Hazel
Ghosts? Is that why I remember this castle on a hill?
We get closer and my confusion deepens. I don’t think I’ve been here, but I can’t shake the feeling I have.
Like I’m seeing a dreamscape made real. As we wind our way up the steep path to the imposing gatehouse, we are surrounded by howls. Warden tuts under his breath.
“Barghests love a bit of drama,” he grumbles.
The gate is already open by the time we reach it and make our way into the main courtyard. The place is filled with life, men and women stoking braziers, making weapons, shifting animal fodder, spinning wool.
Warden reaches the stone steps which lead up to the vast Keep, and he swirls himself into his human form, catching me, as always, in his arms.
“That was easy,” I say. I’m not sure if those in the courtyard have even looked up at our passage through their domain.
“This won’t be,” Warden murmurs.
“The Brag.” A strong female voice has my head spinning.
A tall, statuesque woman stands at the top of the steps. She wears a long dress in a deep moss-green with gold edging. Her lips are drawn back to reveal fangs and her tawny hair tumbles down her back in a plait shot through with gold thread.
“Princess Ellie,” Warden says, making his way up the steps and not putting me down. “Is he in?”
“What is this?” the woman asks. “You did not need to bring Reavely a gift.” She narrows her eyes and inspects me. “He has a female.”
“I am not a gift!” I exclaim.
“Queen Wynter is a human like this one,” the princess says. “Which is why Reavely won’t want another.”
“Barghests sometimes take more than one mate,” Warden says to me. “Although it’s usually the female’s prerogative, isn’t it, Princess?”
He finally sets me on my feet when we reach the top step, and I smooth down my dress, feeling travel worn next to the impeccably dressed princess, who has changed colour, her skin reddening.
“Sometimes,” she responds. “Depending on the quality of the males available.”
“I agree,” I respond. “So much is dependent on the quality of the males available.” I glare at Warden.
“Another human I like,” the princess says. “Come, Brag. Reavely is in the rose garden.”
She leads us through a huge iron studded wooden door and the initial darkness of a vast hall. We’re not in it for long before she takes a side door, this time far more modest, and we’re outside once again in a pretty courtyard.
An enormous male stands in the centre near a fountain. Next to him is a human woman. At our entrance, they both turn, and I see she is very, very pregnant.
For a moment, seeing her floors me. The first human I’ve seen in a long time. So long, my memory is fuzzy as to how long it might have even been.
And to see her, like this, in the Yeavering, pregnant, almost ready to give birth…it’s so normal, and yet not normal at all.
I hear Warden calling my name, but it seems like he is a long way away. There is a darkness which fills my vision and his voice is gone.
“Well, look what we have here.”
“Leave me alone,” I respond to the voice which is as much inside my head as outside. Thin, reedy, unpleasant like sulphurous smoke.
“That I cannot do. I want you. If I don’t get you, the Brag will have to die.”
“Joke’s on you. He can’t die,” I respond dryly, my mouth not wanting to form the slurred words.
“Is that what he thinks?” The voice chuckles and it makes my skin crawl. If I have skin. I’m not sure what I am anymore. “He is wrong. Nothing is entirely immortal unless it is a god, and the Brag is not godly.”
“But you are?”
“Close enough.”
“By your own logic, that’s not enough,” I respond, starting to get bored with the obtuseness of this conversation. “So if you touch him, you’ll have me to deal with.”
“Interesting.” The voice is quieter now, as if it’s further away.
“I have the sword of doom,” I call after it.
“I’ll be waiting.” The words are a whisper on the wind.
“Hazel!” There’s a bellow in my ear, Warden’s voice.