15. Cress
Braza had heard our conversation, sensed my distress, and filled me with urgency to leave the private meeting with Madigan and Geo on a promise to finally tell me the idea she’d been withholding.
My face felt stiff as I took the elevator alone, assuring my companions this was something I had to do on my own. I needed to have more than two moments to myself so I could shed a few more tears and process what’d happened.
I’d known Phaeron was suffering and losing his sense of self, but it hurt so much worse to know he’d given in before I’d done much more than whisper to him encouragingly over the tenuous thread Braza was able to bridge between us. That silken strand was gone now, likely severed the moment Phaeron submitted to Myuna.
I should’ve done more. I would do more. I would “wake” him somehow, and he would be mine again, just as Hana foretold. All I had to do was figure out how to go about that.
Otherwise…he would die.
Tears continued to leak from my eyes as I exited the elevator and walked to Braza’s chamber. I couldn’t make them stop, not when I was on the edge of accepting that there was a future for Phaeron if we didn’t successfully save him, which would be worse than death.
I loved him too much to let him become an unnatural. I would swing the sword to end him myself before he had his legacy tainted and became a monster like his brother. But only if I had to.
Braza absorbed me into the powercore and took her dimensional form within the inner chamber. Her cool, jelly-like fingers brushed the tears from my face as she framed it with her hands. “Brightest of souls. I had hoped you would have a chance to practice your new celestial magic, but it seems we are out of time at last.”
“Braza…he’s…”
“Shh. I know,” she murmured. “Come and sit with me for a moment. We have an important decision to make.”
Braza had transported the stone platform and its furnishings that’d been within her at Moongrove Library. There was a bed, a couch, and an old-fashioned chest. We settled on the couch together, with her leaning against me companionably, one of her wings curled around my back and opposite shoulder.
“I would like to bestow upon you an honor that hasn’t been seen since the early days of librarian witches. Before my attention was needed to contain so many rooms and monitor a busy library, I was able to elevate one librarian by merging a significant piece of myself with him or her and empower them for as long as they may live,” she began.
I gaped at her. “You’re picking me for this?”
“You are the only mortal I trust this deeply. But I must admit, that is partway because you are Prince Phaeron’s next mate and this is a desperate measure to save him.” She patted my hand to take away some of the sting of her admission. “Soul magic is heavy, Cress. If you accept the burden of Guardian of Moongrove Library, you will witness a portion of my memories. It’s more intense than the aftereffects of a mating bite, or so I’ve been told.”
“Wait, Moongrove?” I asked, overwhelmed.
“If we survive this, I will transfer back, and then the title will fit.”
I bit my lip, not missing the if in her statement. There were no guarantees we would escape before tragedy struck in its many possible forms.
“Memories of what kind?” I asked next.
“Nothing of my time as a powercore. You would witness my short time alive.” She sighed, shifting to take hold of my hand. “Cress, before you agree to this, you have to understand that I have seen a completely different side of Phaeron. Centuries before you were even born, he had a better life, a higher place in society, and a family I witnessed him love deeply. He…” She choked on emotion for a moment and bowed her head, whispering the rest. “He was my adopted father.”
I squeezed her fingers, sensing she was loosening the cork on some emotions she’d bottled up and buried deep. “I didn’t know that,” I murmured.
“Since my death, it has been easier for us both not to acknowledge what came before. And he has not confronted me as such…but my keeping him contained alongside his brother for so long has clearly dampened any love he used to feel for me,” she said, sounding miserable.
“You were trying to protect him when you thought he might turn into a monster.” I could see why she thought she owed him the most desperate measure she could reach for. “He’s barely had time to process what happened to him. I’m sure he will come around to forgiving you for doing what you thought was necessary. I was just thinking he’d prefer to die than become unnatural…”
“I know. And you’re right, he would,” she replied.
As my hand slowly warmed hers, the other thing she said sank in. About Phaeron having a family he loved centuries ago… There was someone before Morgana. Of course there was. I wasn’t sure exactly how old he was, but it made sense for there to be other women in his past. Still, I knew if we did this, it would hurt to see a happier version of him with someone of his own kind and a family. Dimensional kids.
Braza heard my thoughts, of course. “As an immortal culture, my people avoid talking about past mates in much depth, like humans dodge discussing religion and wages. It’s considered rude. He would never tell you what you will undoubtedly see in my memories.”
I breathed an uncertain sigh. “I can’t let that be the reason we don’t do this. I’ll get over myself if it helps Phaeron. How, exactly, does this process work?”
Her nod seemed approving. “When I died, my soul was split nearly in half. It’s since become two pieces…” She gestured first to the dome of the powercore above us and then to her jelly-like body. “This gives me the option to empower you with one piece when you need it. I will need to leave a sigil on your person like Phaeron did with his mark of protection, except this one will create a significant tether between our souls.”
“So you’re saying…this has connected me to Phaeron’s soul all along?” I asked, pointing to the circular rune he’d left on my wrist. I’d never quite understood how it worked.
“The tiniest thread, yes. Its only function is supposed to be a tug on his awareness when you need his attention. I’ve been abusing it a smidge.” She gave me a brief fanged smile. “My mark will be larger and will glow when active. I suggest you put it on your back. I can try giving you something stylized, like a set of wings.”
I agreed to that readily when she mimicked how large a tattoo we were talking. It would take up the majority of my shoulder blades.
“As I create the mark on you, you will experience my memories. It will take only an hour of real time at most, but you will feel like years have passed. The truly dangerous part is that at the end, a surge of power will ring out to supernatural senses attuned to dimensional magic. We will project a buffet for Myuna to salivate over. Madigan did not tell you directly, but Hana has seen that this moment, should we choose to go through with this, will trigger an all-out attack on the library.”
“Okay, right, well…” I stammered. “We have to prepare for that fight before you and I do this. I think we should, though, when the time is right.”
“I agree. I mean you no offense, but when you are forced into combat against Phaeron, you will stand no chance without me. He has had lifetimes with blades in his hands, while you have had months at most. But with us tethered, I will be able to fight him with you. I was once Phaeron’s most devoted shadowborn pupil.” She smiled sadly at that.
“I’m not sure your memories will turn me into a swordswoman of his caliber—”
“No, but you will be able to carry me like you have a shadowborn form of your own. I can augment your movements with dimensional speed and grace and indicate the patterns of his fighting style. My reflexes will protect you properly.”
For a moment, I had a sinking suspicion that I had no idea what I was truly agreeing to. My eyes narrowed. “What else can this new partnership do for you?”
“There are no sinister motives here. But I suppose you have realized…I am capable of the same kind of haunting and bodily control Endaeron is. His abilities were my inspiration to experiment with my own capabilities.” She held up a clawed finger while I shifted uncomfortably. “However, I still have a home here. When half of me is not with you, it will return here. Endaeron does not have the luxury of any other vessel than the victims he possesses.”
“And you said this is permanent?” I asked.
She tilted her head, undoubtedly reading all the concerns underneath that question. Things I was too polite to say aloud because she was still a friend and I didn’t truly believe she was trying to trick me. “I give you my unbreakable vow as a dimensional traveler and an ancient powercore that I will not possess you against your will or do you and yours harm. I only propose a partnership for our mutual benefit.”
I cleared my throat, both embarrassed and relieved that she’d cut straight through my fears. “Thank you.”
With our new reinforcements, we attempted to kill the rest of the greater unnatural creatures still held in the library. The blue-skinned dimensional—the teleporting, unnatural one—beat us to two of them, but we caught him by surprise the next time and killed him. The remaining monsters died before evening’s fall.
There was little time to rest, though. We started setting traps on the ground floor of the library, knocking over stacks and scattering books and broken glass as part of our efforts to slow down the dozens of monsters and “zombified” supernaturals that would be coming for us the moment we triggered Myuna’s greed.
According to Grant’s intel, we were racing the clock more than ever. The more supernaturals Myuna turned to her side by making them white-eyed zombies, as he described them, the faster she’d be able to gather stragglers and animals to further bolster her army.
As we worked, some of my friends helped me turn over Hana’s instructions.
“Perhaps he is in a deep trance. Since it’s magical in nature, there has to be a trigger to snap him out of it,” áine said quietly. She and I were on book scattering duty with Wren and Willow, while Geo and Roe distributed freshly smashed glass and arranged the stacks. Roe, of course, wore her crystal armor and cracked a few smiles by getting to be the one punching the windows and walls.
Ashbough Protective Services worked around us with snares and different traps, hiding them under the layers of junk we set down.
All the while, there were screeches nearby as Bianca, Ben, and Grace killed the warped birds that were staring at us from the nearest rooftops. It made for a disconcerting background chorus, so I tried to focus on the problem at hand.
“Why can’t augurs just say what they mean?” I muttered.
“Don’t be such a whiner,” Wren said, rolling her eyes. “At least you have a warning.”
I had to agree and check myself. Of course Hana could’ve just left me to my own devices with no help. It just wouldn’t hurt her to be a smidge more explicit in her instructions.
“How do you think we should go about waking Phaeron from Myuna’s trance?” I asked the irritable blonde.
A frown tugged at Wren’s mouth. “You know, it’s almost funny. Most spells or tonics we have access to would be for inducing sleep, not waking someone up. Since we’d never guess what trigger phrase or spell Myuna has used…” she pondered, biting her lip. “We could lock him in a containment room until her magic runs its course.”
I was already shaking my head. “If he’s not placed into stasis, he’ll be able to escape without much trouble.”
“Well, that’s an option. Her influence should fade if we manage to kill her.”
áine spoke up. “Maybe if we teamed up and beat him soundly?”
I stifled a sigh. That sounded like a great way to get several people killed, Phaeron included. But it seemed the only options we had were the not-so-good ones.
“Well, there is something else I could try,” áine said when we didn’t jump immediately at her first idea. “Remember after we fought the Hunger the first time…Phaeron swore an admission of debt to me?”
My brow furrowed. Fuck, that first near-deadly fight seemed like it’d happened ages ago, not months. “Did he?”
“Yeah. More specifically, it was a debt of gratitude for healing him, which is the most benign-seeming debt you can swear to a fae.” She had an impish little smile. If it weren’t for her deer legs and poofy tail, I could forget áine was one of the fair folk. But with an expression like that…she was clearly versed in the kind of trickery that had formed legends about her kind.
“Can you call in a debt while he’s entranced?” Willow asked, her own face pursed in deep thought while we spoke.
“I can always try,” the faun answered. “If the trance is not tied with a soul debt, he should immediately respond.”
Willow seemed in, at least. “What can you ask for?”
“That’s where it’s tricky. I could hit him with the direct one we want. ‘To show your gratitude to me, wake up and say my name.’ But he could fall back under Myuna’s sway immediately afterward if he needs longer than a split second to fight her control.” áine tapped her lips thoughtfully, standing aside while we finished up scattering the last few books for this corner of the library.
“To show your gratitude to me, release yourself from Myuna’s control?” I suggested.
“It has to be something he can reasonably do on his own on the spot,” she said, shaking her head and scattering a few flower petals from the sad-looking blooms tied within her long curls. “Mother Tree, I don’t want to do this, but…I could hit him with one of the banes of the long-lived. Before you all ask, those are experience, memory, and wisdom.”
I was glad I wasn’t the only one looking at her in bafflement. Willow and I exchanged a glance. “Can you explain more than that?” asked our soft-spoken friend.
“All right, fine. Most people think swearing a debt of gratitude is formally promising a fae a favor. Honorable fae would never ask for something that would actively harm another when the origins of the debt is, well, a thank you. But when you’re immortal, like a fae, vampire, demigod, or dimensional, certain things are made more unpleasant by the passage of long stretches of time. It would not hurt Phaeron if I asked for him to recount every time and place he’s ever taken a sip of water, but he would be really fucking angry with me when he was compelled to speak continuously for however long it took to do it,” she explained.
“Could you actually do that?” I asked out of sheer curiosity.
She adjusted one of the flowers woven into her hair, causing it to bloom vibrantly again from a tiny touch of magic. “I mean, yeah. But I like him, so I think I will use the much shorter but just as baneful ‘remember yourself.’ There’s an old fae story about a villainous king who was defeated by those very words. He stood in place, paralyzed by years and years of things he’d forgotten all crushing his head at once. Ripe for the deposing and such. All the Crystal Court fae are going to roll their eyes, but if I have to, that’s the gratitude I’d ask of Phaeron.”
“Okay, that’s cliché as hell, but it just might work,” I said. We’d probably try some variation of all three; holding him in stasis, beating the hell out of him, and paralyzing him with memories. Though we continued to mull over possibilities as we worked, nothing else jumped out as a better solution.
Madigan wanted me to become Guardian of Moongrove Library tomorrow morning, when our enemies would be at their weakest after a full night of scavenging. More importantly, they would not have the Hungering Darkness, with Garroway’s weakness to sunlight preventing him from making the trip here.
That left enough time to eat, worry a hole in the floor of the room I lived in with my men, and ignore Ben’s offer to tumble into bed together until I went to retrieve Geo from his post in the shadows of the first floor. A pair of better-rested witches were already standing guard with him and helped me convince him to take the night off.
One round of sharing later, I fell into an uneasy sleep and woke blearily. Someone was going around knocking on doors.
“Sun’s up! Let’s go!” exclaimed a muffled voice that sounded like Orthus.
I headed down to the powercore chamber while everyone else refreshed themselves on battle stations and last-minute planning. Too nervous to eat any rations, I sipped on a bottle of water as the elevator descended. In as little as an hour, I would see Phaeron again…then we would see if he would be mine, Myuna’s, or no one’s.
I’d gotten fully equipped for this fight, wearing the haggard hybrid witch garb I’d since washed after wearing it new to appear before the Crown Council. I had my sword on one hip and my handbook flapping with uncharacteristic silence over my shoulder. My familiars accompanied me as well, ready to lend their small contributions to the battle ahead. When the cabin arrived on the correct floor, I picked up Wren’s sun staff from where I’d leaned it against the wall. Its centerpiece and gold paint sparkled from just my touch.
It was a fairly bygone conclusion that Phaeron would appear in the powercore chamber looking for me once Myuna noticed the tether between Braza and me falling into place. Together, we would exude the kind of power the goddess wanted to devour, all light and dimensional might.
“Just like with the ritual…and putting ancestral magic in my book,” I muttered to myself. “Everything that follows this is a gamble and a guess.”
I marched myself into Braza’s inner chamber before I could back out of our agreement. I trusted her and showed it by taking off a layer of clothing and lying down on her bed so she could start to etch magic onto the skin of my bare back.
There was a pinch of pain, then Braza saying, “If you feel drowsy, don’t resist…”
Her memories came flooding in the moment I closed my eyes.