MARKS - Chapter 44

Chapter Forty-Four

The sky today is bright blue and stretches end to end, like a blanket God stretched tight across the sky. Summer blue. My favorite color.

I lean back against the castle wall, content to stare at the wide expanse of blue and relish the wind on my face. People mill about the square, going about their lives as usual, but with more life in their bones than before. Hope is a funny thing to measure. You can’t roll out bolts of it like you can fabric, or hold it in your hand. But its presence hangs throughout Dracon like summer sunshine.

The castle turrets loom high above me, their black stones shimmering in the sunlight. The building hasn’t changed, but so much else has it seems an altogether different shade of black. The prince of Faraday did realize who he was. And while he will not be heir to his home Kingdom because it is not his birthright, he has gained another kingdom. He has proven so far to be a kind and fair ruler. He doesn’t spend much time sitting on the throne, but instead visits the city and the outlying towns, talking to people and seeing for himself what changes need to happen. And underneath his floors and floors of rooms, in a lone dungeon cell, our former King spends his days in chains.

I wonder if he wishes assassination was possible now. His own words have cursed him forever.

A breeze pushes through the streets, tossing strands of my hair in front of my face. I tuck them back behind my ear just as Ward comes into view.

“Hi.” I push off the wall and reach out for him.

“Hey.” He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. His lips on mine are sure and solid. Will they ever stop sending fire through me? Kissing him always does this - shoots warmth through me that settles in my stomach like magic.

Ward holds his tunic in his hand, the blue and red something our new King insisted on keeping. I look up and study Ward’s face. “How was your day?”

He nods. “Good.”

I take his hand and squeeze it. Ward hated the idea of staying on as guard, but Kent talked him into it. Good men are needed. I bring Ward’s hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. No longer is this hand used to hurt people against Ward’s will. Something that, in time, I hope will lessen the horrible weight he carries. Healing is painfully slow, but it is happening.

Ward smiles down at me. “Another one today?”

I nod and loop my arm through his. We take our time walking through the streets. No need to run. Or hide. Living life out in the open is something neither of us takes for granted. Once we reach our destination I walk in without any fear. The man there ushers me into the back room, and Ward takes his place beside me when I sit.

The man gathers his things. “What color today?”

I smile at Ward. “Green.”

When he’s ready I glance at Ward. He pulls up a chair and takes my hand, squeezing it tight. “You know I hate this part, right Sparks?”

My smile is pure love. “I know.” Ward’s seen me in enough pain. I wouldn’t make him do this if it wasn’t important.

The man looks at me as he puts the needle to my arm. I take a sharp breath and squeeze Ward’s hand tighter.

It’s over soon, and I nod in satisfaction at the mark on my arm, green like spring fields flush with life. I smile at Ward. “Ward Green, who gives me life.”

Sweet Ward, he’s come every time I do this. As well he should, since it was his idea. You’ve saved more than three, Gretta - he told me. You should have a mark for each one.

So once a week we come here, and I get a tattoo of color on my arm. I gaze over the other ones that climb up my forearm. Pink for Ashtin. Yellow for Mama and Papa. Deep blue for Thomas. Light blue for Lucas. Green for Ward. A color for each of them. I love that my arm holds more colors than black. That it is becoming a canvas of color, like a field of flowers, colors telling my story. One of rebirth. Of hope.

The man bandages my arm, and Ward and I make our way home. But instead of climbing our stairs, we take the steps to our neighbor’s. Two raps on the door, and a welcoming voice calls out.

I open the door and Ava looks up from her sewing and smiles. “Ashtin,” she calls. “Look who’s here.”

Ashtin peeks out from the back bedroom. Her brown hair hangs in braids over her shoulders, and pink ribbons adorn the ends. She gives me a shy smile. I never thought I’d have to be brave to see my sister each day, but it takes more strength than I knew I had to not cry each time I see her.

She sits in her chair and peeks up at me. I want to touch her, to squish her to myself. I sit on my hand and tell myself to behave.

“Did you get a new color, Gretta?” she asks me.

I push up my sleeve and unwrap the bandage so she can see. She doesn’t know what the marks are for, just that I get them for people I love. She reaches a finger out and traces over the pink one. Her mark.

“Pink is my favorite,” she tells me.

You’re mine, I want to tell her. But I just nod. “I know.”

Ava serves up dinner just as Kent gets home. Two people I never knew, and Ward and I have dinner with them every night. My own version of family. Ashtin doesn’t know about Lyrans. About my power. About how she may grow up and have it, too. And she doesn’t understand how she has two mamas and papas. But she knows I’m her sister - that truth Kent insisted on right away.

“You going to see Nolan this weekend?” Kent asks.

Ward nods. Nolan couldn’t bear the thought of living in the city, so he bought a farm a few miles outside the city gates.

“Can we go there again, Mama?” Ashtin asks.

“Soon,” Ava says and tosses me a wink. Ashtin and Liddy are already fast friends.

Ward and I return to our own place as night falls. For the first time in what feels like forever, I sleep without fear. The morning dawns and once again the same blue blanket of sky has been tossed over the city. Ward holds my hand the entire walk to Nolan and Blair’s.

Freedom feels like summer, I have decided. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

Blair and Nolan are delighted to see us. Blair pushes their new baby into my arms. I can’t fight the tears that come as I bounce him in my arms. He is a boy the King will never have. He will choose who he serves.

Ward and I play with the older children in late afternoon, a game of tag that Ward wins every time. Reid reaches me and I slow on purpose.

“Got you!” He spins and takes off the other direction.

Liddy isn’t far off, and squeals when she sees me coming toward her. “Get Ward, Gretta!”

Ward laughs. “She can’t.”

Sassy boy. I walk toward him and he stands still. “Oh, couldn’t I?”

Ward arches his eyebrows. “You don’t stand a chance, Sparks.”

I push off before he finishes speaking. He sprints to the left and stops when I slow. Blast it all, the boy is fast. He laughs and I run again. Faster and faster, until my legs feel like they can go no more and my lungs gasp for air. But still I run.

The gap between us lessens. I’m almost there and push with all I have.

Ward stops and spins around.

And instead of catching Ward, Ward catches me.