Chapter 24
Sebastien awoke with the bitter taste of nightmares in the back of his mouth.
Rose slept beside him, curled up tightly like a cat.
He had to take a moment, to be sure it was her and not Thorn.
The rose pendant always at the hollow of her throat was missing.
But there it was, on the bedside table, the black velvet ribbon winding through the pile of glittering roses like a snake.
She also bore the dregs of makeup here and there, in the usual places it lingered when she was too impatient to wash it all off, as she often was.
Also, now that he knew to look—and how he cursed his careless assumptions from before—the aspects of Rose’s personality that shaped her face lingered even in repose, distinguishing her.
Though she and Thorn were twins and the same age, Rose seemed not exactly older, but more refined.
Her face bore the stamp of her strong personality, a sense of honed character and strong-minded direction.
He almost couldn’t define it except in comparison to Thorn’s artless wistfulness.
Where they possessed the same full lower lip, Thorn’s trembled with fervent emotion while Rose’s firmed with wry determination.
The arch of Thorn’s brows held an aspect of eternal uncertainty, a sweet wrinkle of pensiveness in them, where Rose’s formed elegant wings, like a raptor about to take flight.
At the moment, though, even dead asleep, Rose looked tired.
She’d sounded so weary the night before when she came to him.
It didn’t surprise him in the least that she’d sussed out what happened and that she’d been able to so easily find Thorn.
He supposed it didn’t surprise him, either, that she’d simply gone to meet Thorn.
He did worry what Rose might have said to Thorn, especially about the loss of Nina.
Where is Nina? Nonna asked, pushing her muzzle under his hand, as if she’d heard his thought.
Away, he answered, not sure how else to explain it to the dog.
When will she come back? Nonna asked.
I don’t know.
With a soft grunt of unhappiness, Nonna went back to lie on her rug, leaving Sebastien to his thoughts.
Rose possessed many sterling qualities, and among them were her sense of righteousness and quick action to defend those she cared about.
And she’d adored the hounds as much as he had.
In her zeal to take Thorn to task for perceived transgressions, Rose might have been unkind to her newly discovered sister, perhaps even cruel.
Rose might not mean to be, but the warrior in her wielded a sharp edge, as did her incisive intelligence and the tongue attached to it.
All day the day before, Sebastien had wondered and worried, going to class and going through the motions of his schedule, suspecting Rose had gone to find Thorn, frustrated that he’d been unable to find out for sure or do anything about it.
He’d been so relieved—and unreasonably elated—when the hummingbird found him, telling him her story.
Thornisinthegardenatthecottageandshe’ssadbutfineandtoldmetotellyou, the tiny bird had said in a blazing rush. Sebastien had been delighted at the hum of the bird’s thoughts, the same pitch as its wings, and knew he had Thorn to thank for suggesting he listen instead of tuning out.
He’d spotted the forget-me-nots in bloom along the trail on the ride back to HASP, picking one with Thorn on his mind, his heart uncertain but billowing with unfamiliar sentiment.
He’d only known that she should have it.
And when the little bird showed up, he sent the delicate flower back. A question and a promise in one.
He might be in love with Thorn.
Gazing at the sleeping Rose, he knew he should wait and talk to her.
But he needed to see Thorn, to find out how she felt first. And not via this imperfect messaging through birds.
It was an excuse, and nothing would make the inevitable conversation with Rose any easier for either of them.
But he’d never claimed to be a brave man.
Leaving Rose asleep, he slipped out of his room and out of the academy, Nonna trotting at his heels.
Are we going to look for Nina? she asked with rising excitement.
Yes, he told her, feeling bad about the lie but it was also easier than repeatedly trying to explain the dismal truth.
Kismet, excited for another excursion so soon, waited with pricked ears while Sebastien saddled him.
Nina? Kismet asked. And not for the first time.
Neither animal seemed to understand Sebastien’s explanations that Nina was gone. Both interpreted “gone” as temporary, and so they expected Nina to return soon, repeatedly puzzled when she didn’t. Their plaintive inquiries hadn’t helped Sebastien keep a brave face.
“Nina is gone, buddy,” Sebastien told the horse wearily. And she was never coming back. He’d seen that truth in Rose’s face also, though she’d prevaricated to protect his feelings.
Gone? Kismet asked.
“Yes, gone.”
I don’t understand, Kismet said unhappily.
“Sometimes things happen in life that we can’t understand,” Sebastien told the horse, riding him out of the gates, Nonna trotting ahead, nose in the air.
Nina? she called, emitting a little bay of inquiry.
I don’t understand that either, Kismet said.
Exactly. Sebastien was trying to think of a less crabby way of explaining it to the horse when Nonna bayed an alert and Kismet exploded beneath him, panicking at the creature suddenly barring their way.
What is that? Kismet mentally shrieked, rearing onto his hind legs and hopping. That’s a tiger! Don’t tell me that’s not a tiger!
“Calm down,” Sebastien applied some sorcery to make it happen, as he didn’t care to be dumped on his ass.
He also commanded Nonna to return to his side, much as she resisted, determined to protect him.
She’d only get injured. If he’d practiced controlling his animal friends more, he would’ve been able to stop Nina from leaping through the portal and into the Dream.
He drew his sword. “And that’s not a tiger. It’s a wolf.”
The biggest fucking wolf he’d seen in his entire life.
All white, with unusually long fur that feathered off his belly, legs, and long tail, the wolf also sported a considerable ruff around a pointed face.
Its deep-blue eyes gleamed large and intelligent, while its jaws hung open to reveal daunting ivory fangs and an uncanny black and forked tongue.
On second thought, with that tongue, maybe it wasn’t a wolf.
I am not a wolf, the creature replied, his mental tone offended. I am a scáthcú, thank you very much. Have you got any snacks?
Sebastien stared in disbelief. “No, sorry.” Why was he apologizing? “I’ve never heard of a scáthcú.”
Friend of mages. Companion to princes. Defender of queens. He waited a beat, black tongue flicking out. No? Nothing rings a bell?
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Your loss. But now I’m here, so your win! I’m Bunny.
That’s not a bunny, Kismet mentally whispered. I still say tiger. Or dragon.
Bunny trotted up to sniff at the horse. Not too bright, are you?
Now see here—Kismet began, snorting through his nostrils, and dancing uneasily.
“Enough, both of you,” Sebastien said.
Dangerous, Nonna whimpered, quivering against his mental grip.
Not a danger to you or yours, puppy, Bunny said, wagging his extensively feathery tail.
“See, Nonna? Bunny is your friend.” Which was good as the scáthcú was bigger than three of Nonna put together.
Nina was my friend, Nonna replied sullenly.
Sebastien sheathed his sword and dismounted. “Your name is Bunny? That seems … unlikely.”
Just my most recent name, given to me by a wise woman. I like it.
“I see,” Sebastien said, though he didn’t, really.
Sorry I’m late. It took me a long time to walk here.
Late? “What do you mean it took a long time to walk here?”
From Oneira’s house. Adsila can travel the Dream and Moriah has her own paths, but I have to walk. But I’m here now! I’m so happy to see you! Before Sebastien thought to duck, Bunny had swiped his face with that black tongue, from collarbones to forehead.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Sebastien said drily, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You’re the sorceress Oneira’s scáthcú? Is she the wise woman you mentioned?”
I’m my own scáthcú, but definitely Oneira’s friend and she’s definitely wise. Now I’m your friend. You, however, are maybe not wise.
“True enough,” Sebastien conceded ruefully.
I don’t judge. Are we going on a trip?
“I have somewhere to be, yes.”
I’ll come along! We’ll need snacks though.
I like snacks, Nonna agreed, sounding tentatively friendly.
“I like snacks, too,” he told them. And Thorn liked food. He could bring her something she’d never had before. There was that little bakery in the village by the millpond. Maybe something from there?
Sebastien again mounted Kismet, who rolled his eyes at Bunny and grumbled incoherently, but said nothing more.
Nonna fell in beside Bunny, taking five steps for every one of the scáthcú’s, ears lifted higher than they’d been since Nina went into the Dream.
They traveled quickly to the Aswad Woods, stopping only to acquire food for Bunny, and also for Nonna, who’d already eaten but wouldn’t be denied, and arrived at the cottage in the late afternoon.
Sebastien slowed Kismet as they approached, his heart speeding in a counterpoint of glad anticipation.
Thorn was here. Smoke rose from the cottage’s chimney.
From what he could see through the bramble-covered fence, the garden looked neater than it had, too.
Chickens pecked through the garden and a goat stood on a low rise, eyeing him.