Chapter 8
A Bare Verity
HARLOT
Reluctantly, Emrys lets me go, as we both know I need to return to the inn to face my mother.
That morning, when Fynn grabbed my arm, it took everything in me to convince Emrys not to appear from the shadows to rip my brother’s throat out for laying a finger on me again with the sole purpose of hurting me.
It doesn’t matter to Emrys that he knows his mind is being poisoned against his will, too.
His rage is palpable, pulsating through the bond and from the shadows surrounding me in the room, as if they were in sync with his raging mind.
I’m convinced he would gladly scorch himself to death just to tear every limb from my brother’s body.
It is apparent that Fynn felt Emrys’s presence vibrating through me; his startled eyes gave him away.
As I was waiting upstairs for Fynn the other day, Emrys informed me that the witch at the inn—a Death Witch—downstairs had told my brother that something had changed about me.
Still, she is too scared to tell him the whole tale, although she knew immediately that I bonded with a being darker than vampires and witches combined.
It is a smart move on her part to try to remove as many shadows as possible before speaking to my brother about me, but my mate controls the shadows; the shadows do not limit him.
She might be a witch wielding shadows, but she still has much to learn.
Her golden eyes follow me as I set foot into the inn, all curtains still wide open, daylight pouring into the dark dining area. I grin, then scoff at her to let her know I understand what she’s trying to pull off, as if that will help.
“Lovely sunny weather today, isn’t it?” I say to no one in particular as I walk to the stairs.
She lowers her eyes and, without saying a word, starts walking toward the windows, closing the curtains taut, shrouding us in a welcoming darkness.
I smile as Emrys tells me I shouldn’t taunt Death Witches, not even the young ones, although he will have no objection to killing one if required, no matter how young or old.
“Mother? You’re back.”
I'm surprised to see my mother's furious face. Emrys told me she had gone back to the inn, which means the books have come back too. I refuse to spend another second with Fynn or talk to him, and I mainly focus on my mother.
“Who are you?” I say with genuine surprise to the girl sitting on my bed as I frown questioningly at my mother.
“Harlot! My sweet child!” Mother throws herself into my arms, holding onto me tightly. I hug her back as I glance warily at the girl. “You returned safely, my dear.”
She lets go and starts inspecting me to see if I'm hurt in any way; when she sees I’m unscathed, the scowl returns to her face.
“You foolish girl! Look at Jodelle.” She points at the girl, who gives me a sheepish smile as I look at her, noting the bandages and wounds on her. “She came from that same forest as you!”
I ignore my mother and extend a hand to Jodelle to introduce myself. I am eager to learn what she is exactly, sitting here so comfortably among us. Jodelle takes my hand without hesitation and shakes it. There is no grimace on her face, no burning flesh.
Another human? Emrys exclaims.
According to my mother, she came from your woods. It seems I was lucky to find you first. I muse back to him.
She never found me because her mere sight repulses me.
The trees told me about her some time ago.
I just couldn’t be bothered with her. The wood has a will of its own, and I don’t interfere with it, keeping those safe if they want to, or taking the life of whoever they want to feast on.
It’s how the soil is so fertile; it takes care of itself.
I can hear him smirk, and I bite my lower lip. It’s sexy. Why was I ever so foolish as to leave his side, even for a short while?
“What’s wrong with your eyes? Those are no longer storm clouds, more like the vortex of night…”
Mother grips my chin firmly, tugging me to her, and I hear Emrys growl, raging in my mind as he senses my unease. I tear away from her as I mutter; nothing is wrong with me; I’m getting older, that’s all. Mother's eyes narrow to slits as she takes me in.
Fynn points at me accusingly. “You did something in those woods. Caria told me you smell different to her.”
Agitated, I glare at Fynn, who is being an annoying prick and minding my business with that damn witch of his.
I look at him angrily. I want to cut out his tongue so he can no longer speak.
I briefly envision his mouth with just a bloody stump for a tongue, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth as I take his tongue and cut the muscle loose.
The thoughts are getting worse, more aggressive; the bonding with Emrys numbs them slightly, but images of slaughtering Fynn are constantly swimming up to the surface, where I try to drown them out. But it’s becoming harder.
“Who’s Caria?” The female’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
Jodelle jumps from the bed, folding her arms in irritation, not even wincing from the wounds she appears to have on her feet. She stares Fynn down, who cowers under her glare. Interesting. I take back the conversation before Fynn can open his mouth and return the attention to me.
“The pretty witch downstairs, the one with the envious long red hair and golden eyes. I seriously thought you two were a thing, as in being together. Does Caria know you have a new… fling, Fynn?” I taunt, eager to see how this unfolds.
I address Jodelle as non-important—a fling, something he has on the side, on purpose.
In an instant, Jodelle propels down the stairs, as her anger flares up the moment I speak the words.
Fynn runs after her, screaming at her to stay away from Caria, as I hear Jodelle swearing and yelling.
Hopefully, the witch will have some control over her shadows.
Mother swears at me before she follows Fynn downstairs to intervene.
I wait a few minutes, listening to the screaming and crying downstairs.
I hear furniture being broken, meaning Caria and Jodelle are fighting, which gives me some time to snoop.
I quickly move to open Mother's bag. I pull out the books, all three of them.
You’re so cunning. Emrys purrs.
I hate Fynn with my entire being, and as for my mother, I will never forgive her for what she did to me, all that she keeps from me. I reply, and our bond tugs in agreement.
I flip through the books as I strain my ears, ensuring the fight downstairs is still ongoing.
I can’t take entire books, she’ll notice.
I run my hands through the pages, scanning the written text as fast as I can. I stop at a page that depicts a family tree, describing each member of my bloodline. I see both my name and Fynn’s name. Steps are pounding on the stairs, and another pair joins them.
Rip out as many pages as you can, darling, and throw them into the shadows. I’ll take care of it.
I do as Emrys tells me, and I rip out a stack of pages, throw them hastily in the shadows under the bed, and then plunge the books back into Mother’s bag. The pages sink into the shadows just before the door swings open. I get up and look at the bewildered faces of Mother, Fynn, and Jodelle.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Jodelle and Fynn are… linked, it seems,” Mother snaps to no one in particular.
“Linked?” I parrot, pretending not to understand what she just said.
“Mother, you’re going to tell us what’s going on right now,” Fynn demands, interrupting me.
I hold my breath, scared that Mother will grab one of the books. What if she takes the book I tore the pages out of? Stress builds inside me as I try to figure out how to distract Mother from Fynn’s interrogation.
“Tell me first what happened downstairs. I hope everyone is alright?” I press.
Knowing Mother, she’ll take every opportunity not to tell us anything, and I’m praying she takes the bait. Mother lets out a deep sigh.
“Fynn’s… friend, the witch, tried to attack Jodelle. Well, not at first; at first, her shadows tried to protect her as Jodelle went straight to her and flung herself at her. Fynn threw himself in front of Jodelle, fencing off the shadows, which resulted in some broken furniture.”
“The witch was luckily able to keep her shadows at bay when she was facing Fynn, as he kept Jodelle protected. In the end, the girls were just ordinarily screaming at each other.”
Mother looks at Jodelle with disapproval, and I bite back a laugh. I regret missing that spectacle.
“Why did you do that? What is wrong with you?” Fynn snarls at me, his eyes thin slits.
“To warn you to stay out of my business because otherwise I’ll mingle with yours,” I spit back.
“Children, enough!” Mother interferes.
I don’t care about any of them. I just want to leave this mess behind.
I don’t care if Fynn found his soulmate; it was inevitable anyway, not real.
He and Jodelle only found each other due to their doomed destiny.
The curse led Jodelle straight into Fynn’s arms. I’m sure Mother is cursing herself now, bringing us both here, sealing our fates unknowingly.
“Enjoy your soulmate, Fynn.” I mock them both.
Mother looks at me in shock as the realization dawns on her of what it means.
Then, confusion is etched all over her face as she looks at me.
How did I even know that? She starts to ramble, trying to wave off my comment as jealousy of their connection, catching Fynn’s and Jodelle's attention.
Irritated, I leave the room; within seconds, Emrys pulls me against his chest, and we vanish into the shadows, away from the inn, away from my idiotic family, as I faintly hear my mother's voice cry out for me.
I see Mother stepping into the hallway, looking around, puzzled at my disappearance.