Chapter 1
1963 Words
1
Another sleepless night.
How many were there now? Ten? Fifteen? I had lost count.
At first, I tried staying in bed and keeping my eyes closed, but my mind wouldn’t settle. It raced through so many thoughts, bringing on too many feelings, and I couldn’t stay still.
So, even though it was November and cold in Connecticut, I put a heavy coat over my flannel pajamas, and went for a walk around the enclave. At this time of night, everything was quiet. There were only dim lamps located every few feet, illuminating the terracotta houses, the occasional chilly breeze rushing through the narrow streets, and the crunching of the warriors’ boots on the stone pavement as they marched along their patrol route.
And the heavy footsteps of the two warriors now following me—Tomas and Leander.
I was already watched and guarded during the day, but it was worse at night.
Ever since we came back from the mountains with the heart flower, cured the sick tziganes, and told the elder council that Damara was still alive and intent on stealing my powers, the security around the enclave had increased tenfold.
And I was f*******n to go to the Bellville enclave.
Since I still wanted to practice magic with Sheila and fighting with Theron, there was only one solution possible: The Bellville enclave would have to move to Lovell.
It hadn’t been an easy decision. In fact, it had generated a lot of heated arguments that almost ended in fist fights, but in the end, Neil, the rom baro of the Bellville enclave, agreed that it was the best solution. There were many advantages to this: Lovell had a better structure to protect us, we were stronger in numbers, and I didn’t have to go back and forth between enclaves for training, reducing the chances of me being attacked while out.
Out.
We had returned from the mountains three weeks ago, and I still hadn’t set one foot out of the enclave.
I was starting to think I never would.
I knew I would, eventually. When another heart flower bloomed and I heard its call, we would have to retrieve it.
Meanwhile, the feeling that never left my chest only increased—I wasn’t a queen, despite how they treated me, but a prisoner they lied to.
Sighing, I halted at the edge of the forest and closed my eyes. I pushed those toxic thoughts out of my mind and focused on the sounds of the forest. The sleeping animals, the hooting owls, the dance of the leafless branches in the wind, the rushing waterfall …
It was okay. Even though the word prisoner popped in my mind every now and then, I knew it wasn’t really the case anymore. I hated being locked inside the enclave, but now, I understood what it meant to be the heart maiden. My life meant nothing if I couldn’t help my enclave, my people.
My sole purpose in life was to make sure they were okay. All of them.
I might have resisted that at first, but now when I thought about it, I actually believed it was a noble thing. Something to be proud of.
However, the non-dating rule …
I let out a deep breath.
I should be okay about that too. It didn’t matter if I was the heart maiden and the heart maiden wasn’t supposed to be touched. The only guy I wanted to touch wasn’t available, and by tzigane laws, he would never be.
I kicked a small rock, then turned and started back through the narrow streets. The two warriors stepped back, rigid like statues, and let me pass. A moment later, they fell into step behind me.
If I didn’t know them outside their posts as warriors, I would think they never cracked a smile. Well, I didn’t know Leander that well, but I had spent some time with Tomas, since he was Ryane’s fiancée, and he had always smiled and laughed and been super sweet whenever he wasn’t on duty.
A dull sting began in the back of my mind, and a plethora of images exploded in my head. Damara holding the heart flower. Felix walking into the cave. Artan leaning over me beside the lake. Cianna telling me she was my grandmother. Damara appearing in the cave tunnels. Cianna dying in my arms. My arms bathed in blood. My body consumed by fire.
“Mirella, are you okay?”
I shook my head. The pain and the images disappeared.
I glanced over my shoulder and found Tomas and Leander right behind me, watching over me. I forced a small smile. “Just a little tired,” I said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. I was plagued by insomnia. I was tired. Exhausted. “I’m fine.”
Trying to pretend nothing had happened, I resumed walking, and they waited a few steps before following me again. But something had happened. That pain and those images, they had assaulted me before. It had started a couple of days after we returned from the mountains, but thankfully, it hadn’t happened often, only once every three or four days.
Talking to my friends and my mother about it crossed my mind, but I always ended up pushing that idea away. The pain, the images, and the insomnia were stress from knowing Damara was still alive and after me. Once we dealt with her, or I got used to the fact that there was a powerful, evil tzigane out for my blood, I was sure it would go away.
My thoughts were so out of it, I hadn’t even noticed where my feet were taking me until I halted in front of the fountain in the center of the main square.
I glanced down the dark water—soon, the water would be emptied before it froze—at the dark silhouette staring back at me.
Sometimes I didn’t recognize myself.
“You should be sleeping.”
I sucked in a sharp breath and straightened. “Can’t sleep.”
I sensed as he stopped a couple of steps away, his tall, powerful body angled toward mine. “This isn’t the first time. Everything okay?”
How dare he ask me that? He knew everything was not okay.
Bracing myself, I turned and stared him.
Holy s**t, Artan was so handsome; there was no way to brace myself. He wore the usual warrior’s uniform—brown suede pants and vest, a beige thermal tunic underneath, combat boots, plus a thick leather jacket—and yet he managed to look more composed, more lethal than the other warriors.
Frowning, I glanced around. Tomas and Leander were gone. Artan had probably sent them away.
Crap, I would rather he left me alone.
I crossed my arms. “What do you want, Artan?”
He ran a hand through his light brown. “You have been avoiding me.”
“True.”
“Mirella … I know you’re hurt, but we should talk about—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I snapped. “You’re engaged. Period.”
That had been a surprise, and I hadn’t been prepared for it. In some ways, it felt even worse than finding out Damara was alive. Because Damara was crazy and evil. We expected bad things from evil beings.
But Artan? Artan had been my rock, my foundation. The man lived and breathed honor. Then, he kissed me, and a week later, I found out he was promised to someone else.
And he had never bothered to mention that.
Artan pressed his lips into a thin line. “There’s much more to it than that.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing has changed.”
“You do know you’re not supposed to be touched, right?”
I gaped at him. “So that makes it all right? You kissed me, then regretted it, but oh wait, it’s okay, because you’re not going to be with me anyway.”
His nostrils flared. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter what you meant or what your intention was. You deceived me, and you’ll marry Kizzy.”
I had tried redirecting my anger toward the young woman, but I couldn’t. Much like I had done with Artan, I had avoided her, but the enclave was small, and I still bumped into her every so often. And she was always smiling and saying the nicest things, and helping out with the elders and the children. She was pretty, too. Beside her, I felt like I was riddled with faults. How could I compete with an angel?
Then again, there was no competing.
Tzigane marriage agreements were rarely broken, and why would they break it? It wasn’t like Artan could be with me instead. The elder council would never allow it.
So, why couldn’t he be with her and be happy?
I just didn’t think I could spend the rest of my life standing here, watching as Artan married Kizzy, then had mini-Artans and mini-Kizzies with her.
The thought hurt too much.
Anger and hurt and jealousy molded around my heart.
Artan let out a long breath. “Okay. Be mad at me all you want. Blame it all on me. Don’t talk to me if you don’t want to. But we have to practice your fighting skills, Mirella. It’s important.”
“I am training with Theron.”
He shook his head. “We’ve talked about this before. You know it’s important for you to train with different people so you learn different fighting styles.” He paused. “You can punch me all you want during training.”
Was he trying to joke right now? Was he serious? I gritted my teeth. “That makes sense, but I would rather have Ramon teach me.”
He knew Ramon, Theron’s brother, didn’t like me much. Which probably would make him a good adversary, since he wouldn’t go easy on me, but perhaps not the best teacher.
“Mirella, please.”
“That’s enough, Artan.” I couldn’t take it anymore. Artan begging? I couldn’t stomach it. He was a strong warrior, and I wanted that image of him in my mind.
Without another word, I spun on my heels and started back to my house.
He followed me. “Mirella, wait.”
“I would like to be alone.”
“You know I can’t do that. I dismissed the other warriors so I have to stay with you.”
Frustration whipped through me. I clenched my hands, trying to control my feelings before I jumped at him and squeezed his throat. Couldn’t he be at least more considerate? He had hurt me. He knew that. Then why couldn’t he give me space?
“Just … stay as far as you can, then.” I walked a little faster.
I heard him whisper, “Mirella,” but thankfully he didn’t argue. He followed me through the streets in silence, a shadow that made me uncomfortable.
I turned the last corner onto my street and slowed down as I walked past the big house where most of the Bellville tziganes now lived. It was a three-story house with a warm terracotta color and several tall windows and wooden flower boxes. The married couples had been given their own houses, but Neil, Dolan, Sheila, Theron, Ramon, Cora, Rye, Nico, Shay, Marie, and Anne shared this big manor.
Something tugged in my mind and an image of a building on fire filled my mind.
A horrid scream pushed that image aside, and I stared at the house. It was coming from inside.
The scream came again, and I ran up the four steps leading to the front door. I turned the knob, but the door was locked.
“I can do it,” Artan said, stepping to my side. He placed his hand in front of the keyhole and sent his air magic into the lock. It clicked and turned. He pushed the door open for me. “Here you go.”
I raced to the stairs and found Rye and Theron in the hallway, looking confused.
“Mirella, what are you doing here?” Ramon asked from his suite’s door.
“I heard someone screaming,” I said.
The scream echoed through the second floor hallway, louder in here than it was outside.
“It’s Cora,” Rye said, his eyes wide.
We all rushed to her suite at the end of the hallway. Rye burst in and we followed. I halted in my tracks as I took in the scene: Cora in her bed, twisting and grunting as if she had been possessed.
- Writer
