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  Grabbing the bowl off of the nearby table, he rested it in his lap. Removing a sizeable ripe berry, he lifted it to her lips, waiting for her lips to part.

  "Take a bite."

  Looking at the fruit in front of her mouth, she pursed her lips. Her belly grumbled.

  "Answer honestly, and I'll eat," she replied through closed teeth.

  "We aren't negotiating."

  "I'll eat, but you have to tell me what I want to know."

  "I wasn't there the day it happened, the day the houses of Reinald and Adrian were lost."

  "I wasn't going to ask about them."

  "Eat."

  Opening her mouth, she waited for him to place the berry in before closing it. Quickly she chewed, swallowing it, hoping to ask a question before he had another piece of fruit ready to feed her.

  "I want to know about the people who raised me."

  Sebastian remained silent, placing another piece of fruit in front of her mouth, waiting. Grabbing the dish from his lap, she quickly devoured the fruit, handing him the empty bowl he placed back on the table.

  "The Resistance."

  "What do you know about them?"

  "No one has seen them for years."

  "Sebastian."

  Standing up from the bed, he walked purposefully over to the curtains. Disappearing behind the long black fabric, Arel could hear the soft click as he closed the balcony door. Emerging from the billowing silk fabric that pooled on the floor, he laid on the bed next to Arel.

  "Zorin rules the Darken, and the Darken rule this world. Theirs was a world of fear, death, and obedience. Anyone that tried to stand up against his will face his vast armies. He made public examples of his power, regularly torturing and murdering."

  "Like Reinald and Adrian," asked Arel.

  "There were not the first to have stood up to them, nor would they be the last. It was rumored that Manea, his daughter raised an army to overthrow her father. The Resistance is said to have been that army."

  "What happened to her," asked Arel leaning slightly up.

  "For some reason, she went up to battle Zorin, without her army. It looked as though she would be the champion. In the end, Zorin remained in power without a daughter. After the battle, he sent his elite guard to exterminate the remaining bands of the Resistance," answered Sebastian. His tone flat, void of the feeling she could feel the jumble of emotions building up in her chest.

  The vision of her recurring nightmare came to mind; for years, the nightmare plagued her, dreams frightening her to her core. Their screams still rang in her ears minutes after waking up. The lifeless look of their dead eyes accusing her, blaming her. She had called it the darkness in her childhood fears, but it wasn't the darkness she feared. It was her people, the people her mother had stood up against the source of her terror.

  "Do you understand what I'm telling you," he asked her.

  Arel shook her head fervently. She didn't need him to elaborate. It was painfully clear to her how the numbers of the resistance never replenished. If Zorin could kill his daughter, how could anyone else stand a chance of defeating him?

  "Zorin killed his only daughter, his second in command. No one wielded more power aside from Zorin himself," his voice stopped abruptly.

  "What had she done for him to kill her? What possibly could have been her crime for him to end her life?"

  "It's late, you need to rest."

  "Sebastian, tell me."

  "She stood up against him. He made an example of her for anyone that would think they could rise against him."

  Laying back on the bed, she stared up at the ceiling, listening carefully to the sounds of the house. Silently the house remained as if the house was empty though she knew better. Eyes closed she tuned out all the other noises, searching for a thought. Focusing heard, she waited as the information poured into her. She could feel him sitting over her watching her, studying her breathing. Slowly she peered through half-closed eyelids up at him.

  "Have you been using your gifts," he demanded.

  "Why does it matter," her voice barely above a whisper as she closed her eyes back, shielding her vision from the bright light of the chandelier.

  "We don't know what the strain of the child will do to you. You have to make sure you are not endangering your health."

  "I'm not straining myself. Why do you seem so afraid? What is it that you aren't telling me?"

  "A lot. You are not ready to know the things I have been keeping from you."

  Turning off the light, he laid down on the bed beside her. Pulling her close, she embraced him, wrapping her arms around his waist before laying her head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat, her eyes growing heavy, she shortly fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  Arel’s Dream

  The sky glowed red along the amber horizon. In the distance, muffled cries rose from the ground stretching towards the vapor filled sky. Large plums of thick black smoke billowed from the charred remains of the peeling buildings. The perfume stench burning her eyes as she pressed on. The coagulated air coated with charbroiled flesh and melted plastic. Blankets of gray, black, and white clouded the dusk sky obstructing the view ahead. Far off, birds rose from the crumbling edifices retreating to safety in the nearby horizon. Their cries were sounding the alarm of retreat.

  On every side of her, the city was disintegrating between red hot flames and ash. Heat rising up from the ground, running from the buildings, burning towards her. Sweat glided down her forehead trailing her hairline to the ground. Her eyes stung from the sharp heat and smoke, obstructing her view. Choking back the cough rising from her chest, creeping up her throat, she pressed on.

  Gripping her sword, she continued towards the center of the town. Large craters dipped in the broken road; the debris of metal, stone, and bone scattered along her path. There in the rubble lay the cold bodies of women and children, bloodied and broken. Mouths gaped open their eyes looked up in horror frozen in the last minutes of their lives. Damned by their silent curses, she pressed on.

  The ground gave way to her steps, soft and lumpy. Pools of red, rising with each step, their blood sweeping up the sides of her worn leather boots. Her sword drawn, she looked for the culprit, the one who had set the town ablaze. There was no sign for the one who had left the trail of bodies and blood. She stood alone in the dead city, vacant except for the sound of her own rapid heartbeat. Gone, they were all gone.

  Arel woke with from her nightmare with a slight start, her head resting on Sebastian’s wet chest. Inhaling him deeply, she caressed his torso, deciding whether to open her eyes or not. Tilting her head up and over, she peeked through thick brown eyelashes towards the partly opened curtains hanging over the window. The sunlight danced through the closed balcony window along the plush carpet. Snuggling closer to him, she turned her into him, shielding her eyes from the bright rays of the sun.

  “Good morning beautiful,” said Sebastian, his hand rubbing down her back.

  Arel softly shook her head no, burying her head deeper into his side away from the rays of light.

  “Let’s stay in bed,” she mumbled into him half demanding, half pleading.

  “You need to eat,” he remarked. Pulling Arel's head up from his side, he brushed the hair back behind her ear out of the way of her eyes.

  “I’m not hungry,” she demanded. Playfully she shook her head no before again burying it into the cradle of his arm. She knew she needed to eat, but she preferred they stayed in bed holding each other, away from the rest of the members in the household.

  “You may stay in bed after you eat.”

  “Sebastian. I’m not hungry.”

  Turning her face towards him, he kissed her lips. “I know I don’t have to remind you to keep your strength up.”

  “Okay,” she replied reluctantly, absent from the will to continue their game.

  Stretching her hands above her head, she curved her body up, reaching towards the high ceiling. Slowly she sat up, trying to prolon
g the inevitable of heading out of their bedroom into the rest of the house.

  Their bedroom, a protective space provided a place of solace, a getaway from the rest of the house. In the back of her mind lingered the hope that being around them would gain their trust and eventually their acceptance.

  Standing over the bed, Sebastian patiently waited as Arel continued to stretch her body on the bed. Holding his hand out, he quickly pulled Arel from the bed to her feet, resting her gently on the soft carpet.

  “Okay. Just the drink you made before should be enough,” replied Arel. Reluctantly she agreed as her stomach let out a soft growl. The hunger growing, she knew she could not stay hidden in their room forever; she would have to venture down the stairs into the rest of the house.

  Placing her hand into his, she let him lead her towards the closed bedroom door. The quiet of the house crept into their room as Sebastian slowly opened the French doors of their bedroom. Eerily quiet the house sat, no creeks, no sounds of life like she was used to in the state homes or in her apartment.

  The brightly lit hallway lay before the couple as Arel walked hesitantly over the threshold from her sanctuary. Sunlight was always streaming through the house. The expansive windows allowed the sun to pour in just about every space. Throughout the rooms, Arel could see full views of the impressive gardens and orchards that were scattered around the estate leading off to the woods that she assumed was the edge of the property.

  Arel stopped on the landing in front of the large painting of Sebastian’s parents. She studied the features of Amata Cadell, looking up at the portrait. Amata stood by Aeron’s side at the entrance of a garden. It was easy to see the features she loved in Sebastian’s strong face were gifted from his mother. Looking at the familiar face, she remembered the sadness that troubled Amata many years ago.

  “She was beautiful. You and Catrin look just like her. It must be hard for your father to be reminded of her loss.”

  “Our parents were promised to each other as children, for my father, it was love at first sight. As time grew his love grew, even more, she was his Gra mo chroi.”

  “What is that, gram o chroy?”

  Sebastian chuckled, pulling her closer. “She was the love of his life, promised to each other as children. Eir said the strength of their bond was so strong that with her death, a part of his anam died.”

  “His anam?”

  “Soul.”

  “I didn’t know,” she replied.

  “There is a group of elders that determine which lines of the families will be joined. Life and death are regulated. Every child born in any of the lines is matched off, ensuring the tribute is paid. They strengthen the relations between the houses. My parents had a favorable marriage, happy with the match. There are other unions not as fortunate.”

  “None of you have been able to choose who you were with, who you would marry?”

  “No.”

  “But Iliad chose, you chose,” she replied softly.

  “Others who have chosen have paid a high price for their choice. It’s not as easy as just walking away. We still have to answer for our actions.”

  “What does that mean?” Turning away from the portrait, Arel looked to Sebastian, trying to read his body language. His face remained stoic as he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  “We will appear before the tribunal.”

  “When will that happen?”

  “They will call us soon, today or tomorrow. Come, let’s get you something to eat.”

  Releasing his arms from around her waist, he intertwined his fingers with hers, heading towards the stairs. Following him down the staircase, she squeezed his hand, trying again to communicate without words to him. Looking up at him with her large gray eyes, she smiled slightly seeing if there was any change in his demeanor.

  Standing at the bottom of the landing, she looked over her shoulder at the portrait of Amata. The woman's eyes seemed to follow them into the foyer. Walking into the expansive kitchen, the pair stopped in front of the large island opposite the stove. Sitting at the marble and wood counter in the kitchen, Arel watched as Sebastian took fruit and vegetables to the sink.

  “When are they coming,” Arel asked again concerning the approaching questioning.

  “They are here now. We could be called as soon as tonight.”

  “Sebastian. Shouldn’t you help me prepare for the interrogation?”

  “My love. You must remain calm. There isn’t anything you should worry about.”

  “What will it be like? What will they ask? What am I supposed to tell them?”

  Arel grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to her face. Kissing her lips, he caressed her cheek, brushing the hair behind her ear.

  “I do not know what they will ask,” replied Sebastian.

  “Shouldn’t there be some sort of preparation for this. It’s important; I’m going in there completely unprepared. What if I say or do the wrong thing? Isn’t it important enough to prepare ahead of time?”

  “There’s nothing to prepare,” he replied, placing the glass in front of her.

  Pulling the cup close to her lips, she looked over the rim at him. Leaning back, she rested entirely on the high back stool, stretching her legs underneath her. Gently her fingernails tapped on the cream top of the counter where her hands rested. Placing the cup back on the bar, Arel cupped her hands together.

  “Sebastian. I don’t fit in your world. Your traditions and customs are important. I want them to accept me, and if prepared, will help me to gain their trust, then we should do that. The least you could do is to get me ready for what’s in store. Help me not to make a fool of you or your family in front of everyone.” It was his father’s reputation that she worried about; her presence had brought about questions from his staunchest supporters.

  “You won’t make a fool of anyone.”

  “Sebastian.”

  “The members of the tribunal, a few of the elders of the families and my father, will be present. This tribunal will be closed except for a few select elders, my father, and the members of the council. In the room will be seven chairs, my father sits in the center. Marcus is the oldest protector of the laws he will sit on my father’s right, the other members will be spread out on either side,” replied Sebastian.

  “Will Iliad and Xavier be there? Will their child?”

  “Drink,” he said, lifting the cup up to her lips.

  “Will they,” she asked again, pushing the cup away from her face.

  “She needs to be prepared,” Catrin’s voice came from behind her.

  Sebastian’s sister glided from behind Arel in a pale pink suit with nude heels. Catrin’s cold eyes stared at Arel a few feet away from where she sat on the stool. In front of her, the thick green concoction Sebastian had made waited.

  “She’s right. Even though you won’t say anything, I know it’s important. How can I convince them that I’m not a threat if you don’t tell me what I need to know?”

  “There’s nothing he can tell you to prepare for what they will ask. The tribunal isn’t about the threat you pose, it’s about what punishment they will demand.”

  “What can he tell me?”

  “My brother didn’t just break the promise to marry and procure a child. He turned his back on our traditions for you, our enemy, the very one that has enslaved our kind for generations. His firstborn is promised to the Darken; like the others, he will save our people for another generation. That seed you’re carrying is a tribute, payment that is promised. The judiciary will demand the child, are you going to give it to them?”

  “No,” replied Sebastian. “The child isn’t going to the Darken.”

  “Sebastian,” Arel interrupted. The anger brewed coursing its way through her veins, fueling her to stand up to Catrin. Arel could see the pressure his family placed on him concerning their laws and traditions. She grew tired of hearing the same demands of her and Sebastian. There was no way she was going to give in to
the law keepers or any other members of his family to pay their ransom.

  “Catrin, I have told Sebastian this child cannot be given to the Darken. Everyone needs to understand that our child will not be used as a bargaining chip.”

  “That child never belonged to Sebastian, it has always been the property of the Darken. It has always been our way.” Catrin looked down at Arel, neither woman backing down from the defensive positions they had taken.

  “Catrin, stop this. Arel’s child is her own,” demanded Sebastian.

  “How will you protect it? Your blood might be Darken, but you don’t know who you are. You cannot win against them.”

  Catrin turned towards Sebastian, facing her brother.

  “How will you protect them? No one has stood up against the Darken and survived. You cannot choose her over the rest of us, you cannot die for her!”

  “He’s not choosing himself, even our child or me over the rest of you. I may not have all of my memories or know exactly who I am, but I know the way you all have lived can’t be sustained,” yelled Arel.

  Catrin faced Arel, grabbing her wrist. “They will question Sebastian,” said Catrin. “They will demand answers for Sebastian’s crimes.”

  Sebastian stood between the two women, facing his sister he removed Catrin’s grasp on Arel’s wrist. Calmly the siblings stared at each other. Arel sat back on the stool, watching them.

  “His crimes,” questioned Arel breaking the silence in the room. “He hasn’t done anything. What crimes has he committed?”

  It hit Arel, the tribunal wasn’t about her; it was for him. Saddened Arel's eyes fell to the counter in front of her as she reflected on her thoughts. As she looked back up at Sebastian, she thought she saw Catrin’s hand rest briefly on him before returning to her side. Reasoning better, Arel could not remember either of them displaying affection towards the other.

  “It’s for you,” Arel whispered. “I’m not one of you, your laws don’t apply to me. So, they couldn’t place me on trial, but they need to make an example for anyone that would think of following after you. They need everyone to follow the rules even if they lead to your extinction.”