35. Keira
Chapter 35
Keira
I enter the war room with a huge yawn cracking my face and a steaming mug of coffee in my hand. The musty scent of old parchment immediately hits me, as dozens of the tomes and scrolls we stole last night are spread out across the table.
Only my father glances up from the pile. Caitlin, Lynna and my grandmother are all immersed in Living Memory Scrolls. Bradford and Tomas argue over a passage in a book. Diarmuid sits there, lost in thought, a tome open in his lap.
I take a seat beside my father. “Did you even sleep last night?” I give his ruffled hair and crumpled clothes a pointed look.
“Somewhat,” he replies gruffly. “Is there more coffee where that came from?”
I sigh and walk out of the small room to ask one of the guards on the door to request coffee and breakfast from the kitchens. When I return, I truly look at my father. There are shadows in his troubled eyes and his skin is incredibly pale.
“It’s not easy reading, is it?” I murmur. “Not when we humans have held the conviction for generations that we were the righteous victims. That the fae were horrible monsters that never belonged in our realm. It proves that there is good and evil in all races, and the former always greatly outweighs the latter.”
“Yeah. And the little detail that for the last five hundred years, we humans have been the aggressors.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I regret the way I treated Aldrin and the other fae when I found them in this realm.” There is so much emotion in his eyes, and he is about to say more, but approaching footsteps draw our attention.
“I am glad to hear it,” Aldrin grumbles as he sits at my other side.“It’s a fucking start, at least.”
“I still think it is lacking. He tortured you, for gods’ sake,” Cyprien snaps. My father flinches. “Why does everyone conveniently forget about that?”
“What are you reading, Edmund? It must be powerful.” Aldrin leans across the table, tone taunting.
My father takes my coffee and drinks a long swig of it, almost completely draining the cup.
“I went to the kitchens for that!” I protest.
“I need it more than you do.” He sits back in his seat. “I am reading a text called The Descent into the Great War . It starts by depicting the black-market trade of fae flesh. Not only was it utterly gruesome, with fae locked in pens awaiting their fate and their cellmates butchered like cattle right before them, but the ruling class of humans did nothing to stop this trafficking. The king himself secretly encouraged it. When the fae took matters into their own hands, the Great War broke out.”
He drums his fingers on the tabletop before continuing.
“The fae themselves were not completely innocent, and a minority had gained the reputation for the whole when they went berserk over a human, claiming her as theirs and dragging her back to their realm. Often these fae would kill the human’s family and anyone else who got in their way.”
Aldrin scratches at his stubble. “Tensions had reached a boiling point right before the war broke out, and instead of these issues being policed correctly on either side of the veil, prejudices festered instead.”
My father flicks through the pages to find a specific chapter. “Right here was the most eye-opening part for me. When a specialized fae force entered the human realm to take down the flesh trade by whatever means possible, it was a spark on dry kindling that set the entire kingdom on fire. But the war wasn’t fae versus human like our histories would have us believe. It was messier, with multiple forces and both races fighting on either side. The separatists who wanted the portals closed against those who didn’t.”
I keep nodding at his words, despite how they dredge up the pain of the Living Memory Scrolls I witnessed in the library of Aldrin’s palace.
“You already knew this?” my father asks me, his eyebrows shooting up.
“The royal library in Aldrin’s court is open to all,” I say gently.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I tried. You weren’t ready to hear it and wouldn’t believe a word from my mouth. That is why these texts and scrolls are so important. Our people can’t dismiss them.”
My father’s expression shutters at that truth.
“What else is in there?” Aldrin probes. “We have very little in my library from the human perspective.”
My father shakes his head. “It’s not a flattering account of Strathia. The human king had no power of his own, and he was jealous of the fae’s magic to the point of hatred. Their superiority of power was a threat to him, and he wanted to rid these lands of fae. He declared war as an excuse for the mass slaughter of fae, in many cases locking in those who tried to flee by placing great armies before the main portals. The king thought that all those fae bodies could be sown into the land and consumed by the people, and it would give us humans all the magic we needed to power our technology. It worked, for a few generations.”
A heaviness hangs over my soul as we remain silent, each lost in our thoughts.
The cracking of Cyprien’s knuckles is the only sound until he finally breaks the silence. “What is the plan here, with these texts?”
“We read and witness enough of them to get an understanding of the topics they cover,” I begin, “then create bundles for the priestesses to bring to each lord’s manor or castle or war camp. Each bundle needs to cover the fae flesh trade, the truth of the Great War, and hopefully an account of fae and humans living peacefully together.”
“I think this scroll in particular will help you with that.” My grandmother’s voice is hoarse. When I turn to her, I am shocked by the tears that roll down her face.
“Naomi, you are not crying over suffering fae, are you?” Aldrin asks with mock scandal, and she gives him a hard look.
I pull my chair out from the table and approach her, eyeing the scroll as if it is a viper on the table. Grounding myself with a deep breath, I place a shaky hand over that living memory.
I stand within the body of a much taller fae man, inspecting the orchards at Appleshield Castle, gazing at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, her black hair rippling down to her waist. Fionola.
“You can’t get attached to a human woman, Elrond!” Frode’s face flashes before me, concern etched across his features.
A growl peels from my lips. “I am well aware of the sacrifices I will make for Fionola.”
I hold the precious weight of my infant son in my arms. I teach him to fight with a sword as he is suddenly an adolescent. Tears run down my face without end as I place my hand on the cold surface of Fionola’s gravestone.
I drag in a shuddering breath and pull my shaking hand away from the flashes of Elrond’s memories. I witnessed them countless times in the Spring Court. Our ancestor made two copies of this Living Memory Scroll, and both were stored in royal libraries that this family could not access.
I stare into my grandmother’s eyes. “You understand the truth now.”
“I do.” She wipes her tears away with a handkerchief she pulls from a pocket. “And I think the time of secrets and lies is over. No more hiding the past. No more lies about the magical pregnancies.”
Caitlin stands up abruptly, her chair clattering to the ground behind her. “Revealing the true parentage of those born by the magic will cause chaos. Many people will be hurt by the truth, and we don’t know how those conceived of magical pregnancies will be targeted.” Her hand shakes as it rests on her protruding, rounded belly.
“Gwyneth will make her own choices, and it will reveal the depth of her character.” My grandmother stands and holds Caitlin by the shoulders. “Some battles are worth fighting. Many of the nobles are either born to the magic or have a parent who was. It is the best way to force their hand, in self-protection. I wouldn’t urge you to agree to this, Caitlin, if the house of Appleshield wasn’t fighting for its survival. We need all the allies we can muster.”
My eyes dart between them as horror crashes through me. “Shouldn’t it be her choice? Revealing that information about her child? Caitlin should have a say!”
“It is the right thing to do, Caitlin.” Lynna stands and takes her hands. “I say this as a mother of a child also conceived by the magic.”
Caitlin’s lips turn downward, but when she speaks, her voice is steady. “Our grandmother is right. I cannot hold back this vital piece of information that could unite our people because I am worried about rejection by my life partner. If Gwyneth cannot see past her prejudice and love all aspects of our unborn daughter, then she doesn’t deserve to raise her at my side.”
My heart breaks, even as Caitlin’s back stiffens and chin raises, as though she is preparing herself for war. My father looks devastated for her.
“It is decided, then,” my grandmother says. “I will release all Mothers of Magic from their oath to never speak of the details of their pilgrimage to the Otherworld.”
The day disappears within a heartbeat, and we continue working into the night, recruiting Aldrin’s inner circle and Mothers of Magic to comb through the texts. I spend another day hard at work, until a headache creeps in and digs its claws into my temples. There is a purple dint in my finger from the quill I have been using to write notes.
Aldrin places his hands on my shoulders and leans in from behind, his breath tickling my ear. “You need to rest. I have an idea of how to get you to unwind.” His voice is so low my stomach drops with anticipation.
I allow him to pry me from my chair and drag me into the nearest empty room, where we tear off each other’s clothes and make love like it is the first and the last time. War does that to a person.
Afterward, as I take a walk alone, I hear raised voices drifting down a staircase that leads to the battlements. I recognize Caitlin’s furious growl and it makes me stop abruptly. She rarely loses her grip on her emotions.
Something propels me up those steps and into the fresh air. I charge into the guardhouse, scanning the wall for her. Caitlin and Gwyneth are in the next guardhouse along, but their argument carries easily. I take a step out toward them, needing to know what is upsetting my sister, when a soldier I didn’t notice pulls me back by the wrist.
I whirl on him, ready to explode because he dared to stop me. Then I realize it is Liam. I have fought beside this Appleshield Guard too many times during the fae hunts for there to be many formalities left between us.
“Let them fight it out,” he says, holding up his hands, his blue eyes trained on me and the breeze ruffling his golden hair.“No good will come from you interfering.”
I let out a long breath.
“Why didn’t you say something earlier? You know what the fae did to my family!” Gwyneth’s roar floats to us on the wind, and we both cringe. “To my baby sister! And now you are saying my daughter was sired by them!”
“It’s not true. The fae don’t take human children and leave changelings.” Caitlin’s tone is hard and every line of her body is rigid. Gods, this is a difficult conversation to watch. “I’m sorry for the trauma your family has gone through and the pain you still carry, but it’s not true.”
Gwyneth’s tall form towers over my sister and she gets right in her face. I draw all of my magic to the ready, because if she dares to strike Caitlin, I will toss her off the battlements. A gust swirls around me and my hair rises from my shoulders.
“Easy.” Liam puts a hand on my arm, then whips it back quickly as though burned. “By the Soul Ripper, you are terrifying when you do that, Keira.”
Gwyneth doesn’t raise a hand, but I don’t like the way she snarls at Caitlin. “Are you telling me that the fae didn’t take my sister and leave a changeling in her place? That when we left that babe out in the elements overnight as an offering, with the hope that they would swap the babies back, we instead left my sister to die next to the portal?” Her voice breaks.
Tears spring to my eyes and my chest aches for her family, but it doesn’t excuse Gwyneth’s aggressive behavior toward my sister.
Caitlin doesn’t back down. “Yes. That is what I am telling you. I know it’s hard to hear, but it is the truth. If we are going to raise this child together, you need to get past this trauma. Past your hatred of the fae. I will do everything in my power to help you, but you need to want it first.”
Gwyneth rears back multiple steps. She shakes her head and her long braids fly around her shoulders. “No. No, it’s not the truth. It’s bad enough that you let these fae monsters into our realm to fight this war, but to open the portals and allow hordes of them in as they wish? To have their baby? No. This isn’t something I can support.”
“She is not their baby,” Caitlin snarls. “She is ours.”
I want to thrust myself between them and ferociously protect my sister from those verbal blows, but it is not a thing I can stop. This is her battle, and all I can do is help her pick up the pieces at the end.
“I can’t stay here and watch you raise that thing into another monster,” Gwyneth yells, pointing a finger in her face.
“You had better GET OUT of the North, or so the gods help me!” Caitlin screams, her hair exploding into whipcords of fire and thrashing around her, releasing a storm of embers. Even her eyes are nothing but flames burning within the voids of their sockets.
Liam jolts beside me, then wraps his arms around my waist and holds me back as I try to race to my sister. “Give her space,” he whispers in my ear. “Let her do what she needs to do.”
Gwyneth cowers, stumbling backward as Caitlin slowly stalks toward her. “You are stripped of your title as the Captain of the Protector Guard and forbidden entry into the Appleshield Protectorate for life. Leave now. I never want to see your face again.” She turns on her heel as Gwyneth collapses to the ground, and with each step she takes, her primal form slips away.
Liam lets go of me as Caitlin reaches us. I wrap my arms around her, drawing her into the guardhouse. Her entire body shakes and choked sobs escape her lips. When I glance back at the battlements, Gwyneth is gone.
“Are you okay, Commander?” Liam’s voice is gravelly, shocking us both. He doesn’t pull away from Caitlin or call her a fae beast. He offers her his canteen of water.
Caitlin takes a long sip, then looks him in the eye. “Congratulations on your promotion, Liam.”
“Promotion?” He stares at her.
She thrusts the canteen into his chest. “Yes. Captain of the Protector Guard.”
He falls back into his chair, face pale with shock. He is a good choice for the job. Loyal to a fault and thrives every time he leads a task force.
Caitlin rushes toward the staircase, and when I catch up with her, she is sitting on a step with her head held in her hands. “I knew this would happen. Deep down, I knew.”
I stroke her hair and hold her for as long as she needs me. It has always been the other way around between us, where I am falling apart and she lifts me up. When she is ready, I lead her back to her rooms and have a guard send a discreet message to our father.
Caitlin doesn’t shatter to pieces in the way I have in the past. She doesn’t put herself to bed, become a shaking mess or cry for hours.
No—she rages.
She rants, swears and paces.
Screams incoherently and tosses her bed coverings to the ground. Objects fly across the room, shattering on the wall. I find myself passing her new things to break so she can let it all out. She apologizes to me again and again for her explosive outbursts, and I assure her it is okay. She needs it.
After what seems like hours, Caitlin pulls herself together, straightens her clothes and insists we return to the war room.
“Are you sure you don’t need a break?” I ask for the tenth time as we walk there. “You can take as much time as you need.”
“I need a distraction,” she grinds out.
That night, when we are all beyond fatigued and bleary-eyed, the door to the war room slams open and our mother stands in the entry. Despite the dust upon her neatly tailored riding clothes, she looks every part the Northern matriarch. Her dark eyes scan the room, falling upon the Mothers of Magic, the lesser nobility and the fae.
“Everybody out.” Her tone is hard as she pulls off her kid leather gloves. “I need a few private moments with my family.”
The priestesses and nobles alike scurry out. Aldrin rises with the rest of the fae, but I put my hand on his arm.
“Where are you going, Aldrin?” my mother snaps. “I said family is to stay.”
The door closes and her posture softens, especially as her eyes fall on Caitlin’s miserable form between Diarmuid and me.
My father gets up and surprises my mother with a passionate kiss on the lips. Her eyebrows shoot up, then her arm slowly snakes around his waist.
“Thank the gods you are here,” he rumbles. “I have desperately needed the backup. Facing an enemy horde is one thing, but one family crisis after another? I don’t know what I’m bloody doing.” He gives a pointed look at me, then Caitlin.
“Really?” Diarmuid laughs. “We hadn’t noticed.”
“Don’t you talk.” I reach around Caitlin to pinch his arm. “You’re missing in action half the time.”
My mother tidies the ruffled strands of my father’s hair, then sharply tugs a lock. “Am I correct in believing that you promised our youngest daughter to marriage without consulting me first?” She tugs another handful of hair and my father winces. “To a rebel king, none the less?”
“Oh, don’t tell me I have just recruited another woman to be angry with me.” My father laughs, batting away her hands.
A true smile curves her lips. “We will discuss it later. Brianna is thrilled.” When she turns to Caitlin, her expression becomes pinched, her features stretched tight with worry and lines forming on her brow. “Let us retire to your chambers, Caitlin. I have heard you have raged”—she shoots me a dark look for encouraging it—“but have you talked about and processed what has happened?”
Caitlin’s hands shake from the sheer amount of emotion she has held in all day, and I help her to her feet. I put an arm around her shoulders and lead her toward the door. Silent tears roll down her face before we reach her chambers, which I have already cleaned.
Our mother has that effect on Caitlin. She is the one person my sister will expose her vulnerabilities to without feeling like she is a burden, or that she should be strong and keep it together.
Another day passes before the ancient fae records are sorted and ready to be brought to each lord and countess as evidence. Our procession of Mothers of Magic and druids gather around, loading a wagon with the books and scrolls. I watch them work with Caitlin at my side.
“Gwyneth left. Her rooms are empty.” Her voice is flat. Emotionless. There are deep shadows beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and her auburn hair hangs limp and unbraided. “All I feel is intense relief, like an immense weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Is that bad? To feel only that after sharing five years of our lives together?”
“It means you made the right choice.” I hold her at arm’s length. “I’m sorry this war brought out these truths. That all of this happened because I left Finan for Aldrin. I’m sorry that you always fought for me so I could be with the man I love, but it has destroyed your relationship.” A single tear rolls down my face.
Caitlin laughs bitterly, the sound a shock. “Don’t you see, Keira? It has nothing to do with you or Aldrin or the fae. Gwyneth destroyed our relationship the first time we had a true trial. A relationship like that is doomed to fail.”
Diarmuid comes to Caitlin’s side and pats her back awkwardly, then helps her into the carriage, where our mother and grandmother wait. Aldrin pulls me into his arms and kisses me passionately, not caring who sees us. Well, we at least make sure we aren’t displaying ourselves in front of my grieving sister.
I thread my hands through his hair as he wraps his arms around my waist. All I know for the longest moments are the taste of his lips, his tongue moving against mine and his masculine scent of earthy vegetation.
“Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay?” he rumbles as he kisses a path along my neck.
“I have to be where I am most useful, coordinating the spread of these texts, and you have to stay where you are most useful, defending this pass.”
“Hmmm. I don’t have to like it.”
“No,” I say, pulling back. “You don’t. What could it take? A week? A month?”
He lets go of me reluctantly, and then all at once, the congregation is ready to move. I take my position at the front, beside Diarmuid, and lead the long procession of priestesses in white gowns and druids in brown robes out of the fields that contain our army. We are all on foot, so the journey to the portals at the sanctuary near Mossmount Pass will take the entire day.
I glance back at Fort Blackrock just before the road north passes around the foot of the mountain. Aldrin’s tall figure watches over me from the battlements. He raises a single hand in salute, and I raise mine back at him.It sucks the warmth out of my day to leave him behind.
The winding road takes us through those all-too-familiar rolling meadows, the long grass now yellow at the end of autumn, rather than the green of the last time I was here. I can’t help constantly scanning the horizon for those enemy warbands that pursued us across this landscape after Fort Blackrock fell and we made our mad dash to Windkeep Stronghold. Diarmuid, too, keeps glancing over his shoulder.
“Do you feel it too?” I ask.
“I can’t shake the horror of expecting an army to resolve out of these hills at any moment,” he murmurs.
“I know!” A shiver ripples through me. “I feel the same, even though every last enemy was hunted down months ago.”
We travel past the outskirts of the forest we hid in. Most of the trees are bare of leaves. Ice forms in my stomach, making it twist painfully. If this war had started in autumn, we would not have had cover within those woods.
The sun sits heavily on the horizon when we reach the nearest priestesses’ sanctuary, at the base of Countess Lynna’s estate of Mossmount Pass. It is nestled in a tiny valley between the roots of two mountains, with a dark shadow already cast over the site.
Multiple tiny waterfalls trickle down the slate walls of the pocket, collecting in a freshwater lake and gurgling out in a shallow stream. The water is ice cold as we pass through it, seeping into my boots.
The sanctuary is quiet and peaceful.
Multiple priestesses work in vegetable patches, harvesting pumpkins, while smoke rises from the chimney of a large log building, accompanied by the scent of fresh bread. My stomach rumbles in anticipation. The temple sits in the heart of the space, a hybrid building of stone blocks, living trees and artful leadlight windows.
Our entire party fits in the entrance of the valley. My grandmother practically leaps out of the carriage, barking orders.After a few heartbeats, she grabs me by the elbow and leads me away. “We need the portals powered up and ready to deliver priestesses before full dark. We don’t have any time to lose.”
Sweat drips down my face as I exhaust myself opening portal after portal with a team of people, all pooling our raw power together. A production line forms at the wagon as I work, some unloading the books and scrolls while others package them into travel bags.
Seven groups of priestesses hand-selected by my grandmother collect their bundles and disappear through the active portals.I watch them solemnly as they travel through the coiling white mists.
“You feel you should be the one who risks herself to get the information out there, don’t you?” my mother says as she materializes at my side.
“I do.”
“But you know you cannot do everything.”
“I know,” I whisper. It doesn’t help the guilt rolling through me.
Weeks pass in a blur as Mothers of Magic visit countless sites. The chill of early winter is heavy in the air when my mother shakes me awake one morning. Pale light seeps in through the open doorway, melting the light frost that coats the ground. I untangle myself from the blankets and furs, rubbing the heels of my hands across my eyes.
“Did something happen?” I ask groggily.
“It is time for your sister to return to Appleshield and birth her baby,” she says curtly.
My mouth hangs open. “She hasn’t gone into labor, has she?”
“I am trying to prevent her from going into labor in a war camp, or in this sanctuary, where we risk letting the enemy in each time a portal is opened.”
Realization slams into me. “You want to take her home against her will?”
Her eyes dart away from mine. “We will convince her to cooperate.”
I throw on my clothes and follow her out to the portal that leads to the Appleshield sanctuary. Placing my hands on the cold moonstone, I force the liquid fire of my raw magic into it, resisting the tug as the portal pulls more and more from me. Diarmuid feeds his magic from the other side, and our power bumps against each other and fuses.The air vibrates with a low hum as the portal finally opens.
My heart will surely shatter into a million pieces, sending Caitlin away like this, when her journey is as dangerous as mine. I pictured myself at her side when she went into labor, wiping her face with a cool towel and holding her hand. At least she will have our mother.
“I am not ready to leave.” Caitlin’s voice breaks as my mother and grandmother lead her between them. “I can’t just walk away from Keira, from this war, when I don’t know if she will be okay.”
I move to my sister and take her hands in mine. They are swollen, along with her legs. She couldn’t fire arrows or ride a horse now. “You have done enough in this war. I have so many protectors that one more won’t make the difference.”
Tears roll down Caitlin’s face. “I can’t leave you in your darkest hour. I just can’t.”
“And what use will you be on a battlefield, so heavy with child?” My mother’s voice is stern. “You may need to walk away now, to make sacrifices to protect your child, but that doesn’t set the tone for the rest of your life.” She takes Caitlin’s face in her hands and peers into her eyes. “There are many kinds of mothers, and all are valid. Those like me, who live only for and through their children, but give up their past identity and self. And those who accept that it takes a tribe to raise a child and don’t need to take on every last responsibility themselves. Who work, like your grandmother did, or charge into battle like your father, and accept the help of the community around them.”
My mother brushes the hair from Caitlin’s face, and I think I am going to cry.
“You have plenty of time to decide what kind of mother you will be, and I will be at your side supporting you, but right now you need to come home and birth this baby. She is coming in the next weeks, maybe the next days, whether you are ready or not. I guarantee you, there will be battles to fight after you have recovered.”
Caitlin nods. “It is so easy to feel diminished and powerless.”
My mother takes her hand. “It won’t always be this way.”
As they approach the portal, I realize a woman follows behind them. She is the fae who is both soldier and midwife, who Cyprien recruited for Caitlin.
I wrap my sister in a long embrace, rocking from side to side, before passing her to our brother. Then she steps through the portal with our mother, our grandmother and the midwife. A wave of anxiety rushes through me, making my knees weak.
Diarmuid is immediately at my side. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just so scared for her.”
“I’m scared for both of you,” he says gruffly, threading his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. “Come. Let’s go have breakfast before the priestesses return from their missions and we need to open the next set of portals.”
I allow him to pull me away, despite how I want to race after Caitlin.