Chapter 14
Revealed Truths
Theron stood upon the northern tower and wind blew across his
face. It whipped his hair and he drew his cloak closer to himself. Mist still
laced the morning, and the cool white haze blanketed the horizon. The distant
murmur of the city drifted up to their ears between dog barks and horse brays.
A number of servants stood around Theron as they waited for Olivia. They talked
in low voices as Elshender and his two knights stood close at hand.
Among them stood two beasts of might and beauty: griffins. Their
heads were that of an eagle, framed with cat-like, pointed ears, and great
wings were tucked close to their sides. Their front legs were birds’ feet, dark
talons curled and scraping along the stone roof, and the hind legs were those
of a lion. The torsos and tails were also of a lion, though their tails were
tipped in feathers. The beasts stood alert, the wind wafting their feathers
with each gust, and their heads moved in a jumpy, bird-like fashion as they
whispered between each other. Two servants stood on either side of the
griffins, and fastened saddles between their wings.
Theron looked out across the land toward Wraith’s Hollow far
beyond his seeing capabilities. The dark tree line sent his mind back to the
day they were attacked. How did he stray so far from her side? If only he could
go back and protect her from whatever evil had befallen her. He closed his eyes
and sighed heavily, as he did before battle to calm his nerves. He looked up
into the sky and saw pasty clouds drift past on a sea of blue. A hawk soared
among them. He thought of The Wizard and wondered if he would help them. Let
me find the truth today, he thought. Let this be my Olivia!
“You all right?” Elshender asked as he nudged his arm. Theron
nodded. He looked to the large warrior and the knights beside him. Their
weapons, one a sword and the other with a mace, were well hidden behind thick
robes. Elshender studied his friend, and saw his rigid steps as he paced and
his eyes leaping from one thing to another. He clapped Theron on the back, and
nodded encouragingly.
Theron glanced away and cleared his throat, trying to quiet his
beating heart.
“Ah! There is my darling, scrumptious love!”
Theron turned and saw Olivia walking toward him, Cedany, Krea, and
Sobriina close behind. The she-elf glanced at Prince Theron and looked away
before anyone noticed. She turned her purple eyes out across the land, gaze
falling on an owl that flew toward the castle in wide arcs. Her shoulders
bunched and her eyes darted away.
“Smile,” Elshender mumbled to Theron.
The prince grinned as he wondered if this Olivia was in fact not a
someone, but a something. He walked toward her, his arms outstretched. “My
dear.”
Olivia, her lips pulled taut in a wide smile, took hold of his
cloak and yanked him close. Theron bit back a grimace as her lips pressed over
his. His hair stood on end, and he resisted the urge to pull her back.
Olivia released him and smiled again, though her brown eyes did
not look at him. “What is your delightful surprise?” she whispered. She curled
a strand of his hair through her soft fingers.
“Um . . . well—” He cleared his throat and eased his hair from her
hand. “You said you wanted to learn how to ride. Ride a griffin, and now . . .
you can.” He motioned to the beasts behind him. “They are prepared and
waiting.”
Olivia’s eyes flickered to the griffins and her smile melted.
“Poisoned air—”
Theron gave her a sideways glance, the curse quite unladylike.
“Um . . . how sweet, but . . .” Olivia laid a hand on her brow.
“I’m not feeling very well, as of late.” She looked at him, her brow creased.
“I don’t rightly think it would be wise to take part in this thrilling and
dangerous sport in the state that I’m in.”
Theron raised his chin, dread’s cold touch freezing his blood.
“You seemed fine to me during breakfast.”
“Oh, it has suddenly come over me. You must understand, beloved.”
Olivia grinned and stepped closer, her lips puckered.
Theron drew back and forced her to stand at arm’s length.
“Darling?” Olivia stared at him, alarmed. “Whatever’s wrong with
you?”
Theron looked into her eyes and swallowed hard. “Remember when we
first met?” he whispered.
“Oh yes,” she said with a sigh. “How could I forget?”
“It was so beautiful.” Theron willed himself to smile. “At Crown
Haven’s gates, the sky bright and blue, with everyone around to welcome me. And
then I kissed your hand. When we first met.”
“Of course,” Olivia said. Theron’s heart leapt into his throat. “I
remember it well; it was not very long ago. What a delightful day! Well, once I
overcame my foolish nervousness.” She smiled bashfully.
Theron gazed down at her, unable to move. His heart struck against
him as though it tried to escape. “That’s where we first met?” His voice
cracked and he swallowed hard. “Right?”
“Yes, my lord,” Olivia said, her head tilted to one side. “Why are
you mentioning our first meeting?”
The prince swallowed hard. Goosebumps rose along his arms. He
closed his eyes and gathered his nerves. This woman could still be Olivia. She
may still be here somewhere. He took a swift, controlled breath. “I . . .
I’m concerned for you.”
Olivia’s brow furrowed as she studied his face. “Oh, this is just
a sudden yet passing chill I feel. I am going to be fine.”
“Are you?” Theron’s gaze sharpened. “You’re acting . . .
different.”
Olivia blinked and turned away. “Whatever do you mean, my lord?”
Theron stared down at her as a thin string of hope gripped his
heart. He turned her toward him and cupped her face in his hands, looking her
in the eyes. “Olivia.” She stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Olivia, I love you.”
His heart pleaded for her to come back.
Olivia laid a hand over his and smiled. “Oh, my lord . . .” She sighed
and wrapped her arms around him. “I will always return your love, tenfold.”
Theron embraced her and felt her heartbeat against his chest. He closed his
eyes and laid a hand between her shoulders. He questioned his doubts as he felt
her beside him. A fool! That’s what I am. A fool for questioning her! This
is Olivia, my bride and—
Theron’s eyes flew open. His hand,
on the back of her neck, stiffened as he felt her smooth skin and . . .
His heart skipped a beat. His fingertips brushed small, taut strings
crisscrossed down her spine, like the cinching ties of a dress. Olivia swiftly
inhaled and drew back with a sudden jerk. She touched the back of her neck and
placed her veil over the stitch work. She smiled weakly, but looked away. “A
horseback riding accident, my lord,” she whispered. “It embarrassed me, thus I
long to conceal it. Also why I don’t want to ride such frightful beasts as
griffins.”
Theron rigidly stared with bulging eyes and mouth half open,
realization draining him of color. After a silence, which was far too quiet,
Theron shut his mouth as his eyes narrowed to darkened slits. He looked to her
nose, at the corners of her mouth, and her ears. He noticed that, beside her
left ear, stitches were crossed along its high corner.
Olivia tensely stared at Theron. She glanced at the griffins, the
servants, and the men-at-arms. She eyed their weapons and looked away. “What
are your thoughts, my lord? Share. If we are to be one—”
“I told Olivia to call me Theron.” He looked her in the
eyes. Brown eyes, they were brown. He lifted his chin, clearly remembering
Olivia’s vivid emerald eyes! “Theron. Not my lord.”
Olivia stared up at him, then giggled. “What are you talking
about, my love? Why say I told Olivia? I am Olivia!”
A muscle in Theron’s jaw twitched, vehement loathing emanating
from his gaze. Olivia’s smile disappeared. Sobriina glanced between the two,
her mouth half open.
Theron reached forward and grabbed Olivia’s face with one hand.
She screamed as his fingers dug into her eye. He pulled and skin tore free. A
shriek fled Olivia’s lips, shrill and wild-like. She fell back, her hands
pressed over her face and collapsed to her knees, wailing. Krea rushed to her
lady’s side, screaming, as Cedany followed. Sobriina did not move as she
watched, her hands held behind her.
Theron, his eyes cold and muscles tense, looked down at his hand.
A misshaped shred of ivory skin flapped in the breeze. It had two holes in it,
one for an eye and one for a nostril. Theron looked back at Olivia and listened
to her whimpering howls.
“Flesh Thief . . .” he whispered darkly. His chest heaved as color
rushed into his face. “Flesh Thief!” He raised the skin in his hand so all
could see.
The servants yelled and flinched back. The men-at-arms drew their
weapons without another thought. Krea stared at the strip of flesh, her cries
suddenly caught in her throat. Sobriina covered her mouth and stared at the
woman on the ground.
Olivia shuddered and looked to Theron with her good eye. “W—what?”
Krea backed away and seized Cedany. She would not let go.
A tear fell from Olivia’s eye. “Why speak such horrid things—”
“Take it off,” Theron seethed.
“My lord—”
“Take it off, by the Silver Eye!” His face trembled and his eyes
burned. He drew his sword and held it in a firm grasp.
Olivia gulped and sobbed, looking to anyone for help. No one
moved. Olivia turned back to Theron with trembling gasps. He stood over her
unmoved, eyes cold and murderously dark as he adjusted his hold on the sword.
Olivia sighed and her eyes lost their horror. She glanced away and
shrugged with a sniff. “Shame,” she muttered as she stood. She faced Theron and
his heart missed a beat. Half her face was Olivia, but the other half was a
mess of shredded skin. No blood dripped from her, but a darker shade of skin
peeked through the gore. She grinned and her eyes narrowed. “Took you rightly
long enough to figure it out!” She smirked.
The Flesh Thief took a fistful of her blonde hair and pulled. Her
face stretched until it tore in two. It fell away and hung limply down her
back, the golden locks dragging upon the ground.
Krea screamed and one of the servants fainted. Theron flinched and
stared, forgetting to breathe as he stared at who lay underneath the disguise
of flesh.
Nan’s grin broadened as their eyes locked. “You know, boy?” She
scratched her forearm. “Yous be a good kisser.” Her nails dug into her arm
until the overlaying skin began to tear. Krea turned away with a guttural
cough, bile rising from her stomach. Nan laughed and ripped the skin from her
arms. It fell to the ground in dead heaps. “Oh, and I’m a Wilder! Shade Kin, if
you must know. Just like everyone thought. Surprise! Ha! Ha!”
Renewed hatred washed over Theron like a boiling wave. He had
slain Wilders before, one more would make little difference. “Where is Olivia?”
“You’re not the best kisser, I say,” Nan continued. “A Charnelic
would better the best, or even a werewolf! If there’s enough meat in his belly,
that is. But you’ll do.”
Theron stepped forward, his breath coming in rapid bursts. “Where
is she? Is that her skin?” His voice cracked despite himself.
Nan absentmindedly glanced at her hand and picked the skin still
attached to her fingers. She flicked it to the ground in little flakes,
humming.
Theron’s eyes darkened. “What have you done with her!”
Nan shook her head and sighed. “This was the bestest thieving.”
She grinned. “Even better than when I were in that wolf’s hide and went to that
village. Learned throats rip out nicely with a good set of fangs in.”
“I will not ask you again!” Theron yelled.
A chuckle lifted from the Wilder’s throat and rattled its way to
her lips. “You’re cursed, king of dung!” she sang high and loud.
Theron blinked.
Nan looked at him. “Cursed. From them stones Unki the Firm sits
on—”
“Is she still alive—”
“Cursed! By the ground! The sun! The moon! The holy stones!”
“What have you done to her!”
Nan’s eyes narrowed and a smile rounded her lips. She pointed a
finger at the prince, half covered with the tattered, stolen skin. “May your
eyes be gray. May them be dark like a Wraith, for a Wraith you’ll become!”
Theron straightened his back as his grip of his sword tightened.
“Be always bad! Always cursed! And may all your lovelies be ripped
from your heart!” The Flesh Thief’s smile grew. “I, Fyss, Flesh Thief of Unki’s
Fist, curse you in and out!”
Theron lifted his chin, yet his blood chilled. He could not
breathe.
“Nan,” Krea gasped, a puddle of vomit strewn beside her. “What,
what happened to you? Why are you so . . . This is not like you! Did Lord Demus
curse you too?”
Fyss gave the pale girl a cold look and shook her head. “Nothing’s
changed in me. The disguise is gone, off at last! I ain’t that mother-like
lady, Nan. I don’t care about you! I be Fyss! I’ve attacked a village
because they sold my daughter! My little Nadira, little shadow princess . . .
I’m a killer, a true Shade Kin! I be a Wilder! Hail Unki the Firm! May he stick
your jaw!”
The Flesh Thief grinned as Krea flinched away, coughing again. She
shook her head and glanced back at Theron, her head tilted to one side as the
dead scalp and long hair shifted in the wind. The shredded skin’s face stared
blankly at those around it, hollow and unblinking. “Foolish man—”
“Answer me!” He hissed. “Where is Olivia?”
Fyss lifted her chin. “Where you left her.” She absentmindedly
motioned to the horizon, to the far off black line of Wraith’s Hollow. Theron’s
stomach flopped on itself.
Cedany gasped suddenly, her face white. “Valsara,” she breathed.
“You killed Valsara. That’s her skin. You killed and skinned Olivia’s double. That’s
why we couldn’t find her. Oh, Wizard save us!”
“But why go after her, huh?” Fyss asked. She shrugged and crossed
her arms over her chest. “She’ll be used by that man who’s got her. He’s a
smart one, he is. Will come up with new things to do with her pretty little
self.” Theron’s skin crawled as his hand tightened on his sword. “Once she’s
spent, he’ll get rid of her. She’s probably half eaten by wolves by now—”
“By the One in Red, I will saw you in two if I must!”
The Flesh Thief stared at Theron, stunned. She threw her head back
and laughed long and hard. “You? You, saw me in two! Like a log for the fire?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Not your day to kill, oh cursed prince. Not
yours!”
Theron stepped forward, his sword lowered to the level of her
heart. “You will tell me—”
“He sees all!” Fyss cried. “Knows all! Knows you see my face!
Knows I’m done here! That Spellbinder! That horrid, wonderful, beautiful—”
The Wilder cried suddenly and fell to her knees. She gasped and
collapsed to the ground. With a shake of her head, she chuckled. “See? I speak
and his powerful hand strikes.”
Theron stared at the Flesh Thief, his eyes wide and brimmed in
darkness. “No. . . . Wait!” He dropped his sword and raced to her side. “Speak!
Before it’s too—”
“Fool!” the Flesh Thief choked. “Was too late the day—” Her back
arched as pain riddled her face. She groaned and blood seeped from her nose.
“—the day . . . Olivia was taken from you . . .”
Theron’s heart beat wildly as he watched the life being pulled
from Fyss’s eyes. He seized her shoulders and jerked her this way and that.
“Talk! Where is Olivia!”
The woman grinned, her eyes narrow and filled with amusement. The
next moment, a gray emptiness dulled them, and her body fell limp in his arms.
Theron blinked as he stared down at her, heart racing with dread.
“No, no, no, no . . .” he moaned. He shook her shoulders. “Come
on. Come on! Talk!”
No one moved as they watched their prince’s frantic efforts. He
did not care; all he knew was Olivia was gone. Dead in all likelihood! Killed,
left in some shadow or behind a rock, her clothes torn by hungry hands. He
swallowed hard, but the lump would not leave his throat.
A hand lay on his shoulder. “My lord?” Sobriina whispered. He did
not respond as he stayed focused on the dead woman. “Theron?”
“Get away!” he hissed.
She withdrew her hand, but did not move from his side. “She is
dead.” Theron closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. “No further insight can be
drawn from her.”
He stared down at the Wilder and realized her blood stained his
clothes and pieces of stolen skin had flaked onto him. He looked into her
rolled-back eyes, hoping life could still be found in them. He glanced away and
stood with shaken hands. Still, no one moved as they stared at their prince.
The breeze whipped between the gathering and chilled them all.
“Get rid of it,” Theron ordered Elshender before turning and
thundering away. He rushed downstairs, his steps strong and loud as he stomped
down the hallway. His thoughts twisted and collided until they were a tangled
mess. His eyes darted to everything that moved, and his fists were clenched. A
servant almost collided with him as he rushed around a corner. She threw
herself against the wall to avoid his piercing gaze.
Theron had told himself there was no such thing as Spellbinders,
no such person as Lord Demus. But now there was? And he, the future king, had
left her. Left his betrothed, his Olivia, to be used. To be killed! What kind
of king was that? Who leaves their woman defenseless in the horrors of
Wraith’s Hollow! Not a king worthy of Tulaun. Not worthy of any land.
Theron burst into his chamber, the servants inside jumping as the
door banged against the wall. “Everyone out.” They stared at him in stunned
silence, staring at his bloodstained tunic and clumps of flaky skin. Theron met
their gaze and his stare darkened. “Out!”
They dropped everything and hurried out the door.
He paced the room and his heart pounded in his throat. He wiped
his mouth again and again, remembering the fervent kisses he had given a
Wilder. A fool, that’s what he was! He clenched his eyes shut and gritted his
teeth.
How long had Olivia been gone? What if she was taken before they
were even in Wraith’s Hollow? Crown Haven could have been the last time he had
seen her. Or worse! What if he never met her at all? Lady Olivia could be a
mere name from a sick-minded fiend! A fake! Could she be nothing but a
well-disguised sham? Theron shook his head and ran his fingers through his
hair. It can’t be! He loved Olivia! She loved him! She could not have
always been that Wilder! But if she was . . .
Olivia’s smile, her laugh, her lips, her words, her life . . . all
a lie? She betrayed him. She was a lie from the start—
Theron shook his head. He groaned and took hold of the bedpost.
The Flesh Thief’s blood made his fingers sticky against the wooden frame. He
felt the hard wooden engravings against his fingertips; it was something solid,
something real.
Olivia didn’t betray me, Theron told himself. She is real. The
Wilder is to blame! He took in a deep breath and forced himself to think
rationally. As he rigidly stood, like a warrior on the verge of war, his heart
bowed under the weight of pain. The glassy surface held together with all its
might, but it could not withstand the burden. A crack lined its side and shards
fell and stabbed him. Theron flinched, but did not hear the fracture of his
heart.
He turned toward the window, looking in the direction of Wraith’s
Hollow. He knew she was still in the demented woods, still alive. He could save
her. Yes! He could bring her home! Marry her! There was hope! And he would rid
the world of this so-called Lord Demus. The Spellbinder was a fool to have
taken his bride!
Theron lifted his chin and straightened his back. His eyes
narrowed as he stared toward the horizon. He could almost feel his sword in
hand, and the required force to lodge it through Demus’ stomach. A shadow
darkened his brow. Yes, he would go back to find Olivia and bring her safely
home. He only prayed she had the strength to survive long enough for him to
find her.
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___________________________________
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The adventure continues!
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“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7
Our hearts are fragile.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
If you have any comments, critiques, or concerns, please comment below!!!
