Tears of the Wolf (Wrath and Weeping #1)

Chapter 30 Brynn

Brynn

“I’m sorry, lady,” Esa whimpered, crouched in the cart beside Brynn. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shush, it’s alright.” Brynn did her best to comfort the weeping child. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“This is all because of me,” Esa wept.

Brynn hated her mother for everything she’d done to lead to this. It was unfair. Unjust. Wrong.

Tessaine and Anselma rode on their white mules at the back of the wagon. Neirin and the other thanes surrounded them.

From what Brynn could see, they were heading down an unfamiliar road. Not that Brynn had much time for exploring since arriving in Ombra.

They were headed for the sea as best she could tell. Brynn remembered Cenric’s warning, his vision of her death, and a sinking sensation pooled in her gut.

Brynn tried to pull at more ka. It rippled toward her eagerly, that wasn’t the issue. But the moment she tried to push magic outward, the collar soaked it up.

“How did you make this?” Brynn demanded. “This collar.”

“I will tell you some other time,” Selene answered mildly. She stared behind them down the road, frowning.

“Afraid I’ll find a weakness?” Brynn snapped, even though she knew the answer.

“My dear, I am not a fool.” Selene was still staring down the road, past Tessaine and Anselma.

“You will have to take this collar off me eventually.”

“Will I?” Selene answered mildly.

“Are you going to have me raped, Mother?” Brynn raised her chin. “Because I will not go to Paega willingly.”

Selene exhaled a long breath out her nose. “You are too old to be having your rebellious phase, Brynn.”

Brynn seethed. Perhaps she should have rebelled sooner. Then she never would have married Paega in the first place.

“The Mothers are tired of waiting. We have planned this for generations, but your father had to get himself killed before he named your sister heir.” Selene grimaced. “Then the fool girl refused to marry Paega’s son.”

Paega’s eldest son had been approaching forty and unmarried. He had several sons with a concubine, but they’d all died young. Then Paega’s eldest son had died, along with his other four, and Aelfwynn died shortly thereafter.

That had left Paega and Brynn.

“Your claim would be stronger with a child from Offa’s line,” Selene sighed. “Even if we had to make do with a boy, we could have married him to a sorceress when he was older.”

Brynn bristled. “Offa’s line?”

There were kings in Paega’s family line. His mother had been the daughter of Offa, one of the greatest kings in living memory. Offa had ruled the largest portion of land the north had ever seen and received tribute from as far south as Phaedrun.

Kingship was a fickle thing. Oftentimes, it only lasted a generation or two before some warlord who happened to be richer, stronger, and more powerful than his neighbors started thinking perhaps he should be king instead.

When that happened, the male line was usually wiped out. Brynn and Aelfwynn had been spared because they were girls and because they had given allegiance to their uncle.

Brynn groaned, leaning against the back of the wagon. She had been a fool. Na?ve.

Her marriage wasn’t about Paega’s lands, but bringing King Offa’s bloodline into the Istovari.

Offa’s blood might not be enough to guarantee any claim to kingship, but it would help. If Brynn’s son had lived, he would have been a sorcerer and the descendant of three mighty kings—Offa, Brynn’s grandfather, and Brynn’s father. Osbeorn would have been the perfect figurehead for the sorceresses to claim control, true control, of the country.

Brynn had always known her mother was a schemer, but she had never realized how far-reaching or persistent her mother was. “Who is a part of this?” she asked, feeling oddly numb. “Do all the Mothers know?

“This plan has been in motion before your conception,” Selene answered calmly. “You cannot fight it.”

Brynn wrestled against her bonds all the same.

After her sister had died, she had stopped fighting.

Brynn had done her duty. Married a man she didn’t want. Had a baby. Accepted Paega’s quiet condescension and resentment. Even marrying Cenric was her way to follow the rules with the blessing of her king. For years, she had submitted to authority and bowed to the will of others.

But not anymore.

The desire to fight, to rebel—it burned inside her, hot, angry, and demanding.

Aelfwynn’s death had convinced her that was the cost of disobedience. Death and pain were all that had come from daring to challenge the rules.

So, Brynn had done everything she could to be a good daughter, a good wife, and a good mother, but it had made no difference. She still lost her son, and once again she had buried the person she loved most in the world.

Brynn had defied tradition and lost Aelfwynn. She had followed tradition and lost Osbeorn.

And Cenric…

He was gentle with her in a way Paega never had been. Cenric respected her. He listened to her even when he didn’t like what he heard. She was trying to make things work, but so was he.

Perhaps that was the difference.

Brynn had spent her whole first marriage reaching out to be met with emptiness. When she reached for Cenric, he reached back.

Closing her eyes, Brynn kept pulling at ka. She dragged it into herself in great swaths. She pulled it in until her head went light, and she thought she might pass out. But whenever she tried casting, the collar consumed her spells.

Selene tsked. “You’re going to make yourself faint.”

Brynn didn’t care. She was not going quietly this time. She had found something in this remote northern land. She didn’t yet know what it was, but it was worth the fighting for. It was worth the daring.

Everything had limits, so perhaps she could pull enough magic to overwhelm the collar. Perhaps if she forced it to consume enough of her spells, it would break or stop working.

Gritting her teeth, Brynn kept reaching. Her abilities to sense and draw ka were unhindered. She could pull on as much of it as she wanted, reach as far as she wanted.

She could count all ten of her mother’s soldiers and feel the mild spells being worked by Tessaine and Anselma. Brynn could tell the horses were mostly healthy, though one of them might be developing saddle sores.

Past them, she could feel the forest. The trees were alive, blooming, and bright. Woodlife scuttled through the greenery.

Brynn pulled power from all of it. She soaked in strength the way she hadn’t in a long time. She pulled in so much ka that she felt her own aches and pains fading as her bruises and the chafing on her wrists healed.

Brynn kept reaching, reaching…

A burst of ka flared into her awareness. Large and clustered together, probably a herd of animals.

Careful to keep her face neutral, Brynn kept reaching, prodding at the new source of power in her awareness. There were twenty or more large animals following them down the road. Horses?

At this distance it was challenging to tell, but Brynn thought she sensed additional shapes on their backs. Riders? Was it possible?

Twenty was too many for a casual group of travelers. Could it be? Dared she hope?

Cenric? Was he bringing his thanes after her?

Brynn wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be him or not. Her mother wouldn’t hesitate to cut him down and neither would Tessaine, Anselma, and the others.

It might be him, it might not. Either way, Brynn continued gathering and releasing spells as fast as she could.

Selene rolled her head in Brynn’s direction. She would be able to feel Brynn drawing in massive amounts of magic. Maybe she was worried. Maybe she knew the limits of the collar and would take steps to keep it from breaking.

Regardless, Brynn had no way of stopping Selene from sensing her power, so she kept drawing.