Page 30 of A Dream Shrouded in Fury
He grunted and caught himself.I opened my mouth to apologize, then clamped it shut.
Not wanting to think about him or the games of the Fates anymore, I gestured to Ria, and she took my place while I took hold of Pimmin.Jael’s shoulders stiffened, and he started to look for me before accepting there was no point.He couldn’t see me, and I’d arrange it so he never saw me again.Better for everyone involved.
My mood worsened the longer we walked.By the time we left the tunnel into the deep twilight of the outside world, the thundercloud over my head was heavy enough that none of my friends dared interact with me.
Our pace slowed as soon as we hit the forest to better guide our unseeing guests over the uneven ground.Jael, Hethyr, and Pimmin didn’t complain, but Corban was determined to make his discomfort known every time he was jostled too hard or his footing slipped.Cliff had taken charge of his guidance, the only one of us with the patience to deal with the fae’s griping, and I derived no small amount of amusement at the way my friend intentionally steered him into nettles and more than one patch of poison redleaf.
The sky was clear, which was a relief after the rained-out muddy mess that had been my last foray through these woods, and every once in a while I caught sight of the moon through the thinning branches overhead.It wasn’t quite full, but only a few days off.By the time we left Jael with his princess, I’d see the world under the most brightness I ever enjoyed.Just in time for my last sight of him.
I didn’t allow myself to think about that.Not as we followed the path that would take us towards the overgrown trail.Not as the first signs of dawn rose over the horizon.Not as we reached the run-down cabin we’d built ages ago.
The cabin itself wasn’t meant for vampiric use, the gaps in the walls and roof too wide to keep us safe during the day.We’d designed it to look like an abandoned hunter’s shack.The trapdoor in the middle of the floor led to an underground room that smelled of rich earth and only a touch of old blood.It had been well constructed to keep mould and mildew and even most bugs out, a nice homey atmosphere in which to dump our guests on the floor and set about making a fire for our small dinner.
A dinner that went largely unappreciated by our fae companions.
“No wonder you prefer blood,” Pimmin said after forcing down a swallow.“If this is all I had to live on, I’d probably want to tear into some pheasant’s neck as well.”
“You think you could do better out here?”Ria asked.
“Yes,” Pimmin, Hethyr, and Jael responded at once.Corban remained silent.He’d slid into a corner and sat huddled over his bowl, eating as though he tasted nothing.Food was the fuel he needed to face his enemy and that was all.I knew the type.
Ria and I exchanged a glance, and I shrugged.“All right,” I said.“Tomorrow, you can guide one of us through dinner prep, and we’ll see how you do.If it doesn’t kill us, maybe we’ll let one of you reveal a single eye to make us dinner on our last night together.”
Hethyr chuckled, Pimmin grinned, but Jael’s jaw tightened with unspoken thoughts.
The rest of the group moved on to other subjects.Cleaning up the dishes, laughing at each other for their tastes in nutrition.Vampires and blindfolded fae, spending time together and getting along.It was a wild sight, and one I never would have imagined possible if I weren’t seeing it for myself.
Though in truth, I was only half paying attention, the rest of me focused on Jael.When he reached into his pocket and pulled out his flute, my heart stopped.For a while, he spun the instrument through his dexterous fingers.A way to pass the time and keep himself busy.I hoped he would play.I feared he would.My chest squeezed at the memory of emotions he’d evoked the last time he’d brought that flute to his lips, and I didn’t know if I could suffer through it again.
And then I didn’t have to wonder.
At the first note, a hush fell over the room and everyone turned towards him, even those unable to see.Just like before, his song was simple, but it wove stories in the air of love found and lost, of battles lost and won.Of gentle touches in the darkness and whispers in my ear.Of promises sworn and broken.
I had no idea how long he played, but by the time the music faded, Ria’s face was soaked, Hethyr was scrubbing at her blindfold, and Birch was hugging his knees, his face bowed against them while Cliff rubbed his back.My own heart was a muddle of confusion.Pain, desire, longing… and already a grief I knew would shatter me if I allowed it to take hold.
Jael remained silent, unaware of the emotional chaos he’d sown.He tucked the flute into his pocket, then stretched out beside the fire to go to sleep.I should have done the same.We still had four more nights to travel together, and I needed to rest, but all I could do was watch him, awed by the magic he’d worked, wishing beyond anything that I could spend the rest of my life lost in his fae song.
Jael
XXIII
I had spent most of my adult life terrified of the dark.My greatest fear was not knowing what might be creeping up on me, being closed off and shut out.Isolated.I’d learned to internalize that nothingness, weaponizing it until I was the darkness other people feared, but always I avoided getting trapped in it again myself.
Yet now, with my eyes covered and being forced to rely on strangers to keep me safe, I almost dreaded leaving it.I’d found a sort of comfort in having everything be out of my control.With every passing day, I became more aware of Kalla’s particular scent, a subtle difference from the other vampires we travelled with.Like a low, hidden harmony that sweeps through a symphony, driving deep into heart and soul and lingering long after the rest of the song is forgotten.
She’d never returned to my side after transferring me to someone else’s guidance in the tunnel, but even so, I remained mindful of her, my anchor in the emptiness.The softness of her breathing, the evenness of her footsteps, the sound of her voice.I could almost picture her facial expressions every time Corban made yet another aggravating comment.
But what dominated my mind, whether we were walking through grass or across road or over forest debris, was her silence whenever I played my flute.
I hadn’t realized what a critical error I’d made in playing it for her the first time.I hadn’t known the addiction that would take hold of me.The craving for her attention had hooked itself into my muscles and bones.Even unable to see her, I sensed her gaze on me whenever I pulled the flute out of my pocket.I felt when she moved closer to me, eager to catch every note, and heard the catches in her breath when emotion overwhelmed her.Over the next couple of days, I gave in to that growing addiction, playing every time we stopped, different styles of songs to evoke different reactions, and savouring every one.
From the sounds of her small movements, she enjoyed the jaunty tunes I chose to lift our moods, but by her breathing and her stillness, she preferred the softer melodies, the ones I played when it was time for us to sleep before the slog of the next night.
How long had it been since I’d enraptured anyone with my music?Long enough that it pained me to think about it.Music had been the centre of my world from the time I’d been old enough to beat a rhythm on a hand drum, and for most of my youth, I’d believed it would be my future.The day I was recruited to join the royal musicians, I’d thought my dreams had come true.
Naive fool that I was.
There had been a time after that where the idea of picking up an instrument had filled me with rage.I’d joined the Coynfare off that rage.I’d attacked the royal guard with that fury.
