The Love of the Wielder (The Wielders Book Two)
Chapter Twenty-One

Maren knew there was trouble when the convoy slowed to an unplanned stop. All their previous stops had been pre-planned via radio before actually stopping, but not this one.

Maren heard the voice of one of the soldiers come over the radio. “Trackers have a checkpoint. They want to search the convoy. Orders, Captain?”

Maren’s heart started racing, and her mouth went dry. Trackers. Trackers meant Kieran was on to them. Was Kieran there? Would they take her? Could she convince one of the men to shoot her if they did?

She heard without really hearing Donovan's answer.

“Let them search. They won’t see us.”

And then he said to her, “I’ll hide us, can you make it look like there’s some equipment or something here?”

Could she? She had no idea. She’d have to try, but she felt far too panicked to do that.

The Captain spoke over the radio: “Hold your positions, I’ll come to talk to them. We’re going to let them search. We’re just transporting military personnel to Clifton, nothing to hide here.”

Donovan wrapped them both in a cloud of Darkness. She knew it would hide them from anyone else. It felt awful, it was so cold it made her shiver. Or possibly, she was trembling from fear. Or both.

She was fairly certain she could safely use her powers in the proximity of his, as long as neither of them was trying to do anything you might do in a fight. She hoped. An explosion of lighting would give them away, though. And then the Trackers would put her back into a collar, and she’d be back in Kieran’s office, and he’d torture her and —

“Breathe. Breathe slowly,” Donovan murmured in her ear. “You can do this.”

Maren hadn’t noticed she was hyperventilating until he said something. She tried to force herself to breathe more normally, but it was difficult.

She focused on counting her inhales and exhales, which didn’t make her feel any less panicked, but at least kept the hyperventilating at bay for a moment.

But then she heard men talking down the line of speeders. She tried to tune them out, but she couldn’t and the sound of the men's voices was coming closer, and she just knew they were going to take her.

“I can’t,” she whispered to Donovan.

She really couldn’t. She might’ve been able to make something appear, but she was not at all confident in her ability to make it stay put properly.

Donovan spoke very calmly to her, like someone might talk to a frightened animal, “It’s alright. They won’t see us.”

Maren could tell they were coming closer and closer. They’d look into the cabin and see her and take her. She couldn’t go with them. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of the speeder. She had to run.

As though he read her mind, Donovan pressed her more firmly to him. That helped some.

“—don’t know why headquarters has us up here. We’ve only ever caught local witches, they never run north, there’s nothing here!”

“Not a problem, we understand following orders,” Captain Beven said.

Maren bit hard into her hand to stop herself from making any noise. She knew they were close. She closed her eyes as tightly as she could. Tears fell down her face. She couldn’t ever remember being so terrified.

“Nothing back here?”

“Nah, we had spare tires, but we already used them. Damn roads are terrible.”

“Too right, you are.”

She could tell they were walking away, but it did nothing to abate her terror. She trembled and whimpered and cried and thought she might die of fear even after the convoy pulled away from the checkpoint. And she was still trembling and crying when Donovan let go of the Darkness surrounding them.

“We need a stop once we’re about five miles out,” Donovan told Captain Beven.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Captain said and then announced it over the radio.

Maren had not improved in any way once the convoy stopped. Donovan helped her out of the speeder and a little ways out into the meadow beside the road, where she collapsed to the ground, crying.

—

Donovan had been surprised when Maren reacted so strongly to the checkpoint.

He patted her gently and said soothing things, but she seemed to get worse. He looked back towards the line of speeders and saw one of the field medics hovering nearby. Donovan thought it likely Beven had told the man to stand by in case he was needed.

Donovan waved him over. He had no idea if the man could help because it seemed that Maren was not having physical issues, but emotional issues.

The medic came quickly and looked to Donovan for an explanation.

“She can’t stop panicking. She’s been hyperventilating since the checkpoint,” he said quietly.

The medic nodded, dropped his pack, and crouched beside them.

“Happens sometimes after things like speeder crashes. I can help,” the medic said.

Donovan was relieved.

“Can you help her sit up?” the medic asked.

Donovan nodded and pulled Maren up to a sitting position. It was like moving a rag doll. He propped her up and sat behind her.

The medic crouched in front of them and spoke in a firm but kind voice, “Hello, Maren. My name is Fred. I’m going to help you, alright?”

At the sound of her name, Maren jerked her head to look at Fred.

Donovan held her firmly and said, “It’s all right, he’s all right, he’s here to help.”

“Maren, all I need you to do is purse your lips like you’re trying to whistle and breathe through your mouth. Can you purse your lips for me?”

Donovan was surprised. He thought Fred might give her a tranquilizer or something, not breathing exercises. But he certainly knew more about what to do than Donovan did.

Maren must’ve done it because Fred said, “Great, you’re doing very well. Just keep doing that.”

It did seem to help for whatever reason. After a few minutes, Maren’s breathing slowed and Fred seemed pleased. Then, he switched Maren to taking slow deep breaths that he counted out loud for a while.

“How are you feeling? Better?” Fred asked.

Maren nodded. She had stopped crying and seemed to have returned to herself.

“Good. You keep taking those deep breaths for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

He rose and then said quietly to Donovan, “I just want to make sure she can breathe on her own for a bit. I’ll just be by the speeders if you need me, Your Majesty.”

Donovan nodded. He did not really understand how Fred had helped, but he could tell he had. He felt Maren breathing slowly and steadily against him and thought she’d be alright, at least for the moment.

He’d need to speak to Fred that evening to make sure he learned what to do in case that happened again.

“How are you, love?” he said softly to her.

She kept breathing for a bit before answering but said in a quiet voice, “Been better. Been worse.”

He thought that sounded acceptable for the moment.

“We’ll sit here as long as you like,” Donovan said.

“Just a few more minutes,” she said.

It was really a very pleasant spot to sit. The sun was shining, and the sky was blue. They were far enough north that there was a chill in the air, but it wasn’t cold. They were sitting in something like a meadow beside the road, with tall green grass and small bushes. It would have been the perfect place for a picnic.

After a bit, Maren declared she was ready to go. Donovan tried to carry her, but she wouldn’t let him.

“Gods, no! I can walk. This is embarrassing enough as it is,” she said.

“Maren, love, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” he insisted.

She looked at him sharply, “And you wouldn’t be?”

“Ah…well…it’s different for men,” he said, and then instantly regretted it when he saw how furious it made her.

“And how do you think it is for a queen who holds the oaths of two dozen men?” she snapped and then walked off towards the convoy.

He followed her. Strangely, seeing her angry made him feel a bit better. She was behaving more like herself, which meant he worried less about her. He would apologize later.

“Are you well, Your Majesty?” Fred asked Maren.

She nodded and said, “I thank you for your assistance.”

“It was no trouble, Your Majesty, only I do apologize for using your name, I know it isn’t proper, but I’ve found it’s the best way to speak to someone in that state,” Fred explained.

Maren gave a bitter laugh. “I’m certainly not in a position to insist on proper protocol.”

Poor Fred had no idea how to respond to that, so Donovan felt that was a good time to suggest they return to the speeder.

It was quiet in the speeder. Fred had replaced Phillips, which Donovan thought was Beven’s doing and a good idea. Maren sat as far away from him as possible, resolutely looking out the window.

He knew she needed space, so that’s what he’d give her. He needed space of his own to understand what had happened.

The Tracker checkpoint was not ideal, obviously. But even if there had been violence, it would have been dealt with easily. Surely, Maren knew that short of Kieran himself, nothing could really get in their way—especially not when they were with the soldiers. And if Kieran had been there, they would’ve found out very quickly.

He wished he could talk to Alec. He was so much better at understanding these kinds of things than Donovan was.

He tried to think about what Alec might say to him instead of how devastated he was that he might never see his friend again.

It probably would’ve been something like, “Gods, man! Think what happened the last time!” because usually, Alec was pointing out something obvious based on prior events.

The last time Maren had seen Trackers was fighting them at the headquarters building, and she had been incapacitating them. Donovan did not feel like that helped answer his question.

He tried to think about the time she would’ve seen Trackers before that. At the Duke’s house?

No, not there. In the speeder at the roadblock. Donovan never saw the men, but there had been three Trackers. Had they done something to her? He had asked about Kieran, but he hadn’t asked if anything had happened to her in general.

All he knew with certainty was that they put the collar on her and then took her from the Duke’s estate…to Kieran.

Donovan felt very stupid. Of course, Maren would be terrified of being taken again. And, he thought, feeling particularly dense, they had taken her powers.

He knew how it felt to not have his powers when he needed them. There really were no words to describe how awful it was. And he had only been without them for a few minutes—a terrible few minutes—but she had that collar on for what, almost two days? And that was on top of whatever Kieran had done to her!

Gods, he shouldn’t be trying to figure out why Maren had an episode, he should be trying to figure out why she was ever behaving as though anything was all right.

He had known she would behave as though everything was fine even though she was struggling, but he let himself believe her façade anyway. Because he wanted her to be alright because if she could be all right, then so could he.

He sighed. They would both need quite a lot of time to heal.

His thoughts were interrupted by Maren sliding over to his side of the speeder.

“I’m still angry, but I’m also tired,” she said.

“I know. That’s fine, love, put your head in my lap,” he said.

She did and quickly fell asleep.

—

The sun was just beginning to rise when Donovan and Maren left the camp and the Witch’s Guard behind.

Maren felt guilty for leaving without saying goodbye to them, but it was for the best. Donovan explained quietly to Captain Beven that they didn’t want them to see where they went. She knew they would honor their oaths, and likely more than one or two would guess something about where they were going, but there was no reason for them to have information that might cause them danger.

The night before, they camped outside the town. In the early evening, a few of the men from the fort brought their horses to the camp, while Donovan and Maren stayed in their tent.

Maren was delighted with the horses. Apparently, Jonathan ordered the fort to give them their very best ones. (She supposed he had given her horses as a wedding gift after all.) They actually had three of them—the third was just to carry supplies, and Jonathan had been generous in that regard as well. Which was good—they wanted to avoid running out of food in the mountains.

Maren knew the area around Clifton very well, since it was the nearest town to her family’s estate. It was only a few hours to get to the spring that would lead them up into the mountains. She was terribly tempted to pass by her family’s home, just to look at it, but she knew it was likely being watched, and more trouble was the last thing they needed.

They planned to follow the stream to Karlyn’s cabin and then stay there for a few days until they felt ready to go further into the mountains.

She had no idea what was past Karlyn’s cabin. They had some highly questionable sketches the military decided to call maps, but that was it. Somehow they’d have to find their way through them.

Maren didn’t know how long it would take to get to the other side of the mountains, but she knew at a certain point, if they didn’t make it across, they’d have to turn back to Karlyn’s cabin to stay through the winter—or possibly until the baby was born.

Maren hoped very much it wouldn’t come to that. The idea of having the baby with just the two of them alone was terrifying. Although, to be fair, there was very little that wasn’t terrifying about their lives anymore.

She was still feeling shaky and unsettled since what she thought of as the “episode.” The men had politely ignored it altogether, which she appreciated, but Donovan kept fussing over her, which she did not.

She felt certain that the very best thing she could do was to forget everything altogether. There was nothing to be gained by doing anything else with what had happened. If everything went as they planned, they would never see Kieran or a Tracker ever again. So surely, she didn’t need to dwell on the past.

They had more than enough to worry about at the present, in any case.

Maren led the way from camp on a black gelding leading the grey mare loaded with supplies. Donovan followed on a bay mare. The horses were all very well-trained, although Maren’s gelding did have a strong preference for leading the way.

The sun was all the way up by the time they reached the stream. They decided to take a break and have something to eat before continuing.

Donovan stretched hugely and groaned. “I am rather unprepared for riding a horse all day.”

“If it helps, I haven’t done it in over a year,” Maren said. She knew they would both be sore by the end of the day.

He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever done it.”

“Well, at least you already know how to ride. I don’t think we have time for me to teach you,” she said.

“Speaking of teaching, I realized yesterday I have never cooked. Anything. Ever,” Donovan said.

Maren thought about that for a few moments, “Oh, I expect you haven’t. I expect I wouldn’t have either had I not lived with Karlyn.”

“We are probably poorly suited to a life outside the cushion of the nobility,” he said.

“Perhaps we should’ve brought a staff,” Maren joked.

Donovan’s face fell.

“I only just thought, I have no idea what Kieran will do with my staff. I do hope they’re alright.”

Maren hadn’t thought of that either. There had been almost no time between determining they needed to leave and actually leaving.

“I think they’ll be all right,” she said, even though she really had no idea. “And…well, there are so many things that may or may not happen. We’ll drive ourselves mad with the wondering.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, but sounded dubious.

She turned to the saddlebag and fished out a tin of oatcakes. “Kieran will probably do a great number of awful things. I don’t really want to spend my life trying to figure out what they are.”

She offered him the oatcakes and he took one.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked. She didn’t want any, she found it did no favors for her nausea.

“Yes, but not enough to build a fire for it,” he said.

She just looked at him, smirking for a few moments.

He rolled his eyes. “You can just heat the water in the mug, can’t you?”

She nodded and took out a tin mug and a packet of soluble coffee. It wasn’t the greatest coffee, but it was quick and still coffee.

Donovan took the mug from her, saying, “Well, I may not be able to boil water, but I can at least get it from the spring.”

When he returned with the mug of water, she poured in the packet of coffee and then held it by the handle while using the Light with her other hand to heat the water. She carefully handed it to Donovan so neither of them burned their hands.

“You are the greatest wife any man could have,” he said.

She smiled. “It’s been a very long time since I used my powers for something like that. It’s very satisfying.”

He kissed her forehead as she nibbled on an oatcake. She hadn’t had them before their trip with the military, but she found she rather liked them. They were pleasantly crunchy and nutty, and all in all, an excellent food to eat while struggling with morning sickness.

“Are you all right?” Donovan asked.

Maren sighed, “Will you ever stop asking me that?”

“I keep asking because I know you aren’t alright, and I would really like for you to talk to me,” he said.

Maren pursed her lips, she was getting frustrated with his fussing.

“I’m fine. Completely fine. I just want to get up in the mountains,” she said.

She got back on her horse and waited for Donovan to get on his horse before setting off.

—

They kept riding, following the stream north into the mountains, until the sun was nearly set. They made camp by the stream, where there was a sturdy tree to tie the horses. Donovan collected wood for a fire while Maren unpacked what they needed for dinner.

They debated setting up the tent, but ultimately decided against it. It was chilly, but the sky was clear, and they thought they’d be warm enough with the fire and the bedrolls. And the truth was, they were too tired to try to figure out how to do it. Hopefully, the weather would hold until they made it to Karlyn’s cabin, and then they could deal with the tent.

There had been a good bit of tension between them as they rode. They handled the business of getting through the day pleasantly enough, but they didn’t discuss anything else. Donovan knew Maren needed space, but he also thought she needed to talk to him. He couldn’t make her, though. He’d have to wait for her to be ready.

“You know, I pictured what this trip looked like when you first told me about it, but it’s not at all what I expected,” Donovan said after they had finished eating something the soldiers assured them was edible but was not overly pleasant. He hoped engaging Maren on some other topic might help.

She smiled, “Well, you’re half right. I only ever made this trip in late Spring. I’ve never seen it in Autumn before.

It was beautiful, rocky and somewhat sparse, but there were plenty of trees turning brilliant shades of orange and red. It felt like a painting.

He was thinking about the night she told him about running away from home. She hadn’t wanted to, and it had been a painful telling for her. He knew it was difficult for her to remember the fear of those days.

But she had made a bargain with him. It seemed like so long ago, he barely remembered it. He told her about his first two Selections, and she had told him about her thirteenth birthday.

Obviously, that sort of tit-for-tat would be completely inappropriate for this circumstance, but perhaps…

“I wish we had some brandy,” he said after they ate.

“As lovely as that sounds, I’m not sure if I can stomach it, you can have mine,” she said with a smile. She seemed to be doing alright with her morning sickness, but Donovan had seen enough to know it was an ever-present thing.

“I think I’d need it… I think… I want to tell you what happened while I was at the palace, if that’s alright,” he said.

Even in the low firelight, he could tell she was surprised, but then her surprise turned into sympathy, and she said, “Of course.”

So he did. He told her everything that happened in his parents' sitting room: how Kieran killed their father, how he trapped Donovan and his mother there, and how he had broken out eventually. He also told her how awful it was to know that she needed him, and he could do nothing to help her, and how terrible it had been to be helpless while his father died.

“It still doesn’t feel real. I know what happened, I know my father is dead, but…there was no funeral, no chance to say goodbye. It doesn’t feel like something that truly happened,” he said.

She nodded. “I think grief is often like that. And it isn’t as though we’ve had a particularly peaceful time since then. You’ve barely had time to breathe, much less mourn.”

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“It was difficult to be so helpless for so long. And then to have it happen all over again with Kieran at the roadblock…” he trailed off, not sure how to say what he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I know… I know that was awful for you.”

His heart ached for her. He had no doubt that had been just as awful for her. He pulled her close, and they lay together leaning against one of the packs.

“No, love, don’t apologize for that. You did the right thing. It was a horrible person doing horrible things to us and, well, I suppose it’s like any wound—it takes time to heal.”

She sighed. “I just want to forget it,” she said.

“I know. But can you?” he knew that he could not forget what Kieran had done to him.

“I don’t think I can talk about it yet,” she said after a tense silence.

He kissed her forehead. “I know, love. You don’t have to, but you also don’t have to pretend everything is fine.”

“Did it help? The talking?”

He thought about it for a moment. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and he had only done it because he thought it would help her. But the truth was, it had helped him too.

“It did. It didn’t heal it, but I think perhaps the wound has been properly dressed at least.”

She nodded and fell silent for a time. They laid together and watched the fire. It was very peaceful.

“I’m very ashamed,” she said. “I let him… I let him humiliate me again and again.”

He closed his eyes and pressed her to him.

“I don’t think you ‘let’ him do anything. He is so powerful, he can do anything he wants. Whatever happened, whatever he made you do, I know you were trying to stay alive.”

“And know that nothing you tell me could ever change how I feel about you,” he added, thinking he’d identified at least part of the problem.

She nodded and pressed her face into his chest. He could tell she was crying.

Finally, she said, “I was so scared they would take me back to him yesterday. I just couldn’t bear to end up back in his office.”

He pressed her close again. “I would never have let that happen, love,” he assured her.

“I know that now,” she said. “I couldn’t see it yesterday, though.”

He nodded. He hadn’t really seen that either, but he could understand that better once she told him.

“We’ll get through it, love,” he said. “Together.”

—

Maren found it both cathartic and painful coming up into the mountains. As they traveled, she felt the joy of her trips to see Karlyn, but also the grief of her death in a way she hadn’t for years. The mountains were very peaceful and soothing, but she and Donovan both mourned the lives they had left behind. And of course, they still had a great deal of healing to do.

The tension had eased between her and Donovan after they spoke the first night. He stopped asking if she was all right, and she stopped insisting she was. That helped.

They both slept surprisingly well, considering they were on the ground in the open air. They were both exhausted after spending the whole day in the saddle.

As often happens, they were terribly sore the next day, and climbing back onto their horses was uncomfortable. Maren had offered to heal Donovan’s aches and pains, but he refused.

“If you do, I’ll never get used to it, and it’ll be a very long trip if I don’t,” he said.

She thought perhaps he did it in solidarity with her since she couldn’t be healed, and thought that was both silly and romantic.

She was looking forward to reaching Karlyn’s cabin, so they could rest for a few days. It would be nice to stay in one place for more than a night, although she was worried about how she might feel when she got there. She knew she would feel her grief for Karlyn more acutely, and was not quite sure that she had the capacity to cope with it at the moment. There was nothing she could do about it in advance, though.

“Today, do you think?” Donovan asked on the morning of the third day as they broke camp.

“I think so,” she said. “But not until late.”

They had made good progress on their second day, she thought, but it was difficult to tell for sure. Everything looked so different at that time of year, and it had been a long time since she had followed the stream to Karlyn’s. She didn’t see any of the landmarks she used to have.

But the distance was still more or less the same, though, so she thought it likely they’d make it by the end of the day.

Much like the second day, the third day was uneventful. They rode along the stream, passing trees and boulders and small animals, mostly rabbits and squirrels. Donovan was particularly enchanted to see a deer drinking from the stream. Maren supposed that having lived in the Capital his whole life, he probably had not seen much in the way of wildlife.

It was early evening by the time they reached the place where the spring ended, and they turned off to go to Karlyn’s cabin.

Maren felt inexplicably nervous. It was silly really, as she knew there wouldn’t be anything at all to find at the cabin, but the butterflies fluttered in her stomach nonetheless. She decided to have some of the oatcake she’d stored in her pocket, but it didn't help.

Maren could not yet see the cabin when she heard something she did not understand. But there was no doubt, it was the unmistakable clucking of chickens.

Karlyn’s chickens had all run off before Maren had come for the final time. She couldn’t imagine they would have come back. And besides, that was more than eight years ago. Did chickens live that long? She wasn’t sure.

She was about to ask Donovan if he heard them too when she smelled a fire. Not a wildfire, but a friendly hearth fire that she had always smelled coming from Karlyn’s cabin while she was alive.

She stopped the horses and turned to look back at Donovan.

“Someone’s living here,” she hissed.

He looked very alarmed. “We should move on.”

She frowned. “We have to stay somewhere tonight and if someone is using Karlyn’s cabin, I mean to find out who they are and why,” she said stubbornly. “It doesn’t belong to them.”

She knew that wasn’t completely fair, it was not her cabin either, but the idea of someone else in Karlyn’s home bothered her tremendously. She was also thinking about the letter Karlyn had left for her in her desk. She needed it.

Donovan did not look pleased, but Maren continued on at a trot.

The cabin looked very much like it had years ago, complete with chickens in the clearing in front of the house. But there was a shelter that had never been there before and a donkey standing in it.

The donkey brayed loudly in greeting when he saw them. Maren shushed him, but the donkey just brayed again. She thought it likely that whoever was in the cabin would appear soon.

Fine, Maren would take care of that.

She slid off her horse but held the reins and led it further into the clearing. She was feeling furious, how dare someone set up house in Karlyn’s home?

She glared at the door, waiting for someone to come out.

An older woman, maybe in her late sixties or seventies, appeared. Her grey hair was up in a neat bun, and she wore a clean but worn grey dress. She had on an apron and appeared to have been in the middle of making bread or something, judging by the flour all over it. She has sharp features and her eyes were suspicious.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Maren demanded.

The woman just blinked at her.

“Who am I? You’re standing in my front yard, asking who I am? Who are you?” the woman said.

“This is not your front yard. This house belonged to a friend of mine, and you have no business being here,” Maren said.

The woman raised a skeptical eyebrow at her.

“Put that away, girl, you have no idea what you’re dealing with,” she said.

Maren hadn’t even noticed she had drawn the Light to her hands, but she decided she liked it that way.

She allowed the Light to flare larger.

“I think perhaps you don’t know what you’re dealing with,” Maren snarled.

The woman just looked at her, completely unperturbed. And then she cocked her head and squinted at her.

“Are you Maren?”

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