The Emerald-Opal Heir - 6

The Survivor

Newt couldn’t find Emmeline anywhere. 

He knew she had gone to bed last night - he’d checked in on her and found her asleep, albeit it didn’t look restful. Her eyes darted beneath closed lids as she fought off whatever terrible nightmares decided to plague her. He debated lying down next to her since it seemed to help her sleep a little, but he figured it might scare her more to wake up beside him when she’d fallen asleep alone. 

Yet now, with the sun peeking over the horizon with a lazy glow and Emmeline was gone. 

“She’s probably back in her old house with Ernest,” Clara said with a shrug when Newt asked her. “Give her some space, Newt. If she’s not with you right now, it might be a hint she needs some alone time.”

As much as Newt respected that Emmeline needed some time away from him, the tiniest part of him couldn’t help but panic about her disappearance. There was a small but ever present chance that Baelle had discovered their mini camp. After all, the location wasn’t exactly secretive since Baelle was the one who had burnt it down in the first place. 

Forrest’s group of friends started to make breakfast and Newt resolved to go search the houses for Emmeline again. 

He checked her old home first, and then the ones next to it until Newt had passed through every house and found no trace of Emmeline. The sinking sense in the pit of his stomach only worsened. 

When he returned back to the small campfire where a breakfast of meat from Morgan’s hunting was roasted, Emmeline was still missing. 

“Eat something,” Forrest encouraged him.  “Emmeline will return when she’s ready.” 

Newt nodded, forcing himself to choke down a few bites of the delicious meat. He was glad Forrest was back since it meant he wasn’t the only guy anymore. But with the amount of people on Forrest’s team, they would burn through food stores fast. Water was relatively easy to come by from the well in the center of the village. 

And yet by lunch, Emmeline was still gone. 

Newt’s stomach twisted itself into knots. There was no way Emmeline would purposely be absent for this long. She had to be unconscious or dying or- 

“You must really love her to be this worried,” came a voice from the fire. 

Newt glanced up from his pacing back and forth to find a girl with caramel colored hair, the roots a bit darker. What was her name? Cassidy? Caroline? Calli. He recalled Emmeline telling him that Calli was a sorceress, raised at a school in Ibeni to use magic. 

“I guess so,” he answered, trying to brush off the question. He wasn’t really in the mood for conversation. “I’ve known her since, well, ever since I can remember actually.” 

“Coral said that you two grew up as part of a circus,” Calli said. 

Coral had talked about them? Newt felt heat rising to his cheeks. He hadn’t known much about Coral, had never really talked with her just about life. It felt wrong for her to have talked about him. 

“We did,” he confirmed. “And since no one else wanted to be friends with a Reader, I took it upon myself to welcome her.” 

And how well it had worked for them. About ten years of just each other to lean on. Sure, there were days where Newt wished he’d never followed his mother’s advice to reach out. Master Zoro had punished him as a way to punish Emmeline, and those nights after he was whipped became impossible to sleep through. But he would do it all over again, repeatedly, if it meant being able to grow up with her all over again. 

“She’s lucky to have you,” Calli said. “You actually care for her.” 

Newt wasn’t sure what exactly that was supposed to mean. Was it supposed to be a clue to something in Calli’s past? Was it an invitation or a hint of jealousy? He decided to play it safe and not answer at first. 

Finally he mumbled, “I guess you’re right about me caring for her, which is why I’ll stop looking for her. If she wants to be alone, then she can be alone.” 

Even if it stung a bit, Newt would let her disappear for hours on end. He would try not to panic, try not to imagine every worse case scenario with Baelle or soldiers or death in general… 

Calli offered him a small smile. “I know it might be hard for you to let her go off on her own, but she doesn’t need you to protect her, Newt. Emmeline is strong.”

He forced himself to nod but all he could picture was her limp form as he carried her through the corridors of the silver palace. He could see her pale skin, cold beneath his touch. How close she’d been to death… 

Emmeline was strong, it was one of the things he always admired about her. 

But it was the tallest trees that got chopped down, the best kings and queens who ended up murdered, the prettiest flowers picked and killed for someone else’s enjoyment. Newt didn’t want to see that happen to Emmeline. 

Calli heaved a sigh, about to say something when all of the sudden there came a noise from behind him. 

“Newt?” 

Emmeline. 

When he turned to see her, her cheeks were flushed and her clothes were covered in dirt. “I wanted to show you something.” 

He struggled to find the words he wanted to say. She looked so pretty when she was relaxed and happy. “Uh, do I have to roll around in the mud too?”

She blushed, and her small smile warmed his heart. 

Calli made a disgusted barfing noise from her spot beside the fire. Newt turned and stuck out his tongue petulantly, and when Emmeline giggled he thought he could live off of that alone. 

“You don’t have to roll in any mud, but you do have to close your eyes,” Emmeline said. She sounded so excited about it, a refreshing contrast from the bleak nothingness of the past week or so. 

Apparently, Newt wasn’t complying fast enough though because Emmeline lunged towards him, putting her hands over his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t run you into any walls - at least not on purpose,” she laughed when he tried to pry her hands off. 

“That’s not exactly reassuring when you’re so giddy,” Newt grumbled. 

Emmeline just laughed more in response, pushing Newt forward. He let her lead him across the uneven, rocky path, just glad that she was showing emotion about something. 

He stumbled across the ground a few times, but Emmeline was a good enough person not to run him into anything directly. And although he was intrigued to see what Emmeline was so excited about, the bigger part of him was simply happy to spend some time with her not worrying about Baelle or Beckett or anything. 

“Almost there,” Emmeline said when their footsteps shifted from crunching on gravel to soft thudding on dirt. 

Then she removed her hands from his eyes and Newt was a bit confused at what he was looking at. It took him a moment to realize what Emmeline had created. 

They weren’t far into the forest - Newt could still make out the village in the distance. That being said, the trees were dense enough that it felt secluded and alone. 

Someone had taken great care to string some wire between two trees. White, lacy sheets were draped over the wires to create a sort of canopy. Newt could make out intricately embroidered swirls in the fabric - it was probably some sort of wedding decor. Dangling from the edges of the sheets were several lanterns that flickered with a dim, golden light. 

Lining a circle around the tent-like creation were hundreds of tiny flowers and plants. Newt could tell some of them were early stages of vegetables - which meant a good deal of food could be harvested. 

“You made all this?” he asked, not daring to bring his voice above a whisper. 

Emmeline nodded. “With the world as broken and dark as it is, I figured we needed a safe spot. Look.” 

She gestured to the ground under the canopy, which was covered with pillows and blankets. Emmeline had even included a stack of books, and as Newt glanced down the spines, he discovered that they were some of the ones he’d read to Emmeline. 

“It’s … beautiful.” 

And it truly was. Newt was in awe that Emmeline had been able to create this in less than a day. It certainly explained why there was that adorable dirt smudge on her forehead. 

“You did this for me?” he found himself asking. 

“I did this for us,” Emmeline corrected. “In case, y’know, it gets a little overwhelming with the others.” 

“And is there a reason for the flowers?”

Emmeline shrugged. “Not really,” she mumbled, but her tone said otherwise. “I just like the colors, I guess.” Her fingers strayed to the wooden charm bracelet on her wrist, a signal to Newt that she was lying. He decided not to press the issue. 

“A safe space,” he repeated. “The kingdoms need more of these.”

“Well then this one won’t be so special,” Emmeline said, placing her hands on her hips. Then her lips dropped into a frown. “Are you sure you like it? It’s not weird or anything?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. Newt could feel her breath on his skin, softer than the gentle flap of a hummingbird’s wings. “I love it, Em. It’s not weird - you wanted to keep busy so you could lose yourself in the work. I get it.”

“I wanted to create,” she agreed solemnly. “It feels like all we do is take and kill. I wanted to change that for once.” 

And I probably understand more than anyone now, Newt reminded himself. With his new ability to steal life, he could sense the pulses and thrums of the living world. In the forest, it was more disguised because that sense was blanketed with so many living organisms. But when he was alone, like he’d been in the Library of Knowledge, it was easier to feel the thrum of life, hovering just outside of his reach. All it would take was a bit of concentration and Newt could probably end half the trees and flowers surrounding him. 

Emmeline grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers. “Are you okay?”

He blinked. “Of course. Yeah. Just a bit distracted.” He tried to flash a smile, but Emmeline didn’t buy it. 

She squeezed his hand, pulling him ever so slightly closer to her in the process until they were mere inches from each other. Newt could sense her heartbeat, his magic straining to mess with its rhythm. He clenched his fists so hard that he felt his nails dig into his flesh. 

“It’s your magic,” she guessed, way too accurate for Newt’s liking. “Is that what’s bothering you?” 

Newt didn’t answer. Her pulse flickered and his magic curled inside of him, pleading to reach out and just stroke her life. He attempted to distract himself instead. “If you want to talk about real magic, just look around at what you’ve done with this place.”

Emmeline blushed a little but didn’t fall for his trick. “You’re allowed to admit that you’re scared, Newt. It’s okay if you’re overwhelmed.” 

“I don’t get overwhelmed,” he protested. 

Emmeline took a step closer. His magic purred in his veins as the connection to her life force grew stronger. One little tweak, it seemed to beg. Just a stroke, a touch… 

“Sure you don’t,” Emmeline smirked. “But you are right about one thing - this place is our own. We shouldn’t worry about the rest of the world when we’re here with each other.” 

“That’s not what I meant-”

Suddenly, her lips were on his and Newt was so taken aback that it took him a moment to register the kiss. So he kissed her back with that same fire, feeling it burn throughout him, lighting his magic ablaze. So many thoughts raced through his head. 

Emmeline finally pulled away, a wry smile forming on her face. Her green eyes sparkled with a mirth that Newt hadn’t realized how much he missed. 

He lifted his hands, letting his fingers brush through her hair. And then her hands were dancing across his back. Goddesses, her dark hair was so soft. Newt gave in to desire and pulled her close for another kiss. 

Emmeline gave a delighted gasp but her lips never found his. 

“Newt, look!” 

He had to force himself to look away from Emmeline, gazing at the forest around him. Vines of ivy crept up the sides of the trees and below him, in the dirt of the garden, every single plant was blooming with life. He could feel his magic swirling with excitement in his gut. 

“You did this, Newt,” Emmeline whispered, as if he couldn’t figure that out for himself. 

“H-How?” he stuttered. “I wasn’t even trying …” 

Unless… maybe his magic responded to emotions. Maybe it drew life from the air around him or from Newt himself. He wasn’t sure, but this new magic was powerful. He was essentially more useful than any healer because he could give life and he was more effective than any assassin because he could kill without a second thought. 

Emmeline knelt down to brush her fingers against the flower petals, as if testing if this was real or some illusion. The petals held their shape. 

Newt didn’t even feel remotely tired, which was strange because when he’d used his magic to manipulate the weird dome at the silver castle, he’d been exhausted for hours afterward. Even Clara was tired after using her Blessing, so it didn’t make sense why Newt didn’t. 

Add that to the list of things I need to figure out, he thought to himself. 

He was about to remark about the idea to Emmeline when another pulse entered the range of his magic. A stick cracked and Emmeline was at his side a moment later. Newt felt his hand drift to the sword that never left his side. 

“It’s just me,” called a high-pitched voice. Brooke. She emerged from the brush, several twigs in her hair and a devilish grin plastered on her face. 

Newt felt heat tingle to his limbs when he realized that Brooke could’ve been watching all of that. It was very possible she’d followed them from the very beginning, that she’d seen and heard everything. 

“Your presence has been requested at the campfire,” she announced regally, never losing that demonic smile. 

Newt raised an eyebrow. “Any reason for the much bigger vocabulary?”

Brooke stuck out her tongue and Newt stifled a laugh. Was he the bad influence, or was Brooke? “You’ll find out soon enough.” 

Newt glanced towards Emmeline, trying to gauge her reaction. But instead of worried or even contemplative, she just seemed carefree. Her eyes met his when she caught him looking. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Don’t say that,” he muttered under his breath. “Everytime you say that, something terrible happens.”

The announcement was indeed terrible. 

Newt, Emmeline, and Brooke were the last ones to arrive at the campfire, so seating was limited. Newt opted to stand, leaving Emmeline a spot on the bench. Brooke hovered beside him like a pesky fly. 

“I intercepted a messenger while hunting today,” Morgan explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “At first I didn’t think much of it … until I saw the silver crest on his jacket.”

Emmeline sucked in a breath and Newt placed a protective hand on her shoulder. She reached up to brush his fingers. 

“Did you take the messenger out?” Forrest asked, eyes never leaving the flames.

Morgan shook his head. “Knocked him unconscious with the butt of my spear and patted him down. I stole a bit from his satchel, but …” His voice trailed off as he removed a piece of parchment from his pocket. An envelope. 

Newt felt Emmeline tense at the sight of the silver crown seal on the envelope. 

“A letter from Baelle,” she whispered. “Read it.”

Morgan obediently removed the seal and pulled out the parchment inside. The borders were silver in coloring and apparently the handwriting was hard to read because Morgan squinted at it. 

When he spoke aloud, his words chilled Newt to the bone. 

“Dearest Lords and Ladies, As per request of her Highness, Queen Baelle, your presence has been requested for a Solar Spring ball. Note that this ball will be followed by proceedings regarding a political reliance. Guests from Argenti and Viridi will be attending as well. Everyone must arrive within three days prior to Solar Spring for a spot to be reserved at the banquet. Refrain from bringing weapons if possible, as we would like the activities to be peaceful. Yours Truly, Prince Beckett.” Morgan finished the letter quickly, his voice dripping with contempt. 

“A ball?” Clara grumbled. “Seriously? What happened to destroying the entire world?”

“It probably got boring after a while,” Newt remarked, trying to lighten the mood a little bit, but to no avail. 

“It’s stupid,” Clara shot back. 

“It’s a trap, that’s what it is,” Forrest interjected, stealing the letter from Morgan’s hands. “Look at the first letter of each sentence. D, a, n, g, e, r. Danger. Beckett’s trying to warn us. The ball is a trap.”