Chapter 15 #2
“I’m sending out waves of confusion to disorient them,” Talan muttered tensely, his body radiating scorching heat as he flooded the forest with empathic power. “But I won’t be able to do it for much longer. There are four of them, and they’re quite strong.”
“Fae?”
“And their hounds,” Posey growled, peering past the shield of trees. Her shoulder glistened bright green.
“Gemma?” I took my sister’s face in my hands and nearly recoiled. She was burning up, sweat slicked her skin, and her lips had gone white. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” She offered me a faint smile. “It’s just…the magic here, it’s everywhere, and it burns. It’s hard to focus. I just need a moment.”
My heart ached to see her like this, but I swallowed hard against the feeling. I didn’t have time for heartache.
“Listen carefully,” I told her. “The tree that never sleeps. Remember?”
Gemma nodded, bleary-eyed. “An unlocked door that never opens.”
“I need you to find it. Before anyone claims me to end the hunt, we have to retrieve the key. Otherwise Ifanna could break the accord and betray us.”
“Is that possible?” Gemma whispered.
“Posey seems to think Ifanna might risk it. And,” I added, “whatever you do, don’t let the glamours fall. That magic is how I found you. It’s how I’ll find you again. Don’t worry about protecting Talan. Posey will go with the two of you.”
I glanced over at Posey. She nodded sharply. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”
“How do I find it?” Gemma murmured.
“Do you remember how you found me that day in the Vilia’s woods?” Talan asked from above us. “You followed that ravine and entered my lair.”
Gemma smiled a little. “The demon’s lair. Yes. The air pressed down on me. There was a fist in my chest, pulling me forward.”
“You sensed the great magic hidden there and followed it. You found me, darling. Your power showed you the way.”
“I did. It did.” Gemma leaned against Talan’s leg and kissed the back of his knee. Some of the light was coming back to her eyes.
“And this will be easier,” I said. “You’re not finding a demon’s lair, you’re finding a tree. That’s Mother’s magic. Philippa’s magic, and yours too.”
Gemma, clinging to Talan’s leg, drew a shaky breath. “Philippa Wren and her house of ivy.” When she looked up at me, her jaw was set. “I can find it. I will find it.”
I drew her into a quick, fierce embrace. “Good. I’ll find Farrin and meet you there. Posey, cover them.”
I dashed off into the trees without a backward glance.
I hated to leave them, but my legs were feline, fluid, unstoppable, and their stride fortified my resolve.
After splashing across a frigid creek, I decided I’d reached a safe enough spot to catch my breath.
A sturdy pine loomed nearby. I would climb it, give myself a moment to concentrate, and follow the rope of glamoured power that connected Gemma to me and to Farrin.
Just then, a thunderous noise exploded through the trees to my right.
A grove down the creek line snapped and splintered.
I ducked to avoid a flying branch and darted out of a falling pine’s path just as huge dark shapes tore through the wreckage.
My mouth went dry at the sight of them: one was a fae war-horse, cloaked in moss and mud.
Its enormous antlers plowed through pines like they were nothing.
Two wolves pursued the war-horse, each of them twice as big as our priory horses. Wild fae cries tore through the air, followed by two familiar sounds—Ryder’s crossbow firing and a voice as clear as a bell.
An invisible cord tugged at my navel.
Farrin.
I ran after the war-horse, low and fast to avoid being spotted by the wolves.
Getting closer, I saw what I had dreaded: Farrin and Ryder sat astride the monstrous beast. It ran smoothly, even docilely, its hot breath steaming in the air; Ryder must have wilded it.
He was loading another arrow into his crossbow, and Farrin—gods, she was beautiful, fearless, her braid come loose and her hair streaming behind her.
With Ryder’s body shielding her back, she clutched the creature’s wild mane, singing a shrill battle hymn against its neck.
Even though the song wasn’t for me, my legs pumped faster at the sound of it, and I was so distracted by this new burst of energy that I didn’t spot the danger until it was too late.
The war-horse jumped over a snowdrift onto what looked like a flat stretch of ground—but it was a reeking bog covered with fresh snow, and the horse plunged straight into it. The mire wasn’t deep, but it was thick and rimmed with ice. The horse lost its footing, and Ryder and Farrin went flying.
I ran to catch my sister before she cracked her head open, the fae’s triumphant cries ringing in my ears and my blood roaring with fury. Ryder landed hard not far from us, shook the snow from his hair with an angry growl, and pushed himself to his feet.
Farrin clung to me with a breathy laugh. “Oh, thank the gods. I claim—”
“No! Not yet. We have to find the key. Accord or no, I don’t trust Ifanna to keep her promises.” I glanced up. “Ryder?”
“Just tell me where to go,” he said gruffly, retrieving his crossbow from the muck. Just past him, the war-horse climbed out of the bog, its ears flat and angry, its eyes a brilliant red.
“Take Farrin and go to Gemma. She’s due west.” I pointed along the invisible cord of magic that pulled at my gut.
“I can feel it too,” Farrin said grimly. “It’s from the glamours?”
I gave her a smile. “Right in one.”
Ryder spat out a few harsh words at the war-horse, wilding it once again, then helped Farrin mount the beast and climbed up behind her.
I turned to face the oncoming fae with my sister’s war song in my ears—a song for strength, for speed—and the sound of it shot me forward, as if the ground beneath my boots had risen up to launch me.
The fae barely had time to see me coming.
I vaulted between them, dagger in hand, and by the time I landed, they were down, their throats slit and their baffled wolves splattered with green blood.
Before they could round on me, I pulled a second dagger from the strap at my waist and threw a blade right into each of their throats. They bled out in seconds.
I strode over to them and ripped the weapons from their glistening hides. Standing over them, I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath—a mistake. For as soon as my heartbeat slowed enough that I could think, I realized I hadn’t yet seen Gareth.
My stomach dropped, my battle-fevered blood going ice-cold. He wasn’t with Gemma or Farrin. Why wasn’t he with them?
As if he’d heard my thoughts—and maybe he had, maybe some strange bit of fae magic had whispered into his ear at just the right moment—a sudden agonized scream tore through the forest.
I knew that voice. I felt it in my bones, as if it were bound to me by our own kind of magic. Whatever was hurting him, I felt it too.
Gareth.
I followed the sound of his screaming, running so fast it hurt. This could have been a trick, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the knowledge that I could help him, and that whoever was hurting him would pay.
Bursting through a thicket of saplings, I saw them: Gareth, running with a limp, clutching his left arm. He looked back over his shoulder, choked out a yelp, and hit the ground. A whistling spear missed his head by mere inches.
And right on its heels came Luthaes, the beautiful fae from Mhorghast. He lifted another spear, ready to strike. His silver eyes gleamed like blades, and his grin grew too wide for his face.
I know that one.
He was one of his favorites.
So much mind to grab on to.
I rammed into him as hard as I could. The blow was like slamming into a wall and knocked us both to the ground.
Spitting curses, Luthaes staggered to his feet, trying and failing to find his balance.
I leaned over with my hands on my knees, my vision full of stars, and looked around wildly for Gareth.
I found him huddling among a cluster of ferns.
He was covered in red and green blood, and his clothes were in shreds, but he was alive, he was alive.
And when our eyes locked, his wide with fear, a surge of primal instinct rushed through me.
Mine.
He was mine, and if I had to, I would tear down this entire forest to save him.
I rounded on Luthaes just in time. He’d lost his spear, but he had knives, and one whipped toward my throat.
I ducked, the blade barely nicking my shoulder, and spun around to plunge my dagger into his neck, but he was faster than the others had been, and stronger.
He dodged my blow with a grin. Lurching past him, I lost my footing, then whirled around just in time to knock his flying blade from the air with my own.
Then he was on me, slamming me to the ground. My dagger flew off into the trees, and my sword was pinned painfully beneath me. Luthaes climbed atop my chest and grabbed my neck, hard.
He grinned down at me, pressing his thumbs into my throat until I gagged. Gareth was screaming my name, but I could barely hear him over the thrum of my own panicked blood. Luthaes’s hands tightened, choking off my air.
“He is your mate, then?” Luthaes crooned. “I’d wondered. How sweet.” Then he called out gleefully to Gareth, “How does it feel to see another man claim your mate as his prize?”
I refused to let this creature kill me—not now, not ever.
Power rose inside me, roaring like a river flooding its banks.
I was not simply a human or a Rose. I was a demigod, a true daughter of Kerezen.
I thought of Mother as she might have been before the Unmaking: eyes of golden fire, an entire age of ancient power coursing through her veins.
Maybe she had towered over the mountains.
Maybe she had sung the first stars into the sky.