Bane of the Wild Hunt (Heart of the Tithriall #2)

49. AT WAR WITH YOURSELF

Chapter forty-nine

AT WAR WITH YOURSELF

Rian

M y riders went to get some food and saddle their mounts to go to Aes Mirr. Leaving me alone with Nuala and the daunting task of confronting my own melancholy vargr.

éadrom was every bit as unenthusiastic as he had been earlier when we flew to see Eive the first time. It took a great deal of nonverbal begging just to get him to come out of my bedchamber where he now preferred to brood.

I am sorry. I wish that I knew how to make it hurt less, but I do not, I thought to him, and he heaved a sigh.

I began to tighten the saddle buckles, my mind awash in doubt over how I was supposed to help anyone when my heart was so broken that my vargr was incapacitated.

Destruction I delivered in spades. I was happy to bring war to anyone who dared to hurt my loved ones.

But comfort? Patience? Softness?

Give me rage and retribution, give me fire and death, rather than this empty sorrow I was so wholly powerless to prevent from eating the both of us alive.

I was surprised when éadrom lifted his head and gave a soft snort. So I peered around him to see Nuala had left the couch where she’d been eating the food Carrick brought. Remembering to feed her would have to be something that I was more conscious about since half the time I was content to survive off wine and cneasú.

Most living things should know better than to presume to touch creatures such as vargr, but Nuala was confident as she strode up to him. Before I could even warn her that she needed to give éadrom some space, the fire witch had brushed a hand up his snout that could snap her in half.

“I know,” she whispered to him as she leaned fully against his other shoulder and buried her face into his fur. As if he were a giant pillow and not a hound of war.

I could not move as I watched her stroking her hands across his chest until he… purred . That rumble of rough sound was not something I had heard from him in weeks. Not since Aodhan was killed.

“Nuala?” I spoke her name in confusion.

“He aches , Rian. It is so unbearable, I cannot breathe,” she whispered urgently. Her voice was strained as if she were trying to fight back tears.

I was not sure if it was her evident perception of his anguish that was also my anguish, or if it was the sound of her voice breaking, but my heart gave a sharp twinge.

“I… cannot speak about that,” I told her dismissively and returned to fastening the saddle. I tried to focus on anything except the slight tremble in my hands and the bitter taste in the back of my throat.

I instinctively brought to mind a familiar yard where I could hear the sound of a stream behind me. The quaint little cabin was ahead, shaded under the boughs of autumn trees with a breathtaking background of mountains.

But all of my focus was on the dark-haired woman who was kneeling in an herb garden. She was wearing a dress the colour of mulberries with billowing sleeves that sloped off her fair, slender shoulders along with a wide straw hat to shield her from the sun. I could hear peels of infectious laughter ringing out from the cabin and knew it was her children at play. The music of their joyful giggles and the patter of their bare feet on the wooden floorboards of the cabin always brought a smile to my face. No matter how bleak I was feeling, this sound brought me peace.

It felt so real, and yet I knew in my heart that it was naught but my own mind devising a place where it could find serenity when my magic threatened my world.

“It would be better for you not to get so close to him, Nuala. He is not a pet,” I told the witch once I felt calm enough to speak to her again.

“Nor is he a beast to be spurned as though neither of you have any feelings,” she retorted, sounding furious.

Her unexpected words, and the audacity behind them, struck a nerve, and I hesitated. My own fury rippled down my spine, a highly dangerous sensation, so I tried to stay as calm as I could and stepped away from the vargr.

I walked all the way around him to his other shoulder where the witch hugged éadrom with his head lowered over her body. Almost as if he were hugging her back.

Nuala tilted her head sideways against him so that she could still glare up at me with one eye. The vivid blue of it appeared brighter against the white fur of my vargr.

“I do not know what your gift has allowed you to see, but you do not know of what you speak,” I assured her.

I reached for her, meaning to move her away from the vargr who could kill her at any second, but éadrom made a forbidding chuff at me.

I stared at him in alarm since he had never, not once in all the centuries I had been riding with the Wild Hunt, made such a sound at me.

“You are at war with yourself, Rian DorTìodhlac,” Nuala warned me, and I glowered at her.

“You do not know me, witch.”

“I do,” she insisted softly, her voice almost pleading.

“You do not !” I snapped furiously, the anger getting the better of me for just a moment, but it was enough for wafts of shadow to escape and steam out my hands.

Nuala lifted her head as the air vibrated from the force of my exertion to pull the power back quickly before it could harm her. The canvas walls of the tent undulated, the curtains fluttered at the entrance to my bedchamber, but she was focused on the shadows. She watched them weave around my arms until I forced them to disperse.

The witch was unimpressed and cocked an eyebrow at me like I was nothing but a small child having a tantrum. Perhaps she had simply known too much horror in her life to hold space for fear in her heart anymore, but her lack of a reaction was unsettling to me. Not even my uncle—who seemed to fear my power the least—could have stood so calmly before me while it slipped my control.

Unsure how to respond, I tried to turn away from her, only for her to put her hand on my arm to stop me.

“I am not afraid of you, Rian. Allow me to show you,” she beseeched in earnest as she faced me directly.

“What?” I blurted, watching as éadrom turned to press his head against her back as if seeking more of her touch.

“Your power,” she urged me, nodding her head toward my hands, and I blurted a laugh of disbelief at her.

“No. However foolish you are for it, I do believe that you are not afraid. You need not prove anything to me.”

“I am not foolish,” she asserted, shocking me with the fire in her voice and eyes as she glared at me in offense.

I was genuinely impressed. I was a thousand-year-old fire fey with the gift of destruction flowing in my veins, and this mortal witch was glowering up at me.

“What are you going to do, Nuala? My shadows would flay the skin from your bones if you tried to touch them, so what would that prove?”

She merely raised her brows at me with a look of utter exasperation. Something I usually only ever experienced from my uncle Carrick. There were very few people that I tolerated making demands of me, and yet, I found myself preparing to humour her as I raised a hand between us.

“Very well, but do not touch.”

I allowed just a small tendril of my power to slither out of my veins through my wrist so she could prove that she was not afraid to be close to it. I had told her exactly what the magic would do to her if she touched it, so I was not expecting her to immediately reach for it.

“Don’t—” I gasped, attempting to yank away from her. She expected it and caught my elbow with her other hand, holding me still long enough for her to intertwine her fingers with mine. Fusing our hands together.

The horror of what she was doing paralyzed me totally, and even more of my shadows began pouring out of my pores and swirled around our arms. I was so shocked that it took me a second to realize that my magic that could boil her blood, flay her flesh, and suck the marrow from her bones… was drifting harmlessly over her hand…

I stared at it, eyes narrowing with even more horror.

“I don’t understand,” I murmured thoughtlessly.

“I told you. I am not afraid of you,” she asserted as if she were frustrated with me for not understanding.

I blinked, regaining my senses, and I tightened my grip on her hand to yank her up against me. More shadows overflowed and began billowing around both of us as my fear and rage erupted.

Impossible. It was impossible . I’d never encountered another living creature that could withstand my power. She wasn’t even a fey or deity. I would know. She was just a witch, albeit a powerful one, but she was mortal .

My power should be consuming her, sipping down her essence like a sweet wine.

“What. Are. You?” I ground out through my teeth.

“Like I said; I am yours,” she insisted in exasperation, matching every ounce of my temper with defiance. It was as if she did not even see the life-sucking shadows going into a frenzy around us.

She should be dead right now.

“What does that mean ?” I demanded.

“It means that I need not fear you. Your power cannot harm what is yours,” she explained. Then she grabbed my fingers to pry my rough grip off of her hand so she could stand flat on her feet again.

The only creature for whom that was true was éadrom who was standing behind her and snorting at the swarm of shadow steaming off me. I’d hurt people much closer to me than this witch that I had only known for several days. Even Aodhan had been bitten a few times by my magic.

“You are keeping something from me. Explain. Now ,” I commanded her.

She rolled her eyes at me. Rolled her eyes.

“I swear that I have said all that I know, Rian.”

She spoke my name like she really did know me, and it was almost as unsettling as her immunity to my shadows.

“Your family was able to hold you captive with magic, so is it only my power to which you are immune?”

“I believe so,” she confirmed.

We would be verifying it. As soon as I could come up with a safe way to test her with other kinds of magic.

“I need to go to Aes Mirr. We will talk about this more when I return,” I assured her and walked around éadrom again to continue saddling him.

“I want to come with you,” she declared, turning to the vargr and looking up at him as if it were his permission she sought and not mine. Permission he seemed to grant when he pushed his forehead against her stomach.

“No,” I growled at them both, keeping my attention on the buckles under my fingers.

I thought, I hoped , that would be the end of it when it was quiet for a few moments. But just as I finished with éadrom’s saddle, Nuala stepped around him and leaned against him next to where I was working.

“I know you like to be in control, but I am not—”

“You do not know me. Stop speaking about me as if you know me!”

She got a defiant look in her eyes, as if she were being tempted to prove me wrong.

“Do you really think you can take me out of one prison only to put me into one of your making?” she asked me.

I gave an unamused laugh and leaned over her with one hand braced high on the vargr’s back.

“I am not putting you in a prison, Nuala. You wanted to be under my command and protection.”

“You will need to begin introducing me to your people. If I am not to distract from what you are doing, then the fey need to see me as an ally. The aes sídhe are easily the most accommodating,” she reasoned calmly.

She spoke to me as if this were a discussion, and the audacity was confusing. It occurred to me that I had not met a person that I could not intimidate. And regardless of whether or not I ever actually resorted to using my power, it remained that everyone was always aware of it. I was aware of it. Which meant that people were welcome to disagree with me to a point, but at the end of the day, the only person who usually ever came close to defying me outright was Darragh. And even the demidragon knew to tread lightly when my magic was unstable.

Nuala was different. She was unaffected by my magic, and she did not back down, which meant this was more of a debate and not me issuing her orders.

And I was not sure that I liked it.

“Oh, do not worry , Rian! I promise to still let you tell me what to do sometimes. But right now, I am telling you that it is important for me to come with you,” she stated.

I was not winning this argument. I could see it in the set of her jaw and the arrogant tilt of her head.

“Sweet Elements,” I hissed in aggravation as I moved around her to walk toward the anteroom at the front of my tent where I kept all of my heavier clothing. Along with what remained of Aodhan’s that I had not burned.

“Where are you going?” she asked me.

“To get you a cloak! It is cold in Aes Mirr,” I yelled.

“He is grumpier than I thought he would be,” I heard her mutter to éadrom, clearly underestimating the power of my fey hearing. Or perhaps she wanted me to hear…

Several moments later, I returned to where she stood petting éadrom, and I tried to ignore how she stroked his ears the way I knew he loved best.

“Here,” I said, getting her attention so I could sweep one of my cloaks over her shoulders. I was sure to tie it up fully at the front to cover the blood stain on her dress.

“Are you worried what people will think?” she asked, looking surprised by this.

“My aunt would box my ears if she knew I was toting a female around in a bloody dress, but there is no time to get you anything else. I will try and take you to Mionlach tomorrow for some clothes,” I told her more calmly.

She did not answer as I knelt to wrap her slippered feet in a silk scarf to help fill up the rest of the men’s riding boots that I then began to lace them up her legs. Her skin was so smooth and flawless now, it was almost like she was a different person, except she was still terribly gaunt.

Once she was dressed, I tugged her back to éadrom whose ears were perked up slightly. I didn’t even have to ask his permission, I could tell by his body language that he was eager to have Nuala ride with us.

“Ready?” I asked the witch, and I hoisted her up onto the vargr when Nuala gave a nod. “Hold onto the horn.”

“I know,” she assured me, looking delighted as she got herself settled into my saddle with easy confidence.

She looked like she had ridden in it before.

“How is it possible—” I stopped, suddenly unsure if I really wanted the answers, but she raised her brows at me. “How much do you know? About me? About the future?” I made myself ask after a moment.

Nuala gave me a strange look as if she were taken off guard or uncertain how to respond before she lowered her eyes to her hands resting on the swell of the saddle.

“I will always tell you all I can about the coming war, but the future is a strange beast. My Sight is ever limited by unmade choices and the volatility of fate. And while some things are as vivid to me as you are standing before me right now, such as the name of your vargr or the smell of your favourite soap… I did not know exactly what you would look like. And some of what I’ve Seen might never even come to pass, but they still live in my head. Even if they never become… real, I still carry… the memory and emotion from all of it,” she revealed hesitantly.

“Are you telling me that I will just need to trust you to decide which fantasies are real and which are not?”

“I am telling you that I should not tell you anything unless I know it is certain,” she insisted, raising her gaze to mine in earnest. “Sometimes the future is a process that can only be achieved through the natural rhythm of things unfolding so I cannot tell you about it at all.”

I eyed her doubtfully for a moment before I decided to let it go for the time being and formed a portal. We would be discussing this more after I had time to think about it.

We stepped out of my portal at the top of Tràigh Tùr where everyone else awaited except for Sage and Ornella. I had a distinct feeling that the rider who had previously been my most punctual was now going to become my least dependable.

You are bringing the witch? Ciaran verified in disbelief when Nuala appeared behind me astride éadrom. I could tell he was annoyed but did his best to hide it after my clear warning earlier.

She would not be left behind.

She cannot be more than six stone, Rian. Surely you could have managed to leave her behind, he berated me.

Are you suggesting that I could physically force her to stay wherever I want her? I verified.

He did not respond, but I could tell I’d made my point. Ciaran said things sometimes without thinking.

“Nice of you to join us,” he could not help quipping as soon as Sage and Ornella arrived through another portal with their vargr and Carrick in tow.

The sight of Pyrope, so different from how she had looked when Aodhan rode her, still sent a sharp pang of sorrow through both me and éadrom.

“Aww. Missing me so soon, Ciaran?” Ornella snarked back at him with one of her razor-sharp smiles. She had removed my scarf and was now proudly displaying what I’d already guessed would be beneath it: a myriad of love bites and bruises.

And I could tell by the tension between Sage and his father there had undoubtedly been a discussion about it. Carrick’s mouth was pinched, and Sage had the look of a man who had been severely chastised. Sage did not typically leave his love marks in places that were quite so visible for this exact reason, but I supposed it would be different with his anam . I had no doubt that he might even mark her more permanently as Ciaran had told me she’d already done to him before I sensed it myself.

“You are still unable to summon your own armour?” Ciaran retorted, feigning concern for the dryad who was once again dressed in Sage’s to keep her warm.

Of course, if she would just agree to be initiated fully into the Wild Hunt, then she would not need his armour. She would use our fire magic to warm herself.

“Oh, fuck off! When have I had time to even try?” demanded Ornella as she pulled herself into her saddle.

“It is not hard. You could try now,” Ciaran suggested, and she shot him a glare that almost took my breath away when it reminded me instantly of her brother.

I bet your father just loved seeing those marks all over her neck, Ciaran teased Sage so the rest of us could hear.

Why don’t you try worrying less about my relationship with my mate? Sage retaliated.

I thought it was not romantic between you? What was it you said about how the bond—

“Are we ready?” asked Sage out loud, shooting a look of exasperation at Ciaran who smirked at him.

Ornella glared at them in suspicion, probably sensing that she was not privy to the whole conversation.

The sooner my riders were united, the better it would be for the Wild Hunt. I just hoped she was not going to resist until I was forced to become insistent with her.

Shaking my head, I turned to Nuala who was watching my riders with an expression of wistful curiosity.

“Tell me they eventually get along,” I beseeched her, tuning out more bickering between Ornella and Ciaran.

“They do,” Nuala assured me with a smile in her voice while I rearranged her skirt and cloak so I could swing myself up behind her without pulling on her.

“Thank the gods,” I muttered as I put one arm around her to hold her securely against me when éadrom moved into position to take flight.

And I swore for a moment, her head tilted back briefly to rest against my chest.

I hope you are careful, Darragh warned me privately, ignoring the ongoing banter of our younger companions. Seers have been known to live their lives in worlds that never were. And to become upset when their expectations are not reflected in reality. She is valuable. But she was also locked in darkness and subjected to years of abuse with only her visions of you keeping her alive.

Oh, I know, I reassured him as I paid attention to the way Nuala braced perfectly for flight as if she had ridden éadrom a thousand times before.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell the demidragon that she was immune to my magic, see what he made of it, but I could not seem to bring myself to say it. I was not sure whether it was because I was reluctant to vilify her, or if I was merely embarrassed to have been thwarted by a little witch of all creatures.

And I knew I should tell him about how unsettlingly confident and familiar she seemed to feel with me and my life, but I could not seem to form the words in my mind. Although at least I knew why I was hesitant about that.

I was beginning to think Nuala might think she could become more to me than just my Seer.