WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 61: A White World

When Amaia woke, she woke gradually. First she slept for a long time in a deep slumber; then slowly, her mind became more and more conscious. She heard strange sounds around her, birds outside, unknown noises coming from downstairs. She dreamed about these noises, and put objects and actions to them. She began to shift in her sleep, feeling more awake, and strange in an unfamiliar bed. She turned over, and opened her eyes.

The room she found herself in was bright. The window behind her was very large, but there was no glass in the frame. It was chilly inside the cottage, a cool breeze lifted the faded brown curtains either side of the window. Amaia shivered, pulling the thick blankets tighter around her. She lay there, staring at the room before her. It was a bare room, with wooden walls and floors, there was nothing else inside the room beside the bed she lay on.

Amaia let out a breath, blinking slowly several times before closing her eyes again.

She stayed in the bed for another hour or so, before rising.

At last, when Amaia felt she was fully rested, she pushed back the sheets and stood. She looked down at herself, feeling clean and refreshed. She was wearing a long white nightdress that she had been given by the servants. It fit her well, as if it had been chosen especially for her. She patted herself down, straightening the creases, before lifting her head again.

Amaia gazed about herself at the room again, taking in her surroundings and becoming familiar with them. It was a small room, and at a glance, it looked like it had been left unoccupied for several years now. Through the open window, Amaia could see the forest beyond thrived, the trees grew thick and the leaves were lush and green.

She drew a deep breath, hugging herself against the chill as she padded lightly across the room, the wooden floor cold against her feet. She shivered as she opened the door.

Amaia stepped out into the corridor, glancing over the balcony to the ground floor below where the kitchen was. Amaia descended the wooden stairs, seeing Tristan sitting at the table. He looked up as he heard her footsteps, smiling widely at the sight of her.

‘Amaia’ he beamed. ‘You’re awake at last. How do you feel?’

Amaia reached the last step, turning and facing him in silence.

‘Here’ Tristan said, rising and pulling a chair out from the table, opposite from where he sat. ‘Come on’ Tristan said encouragingly to her when she didn’t move. ‘Have a seat.’

Amaia hesitated, then took a step forwards towards the chair offered. She took a seat, and Tristan moved back around the table, returning to his own chair.

Amaia observed the man sitting opposite her as he called for one of the servants.

‘What do you want?’ he said to Amaia.

‘I’m sorry?’ she whispered.

‘To eat’ he said. ‘What do you want to eat? You must be starving.’

‘Oh.’

‘When was the last time you ate a good meal?’

‘I…’ Amaia began, ‘don’t remember.’

‘What would you like?’

‘I don’t know’ Amaia said.

‘I suppose it doesn’t matter. Diana’ he called to the servant.

The elder one hurried up to him.

‘Could you bring here some breakfast? Anything would do.’

‘Of course’ the servant bowed.

A short time passed, in which Amaia and Tristan waited in silence, listening to the sounds of food being prepared in the kitchen, plates being moved, cutlery being moved, sausages spitting in the pan. Then Diana returned with a full plate of food. A good breakfast, eggs and bread and meat, and some fruit juice on the side. She placed these before Amaia and went away.

‘Eat up’ Tristan told her.

‘Could you explain to me what’s happening?’ Amaia said to Tristan, ignoring her food completely. ‘Who are you really? What am I doing here?’

‘I’ve told you who I am. I’m your father. You’re my daughter. I brought you here for your safety.’

‘It’s not that’ Amaia said. ‘I want to know the whole story. There is so much I feel I do not understand. If you’re really my father, who are the people I grew up with? If you’re really my father, why didn’t I grow up with you? And who is my real mother?’

Tristan sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. ‘We have been through a lot, both of us have, but you most of all…’ he broke off. ‘What you have suffered…it was so unfair. You didn’t deserve any of it.’

‘Why?’ Amaia asked Tristan, her voice breaking. ‘Why have I suffered so much?’

Tristan sighed again, averting his gaze.

‘I miss White Feather’ Amaia mumbled.

Tristan looked back at her.

‘I will tell you everything you want to know…in time. You have been through so much. I want you to stay here, to heal. Then I will answer all of your questions, but for the meantime, you need to rest…please.’

‘Alright’ Amaia submitted. ’But do you promise to tell me what I need to know, and answer all of my questions truthfully?’

‘Yes’ Tristan said bowing his head. ‘I promise.’

‘Alright’ Amaia said.

‘You need to eat’ Tristan told her again. ‘You must be starving.’

‘I’m too upset to feel hungry.’

‘Upset?’

‘I miss White Feather…’

Tristan slumped in his chair wearily, watching her mournfully.

‘If you do not eat, you will waste away and become ill. Is that what White Feather would have wanted?’

Amaia glanced up at him with tears in her eyes.

Tristan pursed his lips, but said no more. Instead he waited in silence.

Amaia began to eat. The food was good, but a short time later, Amaia was throwing up.

‘You’ve eaten too fast’ Tristan told her with concern.

‘No’ Amaia chocked, turning away from him. ‘It’s too rich.’

‘You’re just not used to it’ he said. ‘You’ve spent several days living on prison food, and it’s been too long since you’ve eaten properly. Come on. Just have a bit of bread if you can.’

Amaia attempted to eat a little more. When she was done, she pushed the plate away from her, hand placed over her mouth as she forced herself to keep it down.

‘Come with me’ Tristan said.

‘What for?’ Amaia asked straightening.

‘I…think we should become familiar with each other.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re my daughter’ Tristan told her. ‘We should not be strangers to one another.’ He offered his hand out for her to take, but she simply looked at him. ‘Amaia’ Tristan said patiently. ‘I only want what’s best for you. I know you have suffered. I know that you grieve, but….you must not dwell on these things. You cannot alter the past. No matter how hard you wish to do so.’

He lowered his hand.

‘I will not force you to do anything you do not want to do. From now on, I will not keep you imprisoned. You can leave if you want. But it would make me very happy if you would stay, here with me.’

Amaia remained unmoved.

‘Will you come with me?’ Tristan asked.

‘Where are we going?’

‘For a ride through the woods’ he said. ‘I want to show you that I mean what I say. You are free. You are allowed to wander from this cottage.’ Tristan shifted uncomfortably when Amaia didn’t say anything. ‘There are horses tied up outside’ he offered. ‘They are already saddled….if you want to…..I don’t want to force you, I just thought it would be good to get your mind off…but if you don’t want to…’

Amaia rose to her feet wordlessly. She held her hands before her, fingers laced together.

‘I will go with you’ she said.

Tristan mounted the dark mare waiting outside. Beside that horse waited another.

‘Can you ride?’ Tristan asked Amaia uncertainly. ‘I’m sorry…I didn’t…’

‘It’s alright’ Amaia spoke meekly approaching the animal. ‘I know horses.’

She mounted the horse with confidence, glancing expectantly to Tristan who waited beside her.

Tristan tapped his heels into the beast’s flanks, urging it onwards. Amaia followed as Tristan led the way out of the overgrown garden and through the woods. They rode at a trot for quite some time, until they reached a place where the trees did not grow, where a great mound of rock at their feet rose out from the earth in a gentle slope, higher than the rest of the woods around them.

‘The view from up there’ Tristan said to Amaia pointing towards the tip, ‘is one you might regret to miss. We are far in the woods. There are no cities or towns for miles and miles around...save for the capital.’

Amaia didn’t reply.

Tristan held the reins in one hand, resting on the saddle.

‘I think you should use your magic’ he said.

‘Why?’ Amaia mumbled weakly. ‘Each time I have used magic in my life, bad things happen. I live a normal life…a happy life…and then I use magic…and am taken from my home……I suffer…’

Tristan watched her silently.

‘The first time’ Amaia went on, ‘I used magic in front of my mother, to make a flower I picked frost over…she was furious.’

Tristan was about to object to Amaia calling Ramana her mother. But he held his tongue.

‘The second time’ Amaia continued, ‘I used my magic in front of a man, and shortly after that I was captured by soldiers and taken away in a carriage….’

Amaia bit her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Simon…

‘Shortly after I used magic…’ Amaia continued, ‘almost as if they were waiting for me….watching me even. And then you…’

‘I came to rescue you’ Tristan finished. He pursed his lips. ‘Amaia. I would never allow any harm to come to you. Not if I can help it.’ Tristan faltered then. ‘You’re supposed to have lost your memory after you died’ he said to her. ‘How is it that you remember?’

‘White Feather’ Amaia spoke to the back of her horse’s neck. ‘He helped me remember. He told me everything I forgot.’ Amaia turned to face Tristan. ‘How do you know that Weather Makers lose their memories after they are reincarnated? And how did you know that I died?’

‘I….’ Tristan drew a breath. ‘I was there the day you died.’

‘What happened?’

‘It’s a day I’d rather forget.’

‘How do you know so much about Weather Makers?’ Amaia asked him.

‘My mother…’

‘Your mother is a Weather Maker?’

Tristan smiled at her weakly, feeling no conviction behind the act. ‘I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But not yet. For now, I just want you to use your powers.’

‘Why?’ she asked for the second time. ‘I will only be captured again.’

‘No’ Tristan shook his head. ‘The previous times you used magic, you did so in front of other people whom were unfamiliar with….the situation’ he finished. ‘You are perfectly safe doing so here with me.’

‘White Feather told me the exact same thing.’

‘White Feather is not….’ Tristan suddenly cut himself off. ‘It’s unfortunate what happened to him.’

‘He must have suffered greatly’ Amaia said in grief. She hung her head, beginning to tremble.

‘If you feel so distraught, then what do you have to lose?’ Tristan asked her, trying a different tact.

Amaia faltered uncertainly at this. She thought about it for a moment.

‘Go on’ Tristan encouraged. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such magic. Not since my mother was herself.’

Amaia dismounted the horse, walking away from Tristan who remained in the saddle.

She moved slowly to the tip of the rocky pinnacle where there grew no trees. Amaia stood at the very highest point of the mound that jutted out of the earth, overlooking the forest that grew below. She leant over the edge, for a moment contemplating what it would feel like to fall and hit the ground below.

She could do it, she thought. If she had to.

If she wanted.

Amaia raised her head to the sky above her. So vast. Never ending. Amaia thought then how immense the sky was, how big the world was they lived in. No matter what happened, life would go on. No matter how important a person was to someone, if they died, their absence left a gaping hole in the hearts of those they loved. But life still carried on. It had to. All these years, Amaia had been forced to endure her life after the woman whom for so long she thought to be her mother, died so violently. Murdered, trying to protect Amaia. There was so much she didn’t understand. So much she still longed to know.

But more than anything in her life, she longed to see Ramana again. The woman she grew up with. The one she called for the longest time, mother, and who in turn, had called her daughter, my precious treasure.

Amaia took a deep breath. The breeze blew back her light green hair from her face.

How can it be true? She thought. But what if it is true? She turned to face Tristan then, with her back to the drop. Would I want this man to be my father? Would it be so bad?

She thought again of Ramana.

Even after all these years, she still missed her terribly. There was nothing in the world Amaia longed for more in her life than to see her again, to hold her, and tell her that she loved her and how much she missed her.

It would only take one step backwards Amaia thought. I did it once……I can do it again.

‘Amaia’ Tristan said from atop his horse. Perhaps he suspected her thoughts, for he had become suddenly tense and uneasy. ‘White Feather would have wanted you to be happy. To live.’

Amaia sobbed then, balling her fists and bowing her head.

‘White Feather…I’m so sorry…’

Tristan dismounted his horse, striding up to her. He embraced Amaia firmly, holding her close, with the tenderness of someone who truly loved.

‘It will all be alright in the end’ he told her in a hushed voice. ‘I know it’s hard. I know you must have a lot of questions, but you must trust me. I would not have done so much, had you not meant so much to me.’ He let go of her, stepping back. ‘I want you to be happy. To be free.’ His expression was that of sadness, of desperation, of loss and grief. ‘Don’t hold it in anymore’ he told her, waiting for Amaia to react. ‘Be free.’

She turned her back to him, facing the drop.

Then she lifted her head, feeling now she had nothing left to lose.

‘To hell with it’ she said. Then summoned her magic.

First the frost grew outwards from her feet, and the air grew cold. Tristan sighed deeply, his breath fogging in the air before him. The earth began to crackle as the frost spread outwards from the rock to the grass and then to the trees and their leaves.

Amaia groaned, furrowing her brow and squeezing her eyes tight shut as her body hunched over. She threw her arms open, casting her magic out wide. The strong breeze turned into a violent gale. Behind her Tristan braced himself, throwing an arm up to cover his eyes. The horses reared up in fear, bolting away towards the trees that sheltered them against the wind. But Amaia didn’t notice this; she knew nothing other than what she was doing.

She drew her hands together, fingers tickling the air before her, flurries of cold air and moisture forming snow before her. She threw it outwards, again and again in all directions, casting showers of snow all around her in arcs.

The clouds above them began to shift, growing heavy, growing thick.

The sun was blocked out as more clouds began to form out of nothing, turning black and ready to fall.

A great mist grew around them so that the horizon could not be seen, and by the time Amaia was finished, she and Tristan were trapped in an icy world. When before they see far into the horizon around them from atop the rocky hill, in the clear and warm sunny day, now there was little to be seen beyond a short distance. It was as if they had been transported into another world. Now what they saw was a closed world, a cold world. The horizon was blocked from view by wisps of cloud. Above them the clouds were heavy and thick and black, blocking out the sun which was only visible as a golden haze. Other than the snow that fell lightly around them, all was still; even the wind had stopped blowing. Amaia glanced around. Everything was frosted with a white layer, all the trees around them, right to the tips of every leaf.

‘Amaia’ Tristan said with a smile to her as he observed their new surroundings. ‘From now on, I want you to call me father.’

Amaia faced him reluctantly, watching him with silence.

‘I’ll go get the horses’ he said. ‘I’ll be back shortly.’

Then he was gone.

Amaia turned back to the drop before her, gazing around at all she had done.

It looked beautiful, and eerie.

She smiled then, feeling happy. For so long she had kept her magic secret, hidden somewhere deep within her. Now she was free, and no matter what happed in the future, she did not regret this day.

‘I did not even know I was capable of such things’ she spoke to herself briefly, before moving away from the drop, and back towards the line of trees.

A short time later, Tristan returned, having caught the horses. They mounted them and headed back home.

They didn’t go out for a few days after that. Amaia felt exhausted again, after using so much magic, her body was not used to such a strain. She spent most of her time after that day, sleeping and lying around. It was as if a king, who spent his days sitting about his palace, suddenly went on a long march and took part in a long battle. For the soldiers it would have been tolerable. For other Weather Makers it may not have felt so draining. But for Amaia, who had rarely used magic in her life, and had never done so to such an extent, the experience was shattering.

She used no more magic for days after that, and did not leave the cottage for ages. But when she did, she made sure Tristan saw her leave, testing whether or not she was truly allowed to come and go as she pleased. She tested whether or not he would allow her to be truly free, as he had said he would.

She made eye contact with him, before she walked through the door. He sat there and did nothing, watching her go.

‘Is it safe for her to leave?’ the younger servant asked the prince as she stood beside him.

‘I have done what I can for her’ Tristan replied solemnly. ‘If she still wants to go….then I have failed.’

‘So you think she will return?’

‘Yes’ Tristan said to the servant. ‘I think so.’

Amaia returned several hours later.

It was many days after that, that she started calling him father, and even longer after that, when Tristan felt ready to tell her.

He sat her down, and they began to talk.

‘You may ask me now what you wish’ Tristan said to her. ‘And I will answer.’

‘Who is my father?’

‘I am your father.’

‘Is that the truth?’

‘Yes.’

Amaia hesitated. ‘Then who is my mother?’

‘My wife. Her name is Olithia. You will meet her in time.’

‘What’s she like?’

Tristan hesitated. ‘You will find out when you meet her.’

‘When will that be?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Does she know I’m here?’

‘No.’

Amaia thought for a moment.

‘Who are the people I grew up with? Ramana and Farrell.’

‘They are…’ Tristan paused in thought, ‘…just a happy couple living in a small town.’

‘Why did they raise me and not my own parents?’

‘Because you were not safe living with us.’

‘Why?’

Tristan hesitated, reluctant to answer. For the longest time he didn’t speak.

‘Because when you were born, we knew instantly you were a Weather Maker. You were not safe living with us…because of my father.’

‘Who are you then?’ Amaia asked him.

‘I am the prince, thirteenth in line. I have twelve older brothers that live, and next to no chance of inheriting the throne. Not that it’s in my interest anyway’ he shrugged.

‘A prince’ Amaia repeated, brow furrowed. ’It’s hard to believe that my father is actually a prince.’

‘It’s hard to believe in magic’ Tristan answered simply. ‘Yet you possess the skill to do such astonishing things. Is the fact that I’m a prince really so hard to believe?’

‘I suppose you’ve got a good point there’ she admitted. ‘Do I have any siblings?’

‘One. An older brother’ Tristan said. ‘He is a soldier. You will meet him in time.’

‘And…’ Amaia began, shifting uncomfortably, ‘was that man truly your father the king, the man who ordered my imprisonment…who hurt White Feather?’

‘Yes’ Tristan nodded glumly.

‘How can such a monster be your father?’ Amaia asked incredulous. ‘Be my grandfather?’

‘We don’t all turn out like our parents’ Tristan told her sadly.

‘Why would he do such a thing?’

‘His wife…my mother, is also a Weather Maker. She has fallen into a coma for some unknown reason. She has been asleep for over thirty years. My father seems to think that Weather Makers possess a power that can wake and return her back to the way she once was.’ Tristan sighed then, shaking his head. ‘There is no reason for him to believe what he does, but he refuses to give up hope. He loves her more than the earth……and has become a desperate man grasping at straws. He believes other Weather Makers can help him because that’s all he has left now. The hope that his beloved wife will someday return to the way she used to be, is the only thing that’s keeping him on the verge of sanity.’ Tristan lifted his head. ‘That faint hope is the only thing he lives for now. It wouldn’t take him much to tip him over the edge.’

Amaia lowered her gaze, unsure of what else to say. Finally she asked, ‘How do you find Weather Makers?’

‘Rumours. People speak of strange things they have seen, women growing flowers at a mere touch, frost appearing in the midday sun, fire burning underwater. Word spreads from person to person until it reaches one of the king’s men, and he has many ears across the land, simply waiting for these rumours to come to them. They close in, until they eventually find the person they are looking for; then they take them away. I try to get there before my father does, but he is far more resourceful than I, and has far more men at his command. And if he catches me, who knows what he will do to me when he finds out I’ve been intervening. I have twelve older and more important brothers. I wouldn’t be much of a loss to him.’

‘And what does your father do to Weather Makers that he finds in the end?’

‘I don’t know exactly, but I’ve never seen any of them again. That is why I wanted to hide you, to keep you away from my family that was such a threat to you. The day the woman you knew as Ramana died, was the day the king found you. I intercepted his men, and took you away before they could reach the palace. But I was too late to save her.’

‘And…did Ramana and Farrell both know that I was not really their daughter?’ Amaia asked, reluctant to hear the answer.

‘Yes’ Tristan nodded. ‘Ramana had given birth to a stillborn. She was more than happy to accept you when you were still a baby.’

‘What would things have been like had that day never happened?’ Amaia asked him. ‘Would I have grown up and lived in that town forever and lived my entire life not knowing you?’

‘I don’t know’ Tristan said. ‘You are my daughter. I loved you, and I missed you dearly. But I stayed away to keep you safe, but I still kept watch over you……that’s how I……was able to save you when…..that day….’ Tristan rose to his feet suddenly. ‘You should get some rest, I’m sure you need time to think about all of this.’

He made to leave the room, but Amaia called out to him.

‘Wait!’

Tristan turned back.

‘What happens now?’ Amaia asked. ‘I mean…to me.’

Tristan opened his mouth, hesitating. ‘I haven’t planned that far in the future’ he said. ‘But for now, I want you to stay and live here, be safe, be happy…that’s all I want.’

‘That’s what I want too’ Amaia bowed her head. ‘Goodnight then’ Amaia said. ‘Father.’

Tristan smiled warmly.

‘Goodnight Amaia. It’s good to have you back.’

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