“Danger? How much more danger can she be in?
You just said she’s gonna die. To hell with your stupid blood! If
you’re not willing to go for help,
I am
.”
He tossed the cloth into the washbasin,
making the water splash over the edge, dousing one of the candles
and spilling wax on the box. “There are things you do not know
about us.” He stood and paced the cavernous room. “We have enemies
who seek our lives. If word of her injury has trickled back to
them, they will be watching the hospitals. I have not yet
questioned the men who did this, nor found out what information
they have. Until then, we must be cautious.”
“You mean they’re still out there? I thought
you took care of them.”
“I merely bound them. My priority is with my
sister. I will deal with them later.”
“You mean kill them.” The second the words
escaped her mouth, Kira finally realized the magnitude of the
situation she was in. Was he capable of killing someone? Could he
kill her?
“No!” he shouted. He stopped pacing just long
enough to let out a huff of air, then continued pounding his feet
onto the dirt. “I do not have time to explain this. She will stay
here, and we will not speak of this again.”
Kira didn’t bother to answer. She glared at
Octavion, then turned her full attention to Lydia by pulling the
blanket back to examine the wound for herself. The piece of cloth
that covered it held pieces of crushed herbs and stains from a
yellow liquid—an herbal poultice, Octavion explained between his
constant mumbling, most of which she couldn’t make out.
The poultice stopped the bleeding, but the
gash was deep and a larger area just below it was distended,
further proof of her internal bleeding. She replaced the poultice
and turned to Octavion again.
“We have to get help.”
“I agree, but there is only one way I know
and she has forbidden it. She has told me she would rather die.” He
reached into the leather pouch fastened to his belt and pulled out
a small vial and two white stones, holding them up for Kira to see.
“I will use these on your attackers to erase their memories. She
wants me to do the same to you, to erase every memory of her. It
will be as if you never met.”
Kira instinctively brought the fingertips of
her left hand to her temple. Was she dreaming? Was any of this
real? “How is that possible?”
“I told you, there are things you do not
understand about us. Things you will not think possible.”
“That’s what she asked you to promise?” No
way was she letting him touch her with those things. Her memory was
hers to keep, not his to take away. Not even Lydia had that
right.
Lydia’s painful moan interrupted them.
Octavion went to her side, pulled the blanket
up under her chin, then brushed a tear from her face. “If I do as
she wishes, she will surely die.”
“Octavion . . . please . . . take her home.”
Lydia thrashed about, then grabbed her side. Her facial features
suddenly changed to those of the girl Kira saw earlier, then back
to Lydia’s. In the middle of the transformation, Lydia let out
another blood-curdling scream, then collapsed against the pillow
and blacked out.
Kira stood and stepped back, shaking her head
in disbelief. This was not her imagination. She was sure this time.
“What’s happening to her?” The sudden movement from standing so
quickly made her head spin and the blood to rush from her face. She
tried to steady herself, but found nothing to grab.
How did I
get here?
Octavion jumped to his feet and caught her by
the arm just as her knees buckled. He guided her to a small wooden
bench on the other side of the cave. “Do not be frightened. Lydia
is fighting with her kindred spirit and it can be painful.”
Kira pinched the bridge of her nose. “What?
What do you mean ‘kindred spirit’?”
A look of frustration crossed his face as if
he’d said more than he intended. “It is not my place to say.” He
retrieved one of the candles near Lydia to ignite three more on a
table beside them. The light illuminated more of the cave,
revealing a set of large shelves. On one side were old books and
papers, all dusty, with tattered edges. A collection of tiny
colored bottles and wooden boxes were neatly arranged on the
others. These shelves were well kempt as was the table in front of
them, where several ingredients lay next to a small stack of clean
linens—makings for Lydia’s poultice, Kira guessed.
“What are those?” she asked, pointing to the
colorful display.
“I am an alchemist.”
“A what?”
Octavion growled. “
An alchemist
.” He
drew the syllables out as if he were pronouncing it to a two year
old. Clearly frustrated by her naivety, he turned away and
continued with his explanation as he sorted through a few of the
bottles. “I have many gifts afforded me by my heritage, one of
which allows me the skill of knowing the healing qualities of many
plants, herbs, and metals. I have studied with the masters in my
homeland and read many books. Some of these containers are filled
with very powerful tinctures and remedies, while others are
dangerous poisons.”
Kira glanced over at Lydia’s frail body. Dark
circles had formed under her eyes and her breathing seemed labored.
“So, one of these can cure her, then?”
“No. It will take more than that.” Octavion
took a small box from one of the shelves. Inside was a black satin
bag. He carefully loosened the string at one end and poured
something into the palm of his hand.
“This is a healing charm,” he said, opening
his hand for Kira to see.
She blinked hard and leaned closer. He’d
already placed his hand inches from her face, so now she was
practically nose to palm. His hand was empty. She straightened and
gave an over-exaggerated sigh. “There’s nothing there.”
His eyes shifted to his palm before
refocusing on her face. He looked at her curiously. “You cannot see
it?”
“See what?”
His brow creased with frustration as he took
her hand and pressed her fingertips to the center of his palm. When
he let go, she kept her fingers there, rubbing them across what
felt like a tiny metal snake coiled in his hand. It was icy to the
touch. She pulled her hand back.
“But how can that be?” she asked. “Why can’t
I see it?”
“I am not certain. Let me try something.” He
drew his fingers through a small section of her hair, letting it
all fall away except for a single strand. The brush of his skin
against her face made her shudder.
“May I?” he asked.
She nodded.
He plucked the hair from her scalp, then
picked up the invisible healing charm and twisted her hair around
it. At first, she saw nothing, but when he held it in the
candlelight, it slowly came into view. It looked like a silver
bracelet, but when Kira looked closer she realized it had no clasp.
Instead the ends were frayed like the end of a rope. The chain
wasn’t really a chain, either—it was more like a solid stream of
liquid silver—and the strand of her hair had disappeared. He laid
the bracelet back in his palm and held it out again. It seemed to
move on its own, settling into the creases of his hand.
She wanted to touch it, but seeing it move
like that made her think her imagination had taken over again. She
quickly drew back when he brought it closer to her face.
“It will not hurt you,” Octavion said.
Kira took a deep breath and pinched the
silver material between two fingers. This time it warmed to her
touch.
“It’s beautiful, but how does it work?” she
asked, letting it fall back into his hand.
“My mother was a visionary and a healer. When
she died, my father kept a lock of her hair. This bracelet was made
from several of those strands, along with one of my sister’s. It
was meant to serve as a divining tool to locate Lydia if she got in
trouble, but we later found it had healing qualities. It must be
worn by someone
not
of royal blood—a commoner.” He motioned
toward Kira.
Again with the stupid blood
. “You mean
me, don’t you?”
“That was my hope.”
“But that still doesn’t tell me how it works
or how something like this even exists. Where did you get it? Who
was your mother, and why do you keep talking about your blood?”
“Octavion,” Lydia’s frail voice barely
carried across the small space. She’d been stirring slightly, and
now her eyes opened to thin slits. She blinked hard, as if trying
to focus. Octavion laid the healing charm on the black bag and went
to her side. He adjusted her blanket and stroked the side of her
face, trying to comfort her.
“I won’t lose . . . another . . . friend,”
she managed between each breath.
“Tell me what else to do, Lydia. I cannot
watch you die like this. I cannot face our father and tell him I
failed to keep you safe.”
“Please. I would . . . rather die than—”
“You don’t mean that.” He sat back on his
heels and ran his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t understand,” Kira said. “If this
charm will somehow save her life, and it will work on me, why won’t
she let me help?”
“This is not the first time my sister has
been severely injured . . . and you are not the first friend asked
to be the Crystor’s keeper.”
Kira glanced over to the tiny strand of
silver, now lying motionless.
The Crystor
. She had so many
questions, so many doubts about everything she’d seen and heard,
but all she could think about was getting help for Lydia. “What
happened to her other friend?” A lump swelled in her throat as she
waited for him to answer, but deep inside, she already knew.
“It happened before we came here. Serena . .
.” He paused and looked away for a moment. “When she healed Lydia .
. . her life ended.”
Kira pressed her fingertips to her forehead
and tried to rub away the dizziness that had returned. That’s why
Lydia wanted her to go home. Lydia knew exactly what Octavion had
in mind—that he’d convince Kira to help save his sister’s life and
die in the process. Instead, Lydia was willing to sacrifice
her
life to prevent Kira from risking death.
“If I do this, will she live?” Kira
asked.
“Yes.”
The next question was harder and she wasn’t
sure she wanted to ask it. She took in a quivering breath. “And I
will die?”
Octavion lowered his eyes to where he held
Lydia’s hand, tenderly running his thumb across her knuckles. “I am
not certain. I was with Serena when she healed Lydia and she felt
great pain, but then I had to leave her. My place was with my
sister and seeing to her safety. Later, my father brought me the
news of Serena’s death, saying she had a weak heart.” He paused for
a long moment, as if reliving the scene in his mind. “It will be
dangerous, that I do know.”
Great pain. Death.
Kira looked at the Crystor again. If this was
Lydia’s only chance, could she tell her no? Could she sit here and
watch her friend die. “I don’t have a weak heart, so I should be
okay, right?” She swallowed hard, trying not to think about what
could actually happen if she decided to do this. It didn’t help.
This could mean the end of her plans for her future—her dreams. Her
life. This one decision could end all that, not to mention the pain
it would bring her mother if she died in the process. A sinking
feeling crept into her heart. This wasn’t a dream, but a
nightmare.
Before he answered, Lydia began thrashing
around again. This time, her screaming sent Toran scrambling to the
other side of the cave. He collapsed in the dirt, obviously spent
from taking most of her pain. The full force of Lydia’s injury came
crashing down as she grabbed her side and let out another
pain-filled moan.
Octavion drew her into his arms. “Altaria,
please. Stop fighting her. You might be able to help.”
When Lydia pushed Octavion away and lay back
on the animal pelts, her face was no longer her own. Once again her
eyes were the color of blue ice, piercing the subtle glow from the
candlelight with their beauty and fury. There was no weakness in
her facial expression as she scowled at her brother with the same
hostility she’d shown her attackers.
She took a fistful of his vest in her hand
and pulled him closer. “Don’t let me die, Octavion.”
Lydia’s kindred spirit—Altaria, he’d called
her. The stark difference in the person Kira saw now and the Lydia
she knew was startling. It wasn’t just the change in her
appearance, but her attitude was different as well. Kira tried not
to think about how all this was possible, how one person could
really be two.
“I won’t,” Octavion said. “But what you are
asking . . . are you willing to live with the consequences? You
know how much Lydia values this friendship.”
“I care nothing for this . . .
commoner
,” she said. “But I would rather spend eternity
locked in this body than . . . join the gods of Lor.” She tried to
sit up, but Octavion held her in place by putting gentle pressure
to her shoulders.
“So she holds your freedom over your head.
She is a smart one.” Octavion let go and pulled the blanket back to
check her wound. He removed the poultice to find it soaked with
blood.
“Altaria, you have reopened the wound. Stop
moving about.” He growled.
The entire altercation had mingled with
Kira’s thoughts about Lydia and their friendship. Kira didn’t know
this strange girl who obviously hated her, and she certainly didn’t
know Octavion. But somewhere in their exchange, Lydia struggled to
live, despite her willingness to sacrifice her life.
Kira didn’t want this decision to be anyone’s
but hers. If she risked her life to save the only true friend she’d
ever known, then it wouldn’t be forced on her—not even at the point
of Octavion’s knife. Not that she thought it would come to that,
but then . . . she still wasn’t sure how much she could trust
him.