Page 83 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

82

FINNLEAH

B y the time I made it back to the Creator’s village from my walk with Aurelia and Viyak on the coast, I was sweating. The blazing summer sun did not hesitate to burn my face, turning my slightly faded freckles into more prominent dark spots. I waved at the busy residents of the village, greeting each one of them, finally making it to Xentar's narrow cottage and tumbling inside. Chilled air and the lack of direct sunlight filled my body with pleasant relief as I ran to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of water.

Xentar was sitting at the round table, waiting for me. Dressed in his sleeveless tunic, he leaned back in his chair, his perfect face relaxed, golden eyes hurrying me. I motioned him with my finger ‘one minute’ while my tongue was busy gulping down the cold water. Finally, wiping a drop off my chin, I darted to my chair, taking a seat across from him.

“Ready?” He gestured to the pile of rocks that I had brought back from the shore.

“What color would you like today?” I asked as I twisted a small rock with my fingers. “Gray or…hear me out here, black and white mixed together?” I sent him a crooked smile; he shook his head but still laughed.

“Today, we will work on their shape. I’d like perfect little squares,” Xentar said and with a simple motion of his large hand, he turned the rock into a perfectly shaped square.

“Well, I hope you like ovals, because that’s what you are getting today,” I replied as I grabbed another one of the small rocks.

“Concentrate.” His voice was stern, though he still had a bright, large smile, illuminating his face. “It’s simple, just a rearranging of matter. Close your eyes,” he ordered, and I did. “Concentrate on the material, feel the particles moving.”

I could almost feel the heated vibrations in my hand as my power curiously wrapped around the rock.

“Then you simply rearrange those particles,” Xentar continued explaining. I pushed for my powers to not only observe, but to make a change. But as the chains rustled within me, the little power that I had felt crumbled into nothingness. I let out a sigh, opening my eyes. A perfect square now laid on Xentar’s extended palm, mine on the other hand, might have had a sharpened corner? But even that was a stretch.

“It’s a start,” Xentar replied, I fought an eye roll, but nodded instead. Everyone had to start somewhere, he often said. Hour after hour, we spent inside, hiding from the ruthless midday sun, honing my poor Creator abilities.

Xentar was a lot more patient than I could ever be. Even as I turned my millionth rock into a dull shade of gray, he didn’t complain, but just guided me along. But ultimately, his patience had run out, as he sighed looking at my poorly shaped gray rock, letting me be done for the day.

I’d practice, of course, even without my unruffled teacher. In fact, it had become somewhat of a curious habit, to pick up random objects around me and try to change their color or shape. Trying and failing most of the time. My Creator’s powers were there, I had accepted that. But it felt as if they were locked deep within me and no matter how much I pushed or searched, only an echo of them came out.

I climbed up the ladder to the small loft. The round rug felt nice under my feet as I hopped onto my bed. I was still a much better Creator than a Healer, considering I had yet to see even a glimpse of my healing powers. A part of me contemplated if I had them in the first place. I pulled off my boots and fluffed my pillow, climbing under a blanket.

I needed a nap. A quick, short nap, where I wouldn’t have dreams, where I could just rest and sleep, then I’d wake up and practice more.

I yawned, rolling over to my side, pulling the covers up to my shoulder as I held on to the corner of the soft fabric. My mind was slowly drifting asleep when, with a loud clap, a bird appeared in my room, making my heart stop for a moment.

I sat up, thrill running through my veins, as I grabbed the paper she held in her onyx beak.

‘Was?’ As in past tense?

Perhaps it was my slumbering mind, but perplexity etched on my face as my brows furrowed deeper. I reread it again and still couldn’t decode it.

What? I wrote, giving up. My hands rubbed my eyes, no longer caring for the nap, even though my mind felt like mush.

You said ‘sorry, I was being one.’ Was, as if in the past tense. Are you implying you are no longer a coward? he asked, and the corner of my lips tugged upward in a crooked smile.

You did not write to me for a whole week and that is what you came up with? I scribbled, narrowing my eyes down at the paper. But soon, my heart fluttered, and a secret smile hid behind my thinned lips, realizing he spent a whole week overthinking a single sentence that I wrote.

You are deflecting, Daughter of the Dead, just answer the question , he replied . His neat letters lined perfectly, and I could almost hear his voice as I reread his words. I scratched my head with the pen and then wrote.

Yes. No longer a coward. I bit my lip, anxiously scribbling another sentence. Perhaps I realized that some people are worth being courageous for. I handed off the folded paper to the patiently waiting bird. My eyes watched her disappear into thin air as my heart raced at unknown speeds.

“So ‘brave and courageous’ but not enough to admit your true feelings…Ugh!” I mocked myself, flopping on the pillow with a grunt, nervously waiting for his response.

But he did not reply.

Three days.

Three days had passed, and I had not heard from him.

At first, I was worried, concerned, staying up each night in hopes of Liriya showing up, waking up even at the slightest noise.

Days, I spent watching for every bird flying in the sky with false expectations.

I summoned a large, fiery sphere in my hands, throwing it far into the ocean, watching it clash against the water.

“He is at war,” I tried to reason but my righteous anger protested. “He could’ve sent a sentence,” I hissed out loud as I summoned more of my raw fire. “You are the one who pushed him away,” I countered. “He hasn’t been perfect either!” Well, actually he kind of has been, the last remnants of reason whispered inside. “Ugh!” I groaned.

Perhaps it was unreasonable and perhaps it was irrational of me, but my worry had long turned to frustration, and frustration had turned to anger. The next thing I knew, I was on the beach mid-day, sending blasts of angry fire into the open air.

Three long fucking days.

And the worst part was that there was no end in sight. I had no way of contacting him, no way of knowing where he was and if he was okay.

It had only been three days so far. Yet it could be a week, two, maybe even a month before I heard from him again. And that was IF I heard from him again.

I huffed, letting my fire linger atop the large waves, matching the roaring inferno within me.

I stared at my hand for a long time. The small, fresh cut from my knife on my palm didn’t get better, no matter how hard I tried finding the healing powers within me.

“Healers can’t heal themselves, Finn.” Xentar rolled his eyes, climbing up the ladder to my loft. The wooden floor creaked under his heavy steps as he walked down to the desk, pulling out a few items.

“Yeah, well one could only wish.” I sighed, as I grabbed the small bandage, wrapping my hand with it. Xentar motioned to the unlit oil lamp. My other hand moved, and the room lit up with warm light a second later. “Why does magic have to be so complicated?” I whined, folding my knees under myself, resting my head against the clay wall. “Like the Destroyers; you have to make sure you don’t burn out, or you are dead. Creators are not even Creators, more like Changers, since they can’t create things out of thin air, but they change the existing elements, and even then, they have to give up a part of their soul to create anything living and cool. Healers literally gradually lose all of their magic healing people and they can’t even heal themselves! And don’t even get me started about Seers, one wrong step in between threads and their brains are jumbled for life. Magic seemed a lot more exciting before I actually had it,” I scoffed. Xentar chuckled, grabbing a jacket out of his dresser.

“Everything has a price, Finn. That’s just how life is,” he replied.

“Well, I am not happy about it.” I dramatically sneered at him.

“Are you unhappy with the complexity of magic, or does it have something more to do with the ocean being literally on fire today?” He quirked his brow up as his lips stretched in a cat-like smile.

“Most definitely magic,” I obviously lied. “And the ocean being on fire is a totally normal seasonal occurrence, I had nothing to do with it,” I replied, raising my chin confidently.

“Whatever you say, princess.” Xentar laughed, his deep laugh filling up the tiny loft. “I am going out tonight, don’t stay up too late waiting for me or anyone else for that matter,” he said, winking at me.

“I wasn’t planning to,” I objected, folding my arms.

“I’m sure you weren’t.” He rolled his eyes, clearly not believing me, his large figure already climbing down the thick, wooden ladder as he waved goodbye. Soon, the front door creaked and softly closed behind him, leaving me alone in the house.

I really wasn’t going to stay up.

I was done losing sleep over some man. Well, not some man…but still. I was too tired and busy to be staying up, waiting for a letter that would never come.

I pulled a few blankets up as I laid down in my bed, staring out the small, round window, watching as the dark sky lit up with a million stars.

I had laid like that for a while; the oil lamp had long burnt out, as the room became shrouded in slumbering darkness and my mind began drifting into the abyss, when suddenly, a loud clap sounded once more. For a moment, I thought I must have dreamed of it, not even bothering to turn around, until a heavy bird landed on my legs, and I begrudgingly sat up.

“He sends it now?! Just when I was about to sleep?!” I complained to her, but she just jumped closer, dropping the letter straight on my lap. “I shouldn’t even reply. Make him wait three days, see how he’d like that,” I reasoned with her. Her large, black eyes just stared back at me, waiting.

But after a moment of prideful hesitation, I quickly gave in, opening the folded letter on my lap.

‘Courageous and no longer being a coward’…Is that some kind of a twisted trick? Are you tricking me?

I waited three days for this?

I tapped my pen against the paper as my eyes lit up with a malicious intent. I let a little orb of fire linger in the air, lighting up my poorly written response.

You think so little of me, General. I have much better tricks up my sleeve than that.

And what kind of tricks are those, Daughter of the Dead? he wrote back . A sinful look lined my face.

Oh, any tricks you like, General, I replied, fighting a ridiculous smile that now stretched from ear to ear as I continued writing. Though I have to say, my favorite one so far was moaning your name and feeling your length harden under my hand.

Is that so? he responded, and I could almost see his devious smirk even miles away.

But then a part of me wonders if that is how you feel when I just simply moan against your ear, what would it be like when my mouth does much better things than moan? I sent it off even as my cheeks exploded with heat.

You are a cruel little thing, you know that, right? Even his handwriting seemed a bit uneven now.

Oh, the tricky things that I do wonder each night, especially when I think of you instead of my hand.

His reply was simple, making me laugh.

Go on .

Oh, but it’s too late, I must go to sleep. I do hope you dream of me tonight, my General, because I’ll be dreaming of you all fucking night. Or perhaps it is better said, dreaming of you fucking me all night. Anyway, have a good night, Gideon.

Fucking hell , Finnleah...This is worse than torture. And I’ve been tortured before. I bit my bottom lip, rereading his words . A part of me wished, more than anything, to see his frazzled look right now.

Gideon? I wrote.

Yes?

Do not wait three days to send your raven next time.

Yes, my queen.

I stared at the last line for a little while before motioning with my hand to extinguish the fire, realizing that the title didn’t sound so scary anymore.

Not if it meant he’d be with me.