That Grey Area - Book 1 - The girl from Otherworld

The power of laughter

Stus leaned on the door after he closed it behind him and let out a long and silent sigh. He wasn't sure the situation could get much worse. He closed his eyes and sat on the floor, finally alone, finally allowed to let out the turmoil going on inside his head. No one would walk in on him, and if nothing else he was certain the men inside would not come out. He was safe here.

He knew he had not done a great job at hiding his emotions in the room, and he knew that it would make things even worse tomorrow. He was usually good at suppressing his feelings, a skill he had learned the hard way during his Tree Circle training. He still remembered the sting of the wasp venom whenever he let any emotion show, and Gamrec's reprimand was a sharper pain still. Gamrec had left the Tree Circle now, but Stus and Nate owed much of their success to the old man's training. The stern major would have been so disappointed to see his recruit right now.

His plan had been so promising. Nate had been supportive and proud when Stus had agreed to let the Emtehem help them. At first, all had gone well. All the traitors had agreed to meet Stus in the Birch, even Bedwyn. He had lured them in with the promise of reconciliation and an audience with the Wind of Change. He had even divulged the Wind's next plans of a constitution as a token of his good will. He had figured they might meet just beforehand to agree on a plan, and indeed they had all arrived together, a united group. But as soon as they were all inside the main Birch chamber, Stus had dropped all pretence. He had felt confident, then. He knew they were at his mercy and couldn't leave until they gave him the right information. Once the traitors were all seated around the workbench, Stus had stood before them and given his terms for their release: information. He had only hinted at the box -although Bedwyn, like Arawn, knew of its existence, that did not mean he had shared the information with his minors - but had asked about the secrets of the Tree Circle, the ones the Oak Heart had not passed on. And then, to his horror, they had laughed. Laughed! Of course, Bedwyn had started it. He and a middle-aged sylphe had burst out laughing and the others had followed. The woman reminded Stus of a queen bee, the way the others followed her every move.

'You mean to say,' Bedwyn had said once he had been able to speak, wiping a tear from his eye, 'that the Wind of Change doesn't have the tools to control the Tree Circle? Well, that is the best news I have heard all week!'

It was the first hint that Stus's plan was not going to go as smoothly as he had hoped.

'The Wind of Change is none of your concern,' Stus had replied stiffly, but he was worried his retort sounded feeble. Bedwyn's raised eyebrows confirmed it did.

'Well, if that's all this is about, I think I will go,' Bedwyn had said, putting his hands on the workbench to heave himself up. 'As much fun as you are, minor Miles, I have better things to do.'

Stus had let him go. He had not pleaded or tried to hold him back. Even though he had been unnerved by Bedwyn's quick dismissal of Stus's request, the young sylph knew he was still the one in control of the situation.

Bedwyn had sauntered towards the steps carved into the tree, his faded wings spread out behind him like a train. But when his foot had lifted to land on the first step of the stairs, it had slipped and fallen back down to where it had started.

'Oh dear, I must be getting old if stairs are starting to defeat me. Doesn't say much about you, does it, minor Miles?'

The others had laughed at their major's brazenness, but when Bedwyn had failed to step onto the stairs a second time, then again, and again, the gloating had faded away, one man after the other, until none were smiling. The silence was a particularly sweet sound to Stus, then. Some traitors had rushed to the stairs to check for themselves while others stared, dumbstruck, while Bedwyn roared and grabbed Stus by the collar of his Rosewood uniform.