Chapter 5
“brIDE?” I DON’T mean to say it out loud, but good fucking gods. I’m supposed to marry that man? Not just given to the fae as a servant or pet but in marriage? “Absolutely not.”
“It’s all right.” Annem squeezes my shoulder. “He can’t come in. The charms will protect us.”
The fae straightens, the mocking amusement on his face fading as he reaches his full and considerable height. “Does this mean you’re reneging on your bargain?”
There’s a long silence.
“I’d caution you against insulting a goddess.”
Annem and Pa exchange looks. She dips her chin, and Pa lifts his, sliding an arm around me. “You cannot have our daughter.”
“Very well.” The fae lifts one shoulder and adjusts his cuffs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He steps out of sight.
Surely he hasn’t given up so easily. Or is he simply retreating for now to let his mother come and deal with us at her leisure?
Huddled together, we wait. And wait.
Slowly, we creep to the nearest window. No sign of the fae. We pull apart, each checking a different window. I don’t see anything, but beneath my feet there’s a soft trembling, so slight I almost don’t notice it. Then, in the garden, right where I sowed peas yesterday morning, the soil shifts.
Is he going to destroy my garden? I grit my teeth. Plants grow back. I can sow more seeds.
As I scowl, a hand reaches over the wall. Pale, but not the fae’s—it’s grubby and spindly and—
And followed by a fucking skull.
I stumble back from the window, staring as the bloated remains of a fisherman, oilskin coat dripping, shambles over the wall. Seaweed draped over his shoulder glistens in the emerging dawn. A moment later, the bed of peas bursts upward, revealing a hand groping for purchase.
The world slows down as a skeleton crawls from the earth and starts this way.
My heart. I clutch my chest. It isn’t the world slowing, but my heart choosing the worst possible moment to stretch out the beats and make the kitchen spin.
From the other end of the house, Annem shrieks.
I need to go and help her. How, I’m not sure, but…
I fumble with my bottle of belladonna. No time to boil water. Instead, I press my little finger to the tiny measuring scoop, capturing a little of the powder on my skin.
Consuming it directly will make it more potent than steeping it in water, but…
I lick the bitter powder from my finger and swallow.
The bottle is sealed and back in my pocket by the time I reach the living room just as something slams into the front door. With her back braced against it, Annem screams again. Lowen and Pa throw themselves at it.
Heart leaping, cheeks feverish, I hurry to the front window, letting the giddy world spin around me.
I can’t see the gorse bushes or the stone arch that leads to the mainland.
The dead block my view in all directions, some nothing more than bone and rags, some almost whole, clothing only a little tattered and muddy.
One wears the kind of steel armor I’ve only seen in books, half a spear still lodged in its armpit.
They groan and rasp. The sounds of creatures who’ve forgotten how to speak but long to remember.
Meanwhile, the fae leans against the garden wall, one ankle crossed over the other as he inspects his fingernails.
Bastard.
More of the dead pour over the bridge and into our garden. They throw themselves at the house, bones scraping over the walls and the oak doors, skittering against the windows. They trample the garden and tumble more stones off the wall.
Each stone that falls tolls in my heart. Each thud on the door is an ache in my chest. Each time my mother whimpers, part of me cracks.
My home. My family. He is willing to destroy them all just to claim me as his bride.
Pa has one arm around Annem, even as they push their backs against the door.
But it bucks in the frame with each assault. They can only hold back the tide for so long.
Thuds come from above and tiles crash to the ground. They’re on the roof. They’ll climb down the chimney next.
I lean against the window frame and meet the fae’s gaze. My fingers twitch around the frame. I wish it was his damn throat. Through the glass, I call, “What if I come willingly?”
He cants his head, one eyebrow rising. “I’ll call off my army.”
“And my family will be safe?”
“They’ll have nothing to fear from me. If you come willingly, like a good girl.”
“Annon, no,” Lowen whispers. “What are you doing?” He grunts as the dead pound once more.
“This is my fault. I cut through the wire. It was meant to protect me, wasn’t it?” I raise my eyebrows at my parents.
“It kept you hidden,” Pa confirms between gritted teeth.
“It wasn’t you,” Lowen hisses, hands curling into fists around his bloodied bandages.
“His voice—I heard it in the mirror. He whispered to me that I should give it to you. He told me to take down the wall. At the time, I couldn’t remember where the ideas came from, but now I’ve heard him…
I know. I brought the mirror into the house. I let him influence me.”
“Maybe. But I can stop it.”
Glass smashes. Somewhere in the kitchen. They’ve broken through. They’ll be in here in moments.
“This home. This family.” My voice cracks on that last word. “You’re all I have. And he’ll kill you to take me. I can’t let that happen.” I shout, “Stop them, and I’ll come with you.”
Silence. The crashing and thuds, the groaning rasps, the scratching and skittering. It all stops. There’s only the sea, a distant sigh in comparison to the chaos of their assault.
The fae lifts his chin, but otherwise doesn’t move. “If you don’t step out of that door in ten seconds, I’ll tear out your father’s tongue.”
No time to pack. I spin on my heel and run to the kitchen, grabbing my medicine. The dead stand at the broken window pane, staring at me with empty eye sockets.
I shudder. His bride—his queen. Are these the creatures I’ll rule over?
“Tick-tock,” he calls. “Five seconds left.”
I burst into the living room. Annem and Pa step away from the door, faces creasing as they let me pass.
“Four.”
Lowen stands fast. “Let them come.”
“Three.”
“Lowen. Move.” I’ve never sounded so firm. “I’ll find a way back.”
“Two.”
His jaw tightens and this horrible brightness pools in his eyes, making mine burn.
“Please.”
“One.”
Shoulders sinking, he shifts to one side and opens the door in one movement.
I step outside as the fae says, “Zero.”
The dead don’t move, and I let out a long breath.
With fearful glances at the creatures surrounding us, Annem and Pa come forward in turn and wrap me in tight hugs.
“We never meant…” Annem begins.
“We thought it would never happen. If we could just protect you enough.” Pa pulls back, frowning as a tear snakes down his lined cheek. He’s aged a decade since yesterday. “You understand, don’t you?”
I don’t trust myself to speak. He made that deal. One that bargained me away. That’s a tight ball of hurt at the center of my chest.
But he’d been soaked through, freezing, clinging to a little fishing boat in the middle of a huge storm, at the sea’s mercy.
At The Morrigan’s mercy.
Facing death alone.
Isn’t that a fear I understand all too well?
I manage a small smile of reassurance as I nod.
Chin trembling, Lowen takes their place at my side as they back away to the safety of the house. “You don’t have to—”
“I do. To keep you safe—alive. I do. Now stop being a pain in the backside and give me a hug, little brother.”
He huffs and throws his arms around me, squeezing so tight I’m afraid my bones will break. When he finally pulls back, he presses a package into my hands, holding my gaze intently. “Remember what I promised.”
It takes me a moment. He can’t mean his joke from last night—about coming after me.
Before I can question him, the fae’s voice cuts through the air, as cold as the wind.
“Are you coming, or do I need to remind my army of the feel of living flesh?” He still perches on the wall, one eyebrow raised.
Oh, he’s going to be a fucking delight of a husband.
I give my family one last, reassuring nod. “I’ll see you soon.” Then I turn to the fae and spread my arms, presenting myself. “Here I am, willing, just like I promised. You said you’d leave my family unharmed.”
He makes a soft sound in his throat and straightens from the wall.
Stalking closer, he takes me in. His expression reveals nothing other than that he has this perpetual look of mingled contempt and irritation, lips pursed, eyes half-shut.
His pale skin is stark against his deepest black hair, and the fierce line of his eyebrows reminds me of those slashing raven feathers I observed on the mirror’s frame.
The pre-dawn light doesn’t cast any warmth on his face, only deep shadows below the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw and around the faint golden glow of his eyes.
He puts me in mind of a cold winter’s night where ice grips the land and makes the way treacherous even as it paints everything with its frosty, shimmering beauty.
As he comes closer, I realize quite how tall he is, how broad his shoulders are, how easily he could’ve broken the door down on his own. And I understand why he summoned the dead.
Because he can.
And that means he’s the figure from my dream. Undoubtedly.
I had expected Death, not a King of Death.
“Come, then.” He holds out his hand, small black feathers edging the cuffs of his coat.
I look back.
My parents huddle together, watching with tear-stained cheeks. Lowen stands to one side, frowning like that can prevent his from falling.
I give them a single nod then take the fae’s hand.
Slowly, his lips curve, like I’ve stepped into a trap.
Before I can change my mind, he pulls me against his chest and the world folds into feathers and darkness.