Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (18 page)

‘I can’t fight you anymore,’ he says, and walks away.

Chapter
30

Stubborn

Tastes like: A walnut.

Smells like: Smoke
lingering in curtains.

Sounds like: Persistent
banging on a door.

Feels like: A hard,
unyielding chest.

Looks
like: A blood-stain.

I can’t fight you anymore.

Kael’s words from yesterday ring over and over in my head. I don’t
know exactly what he meant but there’s a queasy feeling in my stomach when I
replay our argument.

I desperately need someone to talk to about this and there’s only
one person who might understand how I feel, so I pick up my phone and dial her
number.

When she answers, sounding groggy from sleep, I realize
that, while I’m getting ready for college, she won’t need to wake up for at
least another hour.

‘I’m so sorry I woke you, my friend,’ I say immediately.
‘I’ll call back later.’

‘No, it’s fine, Shay,’ she replies quickly, ‘I’ve been
wanting to speak to you. How are you doing?’

I sigh and twist a cotton thread dangling from the
chiffon curtain around my finger. Now that I have Jenne on the other end of the
line, I’m debating whether it was such a great idea to call her in the first
place. We’ve chatted frequently since I arrived in Aylburton, but there is an
awkwardness that has crept into our conversations lately. I think it’s all the
unsaid things between us but I can’t exactly say: ‘Hey, Jen, guess what? I’m a
fairy! And I have a bodyguard and there are vampires trying to kill me!’

‘It’s hard to explain,’ I say. I stare dejectedly out
the window and realize, for the first time, just how alone I really am.

‘Oh.’ I can hear the disappointment in her voice. She
exhales loudly. ‘Listen Shaylee, I need to tell you something.’

There is a pregnant pause, and she says: ‘I know.’

I’m silent for a second as my mind races to consider the
possibilities of what she means. Does she know who I am? Does she know
what
I am? Have my parents said
something to her?

‘You know what?’ I ask cautiously.

‘I know who you are,’ she replies, ‘I know about the
Maor
.’ I remain silent and before her
words have a chance to sink in, she blurts out: ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you
before you left but -’

‘Whoa!’ I interrupt. My heart seems to stop beating in
my chest and a thickness settles in my throat. ‘You mean, you knew
before
I left?’

‘Yes, but -’

‘You knew and you didn’t you tell me?’ I demand. ‘You
knew how confused I was, Jen, why didn’t you just tell me the truth?’

‘They wouldn’t let me!’

‘Who? My parents?’

‘Yes,’ she says and there’s a hint of desperation
creeping into her voice, ‘and my dad.’

‘Your dad?’ I ask. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’

‘Well he’s your doctor, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah, since -’ I stop short as a sickening suspicion
enters my mind. ‘How long have you known?’

The long, tense silence that falls over the telephone
line is enough confirmation to send my heart plummeting to the bottom of my
stomach. I put my free hand around my middle and close my eyes. My world is
falling down around me and the one person who was my anchor is…My eyes fly open
and I ask, in a raw voice:

‘Oh my God, is that why you became my friend?’

‘No!’ Jenne says quickly. ‘It wasn’t like that, Shay!’

‘Then what’s it like, Jen?’ I snap. ‘Cause the way I see
it, this entire friendship has just been one big, fat lie.’ Another lie to add
to the growing pile that used to be my life. I feel the prick of tears and gulp
them back.

‘No, Shay, no…’ Jenne replies, in a softer voice. She gives
a deep sigh and continues.

‘When your parents arrived from England, they approached
my dad for protection. He’s not just a doctor, Shay, he’s a
witch
doctor.’

‘As in, like, Tokoloshe’s and bones and stuff?’

‘I’m sure you know now that there’s more to the stories
and myths than that,’ she says. ‘Anyway, my dad, gave you his mark of
protection -’

‘What mark?’

‘The little bone-shaped one below your ear, Shay. It’s
not a birthmark. It’s a mark of protection. It helps to tone down the energy of
your aura and lets other super-naturals know that you are under the protection
of a powerful person. Or should I say, you
were
protected…’

‘Were?’

‘Go look in the mirror.’

I tuck the phone between my right shoulder and ear and
hurry into the bathroom, pulling my hair back as I walk. I tilt my head toward
the mirror and gasp.

‘It’s gone!’

‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘you can’t really be under my dad’s
protection if you’re on another continent, and besides, you have Kael.’

‘But, why couldn’t I just stay, under your dad’s
protection?’

‘Even he isn’t that strong, Shay. Your aura just
exploded
after your birthday. Dad had
his hands full warding off the predators even those few days before you left.
He said you’re like a -’

‘- Beacon, yeah, Nan said that too. So,’ I shift
uncomfortably on the window seat, ‘are you
Maor
too?’

‘No,’ she replies, and my heart sinks. For a minute
there, I’d thought that just maybe, I wasn’t as alone as I’d thought after all.
‘I’m only half Shaman and the Shaman are different to the
Maor
in many ways. We aren’t responsible for the planet as you are,
nor are we tied to it. Our ties are to our ancestors and traditions.’
 
 

‘So where do you fit in?’
 

‘Well, your parents needed someone to keep an eye on you
at school, when they weren’t around, so -’

‘They asked you to spy on me.’

‘No, Shay!’ she insists. ‘I never
spied
on you. We’re best friends!’

‘Only because you had to get close to me.’

‘No,’ she says firmly. ‘We’re friends because I
want
to be your friend. You’re one of
the most awesome people I know and I love you to bits.’

I shake my head and nearly drop the phone from my ear.
Her words hurt, more so because I really want to believe them, but I can’t
ignore the facts.

‘True friends don’t lie to each other for ten years,’ I
say.

‘I didn’t have a choice -’

A light knock draws my attention to the bedroom door.

‘Hold on a sec, Jen.’ I pull the phone away from my ear
and go to open the door. Nan is standing there, on the landing and she looks a
little upset.

‘Is everything alright, Nan?’ I ask.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she says.

‘Sure…’ I reply, and then say into the phone. ‘I’ll call
you back later, Jen.’

‘But -’

‘Sorry, I really must go.’

I hang up on a protesting Jenne and focus my attention
on my grandmother. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her come upstairs before.

‘What’s wrong?’

She perches herself on the edge of the window seat and
pats the spot beside her.

‘We need to talk about this weekend.’

‘Okay..’ I take a seat next to her. ‘Is something
special happening?’

Nan takes my hand.

‘Something very special, yes. Tristan’s parents are
hosting the blood-promise ceremony for his cousin at their family lodge in
Dalby on Saturday and I think it would be a good idea for you to attend with
him. It will give you a chance to spend some quality time with your fiancé and
you’ll have the opportunity to meet his family.’

I nod, unsure of how I feel. I’d love to see this
ceremony that has linked me to Tristan but meeting his parents…

‘You’ll leave for Abbey Manor with Tristan and Kent on
Friday and spend the weekend at his family’s lodge.’

‘Kent?’ I ask. ‘Isn’t one bodyguard enough?’

Nan drops my hand and sighs heavily.

‘That’s the other thing we need to talk about,’ she says.
‘I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, Shaylee but you and Kael
need to sort it out before…’ she breaks off and puts one hand over her eyes.
‘He wants Kent to take over your protection permanently.’

I stare at her.
 

I can’t fight you
anymore.

Was this what he’d meant? The back of my throat closes
up.

‘He doesn’t want to be my
seastnan
?’

My grandmother’s green eyes bore into mine.

‘It’s not that easy, Shaylee. Being a
seastnan
isn’t something you choose,
it’s something you are born into and you can’t just throw it away,’ she says. ‘But
I also won’t force Kael.’

I fling my ponytail behind my back and cross my arms over
my chest.

‘Well that’s fine by me. I don’t need a protector and I
don’t need him.’

Nan shakes her head and exhales loudly.

‘It’s no wonder he doesn’t want to be around you with
that attitude.’

‘But -’

‘No Shaylee.’ Nan twists her body sideways to face me
and grabs my chin with one hand. ‘Kael is your
seastnan
and nothing either of you do or say will ever change that,
but for Kael’s sake, I’m going to honor his wishes – for now. Maybe some time
away will make you appreciate him.’

Not likely
, I think but I drop my eyes from hers and say nothing.

‘You’re just like your mother,’ she says. My eyes dart
back to hers. I’m not sure whether it’s a compliment or an insult.

‘You’re my granddaughter and I love you,’ she says, ‘but
you’re so damn pig-headed you can’t even see what’s for your own good.’ She
stands up from the window seat and makes her way toward the door, pausing at
the threshold. ‘You need Kael. The sooner you realize that, the better things
will be for all of us.’

Chapter
31

Out of place

Tastes like: A strawberry
in an Indian curry.

Smells like: Fresh bread
inside a mechanic’s workshop.

Sounds like: Alternative
music in an old-age home.

Feels like: The sand-paper
tongue of a soft, furry kitten.

Looks
like: A potato in a bowl of oranges.

The week passes in a blur and I find myself sitting in
the back seat of Tristan’s beamer, on the way to Dalby. Kent lounges in the
passenger seat, drumming his fingers against the dash in time with whatever
music is blaring through his earphones.
  

There is an odd emptiness inside me that has grown this
past week and I’m trying desperately to tell myself that it has nothing to do
with Kael, but I know it’s just another lie. I’ve seen him only twice this week.
On Wednesday, he’d walked into the
Bistro
where Michelle and I were having lunch. The minute he’d spotted me, he’d
turned and left.

The second time I saw him, was in the rearview mirror of
Michelle’s car. Since Kent still has to attend school, Jake and Nan agreed to
let me ride with Michelle for the week on condition that Kael follows us in his
truck. Every day, I have searched for him in the rearview mirror, but only once
did I see him, driving discreetly a few cars behind.

At night, Kent has made it a habit of coming around to
sit in the living room, watching those stupid comedies that he enjoys while I
stare out the front windows at the shadows in the line of trees between our
houses, wondering what Kael is up to.

Kent is fun and really seems to enjoy being on ‘protection
detail’ as he puts it, but he is young…
And
he’s not Kael
. I shake my head and try to divert my thoughts to the scenery
that is flashing by.

‘You’re very quiet.’ Tristan observes. I meet his eyes
in the rear-view mirror. ‘They’re not that bad, I promise.’

I give him a small, puzzled smile.

‘Who’s not that bad?’

‘My parents. They’re not easy to get on with, granted,’
he winks at me. ‘But I think they’ll like you.’

‘Oh?’ I say, relieved that he has put my silence down to
nervousness about meeting his parents, but his words release a prickle of
anxiety. ‘Will
I
like
them
?’

He grins. ‘You’ll love my dad. He’s funny, and a real
gentleman.’

‘Sounds great, and your mother?’

His smile fades and he drops his eyes back to the road
ahead. ‘Hhmm…we’ll see.’

An awkward silence falls in the car, broken only by the
intermittent drumming of Kent’s fingers on the dashboard. The scenery flies
past outside, evergreen and slowly becoming drenched in the steady rain that
has begun to fall. The tap of the raindrops against the windshield is out of
sync with Kent’s finger-drumming and seems to emphasize the unnatural silence
in the car. I search for a ‘neutral’ topic of conversation and settle on the
upcoming ceremony.
 

‘How old is your cousin?’ I ask.
 

‘Katelyn’s six months,’ he replies.

‘Isn’t that a little young?’

‘It’s the standard age for a blood-promise.’

I take in this bit of information with growing
curiosity. I may have started this conversation just to break the silence, but
I
am
very interested in what is going
to happen this weekend. I’d like as much insight as possible into what I’ve
missed from my own life.

‘Were we…was I -’

‘You were just under a year when we were promised.’

Tristan’s eyes meet mine in the mirror and I blush. It
feels
intimate
to be talking about
this ceremony with him, especially with Kent sitting right there.

‘And Katelyn’s, um…betrothed?’ I ask. ‘How old is he?’

‘Eight months.’

I glance at Kent, who is still sitting, eyes closed,
bobbing his head to his earphones, then I ask Tristan:

‘Why was he chosen for Katelyn?’

Tristan glances at me in the mirror with raised
eyebrows.

‘Well, he is of royal descent -’

‘No, I mean, why was
he
chosen? I mean, aren’t there others of royal descent to choose from? Why
him
specifically?’

Tristan’s brows draw together as he studies my
reflection.

‘There really aren’t that many of us, Shaylee, so the
choice is very limited but - since the primary goal is the continuation of our
line - the
Tanistry
tries to choose a
boy who is healthy and closest to the age of the princess first. Then they
start looking at peripherals like politics.’

‘So it’s the
Tanistry
who decides who each person should marry?’

Tristan nods. ‘Well, if you’re royalty, yes.’

I take my bottom lip between my teeth and glance out the
window at the rain running down the glass.

‘It doesn’t bother you?’ I ask after a moment.

‘What?’

‘That you don’t get to choose for yourself?’

I meet his gaze in the mirror and see that look in his
eyes again – the one that looks like hurt.

‘You’re not happy with the choice they made for you?’

‘No, it’s not that,’ I say, ‘I was just wondering. I
mean…don’t you wish you had some say in your own life, in your future? Don’t
you wish you could make your own decisions?’

‘I
do
get to
make my own decisions.’

I shake my head and clasp my hands in my lap.

‘I’m talking about serious, life-changing decisions; like
where you live, what you study and who you want to spend the rest of your life
with.’ I sit forward and grip the back of his chair. ‘Don’t you want to fall in
love?’

‘I do -’

‘No,’ I interrupt, ‘I mean
real
love; head over heels, heart-thumping, love. Not duty. There’s
a difference.’

Tristan shakes his head and catches my eyes in the mirror.
‘I know what real love is, Shaylee,’ he says, ‘and it’s much more than the
physical things you’re describing.’

I try to drag my eyes away from his face but I can’t.
There is something so beautifully melancholy in the way he is looking at me.

‘You’ll see...soon, I hope,’ he says, and turns his eyes
back to the road ahead.
  

 
If I’d thought
Nan’s double storey home imposing, the sheer size of Abbey manor is astounding.
The mansion rises, like something from a Jane Austen novel, from its valley of
lush grass, tucked between the tall trees of Dalby forest. The entire eastern
wall is covered in ivy that clings to all three storeys of the impressive
building, right up to the slanted black-slate roof. The green lawns that
surround the manor are dotted with rose-beds and a fine mist hangs just below
the second-storey cottage-pane windows, like tentacles, seeking entrance to the
luxurious bedrooms.

We are greeted by the hotel staff and shown to our
bedrooms, all three located on the second storey and decorated in accordance
with the exterior, with redwood armoires, starched white linen and a carved
coat rack behind the door. The view is charming, overlooking a garden-maze with
a statue of a merman as its centerpiece. Farther out, I can see a meadow,
dotted here and there with color, and edged by the shadowy pines of the forest.

I’m grateful that I have a chance to change out of my
travel-weary clothes into something fresh and worthy of a first-time meeting
with Tristan’s parents. Apparently there is to be a cocktail party tonight, at
which I am to meet Mr. and Mrs. Westwood and their other guests. I’m not sure
who makes up the guest list, but Tristan did warn me that there will be other
Royal guests, as well as members of the
Tanistry
.
No pressure...
  

I shower in the adjoining bathroom and slip into a
strappy, silky aqua number that ends just above the knee. It’s a simple dress,
but I think I look decent enough in it and everyone says it brings out the color
of my eyes. I add a touch of makeup, look in the mirror and sigh. On second
thought, maybe the dress wasn’t such a great choice. It draws too much
attention to my eyes, which are already too large in my pale face, but I don’t
have any other dresses with me besides the one for the ceremony, so it’ll have
to do.

I add an additional layer of pink lip-gloss, perch on
the bed and page through the glossy magazine on the bedside table. It’s a local
print that details the many attractions and activities available to Dalby
forest visitors.
 
I’m about three
quarters of the way through an article on the protection of fauna and flora in
Dalby when there is a light knock at the door.

‘You decent?’ Kent calls from the passageway.

‘Yes, come on in.’

I set the magazine beside me on the bed.

Kent swaggers in, looking smart but very
out-of-character in a crisp white shirt and black pants that look a little too
baggy on him.

‘Tristan asked me to take you down to the bar. Did you
know they have their own arcade downstairs? This place is rad!’

I smile and follow Kent’s lanky figure downstairs to the
bar, where a number of arriving guests are already congregating for cocktails. The
minute I walk into the room, I feel underdressed and out of place. The women
here are all in glittering cocktail dresses that look like something from the
fashion channel. They all look up as I enter and their eyes pass over me to
Kent, before they promptly dismiss us and return to their conversations. I
breathe a sigh of relief and find a corner where we can watch the crowd,
without drawing attention.

There are at least four other royals – well I assume
they are royal because of the black and white clad men that shadow each of them
– probably bodyguards, or
seastnan
.
The other guests flock and flank each of these elegant women in discreet
cliques.

Then Tristan enters the room and the conversations stop
as all eyes turn to him. He stands in the doorway a moment and looks around the
room. When his eyes find me in the corner, he walks across the room and I’m
horrified when the groups of guests follow his line of sight, directly to me. I
gulp back my nervousness and return Tristan’s smile as he pulls me forward, to
a couple that I hadn’t noticed behind him. The woman, bedecked in glittering
diamond and platinum jewelry, eyes me with disdain. I force my chin up and meet
her gaze.

‘You must be Shaylee.’ The man beside Tristan steps
forward, arms outstretched and face beaming. I had barely noticed him standing
in the shadow of his wife, but now my eyes gravitate to his face and I can’t
help the answering smile that spreads across my lips. His smile, so genuine,
transforms his otherwise very plain face into something princely.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Westwood,’ I say, stepping
into his firm embrace.

‘Tristan didn’t say you were beautiful too!’

I blush and step back from his arms. Tristan was right,
I already like him.
 

‘Shaylee, darling,’ Tristan’s mother says and I have to
force my previously genuine smile to stay on my face. There is something
unauthentic in the tone of her voice and the way she kisses the air beside each
of my cheeks. ‘I’m so thrilled you could join us this weekend.’

She turns to her son, the mirror image of her blonde
beauty. ‘Tristan, where are your manners? Get your fiancé a drink.’

‘Yes, mother.’ Tristan inclines his head to his mother
in a deferent gesture that is completely at odds with his usual confidence. He
gives me a somewhat apologetic glance and heads off in the direction of the
bar.

‘Come, darling,’ Mrs. Westwood links her arm through
mine and I give Tristan’s back one last desperate look as she sweeps me into
the milling guests.