48. Mare #2
"You look so lost and confused." Vaf smiled wryly. "And I'm feeling generous. Secrets, secrets, and more secrets. Care for the answers to a few?"
"Ha," I laughed bitterly. "I'd kill for someone to be honest with me for once."
"Tsk, tsk." He waved his hand, and a ball of fire erupted in his grip. "Did you not heed Brighid? You should watch your words around fae."
I wanted to answer, but my tongue and lips froze. Mesmerized, I could but stare at the flame growing in his palm.
And the shapes taking form in its majesty.
The world around me became fire, and as its embers dulled and cooled, I stood in another place. In a living tale, like the play about the Diath he'd put on for me.
My eyes looked where he willed; my limbs would not move. I could but watch.
A familiar city sprawled below me—bricks painted faint pastel colors, clustered on a hill of lush green grass. Mountains sprawled in the distance, covered with thick forests.
Aenir's capital city: Casaloch.
A woman and child huddled under a wagon at the back of a dim alley. Chocolate brown curls cascaded over her back and hung around her eyes. And while I did not recognize her, I knew the child she clutched well.
Liam, a tiny thing with pale green eyes, no more than seven years old. He clung to the woman, trembling.
"Don't breathe," she whispered. "Keep quiet. They'll pass." Clamping a hand over his mouth, she peered from beneath the wagon.
I saw her face. She looked just like Liam—they had the same soft features and high cheekbones.
This was his mother: a full-blooded Earthborn with rich brown skin and onyx eyes.
Thundering steps carried down the street—two Aenir soldiers in forest green tabards ran by, followed by a Solheart dressed in white. A black-feathered hat hung over his eyes as he peered down the alley, hand moving toward the rapier at his belt.
I wanted to reach out, but I could not move. And the scene burst into flame, carrying me away from my brother.
The embers fell away, revealing a dingy brothel filled with scantily clad women. The men had hair in shades of brown and red, with tanned skin. Fireborn.
A woman with a severe face sat behind a counter, flipping through a ledger. She looked up as a middle-aged man dropped his coin purse before her.
He brushed back his stringy brown hair. "I'm looking for your youngest."
The woman eyed him, then turned her head. "Bláth!" She yelled.
From the back of the room, a young girl rushed forward. Her blonde curls hung to her mid-back, lying over a thin white gown.
I knew this woman, her face, her golden eyes. But she was much younger—no more than fourteen, judging from her pudgy cheeks.
"Is she to your liking?" The madam asked.
"She'll do." The man fished out a handful of coins and dropped them on the counter.
Leaning forward, the madam swept up the coins, counted, and nodded. Taking Bláth by the arm, the man led her toward one of the back rooms.
Bláth's face twisted with disgust for the faintest moment before she smiled broadly at her customer.
My stomach twisted, but I couldn't look away. Couldn't speak. The door slammed, hiding them away.
Flame erupted around me, destroying the scene of the brothel. From its embers, slums began to form.
Slums I did not recognize. Rickety wooden buildings mingled with old brick hovels. Dirt paths paved between dead yards and broken wagons. Two boys sat on the steps of a tiny cottage, its window broken and barred with wooden planks. They wore only rags, tattered shirts, and dirty pants.
One had flaming red locks, the other platinum blond. When the red-headed boy raised his head, revealing his brilliant golden eyes, I realized who they were.
Reese and Quinn, a lifetime ago. Children.
"We're dead," Quinn said, matter-of-factly. He sounded nothing like the man I'd met. His voice was higher-pitched, twanged with a strange accent.
"I'm not letting them kill you for what I did," Reese hissed.
"He was one of them nobles." Quinn shifted to face Reese. "They'll kill everyone who ever looked at you—just to send a message."
"I know." Reese's youthful voice quavered with fear. "But it didn't even matter! Nora, she . . . "
Quinn looked down. "Nora's tough. She'll be okay." His yellow eyes narrowed. "It's you I'm worried about."
"They didn't hurt me half as bad as they hurt her." Reese turned his head, and I noticed blood stains coating his side. "You weren't there. You didn't hear the way she . . . ”
"I should've been," Quinn seethed, jaw setting. He buried his face in his knees. "Maybe it'll be quick. If the Brightspears don't get us first, Alistair will definitely kill us."
"Will he?" A slightly older boy, lanky and lean, covered in a tattered cowl, stepped into the yard. "I think he'd be damn proud."
I recognized that voice. Pain shot through my side where Alistair had stabbed me.
Reese shot to his feet, and I saw the full extent of his injuries. Bruises and dried blood coated his limbs, and deep purple welts marred his left eye. Someone had beaten him nearly to death.
"They hurt you," Alistair spoke in a deadly whisper. "Now we'll hurt them."
Reese winced and stumbled. I wanted to lunge forward, to catch him, but the fire stole them away. I wanted to scream, to make the fae lord release me, but I had no voice. No say.
When the flames cleared, I was in a beautiful manor of rich red brick. Flowers and creeping vines grew in abundance, and a lush garden waited outside the windows.
A noble lord descended the sweeping stairwell, hand in hand with a young girl. Her hair caught my eye—it raged with every color found in fire. A white ribbon bound it back.
The man must have been her father. They looked alike and shared the same ruby eyes. His cloak swept behind him as he reached the bottom step and bowed to the Solheart awaiting him there.
The Solheart had a memorable face with a strong jaw and nose. His sandy-blond hair was neatly swept back, falling to the shoulders of his white finery.
"Thank you for this." The Fireborn lord rose from his bow. "I should be back within the week. Brighid is in your hands."
Placing his hand on the girl's back, he pushed her forward. She flinched and looked down.
"That's what friends are for, Astartus," the Solheart said, voice rich and charismatic. "It's no trouble at all."
Lord Astartus squeezed Brighid's shoulder. "Enjoy yourself, my dear. It's not every day one of our kind gets to see Forlaith."
Swallowing Brighid stared longingly at her father as the Solheart led her away. A servant waiting at the doors carried the pair's bags of luggage.
The Solheart man opened the carriage doors and helped Brighid inside. The door closed behind them, but I could see them through the thin windows.
He brushed back her hair and ran a hand down her cheek. She flinched away from him.
My stomach churned, but I could not look away.
The fire changed. Brighid sat on the edge of a lavish bed, hands knitted in her lap. The lord sat by her side and pushed her dress off her shoulders.
I tried to look away, strained to shut my eyes to the man undressing the child. Though I felt like I had no body in this place, I felt hands settle on my shoulders.
"Don't look away now," Vaf's voice whispered. "She didn't get to. None of them did."
My body wouldn't obey. I was frozen, forced to watch the Solheart tear the ribbon from Brighid's hair, as he pushed her down onto the bed.
"Stop," I managed to breathe a single word.
"Stop?" Vaf twisted my shoulders, and the world spun. When my vision cleared, I was back in the red brick manor, watching Lord Astartus hand his daughter off to the wretched Solheart man.
"Keep Lord Sorley company tonight, Brighid," Astartus instructed. "I need to finish some work up in my study."
Brighid was older now, taller, but still lanky with pudgy cheeks. Just a girl. She wore a look of resignation as the Solheart led her to a room and shut the door.
Vaf forced me to watch, this time. Watch what should never have been done to a little girl. The sound of her quiet whimpers would haunt the rest of my days.
The horror was only broken when night freed Brighid from the Solheart's embrace. She stumbled into the garden, curled into a ball, and wept.
Fire consumed the garden, whisking me away to some new atrocity.
"Stop!" I managed to croak.
A hand shoved into my back, tossing me forward. I landed on my hands and knees on a wooden walkway. Mist hung in the air, humid and heavy.
I caught my breath, overwhelmed. Disgusted. But closing my eyes did not erase the memories.
"Go ask Brighid," Vaf said, kneeling beside me, voice a low whisper. "Who she is marrying. Ask her if she has any choice." Standing, he walked away, voice fading into the distance. "You lived a blessed life, Mare. You must feel so lucky."
Lifting my head, I looked back. But the fae lord was gone.
I needed to get up. Needed to find Liam.
But I couldn't.
Vaf's magic no longer restrained me, but I was still frozen. Broken.