Chapter 19
Hawk
S omething’s wrong, and no amount of sweet and salty pretzels or juice can change that. I stuff more in my mouth and rub the smith’s towel over my still-damp neck as I watch Sylvan carry a wooden crate out of a little room containing all kinds of strange and fantastical things, but also perfectly normal items, like the vacuum cleaner tucked into the corner. He places it on the massive wooden bed and pops open the lid, revealing several old-timey vials of pale blue glass.
I want to say something, tell him how cute he is with damp bangs falling into his eyes, but to say that the atmosphere changed since he left me to take a shower is to say nothing.
Is he rethinking his choice to sleep with me? He sang my praises right after, so I don’t think it can be that.
His excuse for not wanting to cuddle more or eat together is that he’s busy attempting to find a way to dispose of the blacksmith’s body. While I’m impressed by the hands-on attitude, I do wish he could at least delegate some work to me, because I’m starting to feel useless. I don’t like to be idle when my boyfriend, or should I say, fiancé , is dragging around heavy crates.
He’s also distracting me by not wearing a shirt, but that’s another story.
At least I have some time to look around this in-between place that is supposed to lead us to the Nightmare Realm.
“So, what are we looking for?” I ask as he grunts, shakes the crate, and then returns to the storage room. Just like the other interiors in this strange home, the bedroom is like something I’d expect to see in a fairy-tale illustration. The headboard is a lattice of iron, and the floor—stone slabs covered with a faded rug featuring knights fighting a massive black reptile with sharp teeth and two heads. It too doesn’t have a window, but at least there’s a somewhat normal bathroom attached to it. After seeing the rest of the apartment, I was afraid we’d need to heat water by the fire and wash ourselves in a bucket, so seeing a tub with a faucet similar to what I’m used to was a relief.
“As a grimsmith, he not only operated in metals, but used alchemy to enhance them, or infuse them with charms. That’s how the smith at the Nocturne Court made the collar that bound me. The various potions, powders, sands and oils can be combined to create the concoction that will dispose of his body. Technically, there is no particular law against killing him, but we don’t want to be caught in the crosshairs of whatever business he was involved in, or attached to this if someone comes looking for him.”
Looks like Sylvan is much more talkative when it comes to practical matters. I already helped him move the body into a metal tub, but when I glance at it again, I do notice something odd.
“Oh. That brand he had, you know, with the pony, it’s faded.” It was black like a fresh tattoo, but now only a faded scar is left, as if the ink has evaporated from the corpse.
“A kelpie.”
“What?”
Sylvan pushes some hair off his forehead and looks up at me. He’s so serious I can hardly believe he’s the same guy who moaned and cried out under me just an hour ago, drooling all over the rug.
“A kelpie. It’s a monstrous steed which tempts unfortunates to pet it. Once your skin sticks to their coat, they force you back into the ocean where they drown and eat you. In the sea, its hind legs transform into a fish tail.”
“So like a merhorse?” I ask, grinning at him, and approach to offer my assistance when he climbs onto a stool to grab a large crate from the top of the pile in the back of the storage space. He still can’t reach it.
He frowns at me, and I worry we’ll be having the ‘ask-for-help’ conversation again, but he huffs, rubs his face, and gestures at the crate.
“Yes, I suppose like a ‘merhorse’. The point is that the brand would have alerted the Lord of the Nocturne Court if he crossed into the Nightmare Realm, but since he’s dead, the magic has faded as well. Fortunately, the brand I had was on my collar, so we should have time to get to the palace on our terms. I know of several secret entryways.”
I place the crate on the floor, but then approach him and slide my arms around his waist before burying my face in his nape. Whatever’s bugging him, it’s high time to put an end to it. “Are you this smart, or is alchemy common knowledge where you’re from and dissolving a body is as easy as boiling an egg?”
He stiffens as if he wasn’t a marshmallow in my arms before.
“I… hmm… I am, in fact, very smart,” Sylvan says, making me chuckle and kiss his head. “I know I may have seemed incompetent to you at times because of my lack of knowledge when it comes to the human realm, but I assure you I am highly educated. In fact, I know more about alchemy and specialist ingredients than most scholars at the Nocturne Court.”
“Really? Why?” I ask, greedy for more information, but he twists out of my embrace and steps off the stool, popping open the crate. Inside are leather bags the size of a pound of sugar, and I reach for one, curious what they are.
“What do you mean ‘why’? It’s important to get any advantage you can over your opponents. And don’t touch that before I read the label and tell you it’s safe!” Sylvan slaps my hand away, and the rejection is much more hurtful than any physical pain he can cause. He takes a deep breath. “In fact, could you please wait outside this room? I need to focus.”
I open my mouth, wanting to protest and tell him that he isn’t being fair, but I know from experience that nothing good ever comes from pushing another guy into a conversation when he isn’t in the mood. Still, it stings to be pushed away right after the amazing fuck we shared, and a conversation where I gave up on all posturing and told him how I felt.
I’ve often been told that I get too intense too fast, and that it pushes guys away, but I couldn’t help myself after he pretty much confessed that he loves me.
Come to think of it, his demeanor rapidly changed after he decided to shower, and that was right after I told him the stupid dream I had. Was he upset by something about it? Should I have lied and claimed I saw him in my dream, not just someone with similar features?
I was only honest with the guy who claims he wants to get hitched within the next twenty-four hours.
I’m about to say all that and many other things, but I watch him browsing the labels with focus all over his face and decide against it. I retreat like a scolded dog.
I hate that he has so much power over me.
And yet, all I still want is to prove to him that I can be useful for more than my shadow and dick. I can help him find more ingredients and bring them to him, I can rummage through the smith’s place and find who knows what.
I go back to the living room and glance at the unfinished letter, in case it contains some information important to us, but it’s all cryptic bullshit addressed to Lord Kyran’s eyes only about him having something of importance , and that he will negotiate only with the Lord himself.
Sadly, the letter is unfinished, and since Tassarion’s body is stuck in a tub, it never will be, so this plan he had is as dead as him.
I rummage in the living room and find some trinkets in a small box hidden inside a suit of armor. I hate myself a little for thinking one of the dark rings studded with what might be precious gems would fit Sylvan’s dainty finger, but I still take it.
I grab a sturdy silver sword off the wall, in case I’ll need it where we’re going, but as I head to the forge, I glance back at the window through which I can still see my world. The only world I know. Am I ready to leave it behind?
I might be going to a place with no plumbing, internet, or modern medicine. On the other hand, I would no longer need to worry about the cops dragging me back to prison, and could spend my days satisfying a very hot twink and lazing around in a palace.
Though right now, I feel that my boy might just resent me for reasons I don’t understand. Which is a load of bullshit.
I kick the pretty cabinet standing by the nearby wall, and stall when something inside it clicks. Frowning, I look it over before getting to my knees to see… a box. It must have fallen out of some secret compartment when the position of the dresser changed.
There’s nothing unusual about the box, other than it being the size of a microwave and made of rough, undecorated iron, but as I open it, my jaw drops at the sight of a mask shaped like a wolf skull.
It’s made of gold or some other metal very similar to it. I’m no specialist, and it does have an iridescent sheen to it like nothing I’ve ever seen. Its eyes are two smooth black stones, and the sharp teeth are carved out of some kind of crystal. From the part at the very top, several thin rods made out of the same metal as the mask stick out.
I know exactly what to do with it.
The other items I gathered lie forgotten as I rise to my feet and tiptoe back to the bedroom with the precious mask in hand. I’m greeted by a clatter of glass containers when Sylvan whispers in annoyance and pulls a bottle out of yet another crate. But as he puts it down, no longer holding anything breakable, I put the mask on and growl as loudly as I can.
With the stones set in the fake skull’s eyes, I can’t see the effect my prank is having, but I grin to myself, imagining Sylvan’s eyes widen, and his mouth opening up, as if he were about to beg for dick.
He yelps, and his feet tap my way. “Take it off!”
My heart drops from the tower of hope right back to the dungeon, and I let myself release the disappointment of it with a long exhale before pulling off the mask. “What did I do now ?”
But his face is flushed and attentive. “No, no… Nothing like that,” he says, growing breathless as he takes it out of my hands. “Where did you find it? Do you know what this is?”
I don’t, but he looks so excited, I’d love to bring him five more.
“It fell out of a cabinet. What is it?”
He turns it over in his hand, runs his fingers over the smooth surface. “Hawk… This is the Sunwolf Crown. He must have been the one to steal it from that New York museum. This… this changes everything.” Sylvan stares up at me with eyes glistening a bit more than usual, but then gets to his toes and kisses me. It’s like soothing balm on a sunburn. “I’m sorry I’ve been absentminded. And I’m sorry for yelling at you. Putting it on could have been dangerous for you, but fortunately it seems that’s only the case if you do it in the Nightmare Realm.”
I swallow and stare at the strange mask with a shiver running down my body. “Dangerous for me how?”
Sylvan runs his fingers through his hair. “Whoever puts this on, will become the Sunwolf. This artifact is ancient and was lost to our realm over five hundred years ago after the killing of the first Lord of the Nocturne Court during what was called the Night of the Bloodknife. This is what I wanted to look for in the city of New York. You see, it was thanks to this very artifact that Lord Larkin Nightweed was able to stay in power for hundreds of years. We don’t know how it was forged, or by whom, but he had it created for his favorite son. The mask took away the prince’s talent for shadowcraft and turned him into a creature that was half-beast, half-elven, the Sunwolf. The metal is infused with the power of Sunlight, and when the crown merged with him, he gained the ability to devour shadowcraft and even shadow itself.
“It might seem inconsequential to you, but that power terrorized all of Lord Larkin’s descendants, in every branch of the family. The Sunwolf was able to strip shadow-wielders of their craft, and the threat of its power hung over the whole court like an axe. In the end, the princes and princesses decided to overthrow the Lord, but the Sunwolf needed to be dealt with first. There are many accounts of how it happened, though most claim the mask had to be cut from his face. But after the Night of the Bloodknife, the Sunwolf Crown was gone. Never to be seen again, until now. Someone must have felt it was too valuable to destroy, so they just hid it in the human realm.”
My face heats. “There’s a letter in the living room, addressed to that Lord Kyran you keep mentioning too. You think he wanted to sell him the mask?”
Sylvan runs his fingers over the golden rays at the top with a smirk. “I recall him saying he had ‘plans’ to end his banishment. This is what he must have meant. If he presented the Sunwolf Crown to Lord Kyran, it would have been a great service to the Nocturne Court. Perhaps he hoped my cousin would end his banishment.”
Sylvan glances toward the bathtub where we placed the grimsmith’s corpse, and as the green light of the torches colors his cheeks, I have to say he looks a little… evil. Okay, maybe sinister would be a better word for it, and while I don’t hate it, I’d rather his anger never turned on me.
I think back to all the ways Sylvan brushed me off in the past hour, and as I watch him turn the mask in his hands, I finally voice my question. “Is there a problem? Between us? You’ve been all strange since we fucked. Hope you’re not planning to get rid of me now that I found this for you. I’ve been close to death so many times, I’m not just letting anyone bleed me out, even you,” I add, laughing despite not feeling amused at all.
I hate uncertainty. I hate rejection. And most of all, I hate feeling disposable.
What if I was being naive again ? What if he wrapped me around his finger because he needs me to make the Dark Companion vow? He did say I have to “mean it” for the magic to work.
Sylvan puts the mask on the bed, then meets my gaze and grabs my hand. He has such dainty fingers my toes curl at their touch. “I would never do that. I’m sorry you felt neglected. I’m not… I’m not used to being open with my thoughts, so I tend to mull over them myself when something bothers me.”
I exhale and sit on the mattress, pulling him straight into my lap, because this boy cannot resist being in my arms like this, and I know it. Just seeing his cheeks flush makes me a bit calmer. “But what changed? I want to give you what you need, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s wrong,” I insist before stroking the side of his ass. “Are you sore? Is that it?”
I see him blushing right before he hides his face against my neck, ear twitching against my chin. “No! I mean… a little, but that’s not it. I worked out why your shadow was open to bonding when we first met.” He takes a deep breath. “The dream you described was not actually a dream. You’ve been in the River of Souls and made it out alive. You met my sister. And it’s not your fault she’s no longer with us. Any soul trapped in the current will fight to escape, which is why attempting to find one’s Dark Companion in its waters is extremely dangerous. In her hubris, she decided to reach for the most potent shadow she could find. But then you drowned her,” he finishes grimly. “Was it destiny? For you to find me after that?”
I lean back as if he’s slapped me with an icy hand. Air escapes my lungs as I take him in, shocked by this revelation and unsure what to say. No wonder he doesn’t know what to do about me after finding out that the guy who just rearranged his insides is at fault for the death of his sibling. I’m not close with my own family, but in his shoes, I would be upset as fuck.
“Shit, I’m… so sorry.”
“I’ve been grappling with it for over an hour and getting nowhere.” When Sylvan wraps his arms around my neck, I feel needed again. “I can’t decide how I feel. If I’m secretly glad she never got you, does that make me a terrible person? But what bothers me most of all is that I thought that for once I achieved something on my own. Now I found out that my sister primed you for this bond? It’s hard to stomach.”
Air gets trapped in my throat as I shake my head. “Were you two… not close?” I ask, even though I’ve already seen how unwilling he is to accept assistance. The thing I truly care about though is that he values my presence more than hers.
“I told you my family was a den of vipers, but that hardly scratches the surface. All my siblings were cruel to me, but Elodie? She found a way to fuck me over even in death. If it wasn’t for her diaries, I would have never been banished. No one would have been able to prove my involvement in the assassination attempt. She hid them in shadows that dispersed when she died. Un-fucking-believable.” Sylvan takes a deep breath that tickles my neck. “But even when we fought behind closed doors, us Goldweeds stuck together. I supported my older brother in his attempts for the throne because I hoped then I’d have a sliver of their respect.”
I swallow, focusing on the mature, somber expression settling on Sylvan’s face. He had the elongated ears and unusually pretty features all this time, but it is only now that I sense how different he is from any other man I’ve known. “Why didn’t they respect you? You were their sibling.”
"I'm not well liked, Hawk. My family values power, and I don’t have it. It's only fair you know that before you vow your shadow to me.” He makes a little whimper that prompts me to stroke his hair, my own frustrations forgotten. “I’m no master of confrontation, I’m an awful duelist, terrible at flirting, shorter than most elven ladies, and my shadow is so frail that sometimes I wished it gone altogether. So I turned to books and alchemy in an attempt to make up for the lack in all other matters. I hoped that if I could prove myself useful, that if I could fight the monster of Grief Ocean, or invent an ingenious weapon, I’d finally be worth something.”
I feel sad for him, and even though I don’t have the knowledge to reassure him, I slide my arms around his form and hold him, offering my warmth. “Can I duel for you ? Not everyone needs to be good at everything, right? For example, I make the worst coffee. It’s always either too strong or too weak.”
When he chuckles, his smile turns brighter than the golden mask next to us. “That’s your only flaw? Bad coffee?”
I want to be his rock, the one he turns to when the world crumbles around him. And I want to make sure he remains safe when he’s under my protection.
“I wish,” I admit and cuddle him closer, gently rocking him in my arms as the unpleasant rift between us closes. “But I’m not going to make this so easy on you. Whatever flaws I have, you need to discover them for yourself.”
He leans back to look into my eyes and strokes my cheek. “Well, we already know you’re too attractive for your own good.”
I laugh and tap his nose. “It’s serving me well right now.”
“Do you want to dissolve the body with me?” Sylvan asks, offering me a shy smile. “I’ve found the right ingredients.”
Is it morbid? Sure. But it feels like being invited into his world. “I’d be honored.”