62. Mare
Mare
Radiant light cascaded over my hand. Unbearable pain tore up my skin—from the burns and the healing magic.
The healing magic that did not work on a child of the dark.
Reese pulled his hand back. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” I panted, cradling my hand against my chest. “Go heal the others—I’m a waste of your time.”
He lingered by my side, refusing to drop my hand.
“Reese, go,” I pleaded, pushing him.
With reluctance, he released me. The once lavish fort was filled with the injured, some so severely burned I doubted they would survive.
Reese rolled up his sleeves and knelt beside the nearest victim—a young Solheart woman.
Tightening the cloak wrapped around my back, I winced as it dug into my wound. It had stopped the bleeding, at least.
Nausea and anxiety twisted in my stomach. I hadn’t seen Liam since the phoenix fled.
The door scraped open, and Bláth pulled herself inside, limping, hand pressed to her arm. She set down a bag of medical supplies on the table beside me. “I can’t heal,” she said, hands shaking. “But I know a little about medicine.”
Uncorking a poultice, she poured it onto a cloth and wrapped it around my hand. It stung like hell, and I gritted my teeth.
“Keep that on there.” Bláth touched my arm. Grabbing her bag, she ran to help someone else.
Pressing the cloth down, I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the sounds and smells in this room—burnt flesh, wailing, crying.
I couldn’t take it. Stumbling to my feet, I fled the building, though the world outside was no better.
Embers still danced in the sky. Heat clung to my breath.
This fort might be forever changed—like Tirnanog.
A single oak, standing on the far side of the fort, remained untouched. Trudging across the burnt landscape, I slumped against its trunk and sank.
Brighid had been consumed by flame. Her corporeal body had vanished into the phoenix. And in Vaf’s play, the Diath had turned into a blazing dragon.
Could all Diath do the same?
I stared at my uncovered hand, picturing shadows consuming my being, tearing me apart, turning me into something else.
Into a monster, I supposed. The truth I hid inside.
Here, amongst piles of death, I didn’t feel much like a Paragon. I didn’t feel like a spy, either.
Now, more than ever, I had no idea who I was or where my path would lead.
I wanted to be a sword for Tirnanog. For my people, for those I loved. But the conviction I longed for would not blossom when I recalled what my people had done.
If only the world were so black and white.
True Paragons stood before death and faced it without fear. They tended to the wounded even when they themselves bled.
I had yet to accomplish anything. Yet to earn their title.
Whatever path I chose, whoever I became . . . choices for another day.
For now, I’d hide myself beneath a mask and train under Reese until I could be the sword this world needed.
Why had Cierthine chosen me?
Releasing a shaky breath, I leaned back against the tree. Caressed by the cooling balm, the fire burning on my hand slowly faded.
“Mare?”
Reese’s voice startled me. I snapped my eyes open, wondering if I’d fallen asleep.
Beads of sweat ran down his face, and his hair was damp. His black shirt clung to his skin.
“How many died?” I asked.
“Agendra’s taking a count.” He sat beside me and pulled the cloth off my hand to check my burn.
“I suppose,” I said quietly. “The Lecovair will be hesitant to attend your grand wedding.”
He sighed. “This is my father’s doing. I’ve already turned down Siobhan once.”
“You turned down the queen?”
“She’s so young,” he said, meeting my eyes. “Younger still, when she married the last Emperor, when we first met. Fifteen! How would I be any different from them?”
Queen Siobhan’s face had been round with youth, her voice filled with naiveté. She had married as a child and been widowed as one, too.
A crack splintered through my heart. Damn all the saints. Why did Reese have to be perfect?
Why couldn’t he misstep? Give cause for my heart to grow cold?
Why did everything he did make me want him more?
Someone with such a pure soul would turn on Forlaith—they would.
But I’d only have one chance to tell him the truth. Choose the wrong moment, and I’d doom more than myself.
I bit my lip. Vaf had promised me we would always stand on opposite sides, that I would never know the safety of love.
Reese caressed my cheek, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He didn’t ask if I was okay—he knew the answer.
I tried to ignore the tingling warmth on my skin. “We should pretend the night of the ball never happened. It’s for the best.”
“You can pretend—but I won’t.”
“You’re engaged.”
“Not to the woman I love.” His hand shifted to hold my neck. “I have to stay away from you, to keep you safe—but I won’t forget.”
Reese gently kissed my forehead, then pulled back, dropping his hand.
My mouth trembled, and I forced myself to look down.
Grabbing his sword, Reese stood abruptly. A Solheart approached us—his father, Lord Tiernan.
To the man’s credit, he looked like he’d been elbow deep in the chaos: Coat removed, sleeves rolled up, covered in sweat and blood.
“I have orders for you,” Lord Tiernan announced. “Orders the Lecovair throw their full support behind.”
“That never bodes well,” Reese muttered.
“That monster cannot be allowed to roam free. Pursue the phoenix—whatever it truly is—and kill it.” Lord Tiernan glanced at me. “And take your new apprentice with you.”
I looked up sharply. For a moment, I felt hope. The Lecovair had accepted me and would tell the lords of the land to leave me be.
But he had just ordered us to track down Brighid. And kill her.
“We’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Reese promised.
“Good.” The lord stared daggers at me. “You'd best hope you don't disappoint, girl.” Turning on his heel, he marched away.
Reese ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t look any more eager to follow his father’s orders than I did.
“Will you be okay here?” He asked, looking at me with soft, tender eyes.
I nodded. “I couldn’t stand being in there anymore.”
“I’m going to lend Agendra a hand.” He took a step away, then paused. “If you need me for anything at all, shout. I’ll come.”
“Even if I was screaming from a country away?”
“I wouldn’t let you get a country away, Sunshine.” He smiled faintly. “I’d find you.”
Clenching my uninjured hand, I watched him walk away. This mission would be hell for more reasons than I could count.
I closed my eyes again, but the sound of crunching leaves shook me awake.
A man shrouded in a heavy cloak stepped from behind my tree and knelt by my side. I had a feeling I knew who it was, even before he threw back the cowl.
Liam’s eyes retained a trace of mist—they made his pale green irises look white.
“Liam!” I sat up. “Where have you been?”
“Keeping out of sight, in case anyone saw my little parlor trick.”
“I saw it—what were you thinking?”
“That you were about to be eaten by a dragon.” He offered me a hand. “Come here. We’ve been summoned.”
“Must you word it so ominously?” I took his hand, grimacing as he hauled me up.
Everything burned. My back ached.
Wrapping an arm around me, Liam guided me to the walls behind my tree. He glanced back, ensuring no one watched us, then stomped the earth beside the stone. The earth rose in unnatural square formations, forming a stairway ascending the wall’s height.
“Up. Quickly," Liam whispered, running ahead of me.
Cursing, I hiked up my tattered dress and followed him. When I reached the top, I hesitated. A forest extended well past the fort's bounds, blanketed in lingering smoke.
Liam leaped off the wall and landed on the other side. He beckoned for me to follow.
The fall wouldn't break anything, but it would hurt.
I dropped down beside Liam, wincing as my knees protested. “You couldn’t have caught me?”
“I’m your brother, not your lover.” He turned on his heel and flipped up his hood.
I followed him into the smoky trees. “Brothers are supposed to care for their sisters.”
“Shame you aren’t my real sister, then.”
Normally, I’d have a witty retort to that. After everything that had happened . . . the truth of his words just made me sad.
Liam glanced back. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Your jokes never land, brother. It's alright."
He puffed out a faint laugh and turned away.
Cradling my burnt hand, I stared at the forest floor as we forged into its depths.
Shadows pooled around my feet and streaked across the piles of leaves and twigs—guiding my eyes ahead. The darkness hung around the forest like heavy mist, and from its embrace, like an actor emerging from the curtain, my scáde appeared.
She wasn’t alone. A second, male scáde stood alongside her, two paces taller and wider. A platinum blond Solheart in a black coat leaned against it, hand pressed to its neck.
Stumbling the distance between us, I reached out for my scáde. She knelt, pressing her head against mine.
Somber hums vibrated down her neck.
Her shadows caressed me, cold and comforting.
Quinn stepped forward. “I’ve been watching you. If the Lecovair keep their word, only death will steal the Paragon’s title from you now.”
I lifted my head to regard him, but kept silent.
“I have orders from Ethna. For both of you.”
“Leave Liam out of this,” I snapped. “I’m the only one who agreed to help you.”
“If he wants to help himself, he’ll heed her,” Quinn said softly. “I know you must be shaken. Solathair's ass—so am I. But that doesn’t change what we have to do.”
Gritting my teeth, I held my tongue. He was right.
“If we’re right.” Quinn looked at Liam. “You hail from Thanas. The time has come to ally with them—and you’ll be the key.”
“I’m not part of your little rebellion.” Liam folded his arms. “Why should I risk my life for you?”
“Because that’s the only place you’ll find answers. And a cure, for your curse.”
Liam looked away. He’d never told me about his birth mother—I’d never asked. Did he yearn to learn the truth about her, as I had pined for mine?
“Fine,” Liam said. “What do you want from Mare?”
Quinn stared at the ground before meeting my eyes. “Our spies in the capital have sent back troubling word. The Archbishop has finally approved an Emperor for the Queen to marry.”
“I know,” I said tightly.
“It's their reasons that concern us, even if we don’t entirely understand them. There’s something we must do—and you’re the only one who can do it.”
The Solheart looked pained. Hurt. The words struggled to escape his lips.
Saints. I knew what he would ask.
“Stay by Reese’s side, earn his trust,” Quinn said. “Throwing assassins at him would be futile; he can heal through poison. And he sleeps with one eye open—sword at his side. But he might lower his guard around you, given time. When he does . . . ”
My mind spun. To whom did I owe my allegiance, to whose side did I fall?
“Kill him.”