49. Liam
Liam
Istumbled through an endless fog, beckoned by a song I could not deny.
As a child, this voice had called to me in my dreams. Mother had shaken me awake, face torn in panic.
'Don't listen to her,' she'd begged. 'Stay here, with me.'
Mother had abandoned me, eventually. And the dreams had stopped.
Fifteen years, I’d been free of them. Then I stepped foot in Galasvar, and my curse came rushing back.
I didn’t understand it. Mother had kept so many secrets, and I’d been too young to understand any of them.
All I knew was this: the Inquisitors wanted to burn us alive because of something she'd done, because the people whispered her name.
The Witch.
And in the void of darkness, I’d finally caught a glimpse of the one who controlled me.
Death, herself.
“Focus on the flame.” A voice broke through the mist. “Come toward it.”
Fire burned through the mist, through the shadows. Stumbling toward it, I felt the world around me sharpen. Too loud, too bright.
Gasping, I sat up. Fire flickered a breath from my nose.
Flinching away, I looked around. Panic rose in my throat, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.
Where the hell was I? It looked like a shitty cottage I’d find on the outskirts of Aenir.
“He lives,” the redheaded woman sitting at my side marveled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a miracle.”
“You alright, kid?” A blond man standing behind her asked.
I blinked, and they came into focus. Brighid, I recognized. But the Solheart behind her . . .
Was the bastard from Tsuyan—the man who’d been responsible for the attacks, who was chummy with Bláth.
Patting my belt, I found my dagger and drew it. Pain tore through my shoulder, and I winced, doubling over.
“Aren’t you feisty?” Quinn murmured, taking a step back.
“Relax.” Brighid pushed my hand down. “We’re among friends.”
“Friends?” I spat, glaring at Quinn.
Brighid shrugged. “Perhaps friends was too strong a word. Were we in the Empire, you’d be tied to a pyre by now. In comparison, being healed is a confession of love.”
Furrowing my brow, I looked up at Quinn, the only Solheart in the room, and the only one who could have healed me. Touching my side, I felt a tender line run up my chest and arm.
When had I been injured?
Throwing the ragged blanket off me, I stumbled to my feet. “Where are we? What happened?”
Brighid stepped out of my way. “We’re in the Ceorthan Shadowlands. Because you decided to take a lively jaunt into its heart.”
I froze. It hadn’t been a dream, this time.
“Where’s Mare?” I demanded.
“She’s here.” Brighid followed me to the door. “And fine. But you are not.”
Ignoring her, I stumbled out the door into a foreign world.
No, not a foreign world.
It was familiar.
The walkways weaving through the trees, the black fronds brushing the puddles of dark water . . . I knew it. Knew these mountains hugging the horizon.
Voices whispered at the edge of my mind. Beckoning me back to them. Toward the south.
Losing balance, I fell against a lantern post and gripped it tightly, trying to anchor myself to this world where I had control of myself.
Brighid stormed out of the cottage. Her head snapped up.
It struck me how silent this place was. And how loud the stomping footsteps approaching us sounded against the ebony night.
A woman wrapped in a dark purple coat came careening around the bend and stopped dead when she saw us. She threw back her hood. Golden curls spilled loose.
Bláth’s chest heaved, and she stumbled over words between heavy breaths. “I called my mount the moment I . . . I didn’t think . . .” A smile brightened her face as she grabbed my arm. “You’re okay?”
The last thing I could truly remember was bickering with this shady woman by a fire. Did I still dream? By the saints, why was she happy to see me?
“What a charmer,” Brighid murmured. “Getting a smile out of Bláth. A real one, too.”
Bláth turned to answer, but her lips pressed into a line. The cottage door opened, and Quinn stepped out. The two Solhearts locked gazes, and silence hung between them.
“Quinn,” Bláth breathed. “Give me one reason not to kill you.”
He sighed. “If you’re going to murder me, can we do it over wine?”
Bláth leaned over me, lifting my chin so she could look into my eyes. Her corset pushed her breasts together and up, and at the angle she leaned, they were a bit distracting.
Red peeked out from her neckline—my handkerchief.
“Truly brilliant, Bláth.” Brighid sat in an armchair by the fire and crossed her legs. “Now Reese thinks we’re all dead.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Bláth dropped my chin. “I had a feeling it was something like this, and if he found out . . .”
Quinn poured himself a glass of dark wine and leaned on the table. “Tell me he doesn’t think you all headed here?”
“No, I—" Bláth exhaled. “I spun a tale, said I saw shadows at the edge of our camp. It was pitch dark, and Solhearts can't see well, so . . . ”
I blinked at her. “He thinks we’ve been kidnapped?”
“I don’t know what he thinks. I had to get away from him. If he even thought you’d entered the Shadowlands . . . ”
Quinn rubbed his temples. “He’d slaughter every monster in his path to reach us.”
What a mess. Mare and I, though not linked by blood, shared the same curse. Plagued by the Shadowlands.
And now our secrets were out. We could no longer return home.
The shardwolf Quinn kept rose from its bed in the corner and trotted to my side. I shimmied away when it laid its enormous horned head by my side.
“Socks is a sweetheart,” Quinn said. “She doesn’t bite.”
“Quinn’s an asshole.” Bláth ran a hand down the shardwolf’s neck. “But that much is true.” Stepping away from me, she folded her arms. “I need answers. When did we decide to wage war on Muirashi? And why didn’t I know about it?”
“Because you work for Ethna,” Quinn said, crossing his ankles. “And we did it behind her back.”
“What?”
“Support for the war was growing each passing day. Iosef decided to bypass her. It was the people’s will.”
Pinching her nose, Bláth looked down.
“Iosef?” Brighid pressed. “Wasn’t that the name of Tirnanog’s general?”
“Yes.” Bláth released her nose and pressed herself closer to Quinn, looking up into his eyes. “Do you feel nothing? Having slaughtered the people you claim to be saving?”
“This kingdom cannot be fixed without blood.” Quinn’s yellow eyes narrowed. “And those people? Most would beg for their chains back if we took them away. The men, the lords? They have but a scrap of the power their betters hold, and yet they’d fight to the death to keep it.”
“We didn’t do this to overthrow Forlaith. We did this to protect the few who wanted to flee.” Stepping back, Bláth snatched up a glass of wine and walked away.
“Fuck them, right?” Quinn spat. “The little girls working your old brothel.”
Bláth’s shoulders seized up. Silence cut across the room like a whip.
“I guess they don’t deserve to be saved, huh?” Quinn said.
“You’d cut them down,” Bláth hissed. “Like you did so many others.”
“We only needed a foothold in Muirashi, and had we taken Tsuyan—”
“You’d have stopped? No. No, you wouldn’t have."
My head pounded and spun. Mist seemed to fill the room, but I blinked, and it vanished.
“Enough.” Brighid stood. “Squabble later.” She cupped her wine glass and drifted to my side. “Your mother. She was the Witch of Aenir, was she not?”
Looking down, I tried to repress my old memories—the ones I wanted to forget.
Of my mother's piercing gaze and parting words.
“Yes. She was.” I looked up. “This curse . . . do you think it has something to do with her?”
“Maybe. They say the Witch wielded unnatural magic. Do you remember anything about her?”
“No. Not really. Not anything like this.”
Bláth tucked a loose curl behind her ear and took a breath. “Ethna met her once, the Witch. Maybe she knows something that could help you.”
"What did this witch do, exactly?" Quinn asked. "Fifteen years ago, I was . . . " he trailed off. "Not paying attention to Aenir."
"Supposedly.” Brighid spread her hands. "She performed black magic, invoked the old gods, and summoned the dead. In truth, I very much doubt she was anything more than a woman who rebelled against the system."
Shifting away from the shardwolf, I rose shakily to my feet. “Mare won’t take any of this well. I should go find her.”
“You.” Bláth crossed the room and shoved me down. “Are going to rest.”
She knocked me over effortlessly. I hit the mattress and felt its siren call: to lie down and remain motionless.
“I’ll find Mare,” she said, stepping away.
Brighid followed her to the door. She paused, hand on the frame. “Don’t kill him, Quinn.”
The Solheart threw up his hands. When the door slammed behind the ladies, he tucked his hands in his pockets and sauntered to my side.
His cat-like eyes appraised me. “From what I’ve heard, you’d do well in our line of work.”
“No thanks." I leaned against the headboard. “I prefer pickpocketing—not grand heists and assassinations."
“I started off as a pickpocket.” Quinn patted the mattress, and his shardwolf leaped up.
I shimmied away from the beast, keeping to my corner as it curled up on the opposite end. White fur covered its paws, contrasting its black coat—the source of its name.
Quinn pressed a hand to the bedpost. “You know what has to be done, right?”
A threatening edge entered his voice. I instinctively reached for my dagger.
“You and your sister have learned our secrets,” he said. “You’re a risk to everything we’ve worked for.”
“Do I look like I’m a loyal little Forlaith soldier?” I stared at him, remembering the conversation I’d overheard in Tsuyan. “You were friends with our Paragon, right? So you know him pretty well.”
“Reese? Better than anyone, I’d guess.”
“He doesn't seem bad. And he obviously cares about Mare. If he—”
“Don’t,” Quinn snapped. “I know what he seems like, but he’s . . ."
"Clearly not fond of Forlaith or its laws." I leaned forward. "So why—”
"Because he's complicated." Quinn's eyes narrowed, his mouth tugged into a frown he tried to repress.
"Because he's suffered more than anyone should, and it changed him.
I tried to bring him to our side once. Alistair tried.
Reese made one thing very clear: should we turn against the Empire, he would name us enemies upon our next meeting. "
I bit my lip, holding back my retort.
I'd suffered, and it hadn't turned me into the Empire's dog.
"If you aren't one of us, we won’t let you leave here alive, but Reese?” Quinn paused, eyes far away, as though remembering something. “Reese will make sure you suffer before the end.”