“Over what?” Bronwen urged him to continue.
“Over theirs.” He paused and met her eyes. “Over yours.”
“Everything you’re doing is to protect me,” she argued. “That’s not selfish.”
“Then what defines selfish? Is it selfish to want you, even though I know it’s not what’s best for you?”
Bronwen felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
“Is it selfish to keep you close, even though I know I can’t stay?”
“What if you could?” Bronwen blurted out. “What if you stayed?”
“Ah,” he sighed as he tilted his head to the sky, smiling to himself. “The final act of a selfish heart—to make you live your life with an eternally damned man like me.” He returned his gaze to her. “No, Bronwen. I won’t do that.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Then the last thing you are, Felix, is selfish.”
He let out a bleak laugh.
“So,” Bronwen said, forcing a brave face and returning her attention to the plot, “what about the rest of your family?”
“That’s it,” Felix replied.
“You didn’t have brothers and sisters?”
“No. In fact, until me, my parents were unable to bear a child. I’m a miracle. I’m sure you have no trouble believing that,” he joked half-heartedly.
Bronwen’s lips pressed together into a smile. “Well, I suppose that ego of yours must have come from somewhere.” Releasing her hold on his hand, she placed flowers on each of the graves, setting them beside Felix’s collection of miscellaneous objects he’d acquired over time—her favourite being a tiny plastic toy soldier with a missing arm.
When she rose to her feet, Felix took her hand again. “There’s one more plot to see. Are you ready?”
As if on cue, Alistair and Loki began making their way through the long grass. The little group joined at the final plot, where three stones stood side by side. They hadn’t been wreathed as the others had, but the grass had been cleared.
Each boy stood before a headstone.
Bronwen cast her eyes down to read the names, but the stones were blank apart from dates. 1814, 1808, 1808. She flinched at the sight. She knew at once what the dates meant.
“Those are the years you were born,” she murmured. “These are your graves.”
“Yes,” Felix confirmed. “We’re not sure what happened to our names. Nor our departing dates, for that matter. But they’re ours, alright. I suppose when you crawl out of the ground with your bare hands, the landmark leaves somewhat of a lasting memory.”
Bronwen cringed.
“Too much?” Felix asked, frowning at her queasy expression.
“No. It’s just… It’s so real.”
They boys looked at her with identical smiles, wary of her knowing and yet grateful at the same time. It was as though they were relieved to finally have someone else who knew the truth. Someone who could sympathise without running scared.
And as Bronwen stared down at the incomplete gravestones, it was like looking into a void. It wasn’t past, present, or future. It simply didn’t exist.
Yes, the graves were incomplete—and so were the boys.
Chapter Fifteen
Sweet Dreams
“It’ll be dark soon,” said Alistair, following the sun’s descent with his pale blue eyes. “You promised Loki’s father you’d have him home by sunset.” He turned his gaze upon Felix, who sat atop a fence, looking out over the cornfield.
“I’m not ready to go home yet,” Loki groaned, climbing onto the fence to sit beside Felix. “It’s still early.” He swung his legs back and forth, his nose rosy from a day in the sun.
“Quite right,” said Felix, patting Loki on the shoulder. “What does it matter if the boy returns home a little later than planned? It’s summer time.” He outstretched his arms and closed his eyes, basking in the late afternoon rays. “What a glorious July it has been.”
“Even so,” Alistair tried again, “I’d rather not stay much longer. My father will have my hide if I’m late again.”
Felix laughed. “Oh, Alistair, you worry too much. Don’t you know that worrying will turn your hair grey?” He hopped down from the fence into the cornfield where Alistair stood. “Why was I cursed with such a boring best friend?”
Alistair smiled. “Because, if it weren’t for my tedium, who knows what trouble you’d land yourself in.”
“If only!”
“Do we really have to go home now?” Loki whined, sliding off the fence to join the other two.
“Alas,” uttered Felix, “the bore has spoken. We must gather some apples for the journey home, else I’ll die of thirst before we get there!”
Alistair frowned. “And where do you expect to find apples?”
“The old Bates woman lives just beyond the field.” Felix shielded his eyes from the sun. “She’ll surely not notice if a few of her apples go missing.”
“The witch’s house?” Loki tensed at the idea. “I shan’t be going there.”
“Not her house,” Felix corrected. “Only her tree.”
Alistair folded his arms. “No. Loki’s right. We’re not to go there. If you’re thirsty, you’ll have to make do with the stream down by the old mill.”
“I’ll never survive ‘til the old mill!”
“We’re not stealing from the witch’s house,” Alistair repeated.
“Tree,” Felix drawled. “At any rate, it’s not as though we haven’t done it before.”
“Yes, and look what happened last time. She almost caught us,” Alistair reminded him. “It was you who vowed never to go back there again.”
“But that was a week ago. And I didn’t care much for apples then.”
“I will not go,” said Loki decidedly.
Felix pushed a strand of ebony hair from his toffee-coloured eyes and smirked. “Then you shall have no apples,” he taunted Loki. With that, he broke into a sprint and raced through the cornfield towards Margo Bates’ house.
Reluctant but resigned, Alistair and Loki took off after him.
They ran across the field at full pelt, skimming the crops with their fingertips as they went. By the time they reached Margo’s house, the adrenaline had lightened the mood and they collapsed against each other in fits of laughter.
Felix caught his breath, his cheeks flushed and ruddy. “Look,” he said, nodding towards a ripened apple tree growing several yards from Margo’s thatched cottage. “There’s our target. I’ll fetch the apples while you two keep watch.” He glanced around to ensure that they were alone, then strode out into the open. He could smell the sweet scent of the fruit as he approached the shade of the tree. This would be worth the risk.
In one smooth motion, he took hold of a lower branch and hauled himself onto the trunk. He climbed high amongst the leaves and began tossing apples down to his accomplices.
Alistair and Loki hovered on the grass below, catching the apples as they dropped. When their arms could hold no more, Felix perched on a high branch and took a bite out of a juicy apple. He was about to bite again when he heard the raspy shout of an older woman.
“Who’s there?” she barked.
Felix dropped the apple in shock. It landed on the grass with a thud. He swiftly clambered down from the tree, hoping, for their sakes, that the others had scampered already.
But Alistair and Loki remained on the ground, frozen like startled rabbits.
Margo, in her soiled rags and moth-eaten shoes, came at them from across the grove. “Stay where you are!” she ordered, hunching as she hobbled towards them.
We could outrun her, Felix decided, feeling rather smug as he prepared to bolt.
But as if she had read his mind, Margo addressed him. “I know you. You’re Henry Cavara’s boy.”
She knows my father. His stomach lurched. No bother. I’ll deny I was ever here. My father wouldn’t believe the words of an old hag over his own son.
A thin smile formed on Margo’s shrivelled lips. “If
you wanted fruit,” she said genially, “all you needed to do was ask.”
The three boys looked back at her uncertainly.
“Come inside, dear boys. As luck would have it, I know all your fathers, and it would do me a great honour to take care of their eldest sons.” She gave them a toothless smile. “I have a batch of fresh lemonade cooling in the parlour. I made it to quench my thirst after a long, hot day in the sun. Why don’t you share it with me?”
Felix saw Alistair shake his head and Loki take a nervous step backwards. There was still time to run, but… why should they? Margo Bates didn’t seem so bad. Perhaps the town had misjudged her all these years. And fresh lemonade sounded much more appealing than apples.
Why not? he thought. What’s the harm?
****
“Felix, wake up. It’ll be dark soon.”
He heard the voice, gentle and warm, rousing him from his slumber. It was her.
He opened his eyes slowly, detaching himself from the chilling dream—the memory that haunted his sleep, ever present in his unconscious mind.
I’m not there, he reminded himself.
He wasn’t there. Not anymore. He was in his chair at the fireplace, and she was crouched before him, looking up at him through jade eyes.
“Hi,” she said, smiling in that very pretty way she did. “We didn’t want to wake you, but it’ll be nightfall soon.”
Felix stretched out his stiff limbs. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Not long. An hour or so,” Bronwen answered. “We thought you probably could use the rest.” She placed her hand on his knee and a tingle shot up his spine.
Idly he trailed his fingers along the back of her hand. “Where are Alistair and Loki?” he asked, glancing around the poorly lit room.
“They’re outside. They’re combing the area, seeing if they can detect the Severan’s scent. I told them we’d meet them in the courtyard.”
Felix nodded. “Are you sure you still want to go ahead with this? With this fool proof plan of yours to hand yourself over to the Severan, I mean.”
“Not really,” she replied with a little laugh. “But I wouldn’t exactly call it handing myself over.”
“I would. It’s not too late to back out, you know.”
“No,” she sighed. “We might as well stick to the plan.”
“Oh well, who could argue with conviction like that?” he remarked wryly.
Bronwen met his eyes. “Do you think we’ll win?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“What makes you so sure?”
He shrugged. “I’m not. It just seemed like the right thing to say.”
Chapter Sixteen
Faster Than a Speeding Bullet
A falcon soared high above the castle, circling like a kite in the wind as it searched for its prey. Somewhere on the ground below, another hunter sought its prey. And somewhere else, four would-be hunters hoped to beat it to the punch.
Felix slung the Piriot over his shoulder as he led the little group out into the murky purple dusk. Their footsteps scraped the courtyard floor, echoing off the high stone walls.
Bronwen gazed up at the full moon, which was just beginning to reveal itself through the misted night sky.
“Are you ready for this?” she said to Felix with a half-smile.
“Absolutely,” he replied. “I have my B14,” he patted the Piriot, “my silver bullet, my not-at-all incompetent army, and my unwavering self-confidence. What could possibly go wrong?” He smiled ironically.
They made their way out onto the drawbridge and into the shadows of the woodland.
“There’s a clearing not far from here,” said Alistair, falling in stride with Bronwen. “If we leave you there, the three of us can hide in nearby trees. We’ll be close enough to see you and get to you, but far enough away to go unnoticed.”
“Well, that’s the theory,” said Felix.
“That’s the theory,” Alistair repeated.
They marched onwards along the sloping hillside. The foggy night air was thick and oppressive, and it lingered over them like their bated silence. Eventually they came to a stop at a circular patch of land. The grass was spotlighted by the moon’s beam, and tall trees circled the border like a bloodthirsty audience awaiting its gladiator.
“Are we all in agreement?” Alistair broached. “This is where Bronwen will wait,” he said, gesturing towards the middle of the clearing.
“Where will you be?” she asked.
The boys craned their necks to look up at the surrounding tree tops.
“Bird’s eye view,” said Felix simply.
“We’ll cover you,” Alistair assured her. “Felix will take west, I’ll take east, and Loki will take south.”
“Hey!” Felix objected. “South is the closest tree. I should take the south.”
“Loki is the fastest. The closest tree should have the fastest runner. Every second will count.”
Loki grinned with the pride of being deemed the fastest.
“But he’s not the strongest,” Felix argued. “He may get to the Severan first, but there’s not an awful lot he can do after that.”
“How do you know I’m not the strongest?” Loki griped. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Felix.” He folded his arms and puffed out his chest.
“Let’s not bicker,” Alistair stepped in diplomatically. “Loki’s the fastest, Felix is the strongest, and I’m the—”
“Dullest!” quipped Felix.
Loki laughed.
“Actually, the tallest,” said Alistair. He rose onto his tiptoes to illustrate his point.
“What about the north tree?” Bronwen asked.
The boys frowned.
“Let’s just assume the Severan won’t descend upon us from the north,” Alistair advised. The other two boys nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Now, Bronwen,” Alistair continued, “whatever you do, stay in the clearing. If you move into the trees, we’ll lose sight of you.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Any questions?” he asked.
“What do I do if the Severan comes at me from the north?”
“Let’s just assume it won’t,” Alistair replied.
“Okay.”
As Alistair and Loki made for the south and east trees, Felix walked Bronwen to the centre of the glade.
“Remember what Alistair said—stay in the clearing,” he reminded her.
“I will.”
“I’ll be right over there.” He thumbed towards the western tree. “You won’t be in any danger. Well, not much danger…”
“I know.”
“And if you’re afraid at any point, just say the word and we’ll get you out—”
“Felix, I know,” Bronwen laughed. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
He pulled her into him and held her for a while. “Just say the word,” he said, “and I’ll get you out of here.”
She leaned into the warmth of his chest, listening to his heart beat in time with her own.
“I love you,” he whispered, and he was gone.
****
He loves me? Bronwen played the words over and over in her mind. He… loves me? And he’s telling me this now?
She was standing alone in the clearing. Of course, she knew the boys were there somewhere, but where exactly that was, she didn’t know. Wherever they were, they’d certainly managed to blend in. There was no sign of them anywhere, not even a rustle of leaves to give them away.
So… he loves me? What does that mean? Does it mean that he loves me? He can’t just say that and then go hide in a tree!
She clasped her hands together, shivering in the cold night air. One good thing to come of Felix’s impromptu declaration was that she now found herself unafraid. She simply willed this whole confrontation to be over just so she could move onto the Felix dilemma.
Do I love him, too? It seemed like such a momentous thing, to be in love. What she felt for Felix was different from anything she’d ever
experienced. Their bond was built on foundations that defied rational reason. He was her saviour, and she was his. Her feelings for him were instinctive, and intense, and had seemed undefinable.
I need to speak to him, she decided. Once this is all over. She frowned. Once this is all over… The problem was, once the Severan was gone, Felix would be gone, too. Unless… She looked to the western trees for the hundredth time. Nothing.
This was unbelievable. How had they managed to make themselves so invisible? They were completely illusive, like the ghosts they should have been.
Come out, she willed.
A ripple of air brushed over her lips. She flinched.
The air tasted sour—and frighteningly familiar.
Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow slipped past, moving in and out of the trees.
Bronwen whirled around. There was nothing there. No Severan. And no boys, either. She pressed her hands together. Suddenly she wasn’t feeling quite so bold anymore. Someone remind me why I was so keen to offer myself as bait? she berated herself. If I survive this, no more dramatic I’m-taking-my-life-back moments. Where was everyone?
A movement came from behind her. She spun around to an empty stretch of grass.
She glanced to the western trees. Felix, where are you?
All of a sudden, something shot out into the open… from the north.
With no way to defend herself, Bronwen stared at the oncoming shape. It was a broad shadowy figure swathed in a black trench coat. She recognised it as the Severan at once.
She braced herself, but before she had the chance to breathe, something else shot out in front of her—something that intercepted the Severan’s path like a speeding bullet.
In a whirlwind, Loki knocked the Severan off its course, startling it just long enough for Alistair and Felix to spring from their trees. Wasting no time, Alistair circled the Severan while Felix raised the Piriot and took his aim.
He held the launcher steadily, the fired.
“Uh oh,” he muttered. “That’s not good.”
Bronwen’s eyes shot to him “What’s not good?” she cried. “What’s not good?”