39. Mare
Mare
Igripped my mug until my knuckles whitened, staring into the crackling flames. Flames like those had consumed the pyre, turning a woman into ash.
A nobleman could be caught in bed with another man, and everyone would look the other way. Oh, we'd gossip, but he would suffer few consequences.
Should a foul-blood do the same . . .
My thumbs traced the mug's smooth clay, wondering what would have become of Liam had he never reached into Father's pocket.
Music carried from the stage behind me, and chatter rose from the people sitting around the tables. Here, by the mantle, I was alone on the loveseat.
A warm hand touched my shoulder. Bláth smiled down at me. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”
Reese had ushered us into our inn and promptly disappeared. He'd left me two parting words, his tone seeped in fear. ‘Stay here.’
My Paragon thought the Inquisitors would hurt me. But I worried for Liam.
“I’m fine,” I said. “My father covered my eyes whenever there was a burning. It's not exactly a pleasant sight.”
“No, it's not.” Bláth stared into the fire. “Did you see their faces?”
“Who’s?”
“The crowd’s. They were all entertained in some way, even if it was through horror. But.” Her brow wrinkled. “They were all scared. Scared of the flames they knew might take them, too."
So many people had burned in Aenir during my childhood. Everyone had been terrified. Would they draw the Inquisitor's gaze next?
“I think,” Bláth said softly. “It's because we’ve all done something wrong. They spit on the corpse in starlight, but do they still curse them at night?”
Liam strode past her and sat heavily in an armchair. “Some people are hunted because their very existence is wrong.” He crossed one leg over the other. “It must be nice. Being born right.”
I’d never heard such bitter words come from my brother. Tight worry choked me.
What had he hidden from me?
Liam’s words lashed across Bláth like a slap. She reeled and then scowled. “You know nothing of my life.”
“I know Solhearts are born with silver spoons in their mouths.” Liam flicked a hand, dismissing her.
Bláth spun on her heel and flew out the inn’s door. It slammed behind her, jangling the bell hanging from its frame.
The sound shook Liam like a tremor. Guilt bloomed on his face for what he'd said.
Brighid returned from the bar, gaze lingering on the door, eyebrows raised. She walked over, heels rapping on the wooden floors. “Mind if I join you?”
“You’re most welcome to.” I scooted over, making room for her.
Brighid sat with grace, long fingers curled around a glass of wine. “It takes quite the insult to upset Bláth. What did you do?”
“Told her the truth.” Liam shifted, looking away.
Clearing my throat, I changed the subject. “The . . . bard who spirited you from your manor—could you tell me about him?”
A knowing gleam brightened Brighid’s eyes. “Vaf? What’s there to say? I paid him, and he obliged. Bards are overeager and easy to manipulate.”
“No, I mean.” I shifted, sitting sideways on the couch. “You said he was a fae?”
Liam looked over, interested.
“He claims so.” Brighid sat back, flicking one leg over the other. “They guard their secrets well—little is known of them. But if one shows up? He most certainly wants something.”
“Do you know what?”
“No,” Brighid admitted. “I haven’t the slightest idea. He seems content to watch, for now.” She tilted her head back. “That’s not entirely true, I suppose. I know he wanted me to find you. In exchange, he offered to save me from my wedding.”
“Because your fiancé is a bastard?” I guessed.
“He is worse.” Brighid closed her eyes. “When I am wed, my life will be over. Everything will become an oppressive pall from which there is no escape.” Her ruby eyes flew open. “I am truly tempted to let the fae save me.”
The pain steeped in her voice raked across my heart like knives. Just who was this fiancé of hers?
“I don’t understand,” I said, tilting my head. “Why are you allowed to marry a Solheart? A nobleman, no less.”
“Lavaire was the first to return to Forlaith’s control. Fireborn are seen as . . . lesser cousins of Solhearts. In special cases, our unions are permitted.” She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this. Vaf—did he tell you something?”
“Yes.” I glanced over my shoulder and lowered my voice. “He said something I don’t understand.”
“Yes, well. He likes to speak in riddles.” She tapped her fingers on her glass. “I’m surprised by how upset you both look. Were not burnings commonplace during the hunt for the witch?”
Liam stiffened. I swallowed, reminded of something I’d yearned to forget.
A witch had come to Casaloch, twenty or so years ago. A woman who whispered of the old ways, fermenting rebellion and reviving the worship of the saints. The Inquisitors had burned the city nearly to the ground, searching for her.
Killing everyone who was associated with her.
So many had died. Father had kept me inside, for days on end, during the worst of it.
I raised my head. We had found Liam at the tail end of the hunt.
Just before the witch had vanished, Forlaith had given up the search.
Liam had been so scared of fire, back then. Plagued by nightmares.
I tried to find his gaze, but he stared at the wall.
His mug hit the end table with a loud thunk. Without a word, he retreated up the inn’s steps.
“My word,” Brighid muttered. "Everyone’s touchy tonight.”
I released a shaky sigh. “Can you blame them? I am, too.” I dropped my boots back onto the floor. “What if I’m not the Diath you think I am? What if they aren’t even real?”
“All that might be true. I am making an educated guess, from scraps of forgotten history.” Brighid placed a hand on my arm.
The world shifted around us, the inn melted away. Darkness engulfed me, and flames rose like pillars into the sky.
In the silence of our shared world, I steadied my breathing and calmed.
“When I heard you’d been chosen,” Brighid whispered. “I rejoiced. Women have been crushed underfoot by men for too long. Whatever it takes to see you recognized—I will do it. Should we fail in Tirnanog, we will find another way.”
“I . . . ” I hesitated, unsure what to say. “But you don’t even know me.”
“Trust me. I feel as though I do.” Brighid glanced away. “I cannot save myself. But I can try to save the girls who have not yet been born. So that . . . ” She sighed, voice cracking with pain. “So that they might have hope, if nothing else.”
She released me, and the darkness fled. We were back in the noisy inn.
“Get a good night’s rest.” Brighid rose. “We tread into darkness, tomorrow.”
I sat forward on my horse, waiting for my home to appear on the horizon. Never in my life had I traveled this far into the Tornaeth plains, toward Tirnanog.
It began as a faint color in the firmament, a glow of violet and pink. The great tree’s silhouette grew beneath the vibrance, tall as the heavens. Myriad colors danced in its leaves: electric pink, every shade of purple one could imagine, and the deep blues of storm clouds.
Then, I saw it: the endless storm cradling the city in its embrace.
Lightning streaked through the air, persistent and swift.
Thunder rumbled through the ground, like booming drums played by a distant god.
I could see the swirling wind, powerful enough to uproot trees, from the debris it carried in its grip.
Even a mile out, the wind tore my hair from its bonds and sent it flying. Covering my eyes, I lurched and nearly fell as my horse reared, refusing to go any further.
Liam’s coattails slapped across his face as the wind threw them wild. “Well!” He shouted above the storm. “There it is. I say we stop here.”
“Brighid?” Bláth called, somewhere behind me. “Do you have a plan?”
I glanced at the woman riding to my left. Her hair whipped around like a raging flame. “We have to get closer.”
Reese’s white horse trotted between us. “How?” He asked. “Killian could barely make it any closer.”
“Killian,” Brighid said sharply. “Did not have me.” She turned to me. “We’ll go forward on foot. Are you ready?”
Fear had dogged my every step since setting out for Galasvar. But not today. Sliding off my horse, I drew Cierthine from its hilt.
Reese leaped off Lady and caught my wrist. “I can’t let you go in there.”
“Brighid thinks we can make it,” I said. “Do you trust her?”
He glanced up at the noblewoman, fingers tightening around my arm.
“You said it yourself,” I continued. “I could slay a dragon, and they would still reject me. I’d work twice as hard for half as much respect. Every wound you take would be a noble sacrifice, but mine would be a sign of weakness. I need this, if I’m to have a chance.”
Reese’s brow furrowed tighter as he studied my face. “Then I’ll go with you.”
“I think not,” Brighid interrupted, slipping off her horse. “I can create a shield, but it will be taxing. Covering you just might kill me.” She nodded at me. “Cierthine is the key to this. I’m certain of it. I only need Mare.”
Cierthine was the key. That’s what Brighid had told the others.
When in truth, she thought it was the Diath. Me.
I gazed up at the storm. Magic had not come easily to me. Nothing stirred in me at the sight of storms, at the brush of wind.
Was I really who she thought? The most powerful Stormborn, heart melded as one with the tempest’s fury?
Reese's grip did not waver. He gritted his teeth, eyes lifting to the sky.
"I trust you, Brighid," he said reluctantly, hand loosening around my wrist. "The moment you cannot handle it anymore—turn back."
"I know my limits." Brighid looked up at Bláth. "Keep him from running after us, would you?"
"As if I could stop him," Bláth sighed. "Are you going to help Liam?"
I looked over at my brother. He was watching me intently, brows furrowed in worry. "Why wouldn't I want the Paragon to dash in after my sister?" He sighed. "But, Mare . . . " He hesitated before finishing his thought. "Do try to come back alive. Arranging your funeral would be a pain."
"It would be rather rude of me." I smiled. "I haven't even written you a will."