Run, no.

The man with red eyes and raven-like features must have been ordered to guard the door. His horse is covered in braided black armor. They would be right in assuming that I need someone to keep the door, to make sure that I do not escape because everything in me is telling me to run all over again. I keep shoving the thought down, and it keeps reforming in the front of my mind.

Even the Shadows beckon for me from a distance. Past the red eyed man and his horse, they peek at me from behind trees and beneath the brush as if they fear coming closer. The world seems to hold its breath as I let myself really see them. Surprised when I see that they are…scared. Perhaps their fear and my own are one and the same.

When the robed man speaks again, I begrudgingly peel my eyes away from them. "I have many questions for Miss Luz." The man says. He speaks to Kirian as if I am not here. The robed man also takes a step into the wooden, too-small box on wheels with Kirian"s helping hand.

"Of course, My Lord," Kirian says back, one hand on the door as he watches the robed man sit from the outside. "I hope you"ll find her true of heart." All of the things unsaid, phrases that only insiders understand, makes my skin crawl. Run. As if Kirian can read my thoughts "Do not be afraid" he whispers, his words calm my pounding heart, but only slightly.

The thought of never seeing Kirian again did not cross my mind until right now. Of course, he can"t come. He lives here. He has a family here. The thought seems to come to his mind, as well as he keeps my eyes, even as the door closes. The small window only allows me to see half of his face through a slit in the curtain.

There is something that takes over his features entirely, but I cannot tell what it is. Regret, pity, worry, they all look so identical to me.

His jaw clenches and he gives me a small nod as a man out of sight grunts and the horses begin to pull away. Kirian looks down at his feet and I too turn my attention elsewhere. And I regret not being able to look him in the eye, to show him how scared I truly am, because the last thing Kirian will ever see on my face is cowardice.

"Lord Andres." The man across from me introduces himself. "And I already know your name, Katsia." My name comes out as if spoken by a snake. His slithery words stick to me, making me nervous. I grab at the end of my braid and his gaze follows my hand as I twirl the black hair around my finger. "Are you afraid, child?" he asks.

Yes, but I would never admit it, especially to this stranger. One of the many rules, of course, I made for myself, so it is an easy one not to throw out: Never admit you"re afraid. But the word comes from somewhere deep in my chest, pulled out of me without my consent. "Yes," I tell him. I am far too nervous. He is taking advantage of that fact.

"Ah, that is to be expected." He nods his head in understanding. "Tell me." his voice shaky with age. "How old were you when you were gifted?" he asks. The Connection, my magic, not a gift in the slightest.

"I do not know." Again, the words seem to spill without thought.

"Did your Mother or Father ever give you the name of your Gifter?" he then asks. When will the questions stop? I wonder. I have a feeling this old, wrinkled man plans to learn everything about me before we arrive at our destination. I will not give him the satisfaction. I cross my arms and lean back onto the wooden bench.

My mouth betrays me then, "No." I shift uncomfortably as the words escape. Don"t say another word. I tell myself as panic begins to build in my throat, my chest. He remains unmoving, his legs crossed and his hands in his lap. His once blue eyes that have taken on a clouded silver haze with age concentrate on my lips, slowly moving down to my neck. Curse this dress for exposing me.

"I see." He lets his eyes flick to mine for only a moment. "Do you know who put the curse on your Father?" His words come quick like he has the questions lined up, one after the other. I"ve already been beaten, interrogated, every bit of information I know has been spilled. No doubt sent to the ears that sit before me now.

I decided that for the remainder of this very unnerving ride, I will remain silent. I especially do not wish to talk of Father. I purse my lips and turn for the window. The man coughs slightly in an attempt to regain my full attention. When I do not look at him, he speaks again. "Do not make me draw my own conclusions." At that, my head turns, and his eyes still do not meet mine. He seems to narrow them at my chest, but when I cover myself with my arms, he does not let it deter his stare as if he can see right through them. Don"t speak, don"t say anything.

Something inside me screams and the word is already on my tongue before I can stop it. "No." Something wants out, and it"s going to get what it wants no matter what I do. What is he doing to me? His eyes never move from the spot between my collarbones. I look to the window on the left, then the right, where the man remains on his horse, in search of an escape that I know does not exist. My chest tightens further. There is not enough air to fill my lungs in this tiny carriage. There is not enough air in all of Stone.

My head goes light, and my vision blurs. The muscles in my throat tighten before I can no longer hold the words in. "I wish it was me. I wish I would have known how to put such a curse on my Father." I blurt out, and the pressure around my neck releases. My eyes grow wide, and my heart speeds up as the words keep flowing from me like an unyielding waterfall. "My Father was cruel, and he taught his son and daughters to be cruel, or perhaps it was in his blood what made them that way." I cover my mouth with my hands, but the words keep coming out. "I was not sired by Hansel Luz, thank the Gods." My words are muffled as I speak through my fingers.

The words feel like bile. They were not meant to leave my mouth. Those thoughts have only ever been said in my head, never aloud.

He just looks me over, pleased. He nods his head, "Tell me of your Mother."

No, no, no.Never speak of Mother. It was the biggest rule at House Luz and one that I did not mind abiding by. If I didn"t think about her or talk about her or look into the mirror for too long, then I never had to feel the guilt of taking away the Mother that Cedric, Medla and Adriel had come to know, to love. Never had to remember the words that Medla never forgot to remind me of. You"re a murderer, Katsia. The words in my head echo in Medla"s voice. "I murdered her." I shake my head furiously as I hear my own words.

Tears begin to build, threatening to fall down my cheeks at any moment. Now I search for ways to get out of this damned carriage, no matter what it takes, no matter if the man outside takes my life. I can"t be here anymore. I can"t answer another unwanted question.

I reach for the door, but Lord Andres is quick for his age, he swats my fingers away before I can turn the wooden block which would release me. The man outside lets out a huff that I think is laughter at my attempt. How much has he heard? Now, my stomach churns for an entirely different and embarrassing reason.

"You don"t want to do that, child. You would not make it." Lord Andres peeks over to the window. Before settling back onto me with that disconcerting habit of letting his eyes wander to my chest. Disgusting.

I take my eyes away from him long enough to see that we are going over a large bridge now, and far below, a river flows.

Lord Andres seems to be unaffected by my confession. "I do… want to." Shut up.

"Want to what?" Lord Andres asks plainly, but I know what he really asks.

I push my lips together as tight as I can until my cheeks hurt, and the words that seem to be inside will soon force their way out somehow. Either by ripping out my esophagus or rushing from my mouth. I chose the latter.

"Give up," I tell him. I will not win this fight. Death to a rushing river below would be better than living the way I always have- afraid, weak, and alone. And I can"t say this is the first I"ve thought of it. Taking my own life.

Once, when I looked down from my window, where I was to scale the wall to the other room. I looked down and thought to myself, "You are better off dead". The next time was upon the lap of the man whose ear I tasted. When, for a split second, I had accepted my fate. Death was the option that I was most okay with at the time. Before Kirian showed up.

"Ah," he says after a long moment as if he was letting me sit with the words as if he knows exactly what they mean. Andres just nods his head and readjusts in his seat. The air seems to be back to normal, and the panic dissipates. What in the House of Hades was that? I don"t have to wait long for the answer, "My gift is truth." He points to the tattoo on his neck as an explanation. Claire had one on her forehead, and the man in the cell had one upon his wrist. I wonder if Kirian has one as well. For what I do not know, he never used The Connection around me. My brows involuntarily push together at the thought.

"You may very well be a murderer. Though you don"t seem the type." I dare a peak at Lord Andres, but he is gazing out the window now, his eyes skipping back and forth as they latch on to different far-off objects. "I have lived a long life, Katsia, heard many truths." He relaxes into the seat before he turns back to me, his eyes finally meeting my own. "Some tell the truth, the facts, the absolutes." he blinks slowly at me. "Some tell only what they believe to be true."

The rest of our time together is eerily quiet, and as many questions as I have, I do not ask them. We both keep our attention at the windows on the opposite sides of the carriage. Stone becomes flat, and the buildings become sparse. I"m unsure of how long we travel, but where we are going must be far. As hard as I try to stay awake, I am soon drifting in and out of consciousness. And I can"t help but think it is another trick that has my eyes heavy and my head bobbing.

When I wake in a panic for what has to be the sixth time, I notice a drastic change in climate. It"s warm and muggy making me believe that we are headed into Fauna.

Many books have told me of its low level compared to the sea. This makes it difficult during some seasons. Large storms result in floods, devastating homes and businesses. Father was working with a man from Fauna to build houses that would withstand the weather. He sent Cedric to deal with it, but he did not come back for many days. His face was bruised, and he looked like he hadn"t slept for days. There were no more discussions about it after that.

After a while, we make a stop. I can"t see the city beyond the marsh and trees, but in the distance, I spy a sign with the words "Fauna" and underneath "Lest We Forget."

Lord Andres pushes out the door, startling me. I watch as the guards attempt to help him onto horseback. He vigorously swats the man away as if it"s against his dignity to need help. Painfully slow, Lord Adres lifts a leg and straddles the saddle. Before heading towards the front with the others, somewhere out of my eyesight. Finally, alone, I settled down into the seat, glad not to have the eyes of Lord Andres on me. I watch them pass the carriage window, positioning around me once more, three in front and two behind.

We are stopped for a few moments longer and I start to let myself relax. Letting myself take in the scenery that I never thought I would be able to visit. I lean my head against the door to see the road ahead of us. The trees almost make a tunnel with their long branches curved perfectly for the travelers that pass through them.

I am interrupted when someone whips open the door. I nearly hit the roof of the carriage with how high I jump. He practically pushes me to the side before slamming the door behind him. It doesn"t take me long to notice who Lord Andres switched places with, the man with black hair and red eyes. I sit back down and wait for him to say something, but he does not. Instead, he falls back into the seat with a puff of air and crosses his arms as if he couldn"t be bothered.

Dressed in a black uniform, the expensive looking fabric seems to meld with his form. His jaw tightens and his brows furrow, clearly uncomfortable. That makes two of us. The lines around his eyes make him look much older, although he can"t be much older than Kirian. In his late twenties, the same as Cedric.

Every movement he makes is deliberate as he purposely focuses on whatever is furthest from me. I quickly look away as well, concentrating on the noises outside to distract me from his presence.

As the wheels move over Stone, a memory comes to my mind"s eye, the day I hid in the grass during that summer as Cedric left, all his belongings crammed into the back of a carriage. Much like this one. I shake my head to clear the images behind my eyes but they take their time fading.

Little did I know that was only the beginning, and now I am here. It was so much easier, when all I had to do was avoid distant whispers in the shade and plan my days around my family. Be in the right place at the right time, make sure no one sees you. Words I have repeated to myself many times. This is the right place. This is where I have to be in order to achieve my goal, I remind myself.

During my time ignoring the new passenger I look out at the houses dispersed throughout the outer city. I have read many books on Fauna. They started as simple farmers, although now looking at all of the different types of animals, the flocks of sheep and all the cattle that graze their pastures, it doesn"t look so simple anymore. All of Stone"s meat, milk, eggs, and wool comes from Fauna, a fitting name for the city.

We come to a screeching halt that has me gripping the wooden bench beneath me. Still, I do not dare look up at the man. I hear dogs barking, the pounding of hooves as they near us, and the bleating of sheep. My heart races with anticipation. Soon all I can see outside of the small window are the large tan animals. Like clouds that block our view. Their baaing fills my ears. They follow each other in lines as they run from the dogs that tail them.

I move from one window to the next in awe as they scatter and then reform as a man whistles for his dogs once more. I have never seen sheep before, only sketches of them in books. I memorized their anatomy and the process of making their wool into clothing. Some would appear in my dreams, just like that, the flock of them surrounding me and then leaving. I would pretend I was above the clouds, but seeing it in person is so different, real.

Although I guess for people who see it every day it"s not that interesting. Must get old to be stopped along your route by the many farmers trying to transport their animals. Still, to me it"s literally a dream come true. I can"t help myself but to stare as they go.

It"s not until they are almost gone that I realize I had gotten too close to the dark-haired man across from me when he clears his throat. Even using the headrest behind him to balance myself as I still watch the last one make its way down the hill. I turn my head to the noise, our faces mere inches from one another, his eyes trail down to my chin and back up to my brows, annoyance apparent in his expression.

I retreat to the other side slowly, crouching down so that my head does not hit the top of the carriage. The driver pulls us forward with the same grunt once more and the motion slams me back into my seat. Making me hit the wooden bench with a hard thud, all the air leaves my lungs.

My cheeks flush and I nervously fold my hands as we continue, not daring another glance. Clearly, I am an inconvenience to the man before me. He doesn"t even try to hide the irritation, and soon, the space between us becomes thick with tension. I hardly stop myself from rolling my eyes.

He does not speak to me, and I do not speak to him. He must have heard all he needed to know during my time with Lord Andres. The warmth that I feel in my cheek"s spreads to my whole body. I usually do not care about what others think, but what this man heard was never to be said aloud, not to Lord Andres or strangers who listen in on private conversations.

There are no more disruptions, and as we drive through the city, I gawk at all of the beautiful buildings, putting the ones in Thorn Row to shame.

Thorn Row was built quickly after the war. The King was sure to make a profit off of the miserable citizens. Its houses are plain brick or wood, constructed quickly and with little to no embellishments, none as elaborate as those I see before me. All uniquely decorated, each a different color of the rainbow. The tops of them have balconies where women hang laundry across lines that are connected to the houses across the way. The same women swoon at the soldiers that surround us out of my sight.

The streets are busy as men and women walk about. Not in a hurry as I saw them do in Thorn Row from the window of The Charlie. Music plays from somewhere far off. The sound gets closer as we pass a man with a brass instrument paired with a woman who sings a melody. Children dance near the music and a man in a brown suit drops a silver coin in the hat at the woman"s feet.

Her black braided hair falls perfectly behind her as she sways to the beat. I do not move from my seat as I did before, preventing another awkward encounter. Soon, the city is gone, and we are on a path between large golden trees.

The man shifts uncomfortably in his seat as we near a large gate with the letter "A" on one side and "O" on the other. Two guards dressed in the same dark uniform as the others open it from the other side. It"s hard to see what is in front of us, but as the carriage circles around to the front, I find myself unable to look away from the huge white castle with stained glass windows and dark oak doors. Men scrabble around us, unable to see them, but I hear their footsteps on brick and the swish of leather as they unsaddle their horses.

Lord Andres comes into view. Two men help him off the horse, which he begrudgingly accepts. He faces the carriage, waiting for us I suppose. Men come from both sides and stand in a line, one of them opens the door. The others place their swords on their shoulders pointed at the sky as they await their next command.

The man across from me sucks in a deep breath before making his way out of the carriage and onto the red brick that lines the ground. He then holds out his hand and looks at me expectantly from behind his shoulder, his scowl doing nothing to calm my nerves. I swallow away the knot in my throat and look at the hand that now holds mine. A large scar peeks out from beneath his sleeve. I do not look at it long as the man catches me staring. My own hand is now shaking before I have even taken a step.

I make to take a step but stop, cursing under my breath as my dress gets caught on the wooden seat behind me. I rip it away with my other hand and step out, not caring about the tear in the fabric I"ve just created. Everyone stares as we emerge from the carriage. The man drops my hand when I am finally on Stone and takes a step. I follow.

My wobbly legs are obeying me for now, but at any minute, I feel as if I could collapse. We walk behind Lord Andres, who is excruciatingly slow. Sweat drips down my face and while the walk is unhurried, my heart seems to be going twice its normal pace. I place my hand upon my chest as if to slow its drumming, but it is no use.

I can"t help but watch the faces as we go by them. They clearly see my nerves. One man even whispers something to the other, and another fails at hiding a smile from their face. Pathetic. That is what I am.

It"s suddenly too much. There are too many people. That feeling that sometimes makes me purge my guts is now as present as ever. My mouth waters in preparation. I swallow over and over until my throat hurts. When I think I can no longer take it when my head goes light, and just as the Shadows seem to whisper from far off, the doors open, and the beauty that shows beyond them pulls my mind away from that dark place and into the present once more. I let go of the arm that I had not realized I had grabbed for balance. Not looking at the raven to make sure I avoid the hatred that I could feel the whole way here, radiating off of him.

Much like the castle I grew up in, there is a staircase that leads up onto a balcony. Servants stand there, awaiting orders as they look down at us. I flinch at the loud thud as the doors close behind me. Fewer eyes, that"s good. The gnawing in my stomach subsides for now.

Lord Andres stays by my side as I take in the room. The lights above me flicker and when I look up, I realize that they are not lanterns or candles. They are suspended balls of light that fill the room. They seem to move on their own accord as they float, never letting a space fill with darkness. Dozens of roses, fill vases set on tables, and more go up the stairs and hang from the balcony.

The air also seems different. There is an aura to the whole place that I have not felt before. I breathe in, expecting the sweet aroma of flowers to fill my lungs, but the smell is not pleasant at all. What is that scent? Like the smell of blood or the metallic taste of copper.

I look about the giant room in search of its origin, Lord Andres and the man follow my eyes as I search for something that cannot be seen. I become fearful that the smell may actually be blood, and I was deceived once again, led to somewhere far worse than the jail, far worse than living with a beast that hunts animals and kills women.

My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, then I look to Lord Andres for answers, but he does not seem to have any or even notice my discomfort. "Mana," a husky voice says from beside me. I spin to look at him, my breath catches as I look into his brown eyes. The color of honey now reflects the white light and not the yellow of the sun that sent them ablaze before. His face still in that permanent frown that I saw sitting across from me in the carriage.

I didn"t realize I was staring until Lord Andres stepped closer to us, he clears his throat before saying. "I will take my leave." Then he drifts past, through a door to the left of us.

"It"s mana, it"s in the air." The raven reiterates as he removes his jacket and throws it onto a nearby chair. "The whole place runs on it. Spartus heats itself in the winter and cools itself in the summer." He looks at me, but I do not say anything. I can"t, it seems, the words are lost in my mind. Spartus, I repeat in my head. Then I just nod to let him know that I understand.

Then he looks down at my legs, and when I follow his line of sight, I see what catches his attention. The tear in my dress from when I pulled it free before I stepped out of the carriage. Without thinking I pull up my skirt slightly to see the damage up close. His eyes drift from the dangling piece of fabric to my bare legs that I now have on display. He inspects my knees, dried blood and bruises from Gods knows what.

The last few days have left my body in disrepair, my nose still swollen, and bruises on my chin and arms to match those on my knees. Even my hands have healed over scratches on the palms and buildup under my nails that my bath at The Charlie failed to clean. I must look absolutely appalling. It"s embarrassing, really.

When I realize I still have my dress bundled into my hand, I drop it immediately, my thoughts distracting me. He just huffs his annoyance at me once more. Confirming what I already knew, that he does in fact find me disgusting, as he should.

He turns away from me and calls down the servants with the wave of a hand. "Take Miss Luz to her room." At his words, the women who occupy the balcony scurry down the stairs to gather me. They circle around me, and one takes my arm gently. I look over at her and down to her touch, reminding myself not to pull my arm from her grasp.

"You will need a trim," one says, holding out my long braid and inspecting the ends.

"And these callouses," another exclaims, before she lifts my hand to show the group, I squeeze it shut tightly and place my hands at my sides as we walk.

"First a bath." The leader of the group says, her mousy brown hair and harsh features paired with her gravelly voice give her a more masculine appearance. This silences the servants until we get to the top of the stairs when she leaves to fetch something from a room. That"s when they look me over, obviously noting all the unsightly things that need to be fixed before putting a hand to their mouths to hide what they say to each other in hushed voices.

I keep my mouth shut. I"m drained from the day and don"t have the energy to fight, nor do I care what the women say about me. It"s all been said before by my sisters, this time I don"t have the luxury of hiding away where no one will see me. They take me down a hallway with many doors. I think I hear one of them open nearby, but the woman scolds the person behind it and not another one opens again. The room is quaint, with a bed and washing basin, a three-drawer dresser, and a vanity with a mirror. The red curtains and matching bedding make the room feel very uniform. I don"t get to stay long before I"m dragged away again. "We have lots of work to do," one of them says.