Burning Bridges Read online

  “Very nice to see you again, Princess Echo,” Noah said, taking my hand to kiss my knuckles. I managed a smile as he looked up at me with hungry eyes.

  “Likewise, Noah.”

  “It has been awhile, hasn’t it, Caesar?” King Gerald said, looking towards my father. Maids brought in the trays of food as everyone listened to their conversation in silence. They droned on and on about New Haven for what felt like hours until their talk shifted back to Noah and me.

  “It surely has been a long time, Gerald,” Father stated, cutting into his pork. “Echo’s just recently finished schooling and will be getting back into the swing of things. They’ll have to be better acquainted if they are to be wedded by spring.”

  My head jerked up instantly, almost tipping over a cup of tea a girl was laying down for me. I was used to people talking about me as if I weren’t in the room, but I wasn’t used to the belaboring of news unheard of. I usually knew everything that went on in the palace. “Spring? Father, I thought we’d wait till I was nineteen? I thought that was the agreement?” I looked over at the old King, but he seemed merely amused. Shadow and Everlae cringed at the idea of me getting married so early and so young, but they didn’t dare say a thing. Caesar chuckled and filled his mouth with chicken leg.

  “That was the original plan, yes, but things have changed and your father and I have agreed on a better time. Is this a problem for you?” the King asked.

  Knowing good and well that my opinion didn’t matter, I shook my head and turned back to my tea.

  “Everything is already set. Her dress has been made as well, isn’t that right?” Mother asked one of the servants. The girl nodded her head eagerly. “Her fitting is next week and I’m sure she will look so beautiful.” Mother looked at me and smiled brightly. Reading her like an open book, I smiled back, but it barely reached my eyes.

  In between gulps of the hot tea, I inhaled all the air my lungs would allow. Spring? Were these people absolutely nuts? Wasn’t this place prison enough?

  At the corner of my eye I could see Noah smiling at me. This was what he wanted. And gods, I hated him so much!

  “We’ve organized a home for you to live in as well. It’s not too far from here so you won’t be away from the family by much,” King Gerald said. I nodded as if I couldn’t be any happier. Yes, because being locked in a house to birth babies all day long while my husband ran off with other women was exactly what I wanted.

  “Which reminds me,” Noah said, standing up to kneel down on one knee. Though, I didn’t really pay much attention when he took my hands in his, for the servant called Ayden had just walked into the room. He watched us in silence and I noticed the resentment hidden somewhere in that dull look of his. Anger flooded through me and heat rose to my cheeks as I remembered what he had said only moments ago.

  “Princess?” Noah’s voice called out to me. I dragged my eyes back to him. I glanced down at our joined hands and cringed. “Will you accompany me to the Grand Season’s Ball?”

  I froze for maybe a second before I could think coherently again. My eyes went to Ayden; his own eyes fixed steadily on me as if I would evaporate if he removed them. Instead of seeing jealousy or anger, I saw fear and sorrow. This boy, whom I didn’t even know, had irked me in the worst possible way. The things he’d said…no one had been so courageous to say half the things he did. This bothered me in a way I couldn’t identify and intrigued me all the same. Who was he?

  Glancing around the room and looking into the faces of the people I couldn’t bear to disappoint, I sighed and internally laughed at the joke that was my life.“I’d be delighted.”

  F O U R

  Ayden

  SHADOW HILLS, OLD HAVEN

  My feet pounded in the sludge as I stormed through the gates, dirt flying up around me and covering my pants. My fists clenched and unclenched in an anger so insatiable it threatened to consume me. Although I knew I had to work off my Father’s debt, I couldn’t stand the thought of being in that wretched place. Seeing the Princess smile and laugh about pointless things while the whole of Old Haven starved to death made me want to take a torch to the place.

  “Name,” stated the guard.

  “Ayden Grey,” I replied, staring down at the space between my feet. “I work for the King and I was just returning home for the evening.”

  I could feel the guard’s eyes on me, searching for signs of dishonesty. Thankfully, he finally signaled to the others to open the doors. The huge wooden gates slid open and I passed through the border before he could read the tension in my eyes. Thank the gods they’d grown accustomed to seeing me every morning that they didn’t bother with checking me anymore. If it weren’t for that, I’d surely be dead.

  I strolled casually through the grounds, making for the furthest end of the forest, and stopped behind a willowed tree. My eyes scanned the perimeter, checking for anyone who might have followed and hidden in the underbrush. Seeing no one, I dug into my pocket and retrieved the small leather sack. I smiled to myself and untied the strings. The golden coins spilled into my palm like food for a beggar. The old wench had scolded me for stealing the bread, but while she had her back turned, I’d snuck into the Princess’ room and grabbed three coins from her dresser. Three coins weren’t much for them, so I figured they wouldn’t miss it much. But to me—the less fortunate—this meant the world.

  I folded the coins back into the sack and returned them to the safety of my pocket. Slowly emerging back onto the paths, I headed for home.

  Shadow Hills was surprisingly quiet for six in the evening. Usually little boys and girls would be here and about, playing in the mud and getting themselves in trouble. Nightingales would be off in the skies, sending their mating calls through the air and causing Mr. Jenkins the lack of sleep he so desperately needed. Townspeople would be scurrying down the avenues to finish unfinished jobs and pay unpaid debts. Shadow Hills was a busy city despite our lack of resources due to the King’s selfishness. Now, though, the empty lots of the sandy streets made Old Haven seem uncanny and barren.

  “Ayden, hey! Wait up!” called a voice from behind me, and I fought the urge to walk faster.

  The young boy from across the street—whose family came all the ways from Prylyn just to work for the King—strode in beside me, face sweaty from working in the butcher shop all day. We’d quickly become friends, but there were moments the very sight of him drove me nuts. “Adamo,” I said without looking at him, “shouldn’t you be home? I’m sure your mother is worried sick.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw him shrug. “She’ll get over it. Where you off to?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Well, you have to be going somewhere,” he said with a laugh. “Oh, and by the way, I saw Feven the other day. You said you were looking for her?”

  I immediately stopped in my tracks and the coins clinked in my pocket. “You saw her where? With who?”

  Adamo scratched his head and rolled his lazy eye. “I think his name is Simon or something like that… Or maybe it was Silas.” His thick eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah, I think his name is Silas.”

  “Silas who?” Fear had me by the throat and I had to remind myself for the thousandth time that she wasn’t my daughter; I shouldn’t have cared so much.

  “Don’t know his last name. Sorry.”

  I heaved a sigh and continued to walk, Feven now on my mind along with everything else. ‘Stressed’ didn’t even begin to describe how I was feeling. It was like the girl didn’t want to be found.

  A few blocks away from the house, Adamo and I both froze at the sight of the door hanging off its hinges. He looked at me as if for explanation, but I was just as clueless as he was. Though, I did have my suspicions to some extent and they weren’t good. I ran my fingers through my hair and contemplated just walking away from it this time. If I ignored it, I wouldn’t have to acknowledge the truth. But sadly, things always had a way of finding its way back to me. I would regret walking out on them, I was sure.
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  The day had just turned from a muddy grey to a ruthless black.

  Leaving Adamo behind, I ran for the house and my eyes immediately searched for Misty in the dilapidated room. I could hear her crying, but couldn’t pinpoint from where it was coming. I grew nervous—frantic—as I searched for my scared little sister.

  I followed her rasping breath to the other side of the room and there, huddled into herself, was Misty. “Hey, Mis, what’s the matter?” As the words slipped from my mouth, a loud ruckus came from the room next door.

  “It’s Daddy, again,” she mumbled. “Milo...”

  My heart fell to the pit of my stomach within seconds. I’d left them alone only because he said he could handle it. Now knowing that he very well couldn’t, I left Misty’s side and darted into the kitchen.

  My father stood with his back to me, but I could clearly see what he was so trained on. I looked around the room for Milo, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  “You’re home early,” my father said. The bottle of alcohol in his hands shook furiously. The liquid thrashed against the side of the glass, unpredictable and toxic as its owner.

  “Yeah. They wanted the family time alone; the Princess is spending time with her betrothed.” I moved into the room and took notice of the flipped chairs and broken plates. The cabinets that held the liquor remained ajar.

  “I wanted that life for you,” he said, his weeping making him hard to understand. “Your mother and I wanted to make a better life for you, but we failed you, Ayden.”

  And then it suddenly occurred to me. “Where is Mother?”

  He grew quiet, and as the silence conquered the minutes, I felt every grip of control I’d had mere seconds ago begin to slip.

  “She’s gone to the market,” he finally said.

  “Alone?” I sighed and cleared my head. The man was mad. “And Milo?” I walked fully into the room and began picking up the splintered chairs. Dirty dishes filled the sink and the ripped linoleum scrapped the soles beneath my shoes. One bulb hung from the ceiling, but it was barely enough to bring light to this place.

  “He... I don’t know. He left.”

  I froze. “What do you mean he left?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Gone where!” I sneered. “What did he say?”

  My father turned to face me then and his eyes were bloodshot. His posture was slung against the counter and his hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed for weeks. His eyes didn’t meet mine. “He said he was going to fix this, but I don’t understand how anyone can fix this.” He slumped to the ground and began to weep harder, the alcohol slipping from his hands and onto the kitchen floor. “I can’t do this, Ayden. Your mother is getting sicker and we can’t afford to send the twins to school. How will you make a living when we are gone?”

  I glanced at my father with a stolid look. I felt sorry for him, but now wasn’t the time. Milo was gone and it wasn’t the first time he’d run away.

  I sprinted out the door and the wind caught my hair and blew it into my eyes. I’d left Misty alone, and I did feel horrible, but my father was too drunk to notice her hiding underneath the bed. She was just scared. We all were. We were surviving on sheer luck, hoping that the next family to go wouldn’t be us.

  At some point when I’d turned down a dirt path, the one that held the very few shopping outlets the city had, I noticed a hushed voice somewhere in the distance. I sent a silent prayer as I followed my instincts and pursued it.

  In a stark alley, I found Milo digging through the old dumpsters that lingered around the streets. He was so busy in his search that he didn’t even take time to notice that I had been standing there. I’d found him, but seeing him like this made me want to turn away. He still wore his clothes from last week because he refused to give it to Mother. He’d said she was too weak to wash them, the inevitable apparently clear to him as well.

  I walked over to him and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back from the dumpster and ending his search for—no doubt—clothing or loose change.

  “Stop!” he yelled. “I can fix this.” He pulled away from me and continued to sift through the garbage.

  I stepped back and watched him, my heart breaking a little more. “Milo, please, just stop and come home.” Milo was only twelve; he was supposed to be living a normal life. Instead, we lived in the aftermath of war, surviving off of what was left.

  Milo let out a deafening screech and glanced around the dark alley as the sun set just behind the rambled buildings. Finally coming to a conclusion, he slumped to the dirt-packed ground in front of him and began to cry, heaving spasm after spasm.

  I sat next to him on the floor and pulled him into my chest, shielding his hurt from the world. I didn’t cry, but I felt the pain as much as he did.

  “I just want to fix this, Ayden,” he said through sobs.

  “Milo, you’re only twelve, this shouldn’t be your problem.”

  He lifted his head and looked at me, and I realized the amount of maturity on his face when he said, “I have to do something. We need the money. Mom...mom can’t do much anymore.” His dark tresses stood out in odd places, and his eyes were burned bright from the tears. He had a young face—many years left ahead of him—yet his determination to fix our broken family made him older beyond comprehension.

  I pulled him back to me and rested my chin on the top of his head. The weight of this fallen world seemed to rest upon my shoulders. “I’ll fix this, Milo,” I said to him. “I can fix this. I know what to do.”

  F I V E

  Echo

  There is no life outside of this Haven. That is what my mother had always led me to believe. The four walls that created the border between us and Old Haven was merely just that—a wall. She, as well as everyone else, pretended like there weren’t innocent human beings, children big and small, fighting for their lives as we sat idly by. I’d heard stories, but I’d never seen for myself the so-called dangers of crossing the border.

  Twenty years ago, Alwaenia had been one country under one name, unified in a state of peace. My father had worked with the King of Delentia—the reason why they were such good friends—but they hadn’t received their official titles yet. War was inconsequential and laws weren’t as strict as they were now. Hunters and Warriors were free to do things most would’ve been afraid to do now. Though some still dared to challenge authority, now that this world was separated into the worst of both halves, they never made it past my father.

  Segregation wasn’t always an issue. That is what I had led myself to believe. Back when freewill was your own to govern, you weren’t judged if you wore the wrong gown or chastised because you weren’t standing in the correct posture. A Hunter was free to hold a Warrior’s hand—to kiss them, to hold them, and feel an obligation to do so. In fact, no one even claimed titles then. The meaning of ‘one’ had originated from ‘two’, a concept that was so easily forgotten.

  As I laid in bed, insomnia taking its toll on me, I stared at the poster on my wallpaper-clad wall, the face detaining me in a hold so mesmerizing. The lettering, though black and hard to see in the dim of dawn, seemed foul and stupid as I read them over and over. It was the same saying they’d brainwashed into my system since I was small, the saying I was forced to live by.

  Two Havens, Two People!

  Two Worlds, Two Wars!

  Difference is essential.

  Two of everything, I thought to myself with disgust.

  When Alwaenia’s first leader was proclaimed King Valentine, a Hunter who had grown up on the streets, many didn’t like it. Warriors claimed he was juvenile and ignorant, despite the fact his ideas for the country were genuine. Many times they had tried to have him impeached by accusing him of murder or even treachery, but no one believed them. King Valentine was a good man and he’d made a great nation out of nothing. He was a gift from the gods, some believed. A gift signifying Alwaenia’s coming years of prosperity.

  No later than two years did that all change.
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  The Warriors had assembled a conspiracy, one that was hidden so great not even Father saw it coming. On a day no different from any other, King Valentine was summoned to Siphon’s City to stop a tirade that had digressed into a massacre so vile not even the guards could stop it. The Hunters had started to see a shortage in their incomes at that time and blamed the Warriors for thieving. The Warriors weren’t to blame, though, I thought. The Hunters just didn’t know how to prioritize their money and squandered it all away. They accused the Warriors because they couldn’t accuse anyone else. The country had already found a deficit.

  That day, King Valentine was murdered by three men and Warriors and Hunters were divided upon lies and deceit. Alwaenia then became New and Old Haven. King Val was given the proper burial in the only cemetery Siphon’s City reserved for Royals, but people never really got over it or officially moved on. Whether my father wanted to acknowledge it or not, revenge would soon be sought.

  All we had to remember the King by was a poster that hung in every room, his face marred with a red X and words he wouldn’t have dared to speak branded on his forehead.

  Two Havens, Two People.

  A loud rap on the door broke me from my reverie and I turned over in bed to see who it was. “Echo, darling, are you up?” my mother called, entering the room with soft footsteps. She closed the door behind her and came to sit at the foot of the bed.

  I didn’t move an inch; I barely even looked her in the face. Sleep had evaded me for the night and she was only making matters worse. “Not now, Mother. Can’t it wait till morning?”