Finding Eden (26 page)

“
No you don't.”

“
Why do you say it
like that?” I ask him.

“
Because if you
truly disagreed with me on something then you wouldn't actually agree
with me,” he says, “I'm sorry to say it, Eden, but I've
been around a lot longer than you, so unfortunately, I do know a lot
more than you do.”

“
How old are you
again?” I joke.

He sighs.

“
Okay, okay,”
I say. “I'll leave it alone.”

“
Now tell me why
you left the meeting.”

“
I left because I
don't need to be there. I appointed Marius lead a while ago and he's
been making the executive decisions for me. So far it hasn't
backfired. And it seems the other strategists are finally listening
to him.”

“
That doesn't
really explain why you left.”

“
I got bored.”

He sighs, “Of
course you did.”

“
What is that
supposed to mean?”

“
Nothing.”

“
Who do you think
those men where? The ones who were in the records room?”

“
I don't know.”

“
They weren't
supposed to be in there, right?”

“
No, they weren't,
and it's something I'm definitely going to be looking into.”

Weeks have gone by and
most days I spend in the war room attempting to find a way to not be
ambushed at every turn of events. Even after all my advisers have
left, after Marius has stepped out and Sahariel slumps in a chair in
the corner, I still stand and stare at the damn map in the middle of
the room in an attempt to figure everything out.

I slump slightly and rest
my forehead on the table, the tiny mountains digging into my flesh. I
breathe out and the lakes ripple and the trees bow. I just don't know
what to do anymore. Everything is so complicated. And for some reason
I'm kicking myself for not having played the game Risk when I was
younger, especially since, somehow, the enemy knows our moves, our
weaknesses. All of which has caused the strategists to call me in.
And on top of all of this, Sahariel and I still haven't been able to
get back to the records room to check out the other books. My family
record book is tucked away, safely pushed between my mattress and box
spring of my bed.

“
Dammit!” I
scream and slam my fist down on the map. It shifts momentarily before
returning to its natural state.

Sahariel jumps up from
his seat, having fallen asleep and waking from the loud bang my fist
made when it collided with the table.

“
Are you alright?”

“
I'm fine,” I
say, “just a little frustrated.”

Sahariel walks up behind
me, putting a hand on my lower back and makes light circular motions
which almost immediately calm me.

“
It's late; you
really need to get to sleep.”

“
I know. I just
can't sleep well without figuring all of this stuff out.”

“
Well standing here
staring at the map and smacking it out of frustration isn't going to
help the situation at all.” He says, “Come on. Let's get
you to bed.”

He pulls me from the
room, his hand gently clasping mine. My feet automatically follow him
without my brain telling them to, which is a good thing since I'm too
busy reeling over the sensations his touch is sending through my
body. Before I know it, Sahariel has pulled me into my room and has
us stopped right next to my bed. I look at it slightly dumbfounded,
not realizing we got here so quickly, but then I'm embarrassed. I can
feel my face flush and I hope he doesn't notice.

“
Time for bed,”
he says.

Sahariel pushes me back,
forcing me to sit on the edge of my bed. I look up at him. I'm
shocked. I don't know what to do, I don't know what he's doing, and
my brain is running a million scenarios within seconds.

Sahariel looks down at my
face and chuckles at the expression that I feel might stay there
forever. He smiles at me and my heart pounds a little harder, which
it somehow can do without breaking through my ribs. I feel him close
in and my breathing hitches. He puts his lips to my forehead, placing
a chaste kiss there. Then he pulls away.

“
Goodnight,”
he says to me as he walks from the room.

I blink at the closed
door for a few minutes, not really sure what to do. I think I should
go to bed, but I'm too dumbstruck to move. Finally, after regaining
some control over my heavy limbs, I rub my face vigorously, change my
clothes, pull back the covers and crawl into bed. I lie in the middle
of my bed and stare at the ceiling. I feel my eyelids get heavy and
soon I'm drifting off to a very light sleep.

Rain is hitting my window
loudly, making my eyes flutter open after what feels like only
moments after closing them. I stare outside, but it's still too early
for the sun to be out. I sigh. I wish I had a clock so I could know
what time it is. But it's pointless. Clocks don't work here. I sit up
in bed, the covers sliding off of me as my feet hit the ground and I
stand up. The only thing I can think of doing at this late of an hour
is looking at my family’s record book. I kneel down and grab
it. I take it over to my desk, light a candle and begin the same
thing I had done before I went to sleep. Stare at it until it gives
me answers.

Sighing, I flip through
the pages and let my eyes skim over them. The last page hits the rest
lightly and I frown. The spine cracks and I cringe as I look at the
binding. I feel bad when I see that the binding is coming lose from
the back cover, the paper curling off the back. I run my finger over
it, hoping that maybe I can smooth it back down.

But it feels odd. The
back cover binding feels bumpy, sort of lop sided. Amidst the hazy
cloud of exhaustion, I begin to feel a little curious. My fingernails
start to pry at the binding, slowly peeling it away from the back
cover. And that's when it happens. A neatly folded piece of parchment
slips from behind the record book's bindings and onto my desk.

I blink down at the
paper.

I pick it up and gingerly
unfold it. My fingers rub against a rough edge and it feels like it
was torn. I stare down at the page, my eyes adjusting to the lighting
and the faded ink on the torn page. My brain, muddled from lack of
sleep, can't quite figure out what the hell I'm looking at. Then it
dawns on me.

I run my fingers firmly
down the creases in the paper, flattening it out the best that I can.
I open the book, the pages automatically falling open to their normal
spot. I press all my weight into the book, forcing it open even
farther than it wants to, the glue in the spine cracking, the binding
protesting. When I can finally see the remnants of a torn page in the
spine of the book, I grab the piece of paper and I lay it in the
book.

They match. Perfectly.

Is it really that simple?
Did the person who ripped this page out simply tuck it back into the
book for someone nosy enough to find? I stare down at the page,
slipping it to the side so I can see what was changed.

My eyes dart back and
forth a couple of times. The whole thing looks the same. But then my
eye catches it. The one difference is a marriage. Or a lack thereof.
Three names are missing: Sarai, Horem, and Illidan. But why would
they be taken out. Am I seriously related to Illidan? Is he my –
I try and figure out the connection in my head – some number
cousin-in-law, some number removed?

Fingers trace the ties
between us. My grandfather’s sister, Jora, married a man named
Braden. Braden has two siblings, Malnor and Giana. Malnor married
Daisy, who (by the name) I'm pretty sure is human, and they had three
kids, Alexia, Matia and Sarai. Sarai marries Horem, and they have
Illidan. But none of this explains why that little bit of my very
extended family was removed.

I smack my face with my
palm, wincing at the sting, and let my head hit the desk. I groan. I
lean back in my chair, tilting the whole thing back so it sits on its
back two legs. I let out a frustrated sigh.

“
Eden?” A
voice questions from the other side of the door, surprising me.

I jump, startled, and my
arms flail. I lose my balance and soon I'm falling backward toward
the floor. The ground emits a loud thump as I make contact, my head
barely avoiding the floor. My breath leaves me with a loud oomph.

“
Eden?”

I scramble up from the
floor, snatch the paper off the desk and try and figure out what to
do with it.

“
Eden?!”

“
Yeah?” I
look around for a good hiding spot.

“
Are you okay?”

I fold the piece of paper
up hastily and cram it in the first place I can think of. I crawl
under my desk and jam it between the front of the desk and a support
beam. I manage to crawl out from under my desk in time to see the
person from the other side of the door come rushing in.

Sahariel's eyes take in
the scene. The tipped over chair and me still on the floor beside it
looking frazzled.

“
Didn't I tell you
to go to sleep?”

“
I did,” I
say, “I just ended up waking up. I couldn't go back to sleep
though.”

I sit there for a moment
on the floor and Sahariel frowns down at me.

“
Don't you ever go
to sleep?”

I get up from the ground
and right the chair. I don't know when he does it, but he manages to
sleep at some point in the day when he isn't always right at my side.
And even now he looks as if he's managed to get a full nights rest.
He is fully dressed in something completely different then what he
was wearing before and doesn't even look like he's been rushed.

“
I do,” he
says.

“
When?”

He shrugs, “I have
to remain somewhat mysterious, don't I?”

“
Not really.”

He chuckles and helps me
stand all the way back up and makes me sit on the edge of my bed. His
hands push down on my shoulders, making me sit, and then
they
move from there down to my legs. I suck in a breath as his fingers
slowly, but methodically, move down my legs.

“
Are you hurt
anywhere?”

I shake my head, not sure
if my voice is able to work. But I continue to watch, dumbfounded, as
his fingers carefully play down my legs and his fingers wrap around
my ankles lightly, testing them.

“
Well,” he
says after a moment, “it looks like you're still in one piece.”

I still don't trust my
voice, especially with my heart lodged in the throat.

He smiles and pats my
knee.

“
Now get back to
bed,” he says.

He looks at me once more
before he opens the door, walks through it, and closes it behind
himself.

I haven't told Sahariel
about the pages I found, and as I sit at my desk and watch him from
the corner of my eye, I don't know if I should.

“
Who do you think
those men were?”

“
Hmm?”
Sahariel looks up from his book in the corner.

“
Those men who were
in the records room,” I say. “They weren't supposed to be
there, and from the sound of their hushed tones, whatever they were
up to didn't seem good. What else, aside from family records, are
stored there?”

“
It's the records
room” he says, “property records, financial, you name it.
Anything that can be recorded is, and it's put in that room.”

“
Who writes the
information down?”

“
About 99% of the
time no one. Magic records everything automatically, even things you
wish weren't.”

My mind stops on that bit
of information, “So you're telling me that there may be some
information in that room that has the potential to be very damaging.”

“
I never looked at
it that way, but yes.”

“
I want the magic
on the door changed to recognize only me,” I say after a few
moments of thought. “Those men were up to something, and I want
it stopped.”