Chapter Sixteen
There was once a boy, cursed to become a beast, marvelled over as one blessed by the Old Gods.
Then man wished to be blessed too, so they hunted him like the beast he pretended to be. Skinned his many pelts, ate his flesh, and sucked the marrow from his bones. Finding no magic in their bellies, only hunger for all the things they could never be.
– Fables of the Old Beasts, 1374
‘Alma? !’ I called, tripping over the clutter of the study as I skidded into the hallway and up the stairs of Blackthorn Manor, following a strange crying sound coming from down the hall. The trinkets on the walls rattling in the direction I needed to go, stairs clattering with warning as I flew around another corner. The floor covered in papers and books – a sideboard had fallen over as if something had crashed into it, causing the drawers and cupboards to be thrown open.
Beneath all the mess was Alma. Eyes wide and bloodshot, panting wildly as she convulsed, dark curls matted and stuck to her damp face. Her usually warm skin was horribly pale, her naked body curled into a foetal position.
‘Alma !’ I pushed the sideboard off her with little effort, my arms sweeping papers out of the way, dropping to my knees to pull her clammy and unstable form into my arms.
Blood coated her lips as she coughed weakly, breaths wheezed from between her teeth. Another convulsion took over her, an animalistic wail caught in her throat. I pressed the back of my hand against her forehead, too warm despite how violently her teeth chattered.
‘S-s-orry,’ she panted, trying to breathe, the spasming of her muscles making her curl in on herself to try and conceal her naked form.
I tore off my jacket, stitches popping with the haste as I pressed it against her feverish skin, trying to cover her.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ I soothed as she tried to hold on to me, fingers clumsy with weakness.
She was back and I had to stop the sting of tears coming to my eyes with relief as I took in the lavender-and-rosemary scent of her.
‘Kat?’ Emrys called, coming to a skidding halt before all the mess. His attention solely focused on me, his grey eyes dark with worry.
‘She hasn’t stayed in one form so long before,’ I said, stumbling over my words, unsure for a moment if I should hide her from his gaze or ask for help. As Alma trembled vulnerably in my arms, the choice seemed made, her skin changing from feathers to fur and back again as the spasms overtook her once more.
There was a ripping sound, as Emrys pulled a threadbare, priceless tapestry from the wall and laid the rough fabric over her. As if it was no more than a blanket.
Our noses almost brushed with the closeness of him. His gaze met mine, awaiting command.
‘I … I need my things.’ My voice broke as I tried to shift Alma’s weight in my arms.
‘Let’s get her to your room.’ He nodded, reaching out to take her gently from me. Strangely, I let him, as he effortlessly picked her up, curling her in that tapestry to cover her completely. He had her cradled securely in his arms just as William came to the end of the hall, out of breath and panicked.
‘Bloody saints, is she all right?’ he asked, running a hand over his horns in distress.
‘William, boil some water please. We’ll need a brewing cup,’ I said. The boy turned on his heel and ran back down the stairs without another word.
Emrys moved past me and over the mess with ease towards my room. I struggled to match his pace, skirts bundled in my arms.
‘Her convulsions don’t usually last this long.’ I squeezed past him in the narrow hallway to get the bedroom door open, throwing it wide as I crossed to the bed and pulled the sheets back.
He deposited her on it gently without question as another convulsion made her back arch. Her breath panted through her lips, the skin of her face becoming scaled before settling back to flesh with an odd greenish hue.
‘Oh, Alma.’ I pushed her damp, sweat-matted hair off her face and pressed my fingers to her neck to check her pulse, which was hammering ridiculously fast.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered again before it turned into another string of tremors that stole her breath.
I kissed her damp forehead, brushing her wild curls back. ‘It’s not your fault. Although my hair is mighty pleased you’re back.’
The remark made her laugh quietly before she winced, her hand finding my own where it rested at the back of her head. As if she could hold onto mortal form by anchoring herself to me.
‘Her breathing is too erratic,’ Emrys commented as he pressed his fingers against her pulse on her other wrist, where her hand gripped the sheets in a white-knuckled hold.
The door flew open and William entered with a pot of steaming water and a stack of towels balanced on his shoulder, an extra healing pack dangling precariously from his fingers.
‘Put it on the side here, William.’ Emrys moved around the bed as Alma continued to shift unwillingly.
Once relived of the tray, William went to stand awkwardly in the corner, eyes wide with concern as Alma continued to writhe on the bed.
I gently untangled myself from her and moved to my desk, opening my bag. I pulled the cursed root out of its container, measuring the right amount and putting it in the pot to brew. Then I added the rest of the concoction, releasing a horridly sweet smell into the room as I carried the pot towards the bed.
I was startled to see Emrys had pressed a cold cloth to Alma’s forehead, and she was holding onto his wrist as if it was me, her eyes closed tightly as she dragged in deep breaths. He seemed unbothered by the razor-sharp claws that would emerge sporadically from her fingertips.
Then I realised where his gaze was focused: the skin of her wrists. Heavily scarred skin, still pink despite the years that had passed. Deep gouges and marks from chains left to chafe too long.
Marks I’d forgotten about because we had other dangers to fret over than where she’d come from. How the menagerie had chained her so she didn’t escape and how desperately she’d struggled against those chains … leaving reminders she could never forget.
Emrys turned to see me, his eyes dark, knowing, and yet his face giving nothing away.
I couldn’t contemplate the consequences of revealing those truths, not now. I quickly poured the concoction into a cup and brought it to Alma’s lips.
‘Alma, drink this and we’ll get you settled,’ I ordered softly, her trembling so great she spilled most of it, but I got her to swallow a healthy amount. Emrys was waiting to take the empty cup from my hands as another tremor moved through her.
‘It hurts,’ she whispered, tears running down her cheeks as she hiccupped and fought for breath.
‘It’s all right,’ I soothed, holding onto her, pressing my palms against her burning cheeks, taking up the icy cloth Emrys handed me. He’d pressed an enchantment into the fabric to keep it cold.
Her hands formed claws, movements erratic as I felt the tearing of my sleeve, but I didn’t let her go as she cried out from the pain of it. I pulled her closer, knowing she could hurt me, but I didn’t care.
‘You’re safe with me,’ I whispered into her ear as her back bowed. Holding her tighter so she knew I wouldn’t let her go. I wouldn’t leave her.
A promise made on a cold winter’s night between two lost girls who needed each other: that I wouldn’t leave her behind. Not then. Not now.
I closed my eyes, seeing her in my memory, skinny and shivering in the corner of the room, where the guard had dumped her. Wounds on her wrist bleeding with infection, feet blue with the cold as I extended my hand to her. She’d been fearful, with pain in her eyes and the expectance of cruelty, and I’d never wished to banish a demon more.
With trembling fingers she’d taken my hand, her grip weak and frail. Promising to take care of her right there, in the middle of that freezing dormitory in a cruel place neither of us should have been. Yet, after all this time, the guilt remained that I still couldn’t save her from herself.
‘Kat,’ Emrys called softly, making me open my eyes to see how closely he watched me. How deeply concern darkened his gaze.
‘She’s fine.’ The words barely a whisper as Alma grew heavier in my arms as the mixture took hold.
Emrys waited a moment, to be sure. Then he nodded.
‘Come William, let’s give them some privacy.’
I almost sagged in relief, feeling Alma’s calmer breath against the curve of my neck as I heard the door click shut with their departure.
‘I wish I was stronger,’ she barely murmured, her words slurred with tiredness. The small spasms of her muscles lessened and her breaths deepened as the colour crept back into her cheeks. The cursed root was doing its job.
‘You’re the strongest person I know.’ I wished more than anything she believed that truth.
‘I … I hope Blackthorn isn’t too angry,’ she whispered as I pressed her gently back into the pillows, watching the twitch of her nose and restless movement of her eyes behind her closed lids.
‘He can deal with me if he is,’ I reasoned as I tucked her in, but she was already asleep. I made the fire roar in the hearth with he barest summoning so the heat of it brushed over her.
Then I retreated to the edge of the bed and let my head fall into my hands, exhausted with all the things I couldn’t change.
Too many things had gone unsaid between me and Emrys. I’d put him at a disadvantage, taking the truths he offered, but still keeping my own secrets. Alma’s change making a mess of his hallway was something I also needed to see to before the house took it personally.
My eyes fell to that tapestry, now discarded on the floor. The gold stitching and deep green threads hinted at expensive. By the shape of the figures and the Ridion language, I suspected it was an artifact of the twelfth century, and he’d used it like a blanket. For me. Because I needed his help.
He’d come to help me when he should have been turning me in for the liar I was.
Rising from my perch that I watched moment to pull as if in a steady breath before I ventured back out into the strange reality of this world.
Emrys lingered in the shadowy hall, head bowed in thought. His coat was missing and sleeves rolled up as if expecting another healing job at any moment. From his fingers hung my jacket.
The door clicking shut behind me made him look up, those eyes pitch black in the dim hallway. I pressed my hands behind my back against the door so he wouldn’t see them tremble.
‘Cursed root.’ His head tipped up as he watched me cautiously. ‘That was used to help bind slaves in the Mage King’s reign.’
‘It quietens her power enough for her to heal,’ I said. ‘Three days is sufficient.’ It was the only thing I’d found that worked so far. ‘I haven’t been able to find anything else that works.’
No matter how hard I worked, the solution for helping Alma still eluded me, making it only more evident why they called transfiguration a curse. Why most beings who possessed it had been killed out of mercy.
‘Wild magic.’ He sighed. Those two words had been so deadly for so long, and yet they were so cautious and soft from his lips. ‘The secrets of beast transfiguration were lost for a reason.’
Because they were deadly to those who wielded the magic. Caught and used. Tangled in blood bargains to make them weapons against mortal kings by the rebellion. That menagerie had used Alma for entertainment … and a few centuries before she would have been used for sport.
‘Those were shackle marks.’ He considered me carefully, anticipating any lie that would leave my lips as he held out my jacket to me.
I should have been scared but I saw no danger in Emrys’s eyes, only a challenge. If I lied, Alma would be safer, but I’d put everything I’d built here at risk. I’d hidden everything for so long, fearful of the consequences, but I couldn’t live another day of lies. I needed to be braver than my fear.
Only fear can bind your hands. My father’s words came back to me, just when I needed them. I knew I needed to finally trust in this partnership.
Then there were Emrys’s words that night. When he could have turned me in for keeping a ghoul as some demented pet. When you realise how brilliant you are, Croinn, I think we’ll all be in trouble. The memory of them dissipated my fear, my hands coming out from behind my back. My decision was made.
‘The Council patrol found her in a menagerie,’ I began. “She was kept for amusement as a child. It isn’t my story to tell but I made her a promise to keep her safe,’ I began, trying to work out which part of the tale was mine to tell. ‘She was too sick to make it to the fey healing houses in the north. They already saw her as a lost cause, and … Daunton was closer.’
On the coldest of nights, I’d forced her to live. Bullied her into surviving, perhaps selfishly because my fear of being alone was greater than my fear of failure.
‘She’s the reason you wrote about septime weed,’ Emrys summarised, gathering that fact from the words I hadn’t spoken.
‘I wouldn’t let her die like that,’ I admitted. No matter the punishment I’d been given for it, the marks that still covered my back. ‘Couldn’t. The only thing that divides us is the fragility of luck, and we both know I am anything but lucky.’
He’d seen how the Council treated me and he’d seen firsthand the brutality of this world. No, I wasn’t lucky, but then again, considering him and his scarred skin, maybe he wasn’t either.
‘I’m sorry about the mess in the hall,’ I offered weakly, unsure how to navigate this new dynamic between us. ‘I—’
‘She’s the luckiest being in the world to have a protector as fearless as you,’ he cut in matter-of-factly as he considered me with clear eyes.
‘Stubborn is a better word.’ I smiled weakly.
‘Stubborn then.’ He nodded, coming even closer to offer me my jacket, only for me to wince as I reached for it. A horrid burning pain seared up my arm.
Emrys took my forearm carefully, his gaze darkening as he turned my arm, revealing a blood-soaked sleeve and a deep gash from one of Alma’s stray claws.
‘That needs looking at.’ His lips were tight with displeasure.
‘I can do it.’ I sighed, annoyed with myself for not noticing sooner as I tried to see the extent of it. The red drips on my dark skirts and on the hallway floor were another unpleasant surprise.
Gently, a single finger came beneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him, a softness to his features that diminished any arguments I could form.
It wasn’t the worst thing to be cared for, I thought. I’d allowed myself to forget that.
‘I think you’ve done enough for today, Croinn,’ he replied, a small smile lingering at the corner of his mouth. And then I realised: I didn’t want to sit alone putting myself back together like all the times before.
‘Okay,’ I whispered, some quiet agreement beginning between us.