Free Oak And Mist (The Ambeth Chronicles Book 1) by Helen Jones Page B

crinkling at the corners.
    ‘Alma, I thank you for your patience. I imagine this has been quite confusing for you.’
    Alma looked at him, then at the assembled circle. ‘Thank you… but… well, it still is really. Confusing, that is.’ At this a ripple of amusement went round the room and she blushed, feeling completely at a loss.
    ‘Then let me try and explain,’ said Thorion. Alma sighed inwardly. There had been a lot of explaining lately but she was still in the dark about most things. Maybe this would be different, though she didn’t hold much hope of it.
    ‘You have seen our loss, in the alcove,’ he said, and Alma nodded, her eyes drawn back to the eerie twisting presence in the empty niche. She wrenched her gaze away and back to Thorion. ‘Did you read the words above?’
    Alma shook her head – she had been so mesmerised by the shifting shapes that she had completely ignored the gilded legend, carved beautifully into the stone.
    ‘Caleb, if you would be so kind…’ said Thorion, letting go of Alma’s hands and gesturing to him. A hiss came from the circle and Thorion looked up sharply, his handsome face fierce as he scanned the room. Once all was silent he nodded again to Caleb, his face softening and the boy stepped forward. Clearing his throat, he straightened his shoulders and started to read the words graven on the wall, looking somehow vulnerable as he stood there in the middle of the circle.
     
    Child of Darkness, Child of Light
    Hair of flame shining bright
    Gate of oak, stepping through
    An ancient line is born anew
    Find the Dark, find the Light
    Then shall things be set to right
    For what is lost will be found
    In mist, in stone, underground
     
    Caleb finished reading and turned to Thorion, almost as though seeking approval. Thorion obliged by nodding at him. ‘Thank you.’ He then turned to Alma, saying, once again, ‘Do you see it?’
    Alma was nonplussed. She knew what he was getting at, of course, but didn’t want to say it. The prophecy was about her. Child of darkness, child of light – she supposed that was something to do with being a human. Hair of flame – well, she’d always had red hair and the flaming temper to go with it. She’d even come through an oak gate to get here… oh, it was all very neat. But she wasn’t having it, not yet. She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t very polite, she knew, but it was how she felt. A laugh came from one of the Elders; she thought it was Lord Artos, the older man who had stood witness as she was placed under Thorion’s protection. Why this had made him laugh she had no idea, but it broke the tension in the room, everyone visibly relaxing. Even Lord Denoris smiled, although there was more calculation than amusement in his green gaze. Thorion laughed as well, his handsome face lighting up as he moved to stand in front of Alma, resting his hands gently on her shoulders. He almost took her breath away with his beauty – it was not fair, it really wasn’t. Refusing to give in, Alma simply met his blue gaze, though it was difficult. Gently, no longer laughing, he spoke to her.
    ‘Alma, the signs are all in place.’
    Alma shook her head. ‘And what does that mean?’ she asked, her voice shaking slightly. Stepping back from Thorion, arms still folded, she turned to look around the circle. ‘Don’t I get any choice in the matter? Is that how these things work?’ She felt sick, hating the thought of being pushed into something she didn’t understand or want to do. It was all very well, being presented and protected in their fancy hall, but now she felt alone and trapped, the fantasy suddenly very real. Standing nearby, Caleb grimaced in sympathy, his fists clenched at his side as though to hold them there.
    ‘Since the first piece of the Regalia was lost, we have been watching the stars,’ said Lord Artos, his rich voice ringing in the vaulted space, ‘working towards the moment you stepped into these lands.