Antebellum Awakening (6 page)

Merrick straightened as I neared. The early morning light made his eyes look bright and alert. Despite the early hour, he looked refreshed, as if he’d been awake for hours. I stifled another yawn at the thought. It was my first lesson. Surely he’d go easy on me.

“Ready to begin?” he asked. His deep voice rolled with a long rumble. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail as usual.

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice betraying my suspicion. “What are we doing?”

He grinned. Perhaps he liked it when people didn’t know what to expect from him. He certainly had enough of that mysterious, vague air.

“We’re going to run,” he said.

“No!” I cried with a sharp intake of breath. Even the thought of running seemed unbearable. “I mean . . . I don’t run anymore.”

His eyes narrowed. “You can’t run?”

“I-I mean to say that I haven’t run since—”

The words stalled in my throat.
I haven’t run since Mama died.
But even that was a lie. I had run. The day after burying Mama I headed into Letum Wood out of desperation, hoping to get away from my overwhelming new life. It had been a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

“Since Marie died?” Merrick finished for me. My heart reacted with a painful ache. I folded my arms across my chest.

“I won’t run.”

“Yes, you will,” he said without an ounce of sympathy. “It’s our first lesson and I need to figure out what you’re capable of before I plan the rest out. I know you used to run all the time. Derek told me.”

Like Papa, Merrick spoke with even, calm logic. No emotion, no judgment. Just fact. It was infuriating. How could anyone live in a world of black and white, especially now?

“I already told you,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “I won’t run in Letum Wood.”

He paused, narrowed his eyes, and studied me. I wasn’t sure which was worse, not knowing what he was thinking or getting the sense that no matter how hard I protested, I still had to run. Merrick didn’t seem like the type to back down.

“Look, I can’t run,” I said, pleading. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right,” he retorted. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you run? You look capable.”

My mouth opened but the words faltered.

I see Mama when I run and I can’t bear it.

No, it sounded insane, even in my head, though it was the truth.

A rousing start to our first lesson, Bianca,
I told myself.
Two minutes in and he thinks you’re a coward. If you tell him the truth, he’ll think you’re mad. Why don’t you just start screaming like a shrew and really impress him?

“Yes, I used to run all the time, but I stopped. I-I don’t want to run.”

“So you’re afraid to run?”

The insinuation prodded my powers, raising them from their slumber with liquid fire.

“No!” I yelled. Forcing myself to calm by inhaling a long breath through my nose, I leveled my voice. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Really?” he asked in a dry tone that told me I’d just revealed too much about myself. This was rapidly slipping out of my control. “Is that why you’re reacting like a two-year-old?”

“I am not!” I stomped my foot. Merrick raised a single eyebrow. I wanted to call it all back, to rewind the morning and start over. I was acting like a small child. But I was desperate that he understand. I would not run.

“I’m not afraid of running,” I said in a too-calm voice, dropping my arms to my sides. "I just don’t like it.”

The lie almost didn’t come out. It felt as thick as sap on my tongue. In truth, I needed to run. I could feel it in my bones, in the ache of my muscles. My body longed for the freedom of movement, for release and euphoria. But I couldn’t risk seeing Mama’s ghost on the trail again, calling to me. Running through Letum Wood would revive all the memories I’d been trying so hard to keep buried. I’d never endure that kind of pain. My heart was just too frail.

He thought about what I said for so long that the silence became cumbersome. I opened my mouth to speak and closed it again. A few Guardians stumbled into the high bailey below us, laughing raucously over a joke about a gypsy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. I drew in a breath of hope. Mercy! He was going to show mercy and think of something else for me to do. My body nearly collapsed with relief. Perhaps Merrick wasn’t as ruthless and intense as I had thought. He continued, “But it’s time to face your fears and start running again. Let’s go.”

All my hope disappeared. He took off at an easy lope down the stairs on the outside of the Wall that led down to the gardens. I didn’t even have a chance to protest. His pace didn’t slow to a walk; he sped up. He couldn’t so much as put a friendly arm around my shoulder and say, “Let’s go easy on you this time.” No, none of that. He simply started running.

“Merrick, wait!” I called, starting after him. “Please?”

My cries went unheeded. Dread filled my stomach. I had to follow him or he’d tell Papa and the High Priestess. They’d demand an explanation. I’d have to talk about Mama again, and explain how frazzled the grief had made me.

I see Mama’s ghost in the woods now, Papa. I refuse to think or talk about it, so this is your only shot to learn how crazy I am now.

Forced to move forward, I let out a heavy sigh, following behind at a jog more worthy of a walk. My sluggish muscles moved with all the grace of wooden sticks at first. I felt like a toddler learning how to walk for the first time. Each step thudded heavy and leaden. I marveled that I ever used to run at all. Had it only been two months? It felt like so much longer.

Without saying another word, Merrick led us right to Letum Wood, canceling any hope I’d harbored that we’d run around the gardens.

“Keep up,” he said, ducking a low branch with a lithe side step. His body moved graceful and fast like a cat. “I don’t want to get separated while we’re in the forest.”

The rocks in the trail cut into the soft bottoms of my feet, and I mourned the hardened, calloused skin that once protected them. My heart beat uncomfortably hard and fast. When I didn’t adequately dodge a root, the hem of my dress snagged, and I spilled onto the trail, scraping my foot on an exposed stone and rolling onto my back.

“Wretched dress,” I muttered, shoving the skirt away from my face. Dirt coated my sweaty arms. My skin already felt sticky and flushed with heat. A scrape on the front of my leg dribbled blood onto my ankle. I ignored it and climbed back to my feet, purposefully keeping my eyes on the trail. Maybe I wouldn’t feel as homesick if I didn’t look at the trees, or study their brilliant green color. I’d just act like I wasn’t in Letum Wood at all.

Focus solely on the trail,
I told myself.
Nothing to see but dirt and rocks.

Merrick paused ahead and waited while I pulled myself back together. Seeing that he was watching, I pushed up and started to run again.

Prove you aren’t weak, Bianca.
I chanted to myself in a loop, using it as a mantra.
Prove you’re not afraid.

Merrick and I fell back into jogging without a word. I kept an eye on the trail snaking ahead of me, waiting to see patches of white in my peripheral vision. Despite my determination to only focus on the trail, every now and then my gaze flickered to my surroundings; I couldn’t help it. Letum’s call was far too strong.

Drapes of moss coated the thick tree trunks and crawled with blooming vines, leaves, and flowers. Branches clogged the air, soaring so far over my head I couldn’t make out the sky. It was dense, tall, and thick, but still beautiful in the way that only Letum Wood could be.

The earthy scent of pine provoked the memories first. They flittered through my mind like the birds chasing each other through the canopy, stretching their wings after a long winter slumber. In between the flashing tree branches I thought I heard Mama’s voice on the wind, calling to me. I pushed the thought away, forcing it back.

Don’t think about her. If you think about her, you’ll miss her. Allowing the memories only allows the pain. Protect your heart. Live without pain.

Before long I was gasping for breath, shuffling over the larger roots while Merrick hopped them. My tight muscles had loosened after the first few minutes but clamped back up when we hit the rolling hills. It took most of my concentration just to breathe, winding through the trails taking us away from the castle. Before long the path shifted, looping back. Merrick said little, but I could sense him change his pace when I really struggled, allowing me a short reprieve to catch a few extra gulps of air. But even with this extra time, he didn’t go easy on me.

Just when I thought I had control, when the memories had retreated so far in my mind I couldn’t feel their power, a flash of white stole my attention on the trail ahead. I looked up, and the magic flared in my chest with a burst of renewed strength.

A woman stood on the trail in front of me. Her loose linen dress shifted in the breeze, trailing down her slender, lithe figure. Gentle strands of the blackest hair rested on her shoulders, fluttering with the wind. She held a hand over her eyes, as if to shield them from the sun. My heart skipped a beat. I skidded to a dead stop, breathless. Merrick ran past Mama as if she didn’t exist, disappearing around a tight corner in the foliage.

“No,” I whispered, numb. “Not again.”

The woman smiled and called my name.

Bianca! Come home now. It’s time for dinner.

My heart knotted into a painful hole in my chest and I looked away.
No!
I wanted to scream.
Leave me alone! Let me move on!
But the words stuck in my throat, dammed with unshed tears.

I heard the sweet giggle of a little girl and spun around to see a small child with matching black hair and bare feet run up to Mama’s side. Mama picked her up and spun her around. Me. The little girl was me. Their gauzy, ethereal figures danced and twisted together.

“No!” I pressed my palms to my eyes. Every beat of my heart caused me physical pain. Playing on the trails of Letum Wood with Mama were my earliest memories. They haunted me now, reminding me of all I’d lost. “Go away!”

When I dropped my hands, the memory had faded, leaving nothing but a gentle giggle rolling through the air. I stood in the middle of the trail, panting. The power ballooned inside me, threatening to break free. I pushed it aside, forcing my mind to other things. Anything but Mama.

“Think of something else,” I whispered to myself, shoving the hair out of my face. “Say something in the Declan language. Curro. Tine Curro—”

“Bianca?”

Merrick crested the hill in search of me, the corners of his mouth pulled down in concern.

“Are you all right?”

“F-fine!” I said, stumbling forward, trying to shake it off. “I’m fine. I—”

The words stopped. How could I explain what happened without sounding like a lunatic?
I saw a ghost of my mother on the trail. Oh, I was there too, but I was only five.

“Why did you stop?” he asked.

His green eyes narrowed, looking more curious than annoyed. Perhaps he saw the way my hands trembled, or heard how my voice jumped around, unsteady and fearful.

“I-I don’t know. It was nothing.”

His forehead furrowed into deeper lines, but he didn’t say anything. Before my thoughts took a drastic twist into an overwhelming, paralyzing depression, I caught his gaze and said firmly, “I’m done.”

I whispered the incantation to transport and a comforting darkness embraced me. Pressure bore down on my eyes and face until my legs struck ground and I fell onto my side near the hedge boundary back at Chatham Castle. I exhaled in relief and climbed back to my feet.

Merrick transported next to me without a word, his jaw tight. I scrubbed all thoughts of Mama and Letum Wood away, thinking instead of soaking in a tub of ice water until my lips turned blue. Blue, yes. Cold. Frigid. Numb to pain.

“Tomorrow,” Merrick said, his green eyes distant. I wondered what he was thinking about my odd, frantic behavior. Would he tell Papa? “Same time. Meet me in the Forgotten Gardens.”

“Tomorrow,” I repeated, and walked away as fast as I could.

•••

“Ready for breakfast, B?” Papa called.

I came out of my bedroom and entered the main room of the apartment, shaking out my wet hair. A cold bath had shrunk the jittery feelings from the run to a manageable size, and my powers had retreated. I’d all but forgotten the brief encounter in that vague place we’d gone.

Papa’s apartment was sparse, but it felt like him, so I loved it. A brick fireplace filled the wall on the right, swathed with decorative bundles of willow boughs tied with twine. Two mustard-colored divans clustered around the fireplace on a woven black and tan rug. A few matching pillows plumped up the window seat overlooking Letum Wood, where I often curled up for naps in the sunshine. Swords and gleaming knives filled the rest of the walls. A pair of crossed spears hung above the door leading to the balcony.

Guardians bustled in the lower bailey below, preparing for their first training lesson of the day. Despite the early hour, the clang of swords kissing drifted up to the apartment. I glanced down with a grim face. The Guardians trained around the clock now, preparing for war with the West.