36. Mare
Mare
My dreams betrayed me. They were filled with him.
A lavender dress swirled around my feet as I stepped into the ballroom and bowed my head, hoping a lord would ask for a dance. But it was not Laiserian who took my hand.
Joy bloomed through my heart as warmth enveloped my hand. I looked up into Reese's golden eyes.
And saw only scorn.
Shadows plumed around my fingers and snared my wrist. They sank deep into my skin like pointed teeth, tearing my flesh, dripping blood onto the pristine floors.
Reese flung me away, and I fell into a pool of my own blood, stained the color of the night. I drowned in the darkness.
Sweat beaded my forehead when I woke. Pain lashed through my side and radiated across my abdomen.
A tall, slim woman stood at my bedside, a lantern clutched between her fingers. The deep red fabric of her gown matched the blood from my dreams.
Brighid brushed her fiery hair back and knelt beside me. "Oh, please. I'm not that frightening."
Chuckling, I wiped the sweat from my brow.
"Fever?" She set the lantern down. "Or dreams?"
"Just dreams." I glanced around the quiet tent. "How did you manage to get rid of Reese?"
"Easily. I know how that man works.” Brighid pulled her satchel off and scooted closer to me. "I told him one of the bards noticed shadows in the woods, and off he rode." She snapped the satchel open. "Did you enjoy the show?"
"Depends. Which one?" When she offered a smirk in response, I leaned toward her. "What was that?"
"Fae magic,” she answered, producing an ancient cylinder, rusted and worn.
"Fae? The make-believe fairies who steal children from their cribs?"
"Is that what you Stormborn think?" Brighid arched an eyebrow. "No, they're quite real. And much more dangerous than that. But that's beside the point."
"The existence of child-snatching fae is beside the point? I beg to differ—”
"Don't interrupt me," Brighid said.
Twisting open the cylinder, she pulled out a scroll. Darkened, stained, and torn, it looked like it had come from the beginning of time.
"The story you saw unfold," she said, tapping the old parchment. "Is written here."
I leaned closer as she unrolled the parchment. Glyphs patterned the pages, faded and indecipherable. Her fingers trembled; her eyes danced with palpable excitement.
"A lost remnant of history.” Brighid met my eye. "One of only two accounts of the Diath that still remain."
A dragon of flame was drawn on the scroll's lower right corner. My eyes traced the other figures as Brighid spoke.
"Forlaith scrubbed all mention of the Diath centuries ago. It seems they were premier mages of their element, revered as kings or even gods."
A leviathan curled around the upper right corner, reaching toward a faded figure with butterfly-like wings. The final corner was burned away.
Beside each beast soared a bird. A sparrow flitted alongside the leviathan, and a heron strolled beneath the butterfly. Small, tucked at the bottom, was a charcoal crow.
"Interesting," I mused, looking up from the scroll. "Why did Forlaith care?"
"Because they wanted Solathair to be the only god. Unlike Aenir's saints or Lavaire's spirits, these were tangible. People you could reach out and touch." Brighid shrugged. "Or so I presume."
"Ah.” I nodded. "I'm amazed that even this managed to survive the Inquisitors’ wrath."
Brighid's fingers strangled the cylinder.
"It drives me mad, thinking of all they've destroyed.
But, don't you see? The end of the play—it's written here.
" She tapped the parchment. "The dragon plunged his city into flame to keep it from Forlaith.
It was like that for years. The charred ruins stand to this day. Doesn't that sound familiar?"
Someone might as well have slapped me across the face. I reeled, mind spinning.
"I think a Diath is to blame for Tirnanog's state.” Brighid leaned forward. "And I think only a Diath can reclaim it."
A remnant of history had stepped from its tomes and stolen my home? Why?
"How would we find them?" I asked. "This Diath?"
Brighid's eyes fell to my hip. To Cierthine. "Cierthine picked a woman for the first time. Why, if not because she is exceedingly special?"
I looked down at myself, at the white hair tumbling over the shoulders of my gray cloak. At the heavy fur tunic Reese had wrapped me in to keep me warm while I recovered.
Me, a mythical hero the ancient Forlains had scrubbed from history?
"I'm flattered," I said. "That you think me akin to a king who turned into a dragon. But—” I glanced at the fluttering tent flap. "Why couldn't you tell the others, too?"
"Because Forlaith still knows about the Diath. More than a few times, someone has tried to revive them, their name, their worship. You can imagine what happened to such 'heretics'."
Great. Just what I needed—another reason for Forlaith to want my head.
"It's worth a try," I said. "I'd do anything to find the city—even debase myself and dance naked in the Forlaith fields."
"I like your enthusiasm.” Brighid grinned. "You might need it. There's precious little written on how Diaths harnessed their magic. Erotic dance might be necessary after all."
I choked on a laugh. "Saints, I hope not." Batting away the hope blooming in my heart, I raised my head. "How can you be sure of this? Wouldn't I know if I was some extraordinary mage?"
"There is one way to test it.” Brighid pulled her glove off. "A detail tucked in a journal I stole from Forlaith's archives." She grabbed my hand.
The frigid air burned away. Pillars of flame erupted from the ground and spiraled toward the sky, branching out in the pattern of an enormous tree. Darkness surrounded us—it pooled at our feet and blanketed the heavens, only illuminated by the living flame.
Brighid looked up at the canopy of burning branches. "Always there is that silent world, and the birds who sing its dirge." She laughed. "It’s beautiful."
"You think you're one too," I breathed.
"I wish I knew. All I have is that cryptic passage from the journal—and the one following it. 'At fate's crossroads, our hands brush." Her fingers tightened around mine. "Say nothing of this."
Transfixed by the fiery tree in the darkness, I reflected on Diar and the heron I'd seen soaring with my crow. I had crossed paths with other Diath, as though fate had willed us together.
But what was our place in history? What had our predecessors done to make Forlaith wipe us from the face of the earth?
Brighid retracted her hand, and the soothing darkness brightened. Starlight spilled through the tent flaps as they parted, and Reese stepped inside.
Compared to that world of night, his white surcoat and silver armor seemed too bright.
He laid a hand on the pommel of his blade. "I didn't see anything. We should be safe to leave."
"So eager to leave my company?" Brighid rolled up her scroll and tucked it safely into its cylinder. "The play was not my only condition; I need one more thing from you if you're to earn my help."
"Not to imply that you're normal.” Reese furrowed his brow. “But you're acting unusually . . . unusual.”
"How eloquent."
Bláth shoved past Reese, hands on her hips. With two Solhearts and a Fireborn in the tent, the temperature rose to that of a summer's day.
"Come on in," I said weakly. "Make yourselves at home."
Bláth looked like she might apologize, but Brighid interrupted her.
"As I said before—” Brighid rose and smoothed her skirts. "I'm getting married. You are most welcome to attend. Several members of the Lecovair and the widowed Empress of Forlaith will be present."
My stomach turned. Once upon a time, I would have killed a man to garner such an audience.
Now? Saints save me.
"There.” Brighid looked at me. "You can field an audience you would not otherwise find. Reese and your king can make official your title."
Reese grimaced. "I see what you're thinking, but—”
"But nothing. Rarely do the Aenir king and Solheart queen find themselves together. You forget your own station, Reese. With the queen unwed, the Solheart Paragon, wielder of the holy rapier, is the highest-ranking man in Forlaith."
My stomach spun faster. Oh, saints.
I knew Reese was important, but I'd never considered Brighid's words.
She was absolutely right.
Bláth grinned. "That's brilliant." The smile flipped into a scowl. "I'd almost approve, if I didn't want to slit the groom's throat."
"Well," I breathed, voice strained. "Sounds like there's some gossip I'm missing out on. Who's the groom?"
"One of the Lecovair," Brighid answered tightly. "But I do nothing for free—divert your course, Reese. We aren't bringing your charge to the capital just yet." She smiled at me. "First, our fledgling Paragon must perform a feat to earn her place among your ranks."
My heart hammered in my chest. Excitement overtook the nausea.
A Diath had stolen away Tirnanog. A Diath could bring it back.
The unsolvable mystery had narrowed into a need to find a single person. It was within my grasp, for the first time in twenty-five years.
Reese eyed Brighid warily—as though such antics were normal. "And what's that?"
"We're going to the city that was lost," Brighid said. "We're going to find Tirnanog."