Page 78 of Somewhere down the Ley Line
From across the room, Isolde heard Felix snort.
She dug through her memories, trying to remember books and stories she had read, but like Leif, nothing came to mind.
“I am not sure if it is actually about a leytouched…” Luella began, breaking the silence. “But the people of Gotvig have a story about a spirit healer who sought refuge with animals, because he was being hunted by mages. He turns into a bear in the end, or a dolphin, depending on who tells it. But now that I think about it, this ‘spirit healer’ may well refer to a leytouched person. He was ‘marked by magic’ and could heal at a touch.”
Isolde looked into the fire, frowning.
“It is curious, isn’t it,” Mia said, her voice slow and weighty, “that the stories about leytouched from folk who have no mages are so vastly different from those of folk who do…” She let the comment hang in the air, and silence followed it as everyone was occupied with their own thoughts.
“Stories are stories,” Garren said. “History is another matter.”
“History is just stories people told loud enough to drown out the rest,” Mia countered quietly.
When Isolde lay curled up in her blessedly dry bedroll later, Mia’s words kept repeating themselves in her mind. How much of what people accepted as history was the actual truth? And how much truth could be found in what they dismissed as mere stories?
***
Isolde woke up in the dark hours before dawn, startled awake so suddenly that she was certain they must be under attack. But when she sat up and looked around, everything was quiet. The fire burned low, and the sounds of rhythmic breathing told her everyone was asleep. Isolde moved to lie back down, but her eyes caught on Felix’s still form in the corner, away from the others. She didn’t know if it was Mia’s teasing song or Luella’s exasperation, or something else entirely, but before she could examine her motivations too thoroughly, she got up and crept over to where he slept.
Felix lay on his side, one arm pillowed beneath his head. He looked younger in sleep, almost, his face serene and calm. Tentatively, she reached out. Before she could touch him at all, his hand clamped around her wrist, so fast it was a blur. She yelped, blue sparks flying.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
“You startled me!” she hissed back.
“You’re the one sneaking up on me in the dead of night,” he deadpanned as he let go of her wrist.
She blushed, looking down. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Felix sat up and looked over towards the others, rolled up in their blankets near the fire. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Is this an ‘if I can’t, then nobody can’ type of situation?”
She smiled. “No… I, ah… I just wanted to talk to you.” A blush crept onto her cheeks, and she hoped it was too dark for him to notice.
She stood up and beckoned for him to follow. He hesitated, but then padded after her as she led them through the side door into the base of the tower. It was dim and quiet, with a curved stone stairway leading up, only to be blocked by rubble halfway up to the top. She summoned a small flame for light, then turned to find him looking at her in wry amusement.
Isolde stared down at her feet, suddenly worried how this might appear. “Sorry, I –”
“No, I’m glad you woke me up. I wanted to talk to you, too.”
“Oh?”
He sighed and sat down on the stone stairs, leaning his elbows on his knees. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and frowned. Isolde waited, arms wrapped around herself.
“I’m sorry, Isa,” he murmured finally. “For what I said. I will not lie; I still want us to get away from all this. But I’m sorry if that made you think even for a moment that I wasn’t in this with you. If you insist on going to the Nexus, then we’re going. Whatever you need to do, I’ll be there.” He looked up and flashed a crooked smile. “Wouldn’t miss any of the fun.”
There it was, just like that. All the hopes and dreams andwantsshe’d built up, all the feelings she’d locked away so carefully when she told him to leave her alone, came tumbling back out, and her mind was positively shrieking with relief. Isolde struggled not to let the shock show. She stepped closer; her legs almost touching his knees, her eyes glued to his face.
He reached out and took one of her hands in his own, stroking the pad of his thumb along the blue line on her skin. She shivered, and a tiny trail of sparks followed in his wake.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said quietly. “For ignoring you these past days. And that I didn’t believe you. About… about my father. I know you wouldn’t make up something like that.”
“I’ll never hurt you, so it doesn’t matter.”
She did not respond right away. “No,” she finally agreed, “it doesn’t.”
Felix pulled her closer, gently but insistently. Then his other hand was on her hip, and the next thing she knew she was being drawn down onto his lap, straddling him. He was enticingly warm, and she leaned in without thinking, her arms finding their way around his neck as if they belonged there, as if they’d done this a hundred times before.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
