Page 7 of Light Locked
“Selfishness,” she whispered, softer, her eyes dropping to the floor as a heavy sigh dispelled what exhaustion she could no longer ignore. A strange, but lately, more frequent memory entered her mind.
“Your death waits behind golden doors,” she repeated the words of the mad prophetess who her parents had promptly dismissed from their company. It was the last time her family consulted with self-proclaimed healers and miracle workers, branding the entire bunch as heretical lunatics. It had been frightening at the time despite everyone agreeing it was nonsense, but Clea found strange comfort in the memory now and almost hoped it was true.
Despite all of the risks she’d taken the last few months, she had yet to see a golden door.
This one certainly wasn’t.
Clea pushed forward.
The rays of sun sliced into the dim room and pierced her eyes as she stepped onto the dirt road. The air was hot, but the sun was even hotter, as was its reputation in Virday. The city expired under its supervision.
A breeze greeted her, toting dirt and dust, and as Clea shielded her face, her eyes settled on the forest huddled around the city walls at the base of the hill. She approached it, looking out at how it so brilliantly reflected the sun with a bright green luster. Cien made it beautiful during the day, a lure to draw people in before nightfall showed its true colors.
Images of last night’s struggle flashed through her mind.
“Enjoying the view?” She turned to see Ryson standing on the path to her left. “Splendid, isn’t it?” he said. His dark clothing against the sunlight made him look like a black cutout.
Before she could answer, he started to make his way down the road.
“Let’s go,” he barked in a way that made her think that his previous question had been more mockery than inquiry.
She mulled over the dry and disconnected nature of his tone. It seemed like he already disliked her, and she couldn’t deny that she was already inclined to feel the same way about him.
She was very familiar with the callous type and considered if she had the energy and will to try and win him over. Despite her doubts about he and Alina, the possibility of a new ally gave her an inkling of hope.
She’d met and befriended many Kalex while in Virday. Most people in Loda, and her father especially, saw them as a symbol of The Decline, but she’d developed a fondness for them here. Each and every one was different in ways she never expected, and so Ryson was a mystery to her.
She quickened her pace so that she could make out the features of his face. It was the only part of him she could see, and there was no surprise that she found little softness in it. Despite his bandaged eyes, she could trace the distinct lines of his nose, lips and jaw with her finger. She wouldn’t dare, as he looked like the type of creature inclined to bite it off. Some might suggest that regardless of the scars that crossed his lip, brow, and nose, that he had a rugged handsomeness. The symmetry of his face was mask-like; traditionally attractive, but in an almost manufactured way. He had a cold face and disposition, and Clea saw little but the potential for arrogance.
Maybe she could still work with that.
Clea guessed Ryson’s Kaletik mutation must be related to hiseyes. Maybe Alina’s mutation gave her a more exaggerated appearance of youth.
“Ryson is an interesting name,” Clea said. “It means ‘shell’ in Kaletik, doesn’t it?”
Her family would have been horrified to know that she’d picked up any Kalex speech. It was forest speech, and Clea had grown up believing it was capable of casting spells. The thought was laughable now, though some adults in Loda still believed it.
Ryson didn’t seem impressed, looking forward still, issuing a reply like a machine. “It’s not my name.”
“What do you like to call yourself then?” she prodded, with no success. She knew he had heard her, and so she decided to move on to another subject. He might be ugly spirited and stubborn, but she was growing progressively determined to gain an alliance. He’d saved her life after all. There had to be a seed of goodness buried in that heap of ashy clothes.
“Why are you running from the king?” he replied, the question wrecking her train of thought.
“Excuse me?” She stopped, but was forced to continue walking when Ryson paid her halt no mind.
He turned onto a busier path. Dust kicked up around them from a recent crowd. “I’d rather not entertain your act, so I will be as blunt as I possibly can. I hope that you will be the same way,” he said with words painted in impatience. “You’re running from theking of Virday. Since I will be the one to transport you from the city, I wish to know why.”
Lodain royalty running from Virday? There was no hiding the absurdity of it. She’d hoped Ryson’s involvement in the illegalities of transporting people would prevent him from asking what it meant.
She hesitated as she reassessed her situation. “Exchanging information is not part of our arrangement, if there is to be an arrangement at all.”
“Our practices may be illegal, but we do it only out of necessity. We love our king and joining you in your act of betrayal is not part of our arrangement, Princess.” He gave her the title as if it were a curse.
She lifted her chin with pride to battle his condescension. “My mission is a secret only because of its great value to humanity.”
“That important, is it?” He sounded genuinely interested. “So, you did betray the king?”
“I didn’t say that.”
