Blakeshire (Insight #9)(46)
The wall spoke to her. I couldn’t even wrap my head around that. I was told by the leader of this world, right after I was shown that mural, that it only spoke to the souls that it belonged to. He assured me at some point I’d found a home in this valley. That I had an unfinished beginning. And Madison had just confirmed that she did, too. That made me anxious and excited to show her what was hidden here. To show her where my best dreams were manifested.
She was relaxed and calm at my side. Instead of looking at everything around her as if it were a plague or something she had to repair, her expression was filled with wonder.
“So are you going to tell me about the sign language, or are you going to let me unravel that mystery on my own?” she asked once we turned down a less traveled path.
I glanced at her before moving my head from side to side in fake dismay. Preston told me she was watching us this morning, that she knew I was signing to him, but she didn’t mention it and I didn’t care to bring it up then or now. So I played it off. “It’s not a secret; it plays into their culture. In a way, it’s like a vow of silence. Children are taught to speak silently so they can hear their inner voice. As they grow up, as the seasons of rain begin to shape their sculptures, they begin to speak. The adults never tell them when or offer permission. They just seem to know when their voice is needed.”
“Interesting,” she said under her breath, clearly let down that I left it at that. “So, did you bring Preston here?”
Oh, she was good. Made it seem like that was a wayward question, and not something that had been bothering her for hours.
“Not yet. You’re the first,” I said with a wink. She was going to have to come out and ask me. She was obsessive and curious enough to do just that. I just wanted her to get used to asking me anything at any time.
“He signs,” she finally said.
My eyes met hers; contentment was surely apparent in my gaze. She was becoming at ease with me. “He said you were watching.”
“Watching is a better word than spying.”
“You said it, not me,” I said as I pointed at her and tried to hold in a grin.
She blushed shyly. “I was just caught off guard. I’m still not used to having my senses on lockdown. Usually, I can tell you everyone that is within a half-mile or so from me. I woke up from a nightmare in a silent house and thought I was alone.” She glanced out the window to try and hide her embarrassment. “I was just mesmerized with the care you were taking with him. With you cooking.”
She was the one that mesmerized me with the care she took with Preston. He tended to have a rapport with everyone whose path he crossed, but with Madison it was a silent one, like he knew he didn’t need to ‘get to know her;’ he acted as if he had always known her. To say that equally terrified and excited me made no sense, but it was true.
“You were mesmerized by me arguing with a six-year-old?” I quipped.
“Sign language is too beautiful to be conveyed as anger.”
“Remember that if you ever see him mad.”
“Preston?”
I nodded as my smile faded and I shifted gears, as the road became more of a hill. This was going to be harder than I thought to explain. “He was born deaf and mute.”
“Seriously?” she said in a tone that was rich with grief. You’d have almost thought she was taking the blame for that. Odd.
A solemn nod was my answer at first. “They tried every spell they knew, called forth every medical doctor that existed to heal him—all to no avail.”
“I think any parent would do the same.”
“Not my parents. They were content with his condition. Donalt was the one that searched for a cure. Donalt was the one that executed every doctor that failed him.”
“Who was the lucky one that healed him?”
“No one…things became really dense a few months ago, more dense than ever before. Donalt was on edge. He kept telling me that my time was coming, with the Blue Moon I would rule. He turned me against my father by revealing his hidden family, then pushed me to search for Willow.” I hesitated. “When I came back with a few of her friends, Preston came into my chambers late one night and crawled into my bed. I sat up and grabbed his favorite book so I could help him fall back asleep, but he blocked me from opening it and looked up at me…in the most innocent whisper, he told me that I marked the wrong soul. He reached for my chest, and once his tiny hand was on my heart, which was pounding like crazy, he spoke again…and told me that she did not have the power of fire.”
“He didn’t speak until you found Willow?” she breathed as she adjusted herself in her seat.
“Not a word. And I know he couldn’t hear either. They tested him fiercely. Not one sound would cause him to stir, no matter how loud it was.”
“What did he mean by the fire?” she asked, completely mystified by this.
We had reached the top of that hill, and the ground was leveling out. Once I had put the car in a different gear, I reached for her hand. With a glance, I could see that glow under my touch, feel a warm rush. I was starting to believe she was my fire. I sucked in a silent breath when the memories of the cold I’d battled came to mind. I never wanted her to see me that weak. Ever.
“I was rarely truly grateful for anything growing up. The first thing I remember creating that feeling was Preston. I knew if he was deaf, then he would never hear the voice of Donalt or anyone else in that court. That if that were the case, he would always be warm, he would never feel their coldness in his soul.”