Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
No one spoke. Taran’s brothers huddled in the living room, seeking the quiet comfort of their family, their pack. His father brooded over a chess piece. Ruairi and Cyrus clutched the obligatory mugs of tea.
Taran tightened his fingers around his own mug. He wouldn’t have chosen Canon as Crown in a hundred years, but neither would he wish the fate of a failed candidate on the man. Now he was gone, and Taran had to be the one to tell Cadenza. Despite her aggravation with Canon, he knew she would grieve.
A tapping sound lifted his head. His father rapped the chess piece on the low table, beating out a rhythm.
Ruairi raised a melody, low and mournful, and Cyrus joined in.
Taran held back. He didn’t feel like singing.
Canon was dissolved into the cave. The Earth still lacked a Crown.
He was still stuck here in this forever-prison, and soon Cadenza and Reyna would be back with the bloody oracles.
Gifts from the Fates, bah! Hadn’t done his mother any good, had they?
His brothers’ song snuck into his chest. He shoved it away, but it crept back, building in his chest till he thought he felt his ribs creak. Was this what Cadenza felt when the music flowed through her? He gave in, keening a lament with his family.
Silence never persisted among the Guardians for long. It couldn’t. They had their origins in the songs of nature, animals being part of the natural world. The Fates shaped them in ancient times, granting them the ability to take on human form to do a job.
He doubled over, arms tight around his middle. He’d failed at that job. And been left without the chance to try again.
Ruairi’s bass rumbled into words. “We need a Crown, athair.”
Drostan said nothing.
“He’s right, Da,” Cyrus said. “Species are failing left and right. The rate of extreme weather events is skyrocketing. The Earth is—”
“Och, hold your wheesht.” Drostan waved his son quiet. “It was Thomas’s job to find the Crown. He doesn’t do his job, we can’t do ours. Nothing to be done about that.”
“Father, they’re right,” Taran said. “If Thomas won’t look—tonight being a bizarre exception, and I’m betting he didn’t take Canon into the cave willingly—then we must do something.
You’ve sat here with me long enough. I’ll not be the reason the earth has no Crown.
” He turned to his brothers. “Has anyone seen the Messengers recently? We could send a message, ask the Fates—”
“Ask the Fates what?” Drostan shoved out of his armchair, eyes blazing. “Ask them where the bloody hell they were when Thomas cursed you to this?”
Taran flinched, but Drostan persisted. “Ask them why they hide in their cave? Why no one accesses them except through the Messengers? How about why they haven’t replaced Thomas when he clearly doesn’t care what happens to the world?
” He was shouting now, cheeks red. “Or maybe, why after ages and ages of serving them, they couldn’t give me a straight answer about how to keep your mother safe?
” His voice broke on the last word, and he spun to the window, his back to his sons.
Taran didn’t answer. He had no answers.
“Father,” Cyrus tried again. “You know Ruairi and I have been searching for the other Guardian families. They’re all gone—Jaguar, Bear, Tiger, Eagle, everybody. Gone. That’s why no one else showed up in the cave tonight. We”—he pointed between the four of them—“are all that’s left.”
Tires crunched on the gravel outside, and Drostan peeked out the window. “But we’re not the only ones left, are we? We found Reyna, and that right in our own backyard.”
“I think it was more like she found us,” Taran corrected dryly.
“Aye, aye.” Drostan brushed off the comment. “But a new Guardian. How do you explain that?”
“Yes, how do you explain Reyna?” Cyrus stood, hands on hips. “She took herself out of the cave tonight. We’re pulled to the cave anytime there’s a candidate for Crown. We can’t help it, and we can’t get out till it’s over. So how did she?”
“You better be glad I did, wolf-boy, or we wouldn’t have these!” Reyna posed triumphantly in the front door, holding the oracles high.
Cadenza followed her into the cottage, beaming. “I think we made a pretty good team.”
Reyna fist-bumped her. “You know that’s right.”
Taran leapt to his feet and scooped Cadenza into a hug, feeling his body relax under her touch.
“I’ll get more tea. There’s plenty to go over tonight.” Drostan headed to the kitchen.
Reyna handed the oracles to Cadenza and followed him. “I’ll help you.”
Mugs clinked as Reyna laid them on a tray. Water splashed into the metal kettle, and the burner knob clicked when Drostan set it to boil on the stove. Reyna concentrated on the small, homey sounds to keep the tangle of conflicting emotions stewing in her stomach under control.
“That was quite a feat this evening,” Drostan said softly. “The first time the cave draws you in is disorienting enough without everything else you had to do tonight. Are you alright?”
Reyna searched for the right words. The triumph coursing through her blood over retrieving the oracles was real.
And heady. But so was the fear. In her moments inside the cave, she’d heard the other Guardians and seen their suits of armor standing at attention.
Each suit had held a sword. A blade, forged and folded in fire for strength, and ground to a razor-sharp edge made to sever heads from necks. Made to kill.
“Drostan,” she started. “Finding you guys, finding out about being a Guardian—it feels right.” She clutched her hands in front of her, like she could hold onto the identity that she’d sought for so long.
“And I feel it, that need to protect the people I care about. But I don’t know.
” She paused and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.
“When I found Cadenza at Canon’s fundraiser, I had this thought.
To kill Vasilios.” She shuddered. “To end him. And he was there, trying to hurt us, trying to kill Cadenza. I’m sure he would’ve been happy to kill all of us that night.
” Her words tumbled out in a rush. “And I had him there—I had the chance. But I didn’t take it.
I don’t know that I could. Is that really what we do? Kill people?”
Drostan closed his eyes, lines creasing his brow. “Oh, Reyna. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you young people had to get mixed up in all this.”
He dropped into the chair next to her and squeezed her hand. “I wish I could tell you that’s never a part of this life, but that would be lying. The Silence want just that. Silence. No music. No green, growing world. Just blank sameness. And we can’t let them drain the world to that, can we?”
She saw it then—the world a buzzing monotone, devoid of color. No creative fire, no cooling water. Just a stagnant, unchanging nothing. She swallowed and shook her head. No, they couldn’t allow that.
“Keep your kindness, Reyna lass,” Drostan said. “Never lose it. But likely enough, a day will come that there’s a job needs doing, and you’ll be the one there to do it.”
Taran sank into the couch and wrapped one arm around Cadenza. The carvings on the oracles shone in the lamplight, and a sliver of hope played its way into his heart.
“Where would you go?” he whispered into her ear.
She laid her head on his chest as if listening to his heartbeat. She did that often. Sometime he’d have to ask her about it.
“Somewhere away,” she said. “Away from the Silence, away from the Fates. Away from my mother even. Just away. With you.” She wove her fingers through his, and Taran touched them to his lips.
“Sounds perfect.”
Cadenza lifted her head to look at him. “Canon showed up after all tonight, to keep Thomas busy. Weird, right? And he said something odd …” her voice drifted off. “But I didn’t see him again after the concert. Did he call here, or come back?”
“Tea’s here.” Drostan banged through to the living room with extra mugs and a fresh pot.
Taran busied himself pouring a cup for Cadenza, grateful for the delay. He’d put off seeing her horrified face for a few extra minutes if he could.
She cleared her throat and patted the oracles. “Ok, we have them. Come si fa? How does this thing work?”
“From the research I did,” Reyna said, rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck.
Taran glanced at his father. He’d have to ask him what they talked about in the kitchen.
First time to the cave was never easy. “You just ask it a question, out loud, and it opens and ta da!” She posed her hands around the oracle.
“There’s your answer. Is that about right, Norroways? ”
Drostan nodded. “Aye, that’s about right.” He pulled the chess piece from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers, face morose.
“What’s up with you guys?” Reyna asked. “We all worked our butts off prepping for this, and amazingly, it worked, but y’all are all mopey like you don’t care.”
None of them answered.
“Let’s take care of the oracle first. Then we can discuss other things,” Taran finally said, stroking Cadenza’s hair. “Just remember, an answer from the Fates doesn’t always give you what you’re looking for.”
Cadenza lifted her chin and hefted one of the oracles from the table with both hands. “As Babbo used to say, ‘Tentar non nuoce.’” She gave him a smile, and he translated out loud.
“Never hurts to try.”
The rest of them gathered around the back of the couch to watch. Cadenza’s eyelids fluttered closed while she sucked in a deep breath. The little slice of hope burrowed deeper in Taran’s heart, an uninvited guest. He held his breath, afraid of letting it stay.
Cadenza opened her eyes. “How do we break the curse put on Taran Norroway by Thomas Learmonth of Ercildoun?”
A seam cut through the middle of the wood, and the top half of the dome hinged open.
Smoky crystal lined the interior, like a geode.
Something lay curled in the bottom half.
Cadenza lifted it out, eyes alight. Taran cringed at the expectation on her face but couldn’t help himself from leaning forward either.