“Why do you not use your rarity, Alora?”
Her chin lowers slightly and the soft glow dulls before cutting off, casting us in the shadows of the night once again.
I watch her face become shielded. Tipping her chin upwards to bring her eyes to mine, I ask her, “Do you feel shame about having such rare magic?”
A slight blush creeps along her cheeks and she answers. “I…I don’t know how to harness the light.”
My brows pull up. I wasn’t expecting that.
“You don’t know how to use your gift? You never learned?” I keep my words level, contained. Careful to not make her self conscious, though my insides hammer against the idea of her not knowing how great her magic is, I wait for her to reply.
“My parents weren’t given magic, they had no idea how to help me.” The small confession causes my thoughts to turn chaotic. It’s unheard of to have reguls produce a child with abilities.
I begin to massage little swirls into her hand that’s grabbed mine if on instinct.
“We lived in a seaside village near The Isle of Meridian. There wasn’t a large magic population and my father was a mapmaker.”
Dawning realization snakes along my spine. I had been there, nearly eight turns ago, searching for a child that was said to possess a true rarity. A child that was never found.
I let go of her hand and my insides twist into an icy knot.
If she’s who I think she is…
He can’t have her.
“What was the village name?” By the goddess my tone hasn’t changed and Alora appears to not have noticed my shifting demeanor.
She’s looking into the sky, studying the moons, and for once, I’m thankful she can’t see my expression. Especially when she answers, “Saultmaus. But it’s long gone now.”
My frozen insides feel heavier. Of course it’s gone. I burned it to the ground.
She had led me to the stony portcullis after she revealed more than I bet she realized. We made a pallet of old mothworn blankets and straw, and she currently lays in my arms, curled into me with her back to my chest.
Had she known I was there all those turns ago, when her village was razed? Chances were she did, and that has mequestioning why she would choose to stay with me, the man who literally left no one alive in a bout of desperation to please the king.
“Kassiel,” she begins, “what’s caused you to grow silent?” Her fingers trace along my bare forearms. Her touch brings me closer to feeling like more than a husk of a beast.
“Saultmaus.” The tracing stops and I can feel her chest still, as if she’s holding her breath.
“I was there,” I continue. I can’t hide this from her, not when she deserves to know the truth or at least the form of it I know.
I’m prepared for her to turn from me, to leave right now. For her to realize that she’s a sacrificial lamb laid at the feet of the beast ready to devour her.
“I know.” Her words are quiet. Resolved. Her chest rises as she inhales deeply. “I know you were there. We’d heard rumors of you and The Nightmare. I’d been laying in the saltgrass, making flower chains while reading and had fallen asleep.”
She shudders so I pull the blanket closer and rub her arms that have fallen still.
“When I awoke, I could smell the smoke before I saw the flames.”
Goddess, she was there. How she managed to stay hidden was by the fates doing.
She continues, her words a mere whisper, “I found my family. At least I know they perished together.” She pulls away from me and I release her. Her body shifts and she pushes into a sitting position, her arms wrapped around her legs as she looks out the window of the portcullis.
Stars fall in the horizon, the tailend chasing them until they fade out. I watch as her shoulders sink lower, resigned.
I clear my throat, “I’m…I am sorry, Alora.” I roll away from her and turn my back to her until I’m facing the village.
Moments pass and I watch torchlight flames flicker in the gentle breeze. Her back leans against mine and she settles.
