FOREVER KNIGHTS: #4 Battling Black Roses
DERAGAN - Who She's Talking To

Meadowbrook, Grier Country

DERAGAN

Nora prepared to study, this afternoon. Shuffling books about as she absentmindedly asked. “Tell me truly. How is it I can hear you?” Her voice was soft.

How’d she know I was here?

“You felt my presence?” It wasn’t unusual for her to identify Deragan’s spirit entering the house.

“I smelled you.” She laughed uncomfortably. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said...”

Smelled me?

“You know very well you can say anything to me.”

She smiled fondly down at the top of her dressing table, where she continued shifting things around.

Still waiting for me to answer her initial question.

He thought of a way to explain himself to her. “You’re one who is sensitive to the energy of others. You feel things deeply.”

“Like annoyance with Worthington?” She frowned. Brush dropping to the stand.

“No. A different kind of feeling.” He studied the perfect curve of her delicate ears. The profile he knew so well. Long blonde hair was loosely pinned atop her head. A light blue dress floated as she moved. She rearranged things in her room. Tidying the area to lay out her books. She stared into the curved mirror over her dressing stand. Sighing, she focused on folding her shawl to put on the bedside table.

She’s beautiful. No matter how many times she returns, she always looks the same…

Her soul is pure. Unchanging under the weight of time.

She sat to run a brush through her hair until it glistened like spun silver.

His fingers itched to touch it.

Brows knitting, she asked. “Are you certain you can tell me nothing of the book?”

“I cannot.” He chose his words carefully. “But I’m sure answers are in it.” He encouraged.

Some of them.

Her door burst open.

“Ha! I knew it!” Airon pointed an accusing finger. “You’re talking to walls.” Abruptly his hand fell. Then his head whipped. “Or is someone in here?”

Nora watched frozen, as Airon tossed her blanket back to peer under her bed. Mouth moving, she watched in shock. “What are you doing?”

After looking in her closet he faced her. “Are you going to have to go away like mom did?” He asked with a pained expression.

Nora winced.

Deragan felt a low jerk of sympathy for her. Knowing she was unsure herself. It’s her worst fear.

“Mom talked about the black evil things that wanted you.” Airon worried his lip. “Are you seeing them too now?” His brows drew together fearfully.

Nora shook her head and sat up. Patting the blankets next to her to tell Airon to sit.

Clearing her throat, she said. “Sometimes when people are very lonely, they pretend there is someone to talk to. It is not the same as becoming illogical.”

He frowned. “But…If you wanted someone to talk to, Nore, why don’t you talk to me?” He blinked wide blue eyes up at her.

Tapping her lip, she was enlightened. “It was lady things I was discussing like my new hairpins. And how an updo might make my face more defined. As well as if the cut of my gown is flattering.” She gave a twirl, so he could see.

“Bleh!” He turned away disgusted. “That’s silly woman’s stuff.”

“See.” She slumped onto the edge of the bed. “Nobody wants to listen.”

He began backing from the room giving a staying gesture. “You should...uh, talk to Beth.” He nodded emphatically.

“Good idea.” She nodded slowly. “Hey Airon!” She called after him. “Could you not tell the others about my pretend talk?”

Peering around the door as though it were a shield against her girlish behavior, he answered. “If you promise not to try to talk to me about that stuff again. Ever.”

Lifting a hand, she tried to look severe. “Never.”

He made a gesture of zipping his lips.

She winked at him and he pulled the door closed.

She blew a relieved breath and slumped.

“Well done.” The voice applauded her.

The following day William and Marcus Bishop were suffering arts tutoring-or Marcus was.

William seemed quite content, hunkering meticulously shading with a dusty piece of charcoal. A dark depiction of a man with a sword cast in shadows. A staff glowing green in the background.

Glancing over his shoulder, Marcus rolled his eyes. “Dreary.”

More intense about everything than his twin, William barely spared him a sideways glare. “Don’t bother your fine critique. I know well your stick figures are pitifully constructed.”

William’s feet were perched on the rails of a rickety wooden chair. Next to him, Marcus rocked his own onto back legs, before letting it slam flat. Nudging the table repeatedly.

Patiently waiting, William tried again to shade. Paused as the chair thudded down, then tried again. Finally straightening, William’s face flushed, and eyes blackened. Glaring Marcus down, he gave his brother his undivided attention.

“Hi.” Marcus said cheerfully. Waiting with a broad grin.

Knocking his chair over as he leapt to his feet, William exploded.

Marcus managed to evade the stick of charcoal William tossed at his face. Then further dodged his brother’s swinging as William rounded the table.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus skipped backward laughing.

Grunting, William glared at his twin with his hands fisting.

“Good thing you’re such a docile beastie.” Marcus mocked. Teeth glinting as he turned to flee. Unprepared for the hit to the back of his head that sent him sprawling.

Shouting at them, the hatchet-faced tutor, Ms. Jameson, closed in. Long nose twitching in ire.

Still fuming, William collected his charcoal and returned to his seat. Righting it before tossing Marcus a disparaging look. Dropping to commence shading.

Chuckling, Marcus gripped the edge of the table. Waiting a time, before giving it a shake.

William shot him a warning glance.

Ignoring it he pursued getting another rise out of his tightly wound sibling.

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