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“She wants to know,” Fionnuala said, “why your father sneaks into their airship?”
Emrys blinked and turned from Fionnuala to Mari and back to Fionnuala. “You told her?”
“Did not have to. Would not have though.”
Emrys wanted to know how she knew Owain was his father but also how she knew he had spent the last month and a half inspecting the airship, trying to discover its secrets, but communication, even with Fionnuala’s help, was slow and laborious.
He didn’t want to waste his time with her talking about his father. “Tell her the truth.”
Fionnuala snorted. “You.”
“Can’t.”
“The point is for you to learn and you will not learn without trying. Now, you tell her.”
In the week since discovering Fionnuala spoke the strangers’ language, communication had increased and eased but Emrys took Fionnuala’s translation efforts for granted. His learning of Faro slowed and even worsened as he relied on Fionnuala.
He took a breath and turned to Mari and spoke in a faltering, butchered approximation of Faroise. “He no know airship. He know airship.”
“Wants to know,” Fionnuala said.
Emrys nodded. “He want know airship.”
Mari nodded and said something to Fionnuala that Emrys didn’t attempt to understand. This became his problem with Fionnuala there. It was as if a part of him knew she knew and so he stopped trying to learn.
He forced himself to focus. To watch their lips move.
Fionnuala responded and said something like, Speak to him or Say it to him or Tell him.
Mari took a breath and spoke in his own language. Or tried to. “Why no ask?”
It was strange to speak in her language while she spoke in his but Fionnuala insisted this was the best way. That this taught both of them and forced them to begin to think in each other’s language. Emrys said to Fionnuala, “Owain doesn’t want them to know Graelish.”
Fionnuala shrugged and Mari cocked her head, not understanding, or at least not fully understanding. She turned to Fionnuala and watched her mouth as Fionnuala said, “She’s learning it whether he wants her to or not. She’s surrounded by us. Hears us chattering all day. Only choice she has.”
Mari said, “Why not he want I to know?”
“See? She learns even when you’re not with her.”
Emrys gathered what few words he had of Faroise and tried to make her understand. What he found, though, was that brevity and clarity was more effective than trying to explain the way he might in Graelish. He discarded the explanation brewing within him and said only, “Power.”
Mari nodded. Frowned and looked down at the table between the three of them where the Stones game was laid out. Despite never playing before, Mari was a quick study.
Emrys played to keep the games competitive even though he could have destroyed her while barely paying attention. Told himself it was friendliness and had nothing to do with her beauty, with the way her voice or laughter sounded or the way his chest expanded when she was near.
She made her next move and Emrys noted and discarded the dozen ways he could have brought her game to a shattered halt and instead made the friendly move that would extend the game at least a dozen more moves.
He woke to snow falling so thick that the flurries filled his window. His first thought was that he’d have the day to spend with Mari. His second thought was how strange it was for it to snow so much this winter. His third thought was that his room was freezing. He turned to the ashes in his fireplace. Rather than rise build the fire, he breathed the fire inside himself. Let it warm him and burn the cold away from his limbs. From his lips.
His nose was cold and the snot within nearly frozen.
Berit claimed the winter would be the worst in generations and spoke of famine in the highlands and Emrys wondered where the highlanders went in winter. Without permanent settlements, they would not last the winter.
But they had lasted many winters. Generations of winters. Figured they knew what they were doing. Wondered if they had their own towns and cities that they kept secret from the other clans. He imagined wandering the moors and highlands and stumbling across towns where people thrived. Where children played and sang but in their own language. Some unknown and tongue kept only for themselves.
Like the Leafers.
They too must settle somewhere for the winter. Or perhaps they simply journeyed south, where the winter was milder.
He rose, naked, and relieved himself in the chamber pot.
Opening his window, he let the flurries inside. Let the bright inside. So bright it hurt his eyes and he squinted out into the blizzard. The snowflakes melted against his skin and he closed his eyes to the white.
So bright, even with his eyes closed.
The fire within him flowed. He pushed the center of the flame through his arms and legs and brought it back to his chest where he consolidated all of it. Swelling into a ball filling his entire chest. He took a breath and ignored the cold of his arms. His legs. His face. Focused only on the ball of fire in his chest. Taking another, slow breath, he directed the fire towards his right shoulder. Down to his bicep and forearm. Finally, his hand. He took another breath and one more. Then he punched his fist through the window and released. At the same time, he opened his eyes and hoped to see the fireball burning through the snow.
But nothing came.
He closed his window and climbed back into bed and thought of Mari.
Of her smile.
Her hair. The smell of her.
Her touch.
And he burned in a new way.
“You are wizard.”
He studied her face. A mix of excitement and keen interest. Her nostrils flared the way they did when some thought caught fire within her. He loved to watch her face come to life. Her long straight nose. Her thick lips. Even the dark eyeglasses she wore at all times of day, whether inside or out.
“I am not,” he said in Faroise. Gathering his words, he tried to find a way to explain to her but no words came yet a different idea did and he took her hand and led her from the great hall to the door he opened to the snowy expanse of Matauc land.
She said, “Cold.”
He nodded, smiled, said, “Come.”
She did.
Her insatiable curiosity annoyed Fionnuala and Ariana. It seemed to grate on everyone, including her companions who remained in Matauc land with her and her airship.
He believed it was hers, anyway. He had no way of knowing. And while he initially believed that those with her were friends or colleagues, he came to believe that they were, at best, employees. If that was the case, he knew they remained for money rather than any interest in him, this place, or even whatever Mari wished to discover here.
It was why only Mari attempted to learn Graelish. Why only she bothered to learn anything about him and his people, about the land.
The midwinter melt made for wet snow that he trudged through. No cold touched him but he saw how she shivered already. Faro was to the southeast or southwest. He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t recall the map while her hand squeezed his, while the sun shined blurry through smeared clouds. Didn’t want to let go of her hand but he did want to offer her his wool sweater to protect her from the cold.
“All right?”
She nodded and shivered. “All right.”
Emrys decided they had gone far enough and he stopped. Stood before her. Within him, the fire bloomed and spread through him. The bite of winter scorched away. He said, “Come.”
She cocked her head and furrowed her brow but stepped closer.
“Closer.”
So close already he could nearly smell her. The sweet scent of her skin and the oil of her hair. An intoxicant that he thought he’d never weary of. That no one could ever grow tired of inhaling. If only his lungs could be coated by this and only this. She came still closer but he needed her to touch him.
Rather than tell her, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her close so her chest met his. And he felt her breasts against him. He pulled her hands to wrap round him and she did.
She giggled and then made a noise of surprise.
And she held him.
She held him and he wrapped his arms round her.
“Hot,” she said.
And she leaned her head against his chest and told him his heart was strong.
He spoke in his own language, hoping both that she wouldn’t understand and also that she would. “It beats for you.”
Fire.
An inferno. A tower of flame. The night alive with fire. The sky itself burning.
Fire.
Fire.
Fire.
Its flames licked at the night and drank it up.
The darkness fought back but it could not win. Not against this. Not against this pillar of flame reaching from earth to sky. An umbilical cord to stars. From stars.
High and low, the fire burned.
Raged.
And there.
A face.
Wreathed in flames.
Her hair like fire spreading across the night like it was a bed. Her naked flesh of fire spread out upon the blanket of stars and the blackness of the skies. Her inferno eyes found him there below and called to him. Beckoned him like beacons.
Fire.
Fire.
Fire.
Come join me. Join us.
Emrys.
Emrys.
Emrys!
He gasped awake. His body burning. The fire within so hot his bedding smoked and sweat covered him. In a panic in the dark, in the black. He tried to steady himself. To find himself in the fire. In the flames.
A breath.
He needed to breathe to control it but he couldn’t.
His eyes filled with fire. His mouth burned. His throat raw with smoke.
“Emrys,” she said. Her strong arms holding him. “Master it. Control it.”
He gasped, “Can’t.”
She climbed atop him and he felt her nakedness. Felt her body pressing against him. And though he burned, he could not help but notice their skins pressed together. Could not help but be aware of Fionnuala’s body.
That she was a woman.
She wrapped herself around him and the heat, the fire, seemed to dissipate. Like she soaked it all up, Pulled it from him.
At last, he breathed. Great heaving breaths filled his lungs. “Thanks.”
“You dreamt of fire.”
“Not the first time.”
She slapped him hard on the side of the head. “You are a fool to keep this to yourself, Emrys.”
He was too tired to fight. Too aware of her body still naked beside him in his bed. “Thought it was normal.”
“It is but it is also dangerous, Emrys. You could wake up dead.”
“Usually I can control it when I wake up.”
“But tonight, you may have burned alive and none would have known.”
He was thankful for the darkness and closed his eyes. Tried not to focus on the naked woman in his bed. Her skin. The smell of her. Part of him felt disloyal to Mari. To the dreams he had of her. To the hopes he filled himself with in regard to her.
“You could have died, Emrys.”
“Sorry.”
“Do not be sorry. Be not a fool.”
The warmth of her. The scent of her unwashed, burning flesh.
He was thankful for the darkness. The blackness.
Emrys had never asked Ariana about her arm or her eye. He couldn’t remember anyone asking her. Few were foolish enough to risk her anger, to welcome that scowl, to be subject to her snort and what words might follow.
Mari, either indifferent or unaware, had been asking Emrys ever since she had enough words to form the question. “Arm. Metal.” As the melt approached and spring seemed on her way, the words became, “Take me to your aunt, Emrys.”
The late winter blizzard gave him an excuse but not a good one. They’d walked through blizzards, his body a beacon of heat. And she’d watched him and Fionnuala trudge through the snow, with him pulling his teacher along on her sleigh.
Ariana snorted at Mari and her metal eye rolled to Emrys and he said, “She’s just curious, auntie.”
“Suppose I said I was just curious to look at the inside of her head. Would that give me the right to crack open her skull?”
Mari flinched and Ariana’s eyes widened. “Ah, she understands, does she? You been teaching her?”
“We all been teaching her by speaking in her presence.”
Ariana snorted. “Was not your father’s intention.”
Mari said, “I mean no un-honor. I have never seen such technology.”
Ariana scowled and turned to Emrys. “Technology. There’s a word she brought with her. Can’t go anywhere all winter without everyone babbling about technology this and technology that. All because of her flying machine. You know she intends to bring her people here to conquer us.”
Mari cocked her head and crossed her arms and appeared thoughtful. “Is that what you think?” She turned from Ariana to Emrys and back. Then back once more.
Was what he thought. What they all thought. Was why the moment the snow began melting, his father sent messengers to the highland clans but not the other clans, like Lyr or Bevan. Didn’t want his rivals making alliance with the people who dropped out of the sky.
Ariana said, “You may not believe it yourself, what with your curiosity, but it is the way of people to dominate others. You have found us here without airships and probably without other weapons you may have that could unleash untold destruction down upon us. If you are so kindhearted and gentle to have never thought of it, there are others among you and those who landed with you in the autumn who saw the potential. Who saw us as a people waiting to be subjugated.”
Mari became more thoughtful and troubled as Ariana spoke. “I will not allow this.”
Ariana snorted. “Doubt it’s up to you, lass.”
Emrys didn’t bother asking about her arm again and they left without Mari taking a closer look.
Alwyn laughed at Rhian’s words but Emrys either didn’t catch the joke or simply didn’t understand why it was funny. He said, “Sounds like her father disapproves.”
Rhian said, “You don’t know my father.”
Their hands had remained clasped for what seemed the entire afternoon. They reminded Emrys of desperation. Like they both knew this would end one way or another without their union and so they clung to each other in the meantime. Offering one another all that they had while they yet could.
“How did you understand it?”
Rhian watched him for a moment before responding. “How is the woman from the sky?”
Alwyn leaned forward from the couch, his eyes intent.
Emrys sighed. Figured if war came, maybe he’d be far away already. He said, “She’s learning and I’m learning from her. Not just her language but also the making of the airship.”
Alwyn’s eyebrows raised. “Your father must be happy about that.”
Emrys shrugged. “Haven’t spoken to him all winter. He has his own people inspecting and dissecting it. He sent me on this mission to infiltrate and plumb her secrets through deceit but she’s willing to share. Had my father just come and asked for the drawings, the schematics, she would have handed them over.”
Rhian said, “It’s dangerous.”
“Is. But he would have thrown lives at it. For him, he believes it’s a matter of survival.”
Rhian and Alwyn exchanged a look and held each other tighter. It filled Emrys with longing to see two so in love.
He’d rarely seen Alwyn since Rhian took up residence here. It was as if they knew their time was limited and so they tried to pack as much time as possible with one another.
Mari danced through his own thoughts. He knew he did the same. That every moment without her this winter felt like a waste. He wanted her with him even for this meeting with his cousin.
She would leave as soon as the final melt of spring came. She had not said as much but he knew. Knew it in his bones that she would be gone. And when she left, he intended to go with her. To see so much more of the world than The Shattered Isles.
Rhian said, “Have you brought the fire forth from within you yet?”
Emrys turned to the window, to still another blizzard penning them in. “Takes time.” He was relieved she didn’t ask him about his wound this time. His hand reflexively covered the scar at his hip where the lord of bone marked him. Where he burned the curse away within his body.
“Does,” said Rhian. “I have seen you burning bright in the night.”
“That an omen?”
Alwyn said, “She dreams of the future.”
“Dreams are but memories of the future,” she said.
“What does it mean,” Emrys said, “to have no dreams?”
She said, “You have dreams, Emrys.”
His heart rose to his throat. It was this uncanniness about her that unsettled Emrys. That unsettled everyone. For Emrys did have dreams. Dreams all the time. Lately, they were all of Mari or fire. He nearly asked what it meant, how she knew, but instead he asked about her sisters.
Rhian smiled. “You and Cerys have too much in common. She writes too, but very deliberately does not ask about you, though she asks questions around you. It’s like she’s afraid to reveal her interest, even to me.”
Emrys felt like a fly in a spiderweb. Almost denied it but instead leaned into it. “Well, how is she?”
“She’s the only one who tells me the truth about home. My sisters rage and bluster but there’s no appetite for war, especially for a third daughter.”
“His most beloved, as I understand it,” said Emrys.
“The talk of sisters. Even were it true that my father loved me above my sisters, he is not foolish enough to ignore what may be gained by my marriage into the laird’s family.”
Alwyn laughed. “You missed the mark a bit if you wanted to truly land in the laird’s lap.”
She smiled at him and raised their clasped hands to her mouth and bit him gently, at first, on the hand. Then harder until Alwyn yelped and laughed and tried to yank his hand away, which became a sort of wrestling match bordering on the obscene.
Emrys had rarely felt so uncomfortable trying to not pay attention to them writhing on the floor between the furniture.
“It snows much here,” she said in his language as still another blizzard followed another melt.
He responded in hers. “It is a strange time.”
“Tell me of normal times.”
“There is less snow. Less cold. Snow comes. It melt. Then spring.”
“Winter is so long here.”
“Yes. Sometime. Not always.”
“Where I from, it is warm. It do not snow.”
“Never?”
“Sometimes. Not like here. This.”
“I would like to go.”
“You should.”
“Tell me.”
“What?”
“Anything. Everything.”
She laughed. “That is too much.”
“I want to know too much.”
“It is good. I am the same.”
“Will you take me?”
“Would you come?”
“Yes.”
She leaned back and removed her eyes from the window of her room and turned to him. Her eyes held that intensity he never got used to but wanted to always rain down upon him. She saw him so clearly. And he saw himself reflected in those eyes, especially when she wasn’t wearing her dark glasses.
“To come with me,” she said, “is to leave this.” She gestured towards the room, to the longhouse, to everything. Lyosha sipped tea and read from a book in the corner while Benoit, Claude, and Yana slept.
“Yes. I want go to University.”
“Which one?”
It stunned him for a moment. “Morrigan.”
“Ah.” Her eyes opened wide in that way that had become familiar to him. “The warlocks.”
He laughed. “Yes.”
“I would go too.”
“To study?”
“Oh,” she smiled. “I have no time. But I would go. To see.”
He couldn’t help but smile when she smiled at him. Couldn’t help but be filled with joy. With light. With life.
“Will you take me?”
She bit her lower lip. He knew she was older than him. Possibly a decade older. But it didn’t matter. Not to him. And, he hoped, not to her. From the way she bit her lip, from her smile, from the way she became a companion to him, he hoped that it didn’t matter to her.
That, perhaps, she saw him only as an equal. That she would be surprised and possibly shocked and scandalized to discover he was only fifteen.
She said, “Yes.”