Chapter 28 #2
"Another few hours," Thaine called back. "We'll make camp before dark. I know a clearing ahead with good water."
Briar shifted in her saddle, her thighs already aching from the constant motion. Phaeon plodded along steadily beneath her, unbothered by the rough terrain or the close press of trees on either side of the narrow path.
"Doing alright?" Eliam asked quietly.
"Sore, but fine."
His hand found her leg, thumb rubbing small circles through the wool of her pants. The touch was meant to be comforting, she knew, but it just made the warmth pulse in response, made her question whether her body's reaction was hers or the magic's.
She shifted slightly away, pretending to adjust her seat, and felt him tense beside her.
The afternoon wore on. They stopped once to rest the horses and eat a cold meal of bread and dried meat. Briar wandered a short distance from the group, stretching her legs, trying to work out the soreness from hours in the saddle.
"First day is always the hardest," Sian said, appearing beside her with a water skin. "Tomorrow will be worse, but by the third day your body starts to adapt."
"Comforting," she muttered, but took the water gratefully.
"I try." She glanced back toward where Eliam and Arion stood on opposite sides of the small clearing, both watching her with identical intensity. "They're not subtle, are they?"
"Not even a little."
"For what it's worth," Sian said carefully, "I've known Arion for a very long time. I've never seen him act like this about anyone."
Briar didn't know what to say to that, so she said nothing. Just drank her water and tried not to think about the way Arion's light had flickered when she'd pulled away from his touch this morning, or the hurt in Eliam's eyes when she'd shifted away from his hand on her leg.
"Mount up," Thaine called. "We've still got a ways to go before dark."
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of trees and shadows and growing fatigue. By the time Thaine finally called a halt in a small clearing beside a stream, Briar was ready to fall off her horse. She managed to dismount with only minor awkwardness, her legs protesting every movement.
"You did well," Eliam said, already moving to unsaddle Phaeon before she could do it herself.
"I sat on a horse for eight hours. Not exactly an achievement."
"You didn't complain once." He pulled the saddle free, setting it aside. "That's more than most would manage their first full day."
The warmth in her chest pulsed at the praise, and she hated that she couldn't tell if the pleased flush was her own or its response to his approval.
"I'll help set up camp," she said, moving away before he could say anything else.
The group broke off into their respective roles—Thaine and Karse scouting the perimeter, Halian placing ward stones, Sian checking the water source and beginning to prepare a meal. Briar helped where she could, gathering firewood, laying out bedrolls, trying to be useful despite her exhaustion.
By the time the fire was lit and food was cooking, full dark had fallen. The forest around them was alive with sounds—wind through branches, the distant call of an owl, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush.
They ate in relative quiet, everyone too tired from the day's travel for much conversation. But as the meal finished and people began settling in for the night, Halian cleared his throat.
"Since we have some time," he said, "and since not all of us know the full history... perhaps we should discuss what we're actually riding toward."
Briar looked up from where she'd been staring into the fire. "The Night Court?"
"Yes." Halian glanced around the circle. "I've studied the historical texts, but academic knowledge is different from lived memory." His gaze settled on Thaine. "You're the only one here old enough to have been alive when they were sealed."
Thaine's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his dark eyes. "I was young. Barely a century old."
"But you remember," Sian said quietly.
"Some things you don't forget." Thaine's hands stilled on the weapon he'd been cleaning. "Even when you wish you could."
The fire crackled in the silence that followed. Briar watched the flames dance, feeling the weight of history pressing down on the clearing.
"What were they like?" Briar asked. "Before getting sealed away?"
Thaine was quiet for a long moment, his hands going still on the weapon he'd been cleaning. The firelight caught the planes of his face, made the shadows under his eyes look deeper.
"They were monsters, but they were beautiful in their monstrosity," he said finally. "That's what made it so terrifying and so effective."
He set the weapon aside, his movements careful and deliberate.
"The Unseelie could glamour themselves to look like other fae. Not perfect, not up close, but from a distance..." He paused, taking a breath. "Convincing enough."
No one spoke, everyone was waiting with baited breath.
"It was my bonding celebration." The words came out flat.
"Isania and I had just completed the ceremony.
There were guests, music, the usual..." He trailed off, one hand rising to his throat before he seemed to realize and dropped it back to his lap.
"After the ceremony, I saw her slip away into the gardens. I thought she wanted..."
He stopped, as though the memory of it consumed him for a moment, and then started again.
"So I followed her. Kept catching glimpses through the hedges, her dress, her hair. She was laughing, playing. So I chased her deeper."
Thaine’s hands had curled into fists.
"When I finally caught up to her, caught her..." His voice dropped. "The glamour held until I touched her. Then it just... fell away."
The fire crackled. Thaine stared at it, not seeming to see the flames.
"Pale. That's what I remember first. Pale as death, with a touch of green, like—" He shook his head. "Like something that belonged underwater, not walking around wearing my wife's face."
He had to stop again, throat working.
"Her eyes were terrible, bottomless, hungry things. Black until the torchlight caught the crimson underneath.” He swallowed hard. “I couldn't look away, couldn't move. It was like being held, pinned in place by her gaze alone. My body just… stopped listening to me."
Thaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"She had raven feathers woven into her hair. Black feathers, dozens of them, and it’s absurd but I remember thinking that was wrong, Isania didn't wear feathers, she hated how they felt, and then…"
His hand went to his throat again, pressed against the scars there.
"Then she bit me."
"Thaine," Sian said softly, but he kept going.
The words came out rough. "I felt her teeth break skin, felt her drinking, and I could hear screaming starting from the pavilion. There was so much screaming… and all I could think was that I'd left them, I’d left Isania. I'd followed this thing into the gardens like a fool while—"
He stopped and took a deep breath.
"I had a dagger. Ceremonial thing, mostly decorative, but sharp enough. I stabbed her." His voice had gone cold. "Over and over until she dropped me. Until she fled."
No one moved.
"I staggered back to the pavilion and found.
.." He struggled to finish the sentence.
"Isania, the real Isania, was already gone.
Everyone was. There were more of those things, dozens of them, feeding on the guests.
Beautiful until they weren't. Until the glamours failed and you could see what they really were. "
His jaw clenched so hard Briar could see the muscle jump.
"That's what Malus wants to free," he said finally. "That's what we're trying to keep sealed."
Briar watched him, saw the way his shoulders had gone rigid, the way he wasn't quite looking at any of them anymore.
Silence stretched across the clearing. Halian looked stricken. Sian had her hand over her mouth. Even Karse had lost his usual lazy amusement, his expression dark.
"Their glamours," Arion said at last, his voice quiet. "They fail during feeding?"
"Eventually." Thaine picked up his weapon again, hands moving automatically through the cleaning motions, anything to do that wasn't looking at their faces. "Takes concentration to hold. When they're caught up in it, in the blood, that's when you see the truth. But by then..."
He didn't finish, he didn't need to.
"We should set watch rotation," he said, and his tone had shifted back to his usual practical, distant tone that said without saying that he was done with this conversation. "Two people per shift. No one goes anywhere alone. Karse and I will take the first watch."
The group dispersed slowly after that, moving to bedrolls with considerably less ease than before. Eliam guided her to their shared bedroll, his hand warm on her lower back. She settled onto the blankets, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as he moved to check the perimeter one more time.
The fire had burned low, casting the camp in deep shadows broken only by ember-glow. Around them, she could hear the quiet sounds of people trying to settle—shifting bodies, whispered conversations, the rustle of blankets being adjusted.
But no one seemed to be actually sleeping.
Briar lay on her side, staring at the dying embers.
She couldn't stop imagining it. The thing wearing Isania's face, the glamour falling away to reveal the monster underneath.
The way Thaine's hand had gone to his throat over and over, five hundred years later and he still carried those scars. Still saw it when he closed his eyes.
That's what they were riding toward. Hundreds of those things, sealed away, waiting.
Her chest felt tight, breath coming shallow. The darkness beyond the firelight suddenly seemed full of possibilities—movement that might be wind or might be something else, shapes that could be trees or could be wearing faces she trusted.
"You're not sleeping," Eliam said quietly, the bedroll shifting as he returned and settled behind her, close but not quite touching yet.
"Can't," she admitted.
Briar felt him move closer, his chest warm against her back, his arm coming around her waist. She should probably pull away, maintain the distance she'd been trying to keep all day. But she was cold and scared and tired of fighting herself.
Instead, she turned in his arms and pressed her face against his chest.
His arms tightened around her immediately, one hand moving to her hair. He didn't say anything. Didn't ask what was wrong or tell her everything would be fine. Just held her.
"I keep seeing it," she said against his shirt. "What Thaine described. The way it looked like someone he loved until it didn't."
"I know."
"We're riding toward that. Toward hundreds of those things." Her fingers curled into his shirt. "What if Malus is already there? What if we're too late and they're already—"
"We're not too late." His voice was certain, solid. "We would know. The corruption would be spreading faster, consuming everything. The seal still holds."
"For now."
"For now," he agreed, and she appreciated that he didn't lie to her. Didn't promise safety he couldn't guarantee.
She pressed closer, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. The warmth in her chest pulsed, reaching for him, and for once she didn't fight it. Didn't question whether this need for comfort was hers or the magic's. She was scared and he was here and that was enough.
"I'm terrified," she whispered.
His hand stilled in her hair for a moment, then resumed its gentle movement. "Good. Fear keeps you careful. Keeps you alive."
"Is that supposed to be comforting?"
"No." His lips pressed against the top of her head. "But it's true."
She felt him shift, pulling her even closer until there was no space between them. One of his legs hooked over hers, anchoring her against him.
"Sleep," he said quietly. "I'll keep watch."
"You need rest too."
"I'll rest when you do." His hand moved from her hair to her back, tracing slow circles that gradually began to ease the tension from her muscles. "Right now you need this more."
She wanted to argue, to point out that he couldn't stay awake all night just because she was scared. But the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the solid presence of him was already pulling her toward sleep despite her fear.
"Eliam?" she said, her voice already drowsy.
"Mm?"
She almost said it. Almost let the words slip out that had been sitting in her chest since the night she'd confessed in his bed. But doubt crept back in, that persistent question of what was real and what was magic, and the words stuck in her throat.
"Thank you," she said instead.
His arms tightened fractionally around her. "Sleep, Briar."
She closed her eyes, letting his presence chase away the images of pale skin and crimson eyes and raven feathers. Let herself trust, just for tonight, that this feeling of safety was real even if she didn't know what else was.
The warmth settled between them, content, and she felt him relax slightly as she finally began to drift off.
Just before sleep took her, she felt his lips against her hair again, felt him whisper something too quiet for her to hear. But the tone carried through—possessive and protective and something softer underneath that she was too tired to analyze.
Tomorrow she could go back to questioning everything. Tonight, she just let herself be held.