Sunrays among shadows, p.17
Sunrays Among Shadows, page 17
“Everything’s right,” Lily said. “I checked it already.”
Nodding, Miss Sawyer considered the test a moment longer before peering up at Lily again. “All correct,” she agreed, both eyebrows now raised in surprise. “You may go.”
“Finally.” Lily flew out of her seat, her books already tucked under her arm. Without another word, she strode through the room, deposited the books on the shelf, and disappeared through the door. Miss Sawyer and I stared after her for a few seconds before I returned to my exam and she to her seat at the front of the room.
When I’d finished (all correct), I carried my paper to her desk.
“Well done,” she said upon inspection, and I smiled.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“William,” she said as I put my things away. “What’s the matter with your sister?”
Lifting my shoulders, I said, “I’ve no idea at all.”
But that was a lie. I knew—or rather, suspected—the reason for her haste: she was going to see Mr. Behrtram again. She’d been so keen before that it was the only logical explanation. Still, it perplexed me, especially considering her previous behavior toward the boy.
But strangely, I thought I could understand it from the young man’s end. I’d seen the way he looked at her—that mix of curiosity and delight. He hadn’t really seemed all that bothered by her burst of anger. He’d even been smiling when I left him that day.
But Lily …
What did Mr. Behrtram have to offer that could possibly motivate her to do what she was told for the chance to see him again?
The answer came to me as soon as I’d asked the question in my head, and it was far simpler than I’d originally expected: Lily wanted companionship. For some inexplicable reason, she’d chosen him to be her friend. It seemed odd after all my sister’s impolite speeches about those less fortunate, but then I smiled, reminding myself that friendship doesn’t care about appearance or wealth; it happens regardless.
“William?”
“Huh?” I looked up to find Miss Sawyer’s eyes on me. “Oh, forgive me, I got lost in my thoughts for a moment.” I stacked my books and returned them to the shelf.
She allowed a gentle smile. “Well, go on then. I’m sure you’ll want to figure out why your sister is so impatient.”
I turned to leave, though I knew there was no discovery to be made. Lily and Mr. Behrtram would already be wandering in the woods, and it would be impossible to catch up to them now. There was no point trying.
“Oh, and William, do tell me if you find out, won’t you? I must know what on Earth has succeeded in inspiring her.”
Nodding, I said, “Lily pays attention; she just doesn’t do the work.”
Miss Sawyer grimaced. “I know your sister is very bright—bright but unmotivated—but if she has found a reason to pay attention to her studies for once, I’d be interested to know what it is. Goodness knows I’ve tried to no avail.”
With a quiet laugh, I completed my walk to the door. “Of course. If I know, you’ll know.”
“Thank you, William. You’ve always been such an honest young man.”
Lily didn’t return until Miss Sawyer and I were already ten minutes into the afternoon lessons, but still pleased about her willingness to complete her exam this morning, our tutor barely reprimanded her. Not that a scolding would’ve done much to dampen Lily’s spirits. She was still grinning when she slipped into her chair and began the evening’s assignments, though she refused to say a word of explanation.
I sighed, dipping my quill in ink.
Jasper
I smiled to myself as I moseyed through the trees. I couldn’t seem to get that stupid grin off my face, and I kept peering over my shoulder as if I might find Lily still trailing behind me, complaining that my strides were too long for her to keep up. She’d gone home, of course. I’d left her at the edge of the lawn.
I wouldn’t see her tomorrow. It would be the first time in nearly a week that we wouldn’t meet. There was a family outing to attend, she’d said, so instead, I wished that today had been extended, that the hours passed between us could’ve lasted just a bit—
But that thought stopped me in my tracks.
I’d only spoken to this bloody girl a handful of times; I shouldn’t be so enthusiastic. This was just business, after all. It was part of my plan. I had to take her to Gimlon like all the rest, by order of the queen.
I shook my head as if to clear it and struck the smile from my lips.
Well, I tried to.
But I thought about her, replayed the day’s conversations in my head, and felt that keen little smile creep back onto my face. What did it matter if I smiled anyway? There was no one here to see me, and it was a long journey home.
Lily
“Have you any family?” I asked, staring up at Jasper. He lounged on the lowest branch of the oak, his back against the trunk. He had one leg on the bough, bent so his knee stuck up in the air, the other dangling off the side.
A leaf floated down from above him, set loose by the wind, though it was still bright green. When it got close enough to my head, I moved under it and blew, lifting it a few inches higher before letting it spiral toward the ground again. Jasper watched it disappear in the grass before answering, picking up another that had settled on his chest.
“On Trigon, I do,” he said, twirling the leaf in his fingers by the stem. “They live in the royal city of Egaldon in Gimlon.”
I rolled my eyes. “Still on about this other world business? We’re close enough acquaintances now. You can tell me the truth.”
But Jasper was unaffected. “Still don’t believe me I see.” With a long exhale, he sat up, shifted his body, and dropped his right leg so they both hung over the side of the branch. “Can’t really expect you to, I suppose. You are from Earth.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re from Earth,” he said again with a shrug. “It shouldn’t offend you. People here are just a bit … disconnected.”
I uncrossed my arms, raising my hands in surrender, though I wasn’t willing to let the subject rest. “But why? You said there are other places, and clearly, we’re connected somehow—by your gates or whatever. So why doesn’t anyone here know about it?”
Without a word of warning, Jasper dropped out of the tree, landing on steady legs barely a foot from where I stood. My hands flew up to my mouth, stifling a gasp, but his expression remained mild.
“Iraxhar,” he said. “That’s the name, and you aren’t really supposed to know.” Then examining my face, he added, “Sorry, did I scare you?”
I cleared my throat. “Not at all,” I mumbled, lowering my hands, though my heartbeat still raced.
He sneered. “No, of course not. You’re Lily Howell. Nothing in the world could possibly frighten you.” Nudging my shoulder, he slipped his hand around my wrist, one finger probing for my pulse. I jerked my arm away but too late. Jasper laughed.
“Shut it.”
“Must’ve been a good scare if you’re still that flustered.”
“Why not?”
Jasper’s forehead creased. “What?”
“Why is Earth disconnected?”
“Oh, changing the subject, are we?” he teased but indulged me. “It’s been a long time since anyone from Iraxhar came here and even longer since there was any regular travel or trade.”
“But why?”
He turned so I couldn’t see his face. “The Departure, they called it—when Anim Zenith drew the veil between our worlds. Well, diplomatically, I suppose it made the most sense at the time.” He scratched his neck. “Now, the Gates are the only way Earth is connected to the other worlds, and they’re mostly forgotten thanks to the Anim. What’s the point in trying to preserve or recreate something that isn’t viable?”
He started walking, his shoulders rolling forward, and I followed. The topic seemed to make him a tad uncomfortable, but I still didn’t want to dismiss it yet. “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair. No matter how long it’s been, we are still connected, and that’s a special thing, don’t you think?” I caught his sleeve, encouraging him to look at me.
“Special how?” he asked.
“Well,” I began, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. It was worn but soft. “You and I wouldn’t have met without that connection, right?”
Jasper’s eyes widened, and immediately, he looked down, though I could see his cheeks redden. His skin was so fair that any change in his complexion was extravagant. I smiled to myself, strangely pleased that I’d managed to make the boy blush.
“I-I’m sure it sounds great to have your world included in all of this, but reality isn’t so grand. Iraxhar isn’t all fairies and elves, you know.”
“Elves?”
He glowered at my excitement. “Look, Earth’s been separated for a very long time—centuries.” He stretched his arms above his head. “I doubt Iraxhar will ever really be complete again. Earth’s massive. It’s too populated now, and every country has a different king or queen.” He dropped his arms. “And not one of them is willing to surrender any power to be a part of something bigger. It just won’t happen. They all fear the new and unknown. If the existence of the other worlds was discovered, they’d think us a threat.”
I considered his words and found myself agreeing with him. “Iraxhar doesn’t have a king then?”
“I didn’t say that. There’s the king on Trigon and other rulers on each world, but they coexist … for the most part.”
“They’re good rulers then?”
Judiciously, Jasper replied, “I suppose it depends which ruler and who you ask.”
“Gimlon is your home, right? That’s what you called it. What about the ruler there?”
He watched me, quiet for a moment, his smile straightening out. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
“I’m trying to learn. Tell me about your king.”
Jasper hesitated again, seeming to contemplate his response. Finally, he licked his lips and said, “King Gilmer is a levelheaded man, generally respected and always just, though almost to a fault, I’m afraid.”
“And what about his queen?”
At that, he fell silent entirely, his eyes tightening. The corners of his mouth twitched as though he couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown. His voice was soft when, at last, he spoke again.
“Come now, Lily, if I told you everything straight away, there’d be no mystery or intrigue to keep you coming back.” He winked, and although a smile accompanied it, I got the impression that he wasn’t smiling internally. But that was his business, I decided, and I didn’t press him further.
Instead, I crossed my arms and blew a noisy breath out my nostrils in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You can be rather maddening, you know that?”
To my relief, the effect was almost instantaneous. Jasper’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, well, you can be rather annoying with your barrage of questions, so which of us is worse?”
I sighed in jest. “A sin is a sin, I suppose.”
But when I faced Jasper again, I was greeted with disdain. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “That’s something I just don’t understand …”
“What?”
“That religion and God nonsense.”
My face fell. “Who says it’s nonsense?”
Jasper thrust a thumb at his chest. “I do.”
“It’s not.”
“Says a girl who can have a fairy right in front of her face and still not believe in other worlds. Your logic is clearly skewed.”
My frown deepened. “That’s entirely different.”
“Is it?” He quirked a brow. “People choose to believe what they want and ignore the rest. That’s why every person on Earth has a different religion, mind you a lot of it seems to be varying interpretations of the same thing.” He shrugged. “But no two people will think or interpret in the same way. It’s like one person decided something, then others just liked it and attached themselves to the idea until they generated a following. Except times ten.”
“Well, how else could it get started? Everything starts with an idea.”
“Right, but that’s all it is—an idea. How can you dive in and blindly believe something like that and then totally reject an alternate possibility even when there’s tangible evidence sitting right in front of you? It makes no sense.”
“You’re really cut up about this, aren’t you?”
“Well, why aren’t you?”
I folded my arms, closing in on myself a bit. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever paid enough attention in church services to be able to effectively argue the subject, though disbelievers weren’t uncommon. “It’s not blind belief. My family have always been well-acquainted with the Lord.”
“Well-acquainted, huh?” He leaned in, his voice and posture imposing. “They meet up and have tea then? Have nice little chats from time to time? And what about you? D’you join them?”
I pursed my lips. “Do you have a point to make, or did you just want to piss on my family’s entire belief system?”
Jasper dropped his shoulders, groaning. “I just don’t get it. Why d’you need someone or something to tell you how to live your life? Aren’t there already enough people doing that without the addition of some presumed higher power? Why can’t you just live freely?”
“We do—quite comfortably, I might add—because we know there’s someone who’ll love and forgive us regardless of our sins.”
But the scowl didn’t leave Jasper’s face. “I can’t believe that.”
“What?”
“He’ll love and forgive you? He tracks every bad thing you’ve done—every mistake you’ve ever made—and holds them over your head like a ransom, threatening Hell and promising salvation but only if you accept him. I refuse to believe in a god that frightens and guilt trips his way into a following.”
I raised both brows, speechless.
He stared hard at my bewildered face and then, sighing, bowed his head. “There are many bad things in these worlds, Lily—dark moments that only ghosts can see. If your god could see them, too, and was truly merciful, I like to think he wouldn’t let them happen.” He swallowed, his voice shrinking. “But they still happen. People still hurt—living, tangible, real people.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I replied as best I could, though I was only parroting something I’d heard. “Light wouldn’t seem bright without darkness. Good things wouldn’t feel good if there were no bad things to compare them to.”
Exhaling, Jasper said. “If that reasoning satisfies you, then fine. But I’ll still choose not to believe in a god that promises love while constantly allowing suffering.”
I gulped. “It’s—it’s about the balance of good and evil. There always has to be a balance … I think.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t get it. And anyway, why does it matter if an incomprehensible being forgives you? Your sins will always leave a mark—on a place, on a person, on you. The consequences won’t just disappear by believing an invisible god forgives you. Shouldn’t you focus on earning the forgiveness of those you’ve wronged instead?”
I huffed; his insistent rejection was beginning to get on my nerves. “Not everyone is willing to forgive.”
“Then live with the guilt and learn from it,” he said, as though it were really that simple.
“Not everyone wants to live with guilt …”
He smirked and flicked his brows at me. “Then maybe you shouldn’t do wrong to people in the first place.”
I puffed out my cheeks and released the air in a loud exhale. “It’s not always easy to avoid. I’m certain you’ve wronged plenty of people in your lifetime.”
Jasper snorted and nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Sure, loads.” He looked back at me, that coy half smile still on his lips. “But I’m not asking for anyone’s forgiveness, am I?”
Swallowing, I shied away. “I think we should just agree to disagree on this one.”
Jasper grinned. “Got you thinking, didn’t I?”
His confidence boosted my annoyance. “My beliefs are what they are,” I replied stiffly. “I’m a product of my world—of my experiences, my environment, and my teachings. It’s what I believe to be true because, my whole life, it’s been taught and spoken of as truth. Can’t you just accept that?”
Jasper observed me silently, the hardness on his face dissolving. It made me nervous when he did that—just stared. I never knew how to respond to it. It felt a little intense, but when he spoke, his voice had softened along with his expression.
“Yeah,” he said. “I can accept it … A product of your world, huh? I like that. It’s true, isn’t it? We’re all molded into who we are by what happens to and around us, by the people who come and go and the things they teach us, by the errors we make along the way …” Turning his back to me, he peered up through the treetops. “But you could take it more literally, too. When we die, our bodies decay and blend perfectly with the soil; it’s like we’re made of the same ingredients. So perhaps we are just a product of our worlds—figuratively and literally.”
“That’s not exactly where I was going with that …”
He laughed. “I know, but it makes you think, doesn’t it? I rather like the idea of being a part of the worlds—the trees, the oceans, the mountains, the sky … I’d rather exist as one tiny part of that than spend my life trying to live up to the expectations of the unknown.”
I stared at his back, unsure how to answer him or if he wanted an answer. Even though he addressed me, he almost seemed like he was talking to himself, reciting a self-affirming soliloquy. I decided not to interject.
“There are so many unanswered questions that come with your god, so much mystery and secrecy and … blindness to cruelty. I can’t accept that, not without knowing why. But my questions can never be answered because you can’t show me definite, tangible proof that your god or your heaven exists.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean they don’t,” I mumbled, folding my arms again. “It’s called having faith.” Jasper acted like he didn’t hear me, taking a few steps out of the shadows and into the sunlight.
