Garren walked into the chilled night air, his boots scraping against the dirt and stone, the sound echoing in the stillness. His head felt clouded and heavy, his vision hindered by disorientation. He could recall nothing of where he'd been before then.
Eidolon was illuminated by the glow of the moon. Shadows were his only company as he wandered past one deserted building after another. After a while, he found that he'd wandered to the oldest part of the dividing wall, made of iron and covered in thick ivy. It was unremarkable for a few paces, but as he approached an aperture, he caught a fleeting glimpse of red through the leaves.
He tore the ivy away and saw nothing for a moment. Then, just ahead of him, he caught another flash of moonlit red and he ran after it, tearing at the ivy every few feet in an attempt to catch her. Finally, he reached an opening, and though it wasn't the gate that he'd recalled, he found himself face to face with her.
He was speechless. She apparently was, too. If he could just see clearly – everything seemed so distant, so hazy. She stood in silence, her blue eyes not quite as bright as they'd been the last time he'd encountered her. He pulled his glove from his hand and reached through the bars, certain that she'd shy away.
She remained still as he swept his fingers across her cheek, her skin warm to the touch. He started to speak, but though he stood right in front of her, his very flesh upon hers, her presence felt like a beautiful illusion and some part of him feared that if he spoke, she'd vanish. He'd just parted his lips, willing to take the risk, when he heard a sickening scream.
At first he thought it was coming from the castle, but, to his horror, he saw the Moriors approaching her from behind. He pulled his hand back and tried the iron, finding it as solid as it appeared.
"Garren." Her voice trembled.
He tried to climb the wall, but every foothold failed him. He attempted in vain to use his powers to remove the wall between. His sight spun as he clung to her through the bars, her hands fastened on his arm so tightly that she broke his skin. As the sharp claws of the Moriors pierced her chest, he cried out.
Sweat poured over Garren as he bolted upright in bed, his heart beating hard. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to get his bearings. As he brought his hands back down to his sides, he felt a sting on his right arm and when he looked down, he could barely make out, in the faint light, a bloody tear where hands had clung to him. He traced it with his fingers, expecting it to vanish at any moment. His pulse quickened further as it dawned on him.
She said my name.
Michael was downstairs with Jenner when Kaitlyn tore around the corner.
"My Lord," she leaned over with her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. "She's screaming! She's asleep, but I can't wake her. I just know something's wrong."
Michael didn't wait to hear anything else. He grabbed Jenner by the arm and started up the stairs toward the north hall.
As he approached the back corridor, he heard her crying out and ran faster. It was a terrifying scream, sounding more from pain than fear. He reached the doors first and as he swung them open, he could see her thrashing about on the bed. As soon as he reached her, he took her by the arms and called her name, but just as Kaitlyn had said, Ariana didn't respond.
Jenner stepped forward. "Nor dunto lathoro toul verdet et antonai." As Jenner spoke, Ariana began to struggle less against Michael's hold. Her breathing stayed the same, as did the level of distress in her expression. "Navi lavotu ahnorno nigh say entiron laithos."
She fell limp against Michael.
"Ariana," Jenner said softly.
She stirred, turning her head, as if she were trying to push the dream away. Once she finally opened her eyes, she saw Michael first and clutched the sleeves of his shirt.
"Ariana," Michael turned her face to his. "You were dreaming."
Ariana couldn't speak right away. He pulled her to him, this time wrapping his arms around her, but felt his skin grow wet and warm. He lifted his hand to the light, and saw that it was covered in blood. Horrified, he looked to Jenner.
The elder reached over and pulled at Ariana's gown to expose long cuts that tore through her skin. They were superficial wounds, little more than scratches, but quite real.
Michael's eyes darkened, "Ariana, what aren't you telling me?"
She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a sob instead.
"Leave us," Michael said softly.
Jenner motioned for Kaitlyn to follow him into the hall. "Would you have me postpone tonight's affair until tomorrow?"
Michael looked at Ariana doubtfully. "Begin without us." He watched them disappear through the doorway before he turned back around. He could see in her eyes the hesitation to reveal anything and almost scolded her for it, but behind her reluctance was clear and unmistakable fear. He swallowed his disapproval and tried his best to be patient.
"What did you see in this dream?"
Ariana shook still but had calmed down enough to speak. "I saw Garren – Moriors – a place that I can only assume is Eidolon."
Michael's face hardened.
"He didn't do this to me," she whispered.
Michael closed his eyes and bent his head to keep from showing his fury. He could tell she was afraid to provoke him and he needed her to be honest with him. It was frustrating that she would consider the High Lord innocent in any way.
"Don't be foolish! He has no benevolence. Dark to his very core, whatever poison he is using to tempt you into thinking of him in any other way is straight from Ciara herself. Why didn't you disclose this before? I assume that this isn't the first time you've seen visions of him?"
"What could you have done?" she asked, quickly showing regret for her words.
"What would I not have done to prevent this?" Michael glanced away, reining in his emotions. "He's inflicted horrible deaths upon our people out of sheer spite. He's slain without consideration of gender or age – infants, women, children – it makes no difference to him. Blood is blood." He let go of her and rose from the bed. He walked to a small cupboard near the washstand, where he withdrew a washcloth and an unadorned green bottle. He sat back down on the bed beside her and motioned for her to lie down.
He moved aside the torn shreds of her gown with as gentle a touch as he could muster and tended to her wounds. He started to comfort her, but he couldn't say the words. Anger outweighed his sympathy. In all fairness, she was right, he didn't know what he could have done, but not telling him was unacceptable. She naturally would be guarded, given her childhood and the events of the last few weeks, but it wasn't an excuse to harbor such secrets. This, even for Garren, was extraordinary.
The cuts looked much better with the blood washed away. He placed the top back onto the bottle and laid it with the washcloth on the night stand.
"Are you angry with me?" she asked, her voice not much more than a murmur.
"I'm not pleased with your discretion, but I wouldn't use the word anger," he lied, not wanting to say much more for fear of revealing his real sentiments. She didn't respond, but lay still and wordless instead, as though she were waiting on his permission to move. He put his hand on her shoulder. "If you're well enough, change clothes. I will meet you in the hall. You are under no obligation to go if you aren't ready. There is always another night."
She shook her head. "I'll be ready in a few minutes." Her back was to him, her breathing still shallow.
He rose from the bed and walked toward the hall. Once outside, he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed on his chest. Blood throbbed in his head, blurring his vision. How could he intervene when the enemy was miles away? He'd expected the Ereubinians to grow in strength with their victory in Palingard, but this was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed. They'd displayed moderate powers of a trivial nature, like levitating objects or a mild persuasion, but nothing this malevolent.
He hadn't noticed the dog before, but Michael suddenly felt hot breath on his legs. Koen was sitting next to him, whimpering. He must've been locked out of the room. He ran his hand down the dog's head and back. "I think she would appreciate the company." He cracked the door enough for Koen to go through. Though it was muffled, he thought he heard Ariana cry out Koen's name and his heart sank. Was it really necessary for him to have been so harsh with her? She was miles away from what she'd known as her home, and though he felt he'd known her forever, she had more to take in than just his existence. She needed time to get used to everything – to get used to him.
As he waited, he paced back and forth through the hall. It was a habit of his. He'd worn furrows in the floor when Genny was ill. But this was so different. He'd at least known what to expect with her sickness. He couldn't begin to prepare himself for an enemy who could injure from afar.
Michael had stopped pacing and was leaning against the door when it moved behind him. He turned to see that her eyes were red and puffy. The gown she'd changed into was a deep navy blue with a silver beaded bodice and a white fur-lined cloak. Her hair fell in blood red ringlets past her shoulders.
It took him aback to see her in the dress, having only seen Genny wear it on one occasion -the ceremony for Michael's father. There'd been no body to bury, so they had held a vigil, lighting candles in his honor. All of Adoria had been united on that day.
"Ariana…"
"Not right now, please." She looked tired.
Nodding, he started to put his arm around her shoulder when she stepped out of his reach and walked ahead of him.
It was for her own good that he remained distant in his sympathies. As rightful ruler of Adoria, he couldn't entertain any notion of Garren's virtuousness, no matter how much it pleased his sister to do so.