Chapter Nineteen #2
With her magic free, there was so much more her mother could do to aid them in the coming war. She’d be able to predict Vairik’s next move, but perhaps, more importantly, she could delve into the past and reveal the secrets hidden by the Fae of old.
“Saoirse,” Zylah hissed again.
Saoirse’s heart sped at the sight of those flowers growing closer.
She couldn’t pull away. Eimear’s magic might see her as a threat if she tried to escape.
Instead, Saoirse took a deep breath and forced her muscles to relax.
She took another and slowed her heartbeat.
Another and part of the adrenaline began to ebb.
She couldn’t fight her way through this one.
In fact, the entire concept of fighting her mother at all was absurd.
Not simply because it was her mother and Saoirse would never lift a hand against her, but because Eimear was ten times stronger than Saoirse.
She’d heard all the legends growing up. Some had been believable, others impossible, but after witnessing what her mother had just created—
Saoirse gently curled a finger around one of the pulsing vines digging into her wrist. She let her magic flow into it. She didn’t intend to control the power, but rather coax it. She wanted to let Eimear’s forest see—no—feel that Saoirse was Eimear’s own flesh and blood.
Saoirse began by pouring out memories of herself as a child.
The moments when Eimear had carried her on her shoulders at festivals, just like Saoirse had done so many times with Rion.
Her first days of school and the training camps where she swore she’d emerge the strongest, even among the males.
Her younger self’s triumphant victory. Images of the times Saoirse had first used weapons and how Eimear had watched with a proud smile on her face.
She shared the treasured memories of them tending the palace gardens, two royals covered from head to toe in dirt while the servants fussed at every turn. Images of the tea shops, annual balls, the solstices, the males and females she’d attempted to court over the years.
Saoirse let it all flow without restraint.
The woody stems holding her in place accepted the magic, drinking it up like an offering. The deadly flowers stopped moving, as did the vines that had begun crawling up Saoirse’s leg. The entire world seemed to pause, waiting, evaluating.
Saoirse barely dared to breathe and then slowly, one at a time, the branches pinning her down loosened, pulling back to stand straight once again. Saoirse could feel Zylah’s relief as if it were her own.
“Stay there,” Saoirse commanded before carefully walking around the pulsing greenery that had just been pinning her in place. She climbed over another fallen tree, hands still pouring out her magic onto everything she touched.
The poisonous plants moved aside as Saoirse made her way forward. Even the ones wrapped around the tree directly surrounding her mother fell away like a curtain. Saoirse climbed the tree with ease and ducked under one of her mother’s arms until she stood face to face with Eimear.
She was … smiling. Even in her sleep, Eimear looked so serene.
So at peace. It reminded Saoirse of the time she’d found her mother lounging in the sun, a forgotten cup of tea left on the side table as she napped with a stray strand of hair falling over her face.
She remembered the way their father had approached slowly, then sat at her side, watching his mate rest in the garden he’d built just for her.
With trembling hands, Saoirse reached out and cupped her mother’s face, tears already blurring the edges of her vision. Alive.
Saoirse loosed a shaky breath and looked her over, trying to determine the best way she might extract her mother from the tree that had encompassed her body.
“Can you hear me?” Saoirse whispered, her tone soft and coaxing. Eimear didn’t move, not that Saoirse really expected her to.
Saoirse placed one hand on the thick trunk and fed her power into it, hoping to widen the hole so she could pull her mother free.
The tree only drank in her magic, using it for its own purposes.
Saoirse glanced toward the poisonous plants again.
They remained still, but Saoirse was certain if she tried anything violent, those flowers would react accordingly.
Saoirse tried her magic again, pouring more and more until sweat trickled down her temple. “Let me have her,” she whispered.
Nothing.
Saoirse chewed her lip.
“Try a rune,” Zylah called from behind Eimear. She kept her voice soft, as if sensing how precarious their situation had become. Zylah’s eyes kept flickering toward those flowers, and Saoirse wondered if Zylah would attempt to intervene should they strike out.
“Which one?” Saoirse called back. She’d learned a few simple ones geared toward healing and opening locks.
“Any of them.”
Saoirse didn’t want to risk drawing a knife, just in case, so she bit the inside of her wrist and dabbed her fingers into the blood. Saoirse drew a rune meant to unlock a door first. Her blood smearing over the rough bark.
Nothing.
She drew another, this one a bit more complex. Still nothing. Saoirse switched to those meant for healing. She worked through three, then Zylah instructed her on another, this one far more complicated.
Frustration crawled through her, gnawing at what remained of her nerves.
Frustration and desperation. They couldn’t stay here forever.
There were Dark Fae right on the other side of this created forest. She didn’t know if her mother’s magic was still fighting them off or if the creatures were hacking through the trees, making their way closer.
If Saoirse left her mother here, Eimear could very well be devoured. If she stayed, they might all die.
Saoirse studied her mother’s body. She glanced toward her outstretched arms, then dipped her fingers into her own blood again.
This time, Saoirse traced a rune right over her mother’s right wrist. The lines were more delicate than the others, but it symbolized something more akin to release than unlock.
She’d asked Sive about such a symbol, just in case they ever found themselves in iron.
The rune glowed blue, then her mother drew in a jagged breath and the thick branches holding her arms in place loosened their hold. Eimear’s eyelids fluttered and Saoirse had to move fast to prevent her mother’s head from falling forward.
The trunk around her mother’s body shifted and widened.
Saoirse hauled Eimear free and sank to the forest floor, cradling her mother’s frail form in her arms. She quickly searched her mother’s body for wounds, but her magic hadn’t harmed her in any way.
It didn’t appear as if the Dark Fae had reached her, either.
Her breathing and heart rate were steady as well. Thank the gods.
Saoirse stood, still watching the surrounding vines.
They crawled forward slightly, but not in a threatening way.
It was as though the plants couldn’t help but be drawn to Eimear.
Little sprouts emerged from the soil beneath them, reacting to the power still pouring from her mother as if she were a fountain.
Saoirse shifted Eimear onto her back and carefully stood.
They needed to move. With any luck, the others had taken care of the vile creatures that remained on the other side.
If they hadn’t, then she’d use her own power to get them home.
Hope blossomed through Saoirse’s chest as she took her first step back toward Zylah.
They were so close. She’d get her mother to safety.
She’d return the High Lady of Brónach home.