It
did not. An hour crawled by, made unbearable by the increasing cold, and she
sighed, giving up on the effort. Though Nick had grown still, his breathing
steady, the quiet only made her anxiety worse. She slipped from the bed and
found her way to the small table by the entrance. The wind pushed its way
through the cracks around the door, making this side of the room feel like a
refrigerator, but she ignored it, taking a seat at the table. She shivered,
ignoring that too as she dug through the backpack. She focused on one thing, on
finding the small object that had brought her comfort night after night while
Nick slept—her mother’s amulet.
She
found it where she had last left it, in the front pocket of the backpack,
buried at the bottom. She slipped the amulet from its pouch, and then ran the
chain through her fingers. Though it started out as cold as the air, the metal
warmed to her touch. She cupped the amulet within her hands and examined it.
Each turn of the flowers along the border captivated her. Each twist of metal
mesmerized her. Each glint of glass held her eyes transfixed, as it had always
done in her dreams. It still amazed her that every detail commanded her memory
with accuracy, despite her young age. It must have been important to her birth
mother, an importance that had made an impression in Meaghan’s mind. And she
had not forgotten, despite the years and distance. It still looked the same,
except for the glow. It had appeared more beautiful and important when the
stone had glowed.
She
flipped it over, tracing her finger down the back until she felt the small bump
Aldin had found. Pressing it up and then in, she released the catch for the
hidden door. Inside laid the paper she had come to cherish each time they had stopped
to sleep. With the tip of her finger, she nudged it out of its hiding place and
then opened it flat on the table.
When
she had first seen the writing on the paper, she had wept. The familiar loop of
each cursive letter, the soft touch from a delicate hand, the flowing, graceful
characters—they all came together to speak to her. Though the words made no
sense and the prophecy—as she had come to decide it must be—escaped
her knowledge, the writing brought her happiness. It belonged to Vivian, and it
somehow connected Meaghan to her old life and to a peace she could not seem to
capture on this world.
She
traced the words with her index finger and wondered what her mother had been
trying to say. She had no doubt the paper had been hidden within the amulet for
her. She just could not figure out why.
“You
should be sleeping.” Nick’s voice broke into her thoughts from across the room.
She looked up from the paper to find him sitting up in bed, watching her. His
face looked tired, older than it had before he slept, and she turned her eyes
back to the paper. Careful to hide her movements, she folded it and tucked it
back into the amulet, closing the door over its secret.
“It’s
too cold,” she responded after she put the locket away. “I may go for a walk
and see if that warms me up.”
“You
need to sleep,” he said. When she did not respond, he climbed out of bed and
came to her. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and then leaned down to press his
lips to the top of her head. “This isn’t the first time you’ve spent your hours
staring at the amulet instead of sleeping, but you can’t keep doing that. Not
if you want to stay safe while we travel. You can’t stay alert if you’re
tired.”
“I
know, but I can’t sleep. I don’t know what happened between us and I’m scared.
I keep thinking something’s wrong.”
“We’ll
figure it out,” he promised. “Later. For now, come back to bed with me. We can
keep each other warm.”
She
nodded and followed him back to his cot. Though it was small, perhaps too
narrow for two people, they made it work. They lay on their sides, facing each
other. His arms circled her body. She brought her hands to his chest. And
then he did something she did not expect. He kissed her.
His
lips were soft, undemanding, and in them, he gave her his acceptance for what
they felt for each other. When he drew them up to her forehead, she knew
something had changed. She doubted he would tell her what, so she did not
bother to ask. Instead, she rested her head next to his and slept.
§
B
RIGHT SUNLIGHT
streamed through the cabin window, highlighting small particles of
dust as they danced in the air. Meaghan frowned. It should have been night, or
at the least, dusk. She felt refreshed, so she knew she had not slept only a
few hours. But the sunlight told her it was still day.
She
did not have to stretch out her hand to know the other half of the small bed
lay empty. The warmth of Nick’s body had left her. She propped up on her
elbows, scanning the room for him. She found him eating an apple at the small
table.
Swinging
her legs over the side of the bed, she stood. The wood floor did not hold the
chill it had earlier. She listened for the wind, but heard only the chirp of
birds outside. She hoped that meant the weather would cooperate for their
travels today. She stretched to remove the kinks from her body and then
reclaimed her shoes, slipping them back onto her feet before she joined Nick at
the table. He handed her the remaining apple. She devoured half of it,
satisfying a ravenous hunger before she spoke, and then formed words around
bites as she continued to eat.
“How
long did I sleep?”
“The
rest of yesterday and all of last night.”
She
lowered her apple, her hunger forgotten in surprise. “Why did you let me sleep
so long?”
He
shrugged, his eyes remaining focused on his own apple, though he had yet to
raise it to his lips since she had taken the chair opposite him. She set her
apple down.
“Because
you needed the rest,” he responded. He laid his apple next to hers. “And
because we’re almost home. Once we arrive there, things will get unpleasant. I
didn’t want to face that yet.”
She
laced her fingers together on the table in front of her and studied him. He
still refused to meet her eyes. His movements were hesitant and unsure. The
confidence that usually held his head high and his shoulders steady had
disappeared. He did not act right. He did not look right. It worried her and
she tapped the table to get his attention. He lifted his eyes to hers. Pain
shone from them. Unlocking her hands, she laid one on top of the table, palm
up. He placed his hand on top of hers and grabbled hold, taking comfort as she
curled their fingers together.
“You
kissed me yesterday,” she said.
He
nodded. She waited a minute, and then another, and when she thought she would need
to prompt him again, he spoke. “Do you remember Christmas last year?” he asked,
but before she could answer, he kept talking. “Of course you do. I’m sure you
must. It wasn’t that long ago.” He shook his head, and then grew silent again.
She let the seconds pass until he continued. “It was my first Christmas. And my
last. I loved every minute of it.”
“Except
when I woke you at five in the morning to help me make breakfast,” she said. “I
probably should have let you sleep, but I wanted to spend the time with you.”
“I’m
glad you did. That was my favorite part of the day.” He brought his other hand
up to encase hers. “It was sweet of you to want to make breakfast for James and
Vivian.”
“Mom
thought so too, until she saw the mess in her kitchen.”
Nick
grinned, a genuine gesture that returned a spark of happiness to his eyes. “It
was a harmless flour fight,” he said. “We cleaned it up.”
“And
clogged her new vacuum in the process. What was it you got stuck in the hose?”
“A
fork.” He chuckled. “And a wad of plastic wrap. It took me an hour to figure
out how to get the damn thing unclogged, but it was worth it.” His smile faded.
“Sometimes I wish we could go back there. Even though I knew I couldn’t be with
you, it was easy to forget on days like that.” He let go of her hand, then
stood and walked to the fireplace. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he
stared into its emptiness. “I loved hearing you sing while we cooked. There was
one song in particular that took my breath away. It was a jazz piece, I think.
‘s
Wonderful
? You were doing the Sarah Vaughan version.”
“I
was,” she confirmed. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
“I
can’t forget.” He turned back around to look at her. “That was the moment I
knew I was in love with you, and the first time I wanted to kiss you. Yesterday
was for that.”
The
sadness returned to his eyes. She stood, intending to go to him, but he shook
his head and she remained rooted to her spot.
“I
couldn’t kiss you then,” he told her, “because I wanted to prevent what
happened yesterday.”
She
wove her hands together in front of her, trying to gather enough strength for
the answer to her next question. “What did happen yesterday? You said I took
your powers, but you’re still able to block me.”
“You
stole all but my personal power,” he answered, “the one power that doesn’t make
me a Guardian. All of my other powers are specific to my Guardianship. They’re
a package deal, so to speak, providing me with the ability to protect you. And
they need a minimum amount of power to work. An increase in power won’t hurt
them, but a decrease will destroy them.”
“Are
you saying I somehow decreased your power?”
“Without
meaning to, yes. What happened yesterday was a melding of powers. Our powers
combined and then balanced out before returning to us.”
He
did not have to say any more for Meaghan to understand. Her knees felt weak, so
she slid back into her chair. “A Guardian’s powers are the strongest on this
world, next to a Spellmaster’s,” she whispered. “When the powers balanced, I
got some of your power, didn’t I? You’re no longer a Guardian.”
“Yes,”
he whispered. “I can’t protect you anymore.”
And
he would no longer be able to protect himself. She closed her eyes against the
reality. “How did it happen?”
“Our
powers do more than allow us to have special talents,” he responded. “They’re
an extension of our souls. Because of that, they’re able to recognize when love
is real. And when the time is right,” he hesitated. “Well, yesterday happens.”
“When
the time is right,” she echoed, opening her eyes. She gripped the back of her
chair, feeling sick. How could the time be right? How could putting Nick’s life
in danger be right? Nothing could be right about it. She had to have
misunderstood him. “Nick, I care for you. I always have. And maybe I feel more,
but I couldn’t call it love. I wouldn’t have said that, so how could my power
cause this?”
“I
don’t know,” he responded. He crossed the room and knelt in front of her.
Taking her face between his hands, he lifted it so he could press his lips to
hers. “I can call what I feel love. But even if what I feel was allowed, I
wouldn’t have said I was ready for this. None of it makes sense to me. It’s
only supposed to happen with a kiss, and only then after two people have had
time to get to know each other and acknowledge their love.” He let go of her.
“It doesn’t matter now what’s supposed to be. And it doesn’t matter if we’re ready
for it or not. It’s done, and it can’t be undone.”
“What’s
done?” she asked, barely pushing the words past her dry throat. “What
happened?”
“Our
powers joined us,” he told her. “For eternity. We’re wed.”
W
ED.
The
word chased through her mind
unimpeded, knocking every other thought from recognition. If she had not been
sitting, she would have fallen to the floor.
Wed.
No
proposal, no ring, no fancy wedding or flowers. No food and family. No dancing
and champagne.
Wed.
No
church, no reception, no picturesque fairytale celebration. All she had were
streams of colors that in no way resembled the decorations she had once planned
to the last detail at the age of eleven, and filthy clothes with almost a
week’s worth of wear that did not even come close to the pristine white dress
she had designed in her dreams.
Wed.
Joined
in seconds by a force she could not control, by a decision she did not make.
Joined forever, or until death, which most likely would come first and not far
from now. Joined by magic, not unquestionable love.
Wed.
She
buried her face in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Was there nothing on
this world that made sense? Nick’s hands gripped hers. She felt another surge
of warmth and then realized maybe one thing did make sense. She raised her head
and met his gaze. There was worry there, for her, not for his loss and safety,
as well as kindness, and understanding. She smiled. Maybe the dresses and the
ceremonies were what did not make sense. And maybe they could find a reason
behind the seeming madness of being wed.
“Now that we’re married—”
“Not
married,” he corrected. “It’s ‘wed’ here. A marriage is only the ceremony. We
have one similar to yours. But the wedding is the actual act of joining.”