Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (14 page)

He laughed.
“Inept are you?’

I tried to frown at his insult
, but I was having too much fun, and he was much too adorable to fight with. He smiled wickedly, leaning in to my ear. “You are beautiful,” he whispered. My ears burned; I was sure I heard him wrong, but I couldn’t help blushing. He pulled back; his green eyes were bright and slightly lazy, and though I would have thought it impossible, he looked even lovelier than I had seen. 

“I want to show you something,” he said with a slight hint of boyish nervousness
. It took me off guard, sending a flight of butterflies throughout my stomach.

“Okay,” I smiled
, feeling extremely shy all of a sudden.

He grabbed my hand and led me through the lo
ng castle halls out to the yard. I felt some of the girls’ eyes digging into my back as I exited with him, but I didn’t care; the wine made me helpless to his power.

The cool air hit my face with a gust of refreshment
, and I took a deep breath, realizing I had been holding it. His head was tilted up to the thick illuminated white clouds that rolled across the sky as though searching for something. He continued to pull me through the fields until we were back at the fenced in area by the horse stables.

“Wait a moment,” he said, still watching the sky, “the clouds are shifting.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes to the sky. “So, why do they call you Bran?” I had been curious about it all day.

             
He lowered his gaze, glancing at me from the corner of his eye with an odd look on his face. “It is just a childhood name.” He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms against the horses’ pen.

             
I turned so my back was against the pen, giving me a good view of his beautiful face. “What does it mean?” I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. Even if I learned everything about him, it would not be enough. 

             
He twisted his body slightly, left elbow resting on the tall fence and hand pushing the front of his hair up, holding it as he looked directly at me with eyes so marvelous I had to fight to keep my focus. “It means raven,” he said quietly as he stood straight.

             
I thought it was an odd nickname. He was nothing like a raven. I had heard him call Arthur, Bear. A name like
that
would make sense. He was big, strong, and brave; a raven was none of those things.

             
He laughed a little at the expression on my face and turned some more so that he now had his back against the fence the same way I did. “My mother called me that.” His voice was almost sad. “She thought me devious, dark-soul and all.” He paused a moment. “Ravens bring ominous messages.” He glanced at me seriously, but behind the wicked black was still a playful green; the green I loved. “Same as me,” he said with a small smile.

             
“You’re not bad…” Although for a moment, I started to understand the nickname, sometimes his eyes did look dark and devious, but I refused to believe that he really was. I tilted my head to the side giving him a small smile, pleased that the darkness faded into a brighter green as he smiled back. 

             
He laughed. “She would not agree with you.” He pointed a playful finger at me, raising his brow as he did so. “Trouble was always by my side. It drove her and my father to madness.” He looked up towards the cloudy sky. “My father was not around often, could not endure being near me or at least that is what my mother told me.” He frowned looking far into the distance, biting his thumbnail. “Although, she was not so pleasant herself.”

             
I pictured a lonely green-eyed boy, and my heart plummeted, but even with the wine, I still didn’t feel brave enough to reach out to touch him. He was unpredictable, and although he was lighthearted right now—clearly from the beer— most of the time he was either brooding and irritable or mischievous like he was about to play some wicked trick.

             
He shook his head and looked back at me, and much to my surprise, his eyes still looked playful. “The name just stuck; it fits me,” he said with a shrug.

“Surely
, she didn’t really think you were devious…” I twisted a strand of my long hair around my finger trying to keep the conversation light, but desperately wanting more information.

             
He grinned devilishly crossing his arms. “She
surely
made it seem that way.”

             
I smiled back at him. “What could you have possibly done to make someone think that?”

The smile dropped
, and he turned back to look at the horses before leaning his forearms against the post again, and I felt nervous that I had ruined his mood by asking too much.

             
“They’re beautiful,” I said, changing the subject as I stared at the valiant horses in the moonlight. He kept his eyes forward, but his lips curled upwards.

              “I use to wish to be one of them.” He flicked his hand towards a black stallion. “I dreamed about running, never having to stop until
I
wanted to. But then one day I realized they were just as trapped as I was, if not more. I despised it, so one night…” his voice changed into a suspenseful tone, “I snuck into the stables and freed them all, whipped them as hard as I could, so they would run and never turn back.” He stood up tall and made a whipping motion with his hand. “I thought I was noble for that.” He raised an eyebrow at me before looking off again, biting on his thumbnail again. “My father’s men found two of them torn to pieces by some wild animal.” He lowered his gaze and kicked a lump of grass with his boot. “My father made me pay for that,” he whispered, wincing. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was what he had meant about terrible fathers, but then he glanced up, looking slightly embarrassed. “He left shortly after and my mother blamed me. I suppose that time it was truly was my fault. It was the last time I ever saw him.”

             
I wrinkled my brow. “Why? What happened?”

             
He bit his lower lip and looked straight ahead. “He was killed in some dispute.” He shrugged his shoulders and began picking at the wood chips on the fence post. “It was all my mother could handle; she hates me for that. The only good thing that arose was she let Merlin take me to Tewdrig’s for fostering, and that is where I met Bedivere, Kay, and Arthur.” He tried to keep his voice light, but even from the side his eyes gave away the sorrow.

             
“I’m sorry,” I said, filled with pity, suddenly understanding why the conversation of home at upset him. He looked at my expression and suddenly his features hardened.

             
“Do not be, I hardly remember it,” he said darkly, looking regretful.

             
“It wasn’t your fault about your father,” I added, not sure the sudden change in his expression.

             
He’s eyes flashed, the playfulness gone. “Of course it was, if I had not made him leave, he never would have been in that situation.” 

             
I thought for a moment, trying to be careful with my words. “My grandpa use to tell me that you don’t have to know where you came from to know where you are going. You only need to know where you are.” I looked at his puzzled face. “What I mean is there are hundreds of ways to end up in the same place. Numerous situations could have brought your father to that situation. You were only a child; you can’t blame yourself.”

             
He stayed quiet for a moment, thinking on the words but then he shook his head, looking back down. “Where you come from matters for everything.” He sighed. “You just do not see me clearly, Katarina.”

             
I shook my head, thinking of him saving me from the dragon and the troll and his adorable persona. I saw him clearly, just not wholly. I believed he was egotistical and most certainly self-centered, but I was becoming convinced that part of his callous façade was a show, a daunting shield to hide behind; he covered his pieces well. “Maybe you don’t see yourself clearly…”

             
He looked up at me and half-smiled, obviously not wanting to ruin his good mood with an argument, and I was glad. “I do not see anything clearly tonight,” he joked. “No more of me.” He waved his hand officiously. “What about you? Any childhood names?”

             
“Just Kate… but it doesn’t mean anything.” I laughed.

             
“So Kate, but not Kat.” His lips twisted upward.

             
I wrinkled my nose. “I hate Kat.”

             
He gave a belly deep laugh at my expression, and I loved the sound. “Cats, devilish little creatures are they not?” He wrinkled his nose back at me. “I despise them.”

             
I smiled, finding him hopelessly adorable; it wasn’t fair.

             
“But you clearly love dogs.” He pointed at me matter-of-factly, smile tugging on his lips.

             
“Yes… even mangy, broken ones,” I teased.

             
He chuckled. “That I will never understand.” He shook his head, pushing his palm across his eyebrow. “A useless, disobedient, insignificant dog is not worth loving,” he murmured quietly.

“Dogs are the best.
” I leaned my elbows on the wooden post, cupping my chin with my hands as I watched the horses. “They’re loyal and love you no matter what you do, even the disobedient ones. People can learn a lot from dogs, you know,” I continued to ramble. “If people were as loyal, protective, and comforting as dogs, the world would be a better place.”

His eyes went wide
, and as his mouth twitched with amusement, probably debating on whether he should laugh at me or not, I realized I had said far too much.

I blushed,
damn wine
. I covered my face with my hands, taking a small peek at him from the corner of my eye. He appeared to take mercy on me because instead of laughing at my ridiculousness, he only smiled and nodded. Then he looked back up to the clouds that finally rolled past, clearing the beautiful sky. He was suddenly energetic, and I was thankful for the distraction.

“Th
is is what I wanted to show you.” He pointed excitedly at the stars lining the sky. “See that cluster there?”

I squinted, unsure of which cluster he meant. The sky was filled with them.

He stood behind me, directing my head to the spot he was talking about. “Right there, you see?”

I nodded, realizing I had been holding my breath at the closeness of his body.

He stayed behind me and quietly spoke his beautiful melody in my ear. “My father use to tell me that is the spot where great warriors reside. They are off from the northern star because it is not their responsibility to lead but to protect. He said a protector actually has a greater purpose than the leader because without the protectors, the leaders would perish.” I could feel him sigh and imagined his brilliant green eyes staring up into the night sky, but I was too afraid to turn around; I was afraid of ruining this moment.

“I think your father was right,” I whispered.

He laughed. “I think that might have been the one thing he was right about. I grew up believing him, and when Arthur pulled the sword, for the first time I knew what I was meant for. It is my responsibility to protect him, and I do not even care if I get a place in the stars; I just want him to be safe.” He moved to my side, leaning on the fence again, resting his chin on his forearms as he kept his eyes up to the sky. “He is going to do great things. He already has.” He looked at me seriously. “Britain is going to turn around just because of him.”

I smiled.
“But most importantly because of his protectors.”

He gave me a small half-smile; it was almost shy-like, very uncharacteristic from his usual arrogant demeanor. “Mostly because of him
, but I suppose Gawain, Lance, Kay, and Bedivere help contribute.” 

“And the little raven prince,” I teased, feeling brave by his good mood.

He grinned, standing straight. “Little huh?’ He looked down at his body. “I always thought myself big.”

I cocked my head to the side pretending to look him over
. “Hmmm, I think Gawain almost took you…”

He laughed.
“Well, he is half troll.”

I laughed louder than I wanted
, but I couldn’t help thinking of the huge troll and Gawain being related. He carelessly chuckled with me, and for a moment I lost myself as I watched the emeralds twinkle brighter than the stars in the night. I had already been aware of the nonsensical lure I had to guard him, along with the outlandish obsession to solve the ambiguity of what was him, and I had even become mindful that I was a hopeless victim to being utterly attracted to him—after all, not even a blind person would be immune to his beauty—but there was something in this moment that caused me to lose the reason that had kept my feet grounded to the floor. It was as though I finally found my breath, and my lungs filled with air, elating me from the ground as this unexpected blithely persona penetrated past my skin and moved into the depths of my soul finding its home at the center of my heart, and all the love that currently resided in me shifted over to make a place to hold him. I knew after this I would never be the same. I had dangerously fallen, helplessly enchanted with his charm.