Straight Through The Heart ((ON HOLD))

Chapter One

Thirteen years later, and the scar on Alisa's arm still hurt.

She was only five when it happened. Laughing and climbing her father's apple trees one moment, wailing on the ground with the bone protruding through her forearm in the next. What happened after remained a blur, but the bone was eventually reset and the wound healed. All that remained was the scar.

She never understood why her mother's arm had the exact same one.

But Azima Rousseau was a private person and rarely spoke about herself or her past, even when asked. After years of frustration and non-answers,  Alisa often deferred to her father for such questions, and usually out of earshot of her mother. But she always felt he was overly protective of her mother and would respond with something just as vague in return. So Alisa stopped asking when she was old enough to realize the silent glances between her parents and the unspoken truths she received were all she was going to get.

She rubbed at her arm, watching as the morning sun refracted shadows through the leafy canopy overhead while they traveled over the uneven road to the village. Today had been yet another one of those days, where secret looks and unsaid words left a shroud over her as she helped her brother load up the family's wagon to bring the week's harvest of apples to market day.

The difference was Chey had unexpectedly come to visit from the Parish, his sudden arrival surprising her parents. Even her father was distracted as they finished up their preparations to leave, whispers between him and her mother and the elder Imerman hushed while Alisa and Bren situated themselves in the wagon, waiting to leave.

"Did you know he was coming?" she asked her brother quietly, leaning over to where he sat on the front bench.

"No," Bren said just as quietly. "But maybe he remembered tomorrow was your birthday and wanted to surprise you."

"It's been eighteen years," Alisa retorted. "Why visit on my birthday now?"

Bren only shrugged just as their father climbed up into the wagon next to him. "Ready to go then?"

The tone of his voice insinuated he was anything but. Alisa looked one more time to where her mother and Chey stood outside of their house, the family resemblance evident even from the distance. Her mother gave a small wave as her father clicked his tongue, urging the horses to move. Chey, on the other hand, was watching Alisa, his dark gaze not leaving hers until they had driven out of sight, up and over the road that led away from their orchard estate towards the village.

"Do you know why Chey's visiting today?" Alisa asked once the house was out of sight. She shifted from her perch in the back of the wagon, comfortable between the barrels of apples, to face her father.

Immediately she could tell he was clenching his jaw, the stubble a shadow over his refined features. His shoulder-length brown hair was just long enough for him to bind it back in a leather strap, and his dark green eyes were intensely focused on the road before them.

"Chey always comes to visit," he answered.

"But you always tell us when he's coming," she countered. "With the constant reminder that if we behave like anything less than heathens you'll send us back to the Parish with him."

"And it's worked every time." He smirked as he glanced down at her.

"Is it because it's Alisa's birthday?" Bren chimed.

"Yes," he admitted, though after a moment's hesitation.

She scowled at her brother. Even at thirteen, his innocence was exuding. His features still had a young softness to them, his hair touseled like he just awoke from a nap. His eyes were the only aspect that provided him with any maturity. Hazel in the bright sunlight, they shone almost with an underlying vibrancy that hinted there was more working behind them than he let people believe. Bren was incredibly intelligent, but she often felt keeping him so cloistered was detrimental to his interpersonal development.