Blakeshire (Insight #9)(34)

Maybe it was Drake getting through to me, him knocking down the walls around my heart that was giving me that degree of understanding. How could I fall asleep a broken, insecure girl and wake with forgiveness, determination, and declaration of claim on the very soul that was residing within Drake’s intoxicating image?

I grunted as I struggled with my mind. I couldn’t figure it out. I glanced to the bedside table; the marker was still there. I turned crimson as I imagined him waking up and finding my silent confession on his arm. Where was he?

Normally, I would be able to sense anyone within a half-mile of myself, but after last night I doubted I still had that power, because right now I could swear I was alone in this house—and the people in Chara never left me completely alone.

I had to get to that palace. I had to search every single dark corner of that wicked place. For what, I didn’t know. Not yet anyway. It had to do with that ghost of an ugly woman. I know it did.

Finding no clear resolution, I grudgingly kicked off my covers and headed for the bathroom, deciding a shower was needed to wake me up. I felt like I’d slept for days.

When I came out, my room was undisturbed. I figured that surely someone would have heard the water running and come to check on me. Maybe I was alone.

I pulled my boots on, found my hoodie, and took a deep breath as I went to search for a way to get back to Esterious.

Two doors down from the room I was sleeping in, I saw a glimpse of Aden. I stopped at the threshold and pushed the door open a little more. He was sound asleep, lying in the center of the bed. I hesitated. I could swear that faintly I could hear a violin around him. As my eyes moved across the room, the sound halted. My glance moved back to Aden. I decided to let him sleep; his dreams were peaceful, and I knew he had to be as exhausted as I felt.

I swallowed nervously, knowing that he was less than a hundred feet from me when I woke up and only five feet from me now, and I couldn’t feel his emotions—that is, unless I really struggled to focus.

I guess they are serious when they say be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. When I was sick with this insight, I wanted it to go away; I know I said and thought that a million times over. But truth was, I didn’t want it to go away. I just wanted it to go back to normal.

I knew I would have to have my guard up now more than ever. Obviously, souls would have to be right next to me in order for me to sense them, which was not good considering the number of enemies I was accumulating.

The door to the master bedroom was open and the bed was made, so I knew that Olivia and Chrispin were wide awake somewhere. I made my way to the stairs, listening carefully for anyone below. I thought I heard plates moving, but no words, leaving me to doubt that either Chrispin or Olivia were here. Those two thought aloud, which meant someone was always speaking what they were pondering around them.

I stopped in the shadow of the threshold that led to the kitchen. I had caught a glimpse of Preston.

Preston was Drake’s baby brother; he was only six or seven. He was the first person I met from this dimension. Something about him had caused me to feel immediate love and the desire to protect him. Maybe it was the innocent shape of his lush cheeks, or those long curls that were blond at one time but turning darker with each passing day. He was a vision of innocence that made my heart melt each time my eyes found him.

For the oddest reason, I felt relief when I first met him; it was if I were overjoyed that he had found life, peace, and was happy, but that made little sense to me at the time, or even now.

Beyond Drake, I had never felt so connected with another soul at first sight. Preston may have been a child, but his energy carried wisdom well beyond that age; he would say or do things at the right moment that would lead you to believe that he may very well be able to see or sense the future.

His back was to me. I smirked when I saw that his long, dirty blond hair was a ravaged mess. It looked like he hadn’t been awake long. He was wearing Drake’s button up black shirt, and it hung to his feet below the stool he was perched on.

An empty plate was in front of him, and he was gulping a large glass of orange juice. I watched as he sat it down, wiped the mustache of juice off his mouth, then silently began to move his arms.

I furrowed my brow and leaned a little closer. He was signing, but that didn’t make any sense; he could speak, and he could hear. I tilted my head so I could see who he was silently speaking to.

Standing in front of the stove with a spatula in his hand was Drake. He was dressed down: dark jeans and deep purple thermal shirt that seemed to carefully sculpt his lean warrior’s body. His dark hair was waywardly tossed out of his eyes. He didn’t look like a stoic prince right then; he looked like a big brother having a silent argument with a little boy that stared at him as if he were the sun itself.

Drake flipped the omelets he was cooking before he put down the spatula and began to answer Preston in the same fashion.

A slow, sweet smile spread across my awestruck expression. The way he moved his arms, how angelically he shaped each word, was mesmerizing to me. All I knew about signing was the alphabet, but I would give almost anything to know what they were talking about right now. It seemed so poetic, yet casual at the same time.

Preston laughed silently as he rapidly answered Drake in the same manner. This went on until Drake was forced to halt the discussion and retrieve the omelet from the pan and place it on Preston’s plate.

I eagerly waited for them to sign again as I watched Drake pour eggs into the pan to make several more omelets. Once Drake was sure everything was cooking normally, he continued whatever silent argument they were having. Preston moved his head from side to side, then signed something quickly, and whatever he said caused Drake to look to the shadow I was standing in.