Page 84 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

83

FINNLEAH

T he next morning, I woke up to some small strands of wildflowers, a little box filled with chocolates, and a long letter explaining exactly how to summon Liriya.

After a few fumbling tries of awkward hand and arm movements, the large raven appeared. I grabbed a pen and paper out of Xentar’s desk, writing.

You learn quick, General. I threw a piece of the sweet candy in my mouth, almost moaning at the delicious taste. I have to admit , chocolates are a nice touch. Thank you.

Just so we are clear, I expect a continuation of last night’s conversation, he immediately wrote back, making me smile as if I were a child on Death Day.

I’ll consider it, I replied.

Liriya returned a minute later, this time holding a stack of papers and a small note.

To make sure you don’t run out of paper. Better start writing, Daughter of the Dead, I expect to read ten pages at least. Don’t go skimping on the details.

Don’t you have better Emperor-y things to do than read my raunchy thoughts?

I can only think of one thing I would rather be doing than just reading about it.

Gods, keep yourself contained, General, I wrote back, laughing .

No can do. You started this game first, worried you can’t win?

You wish. Until tonight, then?

Until tonight, he responded, and a thrilling chill ran down my body at his words.

I swiftly grabbed my boots, running outside a second later, unable to wipe that happy smile off my face.

“Well, I think I know who stole the sun.” Xentar smirked as I strode to him and a few other Creators in the middle of the village square. “What are you beaming about on this gloomy day?” he asked with curiosity, moving a few bulky flower garlands from one roof to the other with his magic, connecting small white cottages with a flowery thread.

“Oh, finally got some good rest, you know,” I mumbled, lacing up my boots.

“Gods, you are such a terrible liar,” he laughed.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I narrowed my eyes at him, though my lips curved up, unable to stay down. “Hey, Ophelia.” I waved at the gorgeous widow walking towards us, carrying the cutest, chunkiest baby, Kova, in her hands.

“Hey, Finn!” She smiled back, coming up to us. “Are you excited for your first SulnGod celebration today?”

“Most definitely,” I replied, tickling the tiny baby’s toes as he squirmed, making adorable faces.

“Ophelia?” someone called her name a few houses down.

“Just a second!” she shouted back.

“I got him.” I offered, and she mouthed a quick thanks, handing the baby to me.

I shot a few sparks, earning a wide-eyed look from his blue eyes, a copy of Kaius’s eyes a successful distraction from the hastily departing mother. My feet moved, rocking him as I carried him closer to the giant flowers decorating the beautiful arches the Creators put together for their celebration.

“How is your secret midnight writer doing?” Xentar asked as I made cooing noises to the baby, earning a sharp whack from his tiny fist straight into my nose. Xentar snorted. I rubbed my nose, sending more sparks in the air while I recovered from the sudden baby attack.

“My secret midnight writer is doing well, I think,” I said, unable to hold in a giant grin even at the slightest mention of Gideon.

“Well, tell him I enjoy chocolates too, okay?” Xentar poked me with his elbow, and I whacked him back with a tiny baby foot making Kova smile. We watched him change the tiny sunflowers growing alongside the street into gigantic ones, now reaching well past the straw roofs of the small, clay homes. The sunflowers grew heavy as their tops dipped down, making perfect coverings.

“Is it really going to storm today?” I asked, looking at the horizon where dark clouds were lazily approaching. Xentar turned alongside me, his gold trinkets clacking as his braids moved.

“Oh, most certainly. But it will not stop the SulnGod celebration. Ouch!” Xentar winced as the baby’s tiny hand yanked on his long braids. I stifled a laugh as we fought the hair out of his tight fist. “Those little fingers are like the jaws of death,” Xentar proclaimed, free of Kova’s tense grasp at last.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a bit of Destroyer in you,” I whispered to the baby, grimacing a few silly faces at him, feeling very proud of myself for finally earning a giggle, a sound so pure that it immediately melted my heart. “How is Ophelia doing, by the way?” I asked Xentar, keeping my voice low.

“She is doing better.” He motioned with his hand to the garlands making them brighter in color. “I think your evening exercises with her have helped a lot.”

“Oh, good. I am glad she agreed to it. She has quite a skill for sprinting and endurance. And her bow and arrow skills are fantastic for a beginner, very precise.” I felt a certain level of gratitude to be able to see a bit of light coming back to Ophelia’s eyes each time we worked out, even as grief mixed with the overwhelming burden of motherhood, had dulled them for a moment.

“She is enjoying it. I think it’s been good for her to get to feel a bit more like herself. She’s actually invited a few other Creator ladies to join your lessons.”

“Oh really? Well, I hope that they come.” The baby twisted in my arms, and I fought to keep him steady, gently blowing air in his face as he rapidly blinked and then laughed. Rumi, the local hairdresser, waved at me as she walked by.

“Are you sure you don’t want your hair-colored green, Finn? It's a celebration after all!” she shouted.

“I’m good.” I laughed back. Ever since my first time sitting in her chair, she’s been trying to convince me to color my hair emerald green to match my eyes. “Maybe next year?”

“Your loss!” Rumi shook her bright colored head as she grinned wide at me, walking down the street to her small cottage.

“Creators trained in weaponry and combat by a Destroyer. Whatever Seer might have seen this future in the past, probably wrote it off as one hell of a dream,” I continued my conversation with Xentar, walking down to the next garland as he conjured matter with his hands.

“Isn’t that the beauty of the future? To be shaped at the hands of its master?” Xentar pondered.

“Thank you so much, Finn!” Ophelia returned, already embracing the baby in her arms, landing a few kisses on his forehead.

“Anytime!” I assured her, making a fool out of myself to steal a few more baby giggles.

“Now, for today’s task, combine that pile of sticks into a log,” Xentar decreed, his eyes pointing to the small clump of twigs near us. My brows shot all the way to my hairline at his preposterous request. “Just try it.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s either that or watching you turn rocks into a different color, and I, for one, am sick of seeing gray.”

Brash thunder echoed through the dark sky as big drops of summer rain landed on everything around us. It had been raining for hours now with no reprieve in sight. Still, this daunting weather didn’t stop the overjoyed Creators who loudly celebrated their SulnGod day deep into the night. They had danced, ate, and conversed since the first shimmering light of clouded twilight. I grabbed another yeasty roll, observing a group of gorgeous teenage girls sheepishly giggling and smiling as the few boys their age stood across the dancing circle, staring them down with their own shy laughs and boyish smirks. My own lips stretched with a blushing grin at the sight. It was so sweet and cute. There was something so pure about their adoration that it filled my own heart to the brim, and I could no longer resist the pull to leave this party to go home and write to him.

I waved goodbye to Xentar and a few other Creators near me. Grabbing a couple more snacks, I braced myself for the wet run home. The dark storm swallowed me whole the moment I snuck out from the protective cover of the gigantic sunflowers and flickering night lights. Cold rain immediately pierced my body, soaking through the light summer dress I wore. The water splashed around my feet, wet grass sticking to my bare ankles as I sprinted home, wincing each time lightning and thunder crackled through the sky.

“Shit,” I mumbled, noticing the rainwater I tracked inside as I closed the cottage door behind me. The small, round rug, covering the clay floors, soaked up my muddied prints instantly. My fingers snapped, igniting the oil lamps and the small hearth in the living room.

“Hi, Liriya.” I grinned at the bird already waiting for me. She perched up on the kitchen table while I grabbed a towel, squeezing moisture away from my dripping hair. My eyes only now noticed a small pack of biscuits he’d sent over too, warming my heart. I wiped my hands dry, standing near the crackling fire, my shivering body enjoying the heat as I read his words.

Tell me how much you’ve missed me, he wrote.

I’ve missed you more than I am willing to divulge, I replied, my stomach twirled with anticipation, my teeth grazing my lip as I added another sentence. But it was enough to get completely soaked in this terrible summer storm to run back to the house just to write to you. (And no, before you spiral out of control, not that kind of soaked.)

Liriya grabbed the paper, disappearing into thin air with a clap. I raced to my loft, climbing the ladder; eager and excited to change into dry clothes. My hands pulled on a dry night shirt just in time for his new letter to arrive.

Patience, Finnleah, we will get you to the ‘right’ kind of soaked in a minute. Though I have to tell you… he started, as my eyes hungrily devoured his words.

Line after line, our minds intertwined through the letters. Our hearts, our souls, carefully shaped in ink.

Minutes turned into hours. The piles of inked papers scattered across my bed where I stayed, cozied up in the warm blankets as the storm raged on the other side of my window.

…I told him that perhaps he should’ve taught me more about gutting animals than playing piano…

My eyes paused from Gideon’s letter as the door squeaked downstairs and Xentar walked in.

“Done with the party?” I asked as he climbed up to the loft.

“At least the first half of it.” He winked and his mouth stretched in a cat-like smile. “But I see you have your own party here.” He glanced over to the messy pile of letters on my bed. “You’d save a lot more trees if you’d ask him to just come and see you.” Xentar pulled out a few of his items from his old dresser.

“I…He…” I stumbled with the words, unsure how to reply to that, because I did selfishly crave to see Gideon, but I had yet to ask him to visit me. “I am not stopping him from coming here,” I countered.

“You and I both know he is giving you space to figure things out without any pressure, otherwise he would have kidnapped you the moment you’d written him back.” Xentar shrugged, putting a few things into a leather bag and throwing it across his shoulder. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be out doing things much more exciting than writing letters.” Xentar’s carefree laugh rumbled through the room as he climbed down the ladder, the door closing shut just a second later. At once, I returned to the all-encompassing story.

What do you dream of, Finnleah? Gideon wrote after a while, when the stories and the jokes turned into somber, pondering thoughts and questions as the night began to turn to dawn.

My visions are all over the place. Though some of them are things of nightmares, I also get to see worlds of astounding beauty. Worlds of peculiar creatures and crystal waters.

I meant what do you dream of. Not your visions. Where do your thoughts wander off to in search of solace and peace?

I paused, thinking on his words.

At first, my mind was blank. There were only ruins left of the small cottage with a white picket fence that I had once dreamed of.

Growing up, I had always dreamt of this little, cozy home with a white picket fence, a garden with a swing, perhaps a dog, a cat, and definitely a few goats. Each night, as my mind slowly drifted to sleep, I dreamt of that life, because that’s what I imagined was the comfort and peace that I was so desperately craving at one time.

My pen hovered over paper as I stared at the written words, as the silent well of dreams opened wide and new dreams poured in bit by bit, silver threads stitching, embroidering something new on an endless canvas.

But I think now…now, I dream of sitting at a large table in my house, looking around and seeing it filled with people I care about, laughing, joking, talking their hearts out. I dream of cozying up with a few of our babies in a large rocking chair by a fireplace on a snowy day, admiring the beauty of the music pouring from a large pianoforte nearby. I dream of the daily comfort of your heartbeat against my ear as it lulls me to sleep. I dream of serenely holding your hand when the world seems loud and overwhelming.

I dream of you, Gideon.