Neliem, page 12
The thought of never seeing my own mother except for a day or two out of the year has an unexpected effect. I feel torn in half. “But when we have children …”
Honestly, it’s the first time I’ve given it any thought. Children. Certainly, Ezra wants a son. Maybe two. He mentioned several distant cousins with several children. Untouchables love to procreate; it’s how they subdued my people. Their vast army of tall, blond giants crossed the waters, claiming everything in sight.
Our children will legally be Hugganoffs. My ancestry all but denied. The blood rushes back to my head, I stammer, “I mean …”
He nibbles on a piece of bread, taking the time to think it through. “Children are an entirely different matter.”
Relieved, I smile and reach for some juice. When I glance up, I see something on his face that I wasn’t expecting. The tension that was in my body just seconds ago seems to have transferred to his. “Ezra, what’s wrong?”
He’s still staring at my hand when Ralio arrives to tell us that the coach is ready with everything securely packed. Ezra nods and slowly, almost painfully, turns back to me before standing up.
He stares at me with a stone face that I can’t read. Holding my breath, I wait until he mutters in a strained voice, “I thought you understood, about child—”
The phone in the hallway rings unexpectedly. Startled, I nearly jump out of my skin.
Ezra ignores the call, closing the door carefully before latching it. He faces the doorway, pausing painfully slowly before turning, and for the first time, I am terrified.
“Oriana.”
I gasp, thinking maybe he doesn’t find me attractive or even slightly interesting. No wonder these people wait two weeks for the bonding to be sealed. Two weeks to change your mind and send the almost bride back home devastated, wondering for the rest of her life what she did wrong.
So, there can be but one meaning.
We will never have children because I am to be sent back.
By reflex, I pull back, ashamed, staring at my feet, my hands, the crystal goblets reflecting the perfect sunlight on the table. Anything but the man before me telling me that I’m not good enough. The room, with its marble floors and plastered walls and rich furniture, is stunning. Beyond anything, I could have imagined growing up in Anaith and living in a shack with a broken window and cracked walls that swayed with the wind. The sensation of almost freezing to death in the winter and going to bed with my body drenched in sweat in the summer was a constant reminder of what my life would always be like.
Until Ezra offered his hand.
But now it feels like sand slipping through my fingers, here one moment, gone the next. My heart thumps wildly as my legs move, but I don’t know where I’m going. I haven’t planned an exit. I’ve laid down all my defenses for the first time in my life and become lazy.
I am utterly useless.
Of course, he’s changed his mind. It was merely a matter of time. He’d grown weary of the silly Untouchable girls that bat their eyelashes and chat away like ninnies. He thought to try something different. Something wild and dangerous, with enough spirit to give him a run for his money. But now he knows better.
Now there will never, ever be someone singing for me. No groom choosing me.
My legs go heavy, as if weighed down with stones. The doors open, and somehow, I’m climbing up the stairs, my pace quickening with every beat of my broken heart. I’m not sure where I’m headed, perhaps to my room, which is no longer my room, or to a balcony to find relief from this nausea of utter worthlessness.
I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter. That I’m better off without him. That I never wanted to leave Madera or live in Playa Del Sol.
Every inhale of breath stings; my lungs betraying the truth.
I will miss this life that could’ve been mine.
But that’s not half of it. It’s the fact that Ezra finds me unsatisfactory. His pronouncement labels me Outcast in every imaginable way. I fling open the balcony doors and nearly collapse, the weight of my body pressing against the railing. The waves crash violently below my feet, too close, but not nearly close enough.
I lean in, reaching out my hands, imagining them wings soaring far away into the heavens. My eagle soaring to me. The spray of the waves sends a cold shiver on my flesh, but it feels so good. Intoxicating, heavenly, like throwing myself down a hill at full speed. And for a fleeting moment, I feel as if I could really fly, all I need is to take that first leap.
A loud gasp startles me out of my dream. “What are you doing?”
Warm hands pull me back. But something in me ignites, and I struggle out of reflex, my arms and legs flailing.
“ORIANA!” It takes me a full moment to register that it’s Ezra. His face is flustered, his breath hot and ragged.
I wiggle out of reach and trip against the cool concrete, my backside hitting the marble with a crack. A scream erupts, then something crashes. Somehow Velaria’s hovering over me, her eyes wild with fear.
Ezra screams, “Mistress has had a fainting spell; bring salts and towels.”
My head hurts and white spots blur before my eyes, a fresh wave of seawater spraying me. Someone’s holding my hand too tight. But I like it. It feels like home. A warm hand holding me tight, lifting me to the air. A cascade of blond curls.
Then I remember: I don’t have a home.
“Oriana, Oriana, can you hear me?”
Footsteps snap on the marble. Velaria presses a satchel of salts to my nostril, her hand trembling. My eyes droop closed, sleep overtaking me. Somewhere, a wolf wails a hysterical howl. The chase. I need to run. I need to hide.
Velaria slaps me hard, then moves to strike me again when I grab hold her wrist, twisting her limb red. Quickly, I regain my focus, and everything becomes clear. One side of my face stings hot, but nothing like the expression on Velaria’s, who appears ready to keel over.
I release her arm, and she staggers away.
Ezra, huddling over me, hisses at her, “Was that necessary?”
I lift my head, my eyesight clearing when a cup is thrust to my mouth. “Sip it slowly …”
The liquid burns hot like coals down my throat. But it has the desired effect. I arise from my nightmare.
“Darling, are you all right?” It’s Ezra’s voice, but the words seem wrong. Never once has anyone called me darling. Ezra glares at Velaria, reminding me of my eagle. For a second, I believe he will raise his talons and strike her. Then, with controlled restraint, he stills and swallows back what he was prepared to say. “Leave us.”
She slowly gets up, wobbling a bit, giving me a lingering frown before retreating.
I collect myself, sitting up as best I can. I’m positive that I must look a disaster. My hair, which took forever to appear presentable, is probably in tangles and my stocking stained from falling. Rising, I try to sound nonchalant that I am no longer welcome in his home. “When will you send me back to Madera?”
He blinks twice, his face whiter than a ghost. “Never, never …”
Unable to meet his gaze, I play with a button on my sleeve. “I suppose that’s why my things were packed.”
This morning, every stitch of my clothing was neatly folded in one large valise. It’s clever. Tell your intended she’s off to visit relatives when all the while she’s been sent packing back home in disgrace. Very Untouchable.
“Oriana … no, never would I send you back …” Ezra bursts into tears, his voice breaking. “Is that why …” I follow his gaze toward the railing. “I thought you were going to throw yourself …”
He can’t finish the sentence. I laugh. I don’t know why, but I do. Perhaps it’s because he just said I wouldn’t be sent back home. And for the first time, I realize that I don’t want to go back to Madera. That maybe, just maybe, I have a home here in Playa Del Sol with Ezra.
I correct him, pointing. “No, it’s the wrong angle.”
“What?”
I move my hand across the cliffside to a more appropriate spot to gain better speed to jump into the waters.
“Over there would be the ideal spot to jump. Perfect traction.” His jaw drops, his face quivering, and then he laughs.
“You had me almost peeing in my pants, young lady.” He moves closer in one long stride, pressing closer for what seems a small eternity. His fingers glide up and down my hair, sending a welcome tingle. Then his eyes narrow in that quizzical way, just like when he was searching for me in the schoolyard. “Are you upset at me? Please tell me Oriana … I need to know if I’ve done something wrong.”
“I understand Un--” I try again, avoiding the term that he’s forbidden me to use. “Your people are cold. You don’t like displays of affection. I will try to get used to it.”
Even though it is killing me. Even though Tristan’s touch haunts me day and night. Mostly nights, alone in my big bed reliving that kiss that woke me up, stirring something so primal that I’m terrified to give it a name.
When I dare look at him, he seems amused. The frown is completely gone.
“Is that what you think? That I don’t like you?” Now it’s his turn to sound incredulous.
This time, the smile reaches his eyes. Then, without warning, he gently holds me closer so that I can feel his heartbeat against mine, his whisper-soft voice tickling my earlobe. “I’ve just been waiting for the right time. That’s all.”
I sigh a breath of relief. “I don’t want to press matters, force something … unpleasant.”
He lifts my chin, then laughs. “When we get back from my relatives’ home, I will show you exactly how infatuated I am with you.”
A new sensation shakes me all the way to my core as our hands intertwine. Outside, a bell clangs noisily, the sound vibrating through the rooms, causing the candles to flicker.
“We are quite late.” Without another word, he guides me effortlessly down the stairs, where an impatient Ralio waits, tapping this boot against the steps. Through the open door, a gentle breeze of salty air lifts and all things seem possible.
Even seeing my eagle again.
A servant helps Ezra with his jacket, and a still petrified Velaria helps me with my cloak, taking the time to fix my hair. I smile to her to let her know that, despite the hysterics of the last few minutes, I am fine.
Before stepping out to the carriage, Ezra turns me to face the large mirror framed in the doorway, his chest pressed against my back. The image reflected is stunning. He’s so tall and handsome with a flawless face complete with a chiseled chin. Nothing short of perfection in human form.
And for a moment, I wish to trust in it. To believe.
“We will be late.” I lower my gaze, hurrying outside, my skin crawling at the thought of meeting his relatives. He takes a moment as if debating something crucial. But instead, his face relaxes as he joins me, taking the time to inhale deeply.
“Let them wait. They have us for an entire week.” He rolls his eyes, lifting me in the carriage and making sure I have the best seat. “Sometimes, I hate my customs.”
“Me too.” I feel a spark of confidence. Maybe this will work. Ezra and me. A couple. The thought still unsettles me though. Me and an Untouchable. Or maybe just me with anyone.
Once seated in the carriage, a nagging thought prevails. It’s so small that I could easily excuse it and pay it no heed. But the Neliem in me is curious, prying for more answers. Ezra now is all smiles, kissing my hand repeatedly, assuring me that all is well between us.
Ralio cracks the whip, and the horses bray, hastening forward. The jolt catches me by surprise as our carriage slowly makes the trek down the steep path toward Playa Del Sol.
Unexpectedly, the little hairs on the back of my neck stand. It’s now or never, I reason. Turning to face Ezra, I steady my voice, “Then why did you say, before, about … you know. That you thought I understood …”
His hand drops down, flexes. “I was never referring to us.”
Ezra turns away, and I realize that he doesn’t want to talk about whatever it was that caused such a strong reaction in me. I should know well enough to leave it alone. But it’s like a wasp flying too close.
I just have to swat it.
So, I count, and I breathe, and I wait. When that doesn’t work, I close my eyes and squelch down the urge, willing myself to ignore the buzzing, pretending that there’s nothing left unsaid. Holding my breath, the words push out of my mouth. “What were you referring to?”
“Your mother.”
I wince, and concede a bit, brushing over where she pinched me. It’s faded, and with it, the pain. “We weren’t that close. I mean, not really. I suppose seeing her once or twice a year will be fine.”
It’s a big concession on my part. One that I never dreamed I would have to make. But he remains tightlipped, that troubled expression never leaving his brow. “We will be very happy together, Oriana. Do you believe me?”
I smile, pushing and pulling at the picture of our reflection in my mind so that it fits. “Of course.”
He leans in, pressing the point. “And you trust me?”
His warm breath tingles over my face. He still smells like the sea, and it shouldn’t surprise me that much, since he lives here, but it does. By reflex, I move one of his curls off his forehead, noticing for the first time a splatter of tiny freckles. It settles me. He’s handsome, but something else. He’s safe. Startled, I realize that I do trust him. I’ve known him mere days, but he’s never once hurt me. If anything, Ezra’s gentle and careful, never pressing or taking advantage. Also, he’s never mistreated a servant; if anything, he’s more than generous. Ralio’s protruding stomach is evidence of that.
I return the question. “Do you trust me, Ezra?”
He closes his eyes and leans back, my hand clutching his. “With my life, yes.”
“I suppose I trust you as well.” As well as I’ve trusted anyone in my life, which is very few. Never my mother fully, or any of my classmates. Etta was the exception. I miss her so much it aches. But I can’t bring it up again. At least not now. Later. When he’s in a better mood and knows how much she means to me.
When I look up at him, he holds my gaze, his finger tracing down my nose.
I repeat it. “I trust you.”
“Then you trust me when I tell you that under no circumstances will your mother ever be allowed to see our children.”
Every nerve in my body quivers. As if someone has shot me. I hurl back in my seat, clutching my heart. The carriage skids and my skin crawls with dread, hot and feverish. Instinctively, I move further from him, closer to the door. At that precise moment, a fierce wind hits, rattling the carriage. I stumble hard against the back cushion. Somehow the latch dislodges and the door flares open, thumping violently against the carriage. The view outside is fierce, something out of a nightmare. Stormy winds and a turbulent sea beat in a whirlwind, my feet dangling out the door. I blink, too stunned to move as long ghostly tendrils seem to reach inside to grab me. If it weren’t for Ezra’s strong hold, I would be sucked out, torn to shreds off the jagged cliffs.
Ezra curses and grabs me, his leg and arms pinning me. He yanks me inside in one fluid motion. Only once I’m secure does he reach and slam the door shut with his foot, his breathing erratic and heavy.
He lays his full body weight on me, pressing me down. His voice is raw, pulsating against my ear. “Are you …”
My elbow presses into his gut, his ribcage vulnerable. The ideal position to do the greatest bodily injury with the smallest amount of effort. And it’s the first time in a long time I’ve thought about harming him. After he just saved my life.
Ezra moves the hair off my face so that our eyes connect. “Oriana, are you all right?”
My jaw falls open, staring into that face that, for the first time, seems dangerously predatory. The image of my eagle flashes, with its narrow beak and emotionless eyes that seem to mirror his.
I try to shake the sight away.
“Speak, tell me you’re …” He hugs me for what seems forever. So sweetly, like a child. The sensation of his body encasing mine makes me soften. And I can almost forgive him telling me my own mother will never once see her grandchildren.
Almost.
Only when we’ve cleared the dreaded steep hill does he let go. His back stiff with tension, he lets out a long breath.
Ralio veers off the road and comes to an abrupt halt, braking so fast that dust floats up the windows. Within seconds, he flings the door open, his body shaking, his bewildered face drenched in sweat. Then he breaks into a heartfelt sob. “What happened?” he gasps.
Ezra finally lifts himself off me completely. “The door, it came unlocked during the descent. We’re fine.”
To prove it, Ezra manages an uneasy smile.
But I’m anything but fine. My mind races, my senses more alert since leaving Madera. Ralio fusses over us like children, not bothering to wipe away his tears, proving his innocence. He checks the handle twice and finds a small piece of wood to secure it, apologizing profusely.
Ezra, the color returning to his face, sits absolutely still, like a statue, closer to the door. Holding onto my knee protectively, he steadies his voice, “We’re fine.” Then he orders, “Please sit further from the door.”
On cue, the carriage lunges forward, Ralio taking a slower pace to the gates of the city.
Without complaint, I comply with Ezra’s wishes and plant myself as close to the window as possible. Covering my mouth with a fake yawn, I inspect everything in the carriage, trying to catch what Ralio might’ve missed. The cushions were cleaned earlier; not a speck of dirt mars the inside except for a small patch of dark clay red. It’s just a speck or two.
Finally relaxing, Ezra rests a firm hand on my thigh and closes his eyes. “We should be there soon. Try to rest.”
