Arianna's Tale (The Imperial Series): Imperial, #1

Book 1 of the Imperial Series

By LA Quill

Copyright 2010 LA Quill

Published by Tear Drop Books

Smashwords Edition

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NOVELS BY LA QUILL

THE IMPERIAL SERIES

ARIANNA`S TALE

DRAGON`S TEMPEST

THIEF’S HEARTACHE

MAGE’S REBELLION

SON’S BETRAYAL

SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

RETURN AND OTHER STORIES

INITIATION AND OTHER STORIES

Prologue

The screams of the dying filled the cool morning air as the waves crashed against the coast of the small island with a deafening roar. A boy, only fifteen with blond hair and dark eyes, stabbed the last remaining slave in the abdomen as slowly as he could and withdrew the knife with the same deliberate movements, letting the poor man bleed to death gradually. As his mother had taught him, the slower a life was drained, the more power could be gathered from a single death.

This death will be powerful indeed, he thought to himself as the man’s life blood flowed over the sand.

With this final slave, there were now over two dozen deaths to draw from, and the boy had taken all night to slaughter them; there was plenty of energy available now. The sun was only just rising, making the world appear red, which seemed appropriate enough for the occasion. He looked over at his mother who was slowly gathering the blood magick to her, spinning it in and around herself as carefully as a woman with a newborn child. But this was no child she coddled now. It was something far darker. She was glowing a sickly red, the telltale color of blood magick, and had a cruel smile on her lips. Her black hair was flying in the wind and her almost-black eyes were closed in total and complete ecstasy. Her mouth was partially open as if she was caught within the throes of passion.

She was seated upon an ancient boulder, one that looked as if it had been carved for the sole purpose of being a chair. Maybe it had in the past by one of those mages who had used this island before them.

They’d picked this island specifically, located in the northern half of the Yarian Republic, at the mouth of the Hyara River. No one lived here, in this desolate place, and no one ever would. Legend had it that it was from this island that the Lady and the Lord had first created the land of Vorima, which spanned all that was known—east, west, north, and south. That was nonsense, of course. This island had only existed since the Time of the Great Rupture, a mere eight hundred years ago, while Vorima itself had existed much longer than that. However, the legend, as mistaken as it might be, created a reverence for this island, and not a little fear. It at the very least kept people away while mother and son completed their work here.

The real reason they had chosen this island for their work was not that it was deserted; their motives for the selection of the island were much darker and hardly as well-known as that ridiculous legend. This island had been used for centuries by blood mages, mostly for its privacy and utter desolation. This had resulted in an interesting effect; over the years the land had acquired an affinity for blood magick. It was almost as if the island loved blood magick and a deep, almost hidden evil seeped from every blade of grass. Magick worked here, if it came from pain and death, was more powerful than it was in most other locations. It was perfect for their purposes.

They had needed a seaside location for this work, preferably in the north of the Yarian Republic, and that was what they had found; they had been lucky to discover this remote island. His mother intended to summon a sea creature of legend, one she could force to her will. She was going to have it patrol the waters north of here, prevent any ships from approaching from the Abital Empire. At the same time, she would prevent it from attacking any of the coastal villages. The last thing she wanted was for the Yarians to discover what she was about. As long as she kept the creature to the north, there would be no problem. Republican vessels did not sail any further north than the Ardan River, leaving them untouched by the creature.

His mother finished collecting the energy from the many deaths and stood, heading towards the open water. She had a slight spring in her step, and he knew that she was enjoying herself immensely; pain and death brought her a sick form of pleasure. Sometimes she was a frightening woman, even to her own son. He moved back, away from the water, ever the obedient son. She had been very clear—he was not to take part in this. He was to sit and watch and learn.

As he sat on the soft grass, he reflected on what she was about to do. He knew she wanted to prevent ships from reaching the Republic, and he knew why. Anyone hearing of their plan would assume that she was protecting the Republic, and in a way she was. But that wasn’t her primary objective. There was no love lost between the woman and the Republic. No, there was a far different reason for her actions.

It had taken over two hundred years, but the Abital Empire had finally perfected the art of building fully armed and seaworthy battleships, and had trained and tested captains and crew to sail them. They had very little sea exposure, and so had not put much effort into this endeavor in the past; that had changed when Raewkon had assumed the throne thirty years ago. Now his mother suspected that within the next two or three years, the Empire would mount a sea assault against the Yarian Republic since they now had the tools to quite possibly succeed. This she needed to prevent at all costs. She would sacrifice ten times the number of people, slaves or no, if it meant continuing the war.

The Imperial army, once landed on Republican soil, would be unstoppable. Their soldiers were strong and numerous, and the generals who commanded them were hardened and experienced in the art of war. There was very little doubt that the invasion would be quickly successful; the Yarians would find themselves subjugated within just a few short months. The Imperial army would then obtain the one thing they needed, the one thing that his mother wanted—the Sirius Stone. This crystal was the one thing the Imperials wanted, the one thing that would end the war. And the one thing they must not be allowed to possess.

The woman standing by the water, hands raised and glowing red, needed the war to continue. She needed to maintain the stalemate, at least until her own plans were put in motion. She had been scheming since before he was born, but he didn’t really know all the details. He only knew that she intended to rule both the Empire and the Republic. But she wasn’t ready yet. She needed more time. Time the Imperials were stealing from her with their plans of invasion. She had to have the chance to use the Sirius Stone as leverage against the Abital Emperor. She hated that man with a passion and was determined to destroy him, even if it took her entire lifetime to do it.

And so here they were. On the edge of the ocean, preparing to summon and control something that had once been worshipped as a god. It was a suicidal plan, one that anyone sane would have rejected. But not his mother. And, knowing his mother, with her infernal luck and her consummate skill, she would carry it out easily, or at least efficiently. To his fifteen-year-old eyes, nothing seemed beyond her. He yearned to be more like her, rather than less, unlike so many young men his age. He absolutely worshipped his mother.

She was going to combine earth magick and blood magick. She’d never done it before—few ever had—but she had little choice. Neither blood magick nor any form of elemental magick would be sufficient to control the beast they would call. She needed the precision and stability of earth magick combined with the pure power of blood magick. There was no greater combination, at least to his way of thinking. It would take much out of her, leaving her weak and vulnerable. In fact, the blood magick alone would almost kill her. Almost. Nothing could really kill his mother; of that he was convinced.

There was only one other type of magick that could have been used, one which would have worked to control the beast and would have left her feeling refreshed and energized. Unfortunately, it didn’t respond to her call and it never would. Divine magick, a gift from the gods, was only used by those who had the right to it. This was either by birth or by devotion and his mother had neither. She was not a direct descendant of a god and she was certainly no priestess. That wasn’t likely to change in his lifetime. Divine magick could not be compelled, though his mother had certainly tried. So she was forced to use the lesser magicks that were at her command. These would be powerful enough to subdue the beast, but only just.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a sudden splash in the water and a spray of liquid upon his face. He wiped the water from his face and looked toward the water and saw that his mother had been successful in summoning the beast. It looked almost like a dragon out of legend, except that it had no legs and the leathery wings upon its back were too small and thin for flying, but better suited to traveling through the water at great speeds. Also, its mouth had four huge fangs protruding, fangs that were deadly sharp and dripped with poison. Its eyes were too close together, it had no nose or ears that he could spot, and its skin was a sickly shade of grey with scales that were like razors. The thing was quite frankly hideous, and not a little terrifying. Its rage could be felt in the air as it regarded them with hate-filled eyes. His mother was already on her knees, exhausted from her exertions, but not out of strength yet.

And the worst of it wasn’t over. Now that she’d summoned the creature, she had to coerce it to her will, force it to do what she wanted, to answer to only her. He watched her weave her spell expertly, not a single flaw in her entire working. The magick was steady and strong, despite her obvious fatigue. He was more than a little jealous; he positively burned with envy. He could practice until the day he died but he’d never have the power or the finesse that she did, and certainly he was not so well focused when he was overtired.

The sea creature was trying to attack her, lunging and snapping with its fury, but was stopped continually by both her protective shields and the spell of coercion that was slowly weaving its way into and around the creature. The thing howled in frustration and the boy covered his ears in pain. Its screech was enough to deafen him.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, the horrible shriek finally ceased. The creature, glowing as red as his mother, was staring at them both with a look of hatred. He knew in that moment that if it could have broken free of the coercion spells, it would have killed the two of them slowly and painfully. He shivered. Toying with something vaguely godlike was not very smart, to his way of thinking. Of course, his mother was one of the most powerful mages of the time and there was little she couldn’t do. Especially since blood magick could go totally undetected except by another talented blood mage. She could work these high-level spells without fear of discovery. Still, he would rather be far away from here, and knew once their task was completed that he himself would stay far from the northern waters, no matter what the temptation.

His mother finished setting the spells, effectively giving the creature its orders. It graced them with one last burning look of hatred, and then disappeared beneath the waves. The water stilled unnaturally after its passage and the boy felt weak with relief. His mother collapsed, stretched beyond her endurance. He went to her, ready to help in any way that he could. This is why she’d brought him, after all. It would take days for her to recover enough to create a portal to take them from this place. That was fine. They had supplies enough for a week. Helping his mother to the shelter he’d erected last night, he gave the silent waves one last look. He wondered briefly how this would all end, if it ever did.

And if it did, who would be left standing?

Chapter One

Goodbye, Mother, the young girl whispered as she placed three white lilies in her mother’s cold, dead hands. As she stepped back from the funeral pyre, she pushed her long blond hair out of her emerald-green eyes. She was small for her age, and though she was fourteen now she still looked like a girl of twelve. Looking at her mother’s body, she realized for the first time just how much she looked like her mother despite the fact that she hadn’t finished growing yet. The villagers had been telling her that her entire life, but she’d never really believed them. Now she did, but it was far too late. Blinking back tears at the thought, she turned her gaze upon her older brother, trying to decide if he felt anything at all.

Darian did indeed feel something. In fact, he felt many things, mostly sorrow and heartache with just a touch of painful regret. He had, however, spent years hiding his feeling from others, even from his sweet little sister, and he wasn’t about to change that now. Besides, he didn’t want to upset her needlessly, not when she was already on the verge of a complete breakdown.

Their mother was dead and crying wouldn’t bring her back; nothing would bring her back. He shook off those rather useless and burdensome thoughts. There was nothing to be done now. She was dead. Both he and his sister had to learn to live with that.

Steeling himself against what he was about to do and deliberately avoiding looking towards his sister, sweet little Arianna, he stepped forward and lowered the torch he held. As he lit the pyre, causing the flames to leap toward the body of his dead mother, the priest recited the traditional prayer in the Republic, loud and clear so that all those gathered could hear him.

May the fires speed you on your journey, may the winds guide you to your resting place, may the waters ease your passage, and may the Earth accept you into Her.

Darian dropped the torch into the pyre to conceal the fact that his hands were shaking. He swallowed carefully, finally looking down at Arianna.

Arianna turned away from the sight as the yellow and orange flames began to consume her precious mother, taking with them one she held so dear. A sorrow so deep it threatened to consume all she was welled up inside her. She didn’t have the courage to watch the destruction of her mother’s body, even though she knew it was considered blasphemy to not watch the fires burn and purify the deceased. She felt her brother’s hand on her shoulder. She knew what he wanted, but couldn’t bring herself to turn back. It was just too painful.

Ari, he whispered softly, do not dishonor her by turning away. Let her spirit make its journey without regret. He wasn’t a particularly religious person, but he knew that his mother had been, and Arianna was as well. He didn’t want her to regret not watching. She was burdened with enough regrets. She didn’t deserve to have an even greater load to bear, especially with what she would have to face in the coming days. His eyes moved over her, urging her to turn back.

Sometimes, she thought to herself, I hate traditions. Then she berated herself for such thoughts, knowing that they were unworthy of her beautiful mother. It wasn’t for her to question the decree of the priests and their disciples. They were the voices of the gods in the whole of Vorima, not just within the Yarian Republic, and they deserved her respect and obedience. Her mother had shown them nothing less and would expect as much of her own daughter. Dutifully, she once again faced the funeral pyre, breathing through her mouth as she watched her mother burn to ash. The smell of burning flesh was almost more than she could bear and she had to force down the urge to gag. She let her tears fog her vision and tried desperately to pretend none of this was happening.

Arianna felt cheated, incredibly, horribly cheated. She was only fourteen years old and had never known her father, never seen his portrait. Oh, she’d asked about him, and her mother had told her, but she had never mentioned his name, not even once. She didn’t have a father to turn to and her mother was gone. Her brother, as much as she loved him, was silent and brooding and had been since they were children. Even now he didn’t seem overly concerned about her welfare. Her mother was her entire life, the only thing she could count on. And now that life was gone, changed forever by a simple accident. An accident she should have been able to prevent, if only she’d had the foresight to try. Her tears rolled down her face, a sorrowful combination of regret, guilt, pain, and a deep sadness.

***

Do you have to go? Arianna asked her brother as he added some day-old bread and sharp cheese to his pack only a few short candlemarks later. He wasn’t taking much, only enough for a couple days on the road. He would hunt for anything else he needed or perhaps barter for it if the chance arose. He might not be the best hunter in Icana Valley but he was decent enough to feed himself. And he was taking some of his personal items that he didn’t need any more to exchange for coin; he had enough, barely, to see him through. He would be fine on his own. But would Arianna be fine on her own?

She was seated on his bed, watching him pack for his last trip out of Icana Valley. The room was small, but clean, like most of their cottage. Like the others in the village, their home was circular with very few straight lines, except in the roofline. Republican homes were all like that. They flowed like the sea they depending upon. All buildings were built in the shape of a circle. It was supposed to remind the people that they were one with nature.

Darian didn’t even look at her, just ran his fingers through his blond hair, identical to his sister’s. You always knew that I was going to leave someday. I have never enjoyed the valley life. It only makes sense that I leave. He knew that she wanted him to stay, but he wanted to leave. He needed to leave. He didn’t belong here, not the way Arianna did. She fit in among the villagers, probably because she’d never known any other life. He had, and he could not be happy here. He had tried, but the first five years of his life were ingrained in his very being. He needed that life back and something, some feeling deep inside, told him that now was the time to seize that life. He could reclaim what was his if he only made the effort.

She wouldn’t understand yet, but he held out hope that she would one day. One day maybe she would see how everyone had a place in this world, and his wasn’t here. Maybe one day he could even be honest with her, honest about his past, his father, and her own lineage. A faint hope, but hope nonetheless.

Arianna’s green eyes filled with tears. But right now, this very day? Our mother just died! she cried. The tears spilled onto her cheeks, but she quickly dashed them away. Darian hated ‘female hysterics’ and her tears would only drive him away that much sooner. She would do anything, even manipulate him, in order to keep him here. But the tears wouldn’t help her accomplish her goal. Maybe nothing would. Maybe he was destined to leave her, to abandon her as it seemed everyone else had.

He knew how she felt, or he thought he did. He felt the same; he certainly didn’t relish leaving his little sister to fend for herself. There was, however, no way he was going to tell her that. A man did not have emotional discussions, and if he did, it wasn’t with a woman, and most especially not with his little sister. That was just the way of things; it simply wasn’t done. He was a man, and a man was unemotional and detached.

Actually, he said dispassionately, suppressing his emotions brutally, she died three days ago. I stayed for the funeral; I lit the pyre myself. What more do you want from me? He deliberately didn’t look at her, concealing the tears welling in his own blue eyes. If she could suppress her tears, even for a moment, then he could bloody well do the same. He purposefully bit his tongue and tasted blood. He was grateful for the pain; it distracted him from his feelings.

I want you to stay, sobbed Arianna, abandoning her effort not to cry. She let the tears roll down her cheeks and splash onto her lap as she sat on his bed. She watched the tears splatter on her gown, leaving little wet spots. If you leave, what am I supposed to do? Six years her senior, Darian had always helped look after her, even if he hadn’t been there for her emotionally. She expected the same from him now, at the very least. Maybe it was unfair to him and selfish of her, but a fourteen-year-old girl without a mother, without anyone at all—that was even more unfair. She thought she deserved to be selfish.

Darian sighed, feeling guilty for abandoning her, but not guilty enough to stay. You can do whatever you want to. Whatever comes into your head, whatever you desire. He finally turned to look at her, but only briefly. Ari, you’ve always said you wanted to be a healer, just like Mother. So, be a healer. Take up her craft. Between the knowledge you already have and the knowledge left in this cottage, you can be as good a healer as she ever was, if you really want to. Look at all the books! You don’t need her Gift to be able to help people. She wrote everything down, and it’s all here. He returned to his packing, taking care not to forget anything that he might need on his journey. He wasn’t sure she would listen to him, but it was worth the effort on his part. She could make something of herself without him, he was sure of it.

I can’t, she nearly wailed. I can’t follow in her footsteps. I can’t do what she did! She finally broke down, collapsed on Darian’s bed, and sobbed her heart out, feeling guilty for too many reasons to count. She would never be half the woman her mother was and she knew it. She was betting Darian knew it as well, despite all his words to the contrary. She just wasn’t as skilled and never would be.

Taking pity on his young sister, Darian sat beside her and placed a gentle hand on her quaking shoulders. He couldn’t just let his sister fall into this type of depression, not if he could do something about it. It’s not your fault. No one could have predicted the landslide that took our mother from us. He pulled her up from her fetal position and forced her to face him; it took some effort as she seemed determined to mold herself into the bed. I know that you blame yourself for not going with her, for not being there when she died. That you think that if you had gone with her like she asked you to, instead of spending the morning in bed, as most girls your age are wont to do, that you would have been able to save her. Or that if you had practiced with your Gift a little more, you would have Seen it coming. She tried to turn her head away, but he caught her chin in his hand with a gentle yet firm grip; he wasn’t letting her go that easily. He willed her to listen to what he was saying and to believe it with all her heart. It was all he had to offer her. The honest truth is this: if you had gone with her, you would both be dead, and I’d be mourning both a sister and a mother today. Sometimes bad things happen; there’s not always something we can do about it, and there is no one to blame. It was an accident, let it go.

As he released her and returned to his packing, Arianna thought about what he had said to her. She tried to see the situation objectively, the way he could, but it wasn’t easy. She knew that he believed what he’d said; he might abandon her, but he’d never lie to her. It was nice to know that he didn’t blame her, even though she would always blame herself. She had the Gift that could have saved her mother, if she’d only worked with it just a little more.

She had been Gifted with prophetic dreams, if it could be called that. She had visions in her dreams, though not often, and she couldn’t just will them to occur. Arianna felt certain that if she had only practiced with her Gift a little more, actually tried to control it, she would have been able to save her mother, to alter fate. She felt certain, in her heart, that she would always blame herself. She felt like she should blame herself; it was her fault, there was no way around that fact.

Finally, she spoke softly. I don’t know how to let it go, or even if I should. I think I’ll always feel this way, I think I’ll always carry this guilt. She knew that releasing your past was easier said than done. She would never forget how she had failed her mother. She didn’t want to forget. He couldn’t make her forget.

You have two choices, came a new voice from the doorway. You can either wallow in your guilt, wasting your life away, or you can put that guilt on a little shelf in your heart and live your life the way you were meant to live it. Which do you think your mother would choose for you? A tall man, about her brother’s age, walked into the cottage. He had blond hair as well, though it had a bit more red in it, and his eyes were grey instead of green.

Tarius, what are you doing here? asked Darian. His eyes narrowed as he spied the pack that Tarius had dropped near the door of the bedchamber. Why are you carrying a pack? He thought he already knew the answer and wasn’t pleased. He hadn’t seen his friend since the funeral this morning, and had been wondering where he’d been. Now he knew. This was not something he wanted, not something he could endorse or agree to.

Tarius, one of Darian’s oldest friends, threw himself into a chair, almost tipping it over, which caused Arianna to giggle for the first time in days. The young man smiled at her amusement. Just bringing a smile to Ari’s face was enough to make his day, maybe even his year.

As Tarius quickly righted himself, he answered Darian’s question matter-of-factly. I’m going with you, of course. Tarius spoke over Darian’s protests, almost having to shout. You didn’t think you’d leave me in this boring little village, did you? Besides, it will make your sister feel better knowing that you have someone to watch your back. He winked at Arianna, trying to keep her amused and entertained, to ease the pain that she was surely feeling.

She smiled at him, but said nothing. She could have said that she didn’t want Darian to go, but that would dampen Tarius’s enthusiasm and she didn’t want to do that. He was always so full of life, and that’s what she loved most about him. She wouldn’t change it for anything.

Darian shook his head, determined to leave alone, even if he had to tie his friend to the hitching post outside. "I have no idea where I’m going, or where I’ll end up. I have to leave, you don’t. It could be dangerous." He did not want his friend’s death on his head. He had enough problems without that.

Tarius smiled. All the more reason to go with you, and we both know you’ll eventually end up in Scytha. Besides, with your particular Gift we should be safe enough. How many people can say that they can speak with the creatures of the forest? Tarius would not allow himself to be left behind, not when Darian would need a friend, especially on this journey. His friend would return to Scytha, to his father, and when he did, it would be an emotionally painful experience. He wanted to be there, to support his friend. He owed it to Darian, Arianna, and their now-deceased mother, Edwina. They’d treated him like family when everyone else in the village had made him into an outcast following his father’s execution. That was no small thing, and not easily repaid.

His father had been tried and convicted of thievery, horse thievery, to be exact, and it was a hanging offence throughout the Republic. That had been several years ago now, and still the villagers treated him like a thief, even though he’d never once stolen a thing, not from any of them. They watched him like a hawk whenever he was near one of their shops, and he was always the first to be questioned whenever something went missing. Only Darian and his family had not seemed to blame him for his father’s crimes. Only they accepted him, took him in as family. Maybe now he could return the favor, at least in part.

Darian shrugged and closed his pack, giving up the argument when he met Arianna’s eyes. She was silently pleading with him to take his friend, so he wouldn’t be alone; he could tell that this meant a lot to her. He appreciated the thought. Besides, Tarius would only follow him, and that would be irritating. He’d probably sneak into Darian’s camp and eat all his food at night.

Many, if what I’ve heard of Scytha is true, he said, answering his friend’s mostly rhetorical question. Apparently, in the capital they have many mages, all very talented. And I’m sure all of them can speak to animals. It’s not an extraordinary ability. He rarely used his Gift. He’d never really seen a reason to. In his mind, it was fairly useless except as a way to amuse himself.

Arianna snorted as Tarius wandered into the small kitchen. Says you. I would kill to have your Gift. All I got were prophetic dreams that come so few and far between that I might as well not have them at all. Her gaze shifted to the very fat black cat in the window, who was obviously more interested in the warmth of the sun than in their conversation. Obsidian rarely moved from that window unless it was to be fed. She gazed at the feline with a yearning Tarius would have understood, if he’d seen it. Just to know what they’re thinking, even for a moment…you have no idea just how much I envy you.

I agree with her, Tarius said, sticking his head in the kitchen pantry; the cottage was small enough that he could hear them clearly, even from the other room; Edwina had never been one for the luxuries in life. Tarius ate a lot, but never seemed to gain any weight. It was a gift. But not a Gift, he chuckled to himself, amused at his own cleverness.

Darian shifted his pack onto his back, adjusting it until he was comfortable with its position. Don’t sell yourself short, Ari. Your Gift could save your life, or save the life of another. He held up his hand to forestall any protests; he had neither the time nor the inclination to listen to them. "Please, let’s not start talking about how it didn’t save Mother. That’s not your fault. You can’t control the dreams; it’s the nature of your Gift and Mother explained as much. The fact is that one day it could be a lifesaver, just as is has been in the past. It’s not a horrible ability." He and Arianna exited the small bedchamber.

Tarius emerged from the pantry, arms heaping with food. Ready to go? he asked around a mouthful of tasty roots. He didn’t want to be caught without enough food for himself. Oh, and for Darian too. But he was more concerned with himself, at least in that respect. He’d traveled with Darian before, and no one was quite as slow. Darian would travel in a month what most people could in a week. He wanted to make sure he had enough food for at least a full month. If they were still on the road after that…he’d drag Darian to the next town if he had to.

Darian nodded, silently hoping Tarius had left Ari some food for herself. Arianna threw her arms around her brother. After a moment, Darian returned the gesture, a little hesitantly. They stayed like that for a few moments before Darian ended their embrace. He stepped back and looked deep into her eyes, sharing the despair that she obviously felt, but unwilling to reveal it.

Arianna couldn’t keep the tears from falling no matter how hard she tried. This was one of those times when she wished she had Darian’s stiff control. She would have done anything to keep him with her, but she knew deep inside her heart that his path led elsewhere, just as hers stayed right here, in Icana Valley. It was destined, it seemed, that they be parted.

Well, she said, trying to choke back her tears and failing miserably, I will miss you. Take care of yourself, please. She knew that if something happened to him, she would never recover. He was all she had left of her very tiny family.

Darian smiled for the first time in days. It won’t be forever, Ari. We’ll see each other again. And I’ll write, I promise. Besides, with Tarius hanging around, I won’t have a chance to get into trouble. His attempt to make her laugh failed, but he hoped that he had eased her fears, at least a little. Though, knowing Ari, she would never quit worrying about him.