Chapter 24
Elodie
The meadow is a sea of silver grass, swaying in the wind. It looks the complete opposite to the golden fields I saw with Rowan days before. My arm still throbs beneath the bandage, the cloth now coated in red.
“My blood. Why did it do that?” I ask Bryn, still unable to process what happened. Bryn keeps her focus on the Black Heel shards as she arranges them in a geometric pattern.
“I wish I knew, Elodie. I have never seen that happen. I know of only one magic connected to blood. The blood you give to cast a rune.” She stops to look at me,
“Maybe it’s because you’re not from here? And the earth recognises it?” It’s a valid explanation, actually. The king said that old magic runs through the veins of this land. Maybe it’s just because I’m an outsider?
“You’re probably right,” I say, easing the panic in my chest. A rustle in the bushes behind me makes me jump, my hand flying to the dagger Rowan shoved into my hand before he left.
Two figures emerge from the treeline. Rowan and…
Mara. He looks just the High Warden I know he is, his jaw set in a hard line but his eyes find mine instantly.
He rushes to my side, his hands catching my face.
“Are you hurt?” he rasps, his eyes lingering on the bandage.
“I’m fine. Rowan, the guards—”
“I sent them to the watchtower, but it won’t be long before they report to the king.” He looks at Bryn now, too. “The king is desperate. He thinks Elodie has fled with the knowledge of the plant. We have little time.”
“Then we do it now,” Bryn commands, standing up. She grabs a pouch from her pocket, forming a circle of salt around the flint. Mara moves forward, grabbing Bryn’s shoulder.
“Bryn, you make sure you know what this is asking of you. Whatever it takes, you don’t let it be your life. You hear me? I will not lose you too,” she says, her voice wobbling, tears streaming down her face.
“Mother, it’s okay. I already told Elodie it’s not taking too much, I promise,” she says, taking a second pouch and sprinkling dirt onto the flint.
“My knowledge of runes might not be as extensive as your father’s. But I’m absolutely certain, Bryn, that undoing a rune this ancient will attempt to demand a significant price.” Bryn doesn’t respond, not even turning to face us.
“Bryn. What does it take?” Rowan asks more sternly. She ignores us, taking a small blade to her finger and dropping her blood onto the stones. She looks at me, giving me a soft, fragile smile. The silence turns heavy.
“Bryn,” Rowan seethes, stepping forward, pushing in front of her. “What is the price?” He asks again.
She finally looks at her mother and Rowan, but her eyes don’t focus on them. She pulls out a parchment from her pocket, kneeling beside the rune.
“It’s a trade, Rowan. I can handle it. There is no magic without consequence.” She turns back to the stones, her shoulders hunching as she chants a mumble of words in a language I don’t recognise. The air changes instantly.
The Black Heel shards start to hover, spinning in a slow clockwise rotation. Bryn’s words begin to sound like a struggle as she pushes her arms forward.
Mara warns lowly,
“Rowan.”
Orange fissures split from the centre of the rune, spreading in jagged lines through the soil.
“Rowan, she can’t take any more.” Mara shouts over the roaring sound of the wind. I move forward on instinct, unsure what to do, fear and panic rising in my stomach. Rowan fixes his gaze firmly on Bryn and leans forward, as if ready to pull her away.
"Bryn, stop, it’s too much,” Mara shouts at her daughter.
In the same second, Bryn collapses to the floor, her head bowed down as she heaves heavy breaths, trying to push out her words.
We all rush forward when a splintering white light erupts from the runes, sending us flying backward.
For a second, the world is nothing but a high-pitched ringing and the smell of scorched grass.
“Bryn!” Rowan’s voice is a jagged roar. Desperation I have never heard from him before.
He scrambles to his feet, his eyes wild and searching.
Mara is crawling toward the centre, her fingers digging into the dirt.
Bryn lies in the centre of the scorched circle, her breath shallow and ragged.
Her head lolls to the side, her eyes closed shut.
No.
She can’t be.
Mara’s desperate voice rings out through the meadow, a guttural sound so heartbreaking I close my eyes.
Rowan comes to my side, his arms wrapping around me as he pulls me to stand.
I look toward Bryn’s lifeless body when a figure appears from behind the wall of smoke, rushing to Bryn’s side.
He lifts her by the shoulders, dragging her out of the circle, just as a final, violent arc of orange lightning strikes the spot her heart had been seconds before.
Rowan freezes at my side, his hand halfway to his blade when he drops it to his side.
“Kael?”
“I’m gone for less than a week, and you have my sister undoing one of the oldest binds in the kingdom?” he says, anger slipping from his tone. Mara reaches Bryn, her hands slowly trailing over her fragile form.
“Kael?” Rowan says again, as if he can’t quite believe who is standing in front of us. Admittedly, I’m not sure if I can believe my own eyes either.
“How the hell did you get back? Where the hell did you go? You left us,” Rowan shouts, raw emotion pouring from him. I rush to Bryn and Mara, my eyes locking on the way Bryn’s skin has turned a pale grey. Oh god.
“Is she?” Before Mara can answer, Bryn lets out a ragged cough, lurching onto her side and coughing up a dark black liquid.
“Oh my god, my baby,” Mara sobs, reaching for Bryn’s face, searching her eyes for signs of her daughter.
“I’m okay,” she says, her voice stripped of everything, so croaky that I can barely make out what she says.
“Oh, thank God,” I whisper, releasing a heavy breath and letting my head hang back in pure relief.
“Is she okay?” Kael asks, rushing to Mara’s side. Mara blinks rapidly, her eyes flicking between Kael and Bryn.
“Kael? Is that really you?”
“It’s me. I’m back, you’re okay. Everything’s okay,” he says, embracing Mara in a firm hug.
“Elodie. My favourite little gardener. Did you miss me?” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.
A hysterical laugh bubbles in my throat, half sob and half relief.
The shock of Bryn’s collapse is still vibrating through my bones, but Kael’s humour is like a physical wave of calm. So normal. So him.
“I know you will all have a lot of questions, but I think there is someone who can explain it all a lot better than me.”
A figure steps out from the clearing behind me. I can’t quite make out his face, but Rowan moves closer to him, stopping dead in his tracks as they meet.
“Masen?” I hear Rowan say, the sound falling from his lips as if he were calling out to a ghost. I look back down at Bryn, checking to make sure she is breathing, that her eyelids are still flickering with life before I look back.
My eyes linger on the back of the figure standing next to Rowan.
There is something about the way he holds his shoulders, the slope of his frame that feels like a whisper of a memory, but I shake it off.
Then he speaks and the world stops.
My hands freeze on Bryn’s arm.
I know that voice.
That is the same voice that taught me how to tell a poisonous root from a healing one.
The voice that showed me how to play chess like a winner.
The voice that looked out for me, always.
I stand up slowly, my legs feeling as though they belong to someone else. Ignoring Rowan’s whispered command to stay back, I approach the man whose back is still turned to me. At the mention of my name, he turns to face me.
“Hey, buddy,” he whispers softly, as if it’s a normal day. Like we were just starting our day at work.
“Sam?”