Grounding the Storm ✓

Chapter 45

The clouds fluff together and the warm breeze turning from spring to summer pulls back the scarlet strands of my hair and kisses at my neck. The smell of fresh flowers carries in that breeze and for a moment, I squeeze my eyes shut and savor in the peace. No arguing, no screaming, no training. At least for today, I don't have to worry about anything but what I'm glimpsing in front of me, the beauty that is the cobblestone against rows and rows of flowerbeds and hedges.

The sun reflects off the large windows on the surface of the castle walls and sheens the stables and horses grazing in the pasture. I'm one of the few people out here, moving slowly through the gardens. Everyone else is preparing for a full dinner.

After a long day of tending to her flowerbeds, Celestine is sleeping. Since spring is quickly changing to humid days of summer, each witch of garden is busier than usual. They're switching out the pastel shades of spring for the harsh tones of the season. I knocked on her door and asked if she wanted to take a stroll, to no avail. With a groan, she brushed me off and said another day is best. No matter, she has to regain her energy for summer testing tomorrow.

I turn a corner, around a hedge, and head towards the large stables. I haven't admired the horses in weeks and I've heard that there's a new colt out in the pastures. Voices travel from inside the large building stretching into the sky; not gentle voices in the way two lovers sharing a secret moment but a harsh voice cutting through the smooth fabric of the gardens. I recognize the voice, Darius, and then the whimpering of another.

Because of past events, I slow my steps and make myself near silent as I approach the large wooden doors to the stone stables. I expect to see a woman with him but a stable boy is sitting on one of the straw bales—hunched over and defeated.

Darius's harsh voice cuts through the air as he scolds the boy for improperly training his stallion and creating something of mundane obedience out of the beast. The stable boy lowers his head and nods when he's scolded, palms drifting over his thighs. Nerves. I shake my head but I can't do anything. If I involve myself in this, Darius will bite me later.

Castle workers are punished every day and if I wanted to spend my time catering to their every need, I wouldn't have time for anything else.

"Look at me," Darius growls to the young, red-haired boy. When the boy doesn't respond, he orders again. I stop outside the looming walls of the stable next to the bins holding grain and listen. "You will listen to me carefully. With all your might—slap your cheek."

Skin against skin sounds a fraction of a second later and I wince. Darius is controlling the boy. My hands clench into fists and the power at my fingertips begs to defend and release against the evil in the stables but I force it back down my throat like a bitter pill. That raging inferno, although not fire, can take out this entire courtyard and the stables.

Darius chuckles underneath his breath. "Great, break your nose." No. He's finding amusement in the boy hurting himself. I whirl into the stables just as the boy's fist connects with his nose until bone cracks and his knuckles are bleeding.

"Darius!" I shout. He jumps, and the boy is immediately ripped from the trance the witch put him under. The stable boy groans and grips at his nose with bloodied knuckles to match the blood dripping down from his chin.

"This is a private matter, Roux. Leave." Darius jerks his chin towards the doors and I cross my arms over my chest. My feet are planted on the ground.

I've seen children bullied in Arego for nothing more than the painful realization of being smaller than the average child their age. Living every day, slammed against the ground and used as personal punching bags for the larger bullies is a sad way to move through life. Those children learned the wrong ways of the village, remembered the darkest alleys if they wanted to walk through the village without being caught, and what powers those bullies feared the most.