The Pain in My Heart [Completed]

Chapter Twenty-Four ~Zaria

Part Two

Whispering Secrets

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.  - Matthew 6:24

My fingers still tremble as I try to keep myself together. Tyrian turns his back on us snapping his fingers, once more returning to his Fae form.

Lucy scowls, fisting her skirt and turning around.

"Wait," she calls. Not too loud, but quiet enough to know she doesn't want to do this.

The soft crunch of his footsteps stops and I wouldn't be surprised to see a grin on his face if he turned towards us. He waits where he is, still as a statue.

"Your... aid," she chokes out the word. "It would be appreciated... for the sake of my kingdom," she adds quickly.

"So, the tiger has retracted her claws," he says, his voice getting closer. His glowing hair appears again, illuminating his face like the soft glow of the moon.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," she says spinning around. "This doesn't mean I trust you." She stands on her tip-toes, pointing at him. "Your kind is sneaky and deceitful. If you help us, you will be under close eye."

He sighs and shakes his head. "My kind," he says under his breath," shaking his head some more like he's about to laugh. "Keep all the eyes you want on me. I'm sure whoever it is watching will enjoy the view."

She scoffs and pushes past him to which he follows. I take another deep breath before fixing my skirt, following them out of the forest.

"Is there anything so far that you have seen?" I ask trying to keep up with their long strides, my hem getting caught in the bramble.

"Besides all those mundane tasks, no. But don't you get your hopes up, Zaria. I believe we are meant to figure this out together."

"Oh yeah, and why's that?" Lucy asks sarcastically.

"You can't hear the Spirits, can you?"

"If you keep insulting me, the deal is off. I suggest you hold your tongue."

"And sadly, the claws are back," he says looking back at me. "I was right to trust my instincts in looking for you first." He turns back around. "And, it's not an insult. I was just asking a question. It's your fault you take offense to it."

I choke on my own laughter. He and Crista would get along swimmingly.

"No," she retorts. "I don't hear them."

"There is only gossip for those who have left this world. They keep speaking of, 'the white lamb stained by coal.'" He pulls a loose curl from Lucy's hair. "I can see the resemblance."

She quickly parts her hair so it lies over the front of her shoulders.

"Like the Queen's song," I say thinking out loud. "How have the Spirits heard?"

He chuckles. "How could they not hear is the question."

"So why can't you just ask them what we can do to stop this?"

He ducks under a hanging tree branch. "The Spirits are mystics. They like to speak through riddles that muddle reality itself. Only once you find something of importance does it make sense."

"You're wrong," Lucy states.

"I rarely am."

"About the riddle. It's the lyrics to a song my mother wrote. It's a prophecy, and it's about Zaria."