Chapter 60
Emrys
I woke up to slow, steady breathing that ghosted across my chest. Her arm was draped across me, fingers curled into the faint grooves of old scars as if her lingering touch could smooth them away. The curse was quiet under my skin, the beast half-asleep, lulled by her steady heartbeat.
I lay still, trying to memorize how this felt before the world inevitably found a way to take it from me. Nothing lasted forever, but, damn all the magic, I wanted her to be the exception.
There was joy in the way her hair tickled my shoulder when the breeze from the open flap caught it.
There was peace in our magics wrapped up in each other, just like Isca was with me.
Happiness in every single second that her heart beat next to mine, safe.
A ridiculous grin had taken over my face, stretching my cheeks until they ached.
It was enough to change a man.
My body still hummed with the memory of hers.
My magic felt replete, a sensation I hadn’t known in ages, as if it had been starved for too long and was only now relearning the simple act of existing without clawing for more.
Her magic whispered against me in a subtle, cooling stream, teasing along my ribs where the curse had hollowed me out.
Wherever her power touched mine, it quieted.
She’d lifted a single, delicate hand and stilled the tempest that had ended thousands of lives.
Dawn seeped in, casting a soft, golden glow across our tent. The river murmured all around us now, like what had happened between us last night had isolated us from the world, given us this one moment, this one place of perfect solitude. And in a way, that fanciful thought was true.
Isca stirred, moving closer before her lashes fluttered open. The private, drowsy curve of her smile was worth every battle I’d ever fought.
“What is that sound?” she asked, voice still thick with sleep.
Mindful of her warmth still pressed to mine, I eased the tent flap aside with a bit of magic. I had an inkling of what my passion had wrought—especially in those first, uncontrollable moments after she’d shown me how she felt. But what we now bore witness to surprised even me.
The river no longer ran in a single course. A new channel swept around the rise of untouched earth, and we sat at the heart of an island I hadn’t meant to create, but seeing it, I was glad for my lack of restraint.
Those first rumbles had torn the ground open, roots and soil splitting as I poured my magic into something that might spark life if changed instead of only breaking it.
Fresh water now smoothed the new riverbanks, rivulets catching the day’s first light.
It was ring of protection. A sanctuary for a memory.
We sat up together, and she kneeled beside me, her knee as close to mine as it could get. “You…split the river.” Her tone held no accusation, only wonder.
My lips quirked up despite myself. “You needed more than a flimsy tent between you and the world.”
Her gaze swept the water. Dragonflies flitted about in the warming air. A few frogs were hopping in the fresh loam, already surveying their expanded territory. I’d saved all but one tree from falling, and that was easy to fix. This new thing was born from disorder, just like us.
Despite everything, I dared to believe it could endure the world, just like we could if we faced it together.
Her gaze returned to me, softer than I deserved. “It’s beautiful.”
Only she would call my destruction beautiful.
I brought my hand up to rest on her neck, gently caressing the warm skin there with my thumb, my magic reaching out to nuzzle hers along with it.
Beautiful was not the word I would’ve chosen for the raw magic I’d unleashed, but the way she said it and the way she was looking at me made me happy to accept it.
I wanted to stay here forever, hidden from the world’s demands. But duty lay behind and before us, and people waited for us only hours away.
Brushing her hair aside so my mouth could gain access to the spot just above her collarbone, I asked, “Will you be able to ride today?”
She reached out and flicked my shoulder in mock reproach, while her top half leaned into my kiss. “Yes!” she argued, all indignant fire, then hesitated. “Though I may need to ride sidesaddle for part of the way…”
I chuckled, knowing that I wasn’t to blame for our mostly sleepless night. She proved to be insatiable, but I’d have gone without a minute of sleep to repeat even one second of holding her like that.
Packing the tent and re-saddling the horses felt like bidding farewell to a place that would linger in my memory until my dying breath.
Isca sat sidesaddle for the beginning of the journey. Each time she wobbled in the unfamiliar position, my magic caught her before she could slip.
“It seems I’m still not the best rider,” she murmured, steadying herself a third time. Then, with a sideways glance that was far too deliberate, she added, “Since you’re in good spirits, now’s the time to explain what happened with Anwen.”
I’d spent the entire day without my emotional barriers, so she saw right through me.
“You trust her now?” I asked, sharper than intended.
“No,” she said simply. “But I think she’s trying to survive, just like we are. And I think she might be the only way to stop the Assembly from controlling everything.”
As the miles passed beneath our horses, she told me of Anwen’s precarious court and the vultures circling the dying king’s corpse. “Half of them want her married to her cousin, who is working with the Assembly,” she muttered, disgust sharpening every word.
I coughed, almost choking on my own disbelief. Gelida’s fear of magecraft had clearly rotted its reason. I’d already suspected the Assembly of deeper treachery after speaking with that druid, but this…
The curse stirred to alertness, heat pooling in my veins until the air around my hands burned and I had to drop my horse’s reins. I called on my own magic to fight it with a flood of ice. And somewhere behind us, a crack appeared in the dry earth.
I did what I could. I fed the curse images of tearing down the fortress at Caervorn, of ripping Maeron apart with my bare hands.
And, finally, I stifled its thrashing for violence with a question, gritted out through clenched teeth, because thinking of her always helped to steady me.
“And what politicking did you do, cariad?”
Her scoff was soft, but her lips betrayed the smile she was trying to hold back. “I spoke with her about options.”
“Options?”
“Anwen is fighting Maelric,” she said, her voice catching, a flare of remembered pain sparking from her magic. “Taking me was a consequence of that. The problem is that Gelida’s court won’t let her rule alone. They want her bound to a palatable male.” A pause, then: “So I named two.”
“Two…?” The world went silent around me, even the curse holding its breath.
Anwen had asked me for a response…
This couldn’t be happening. Had all of this been about Isca giving up on me, a farewell? My heart was hammering so fast that I feared even the curse couldn’t hold it together. It was a miracle I wasn’t exploding into a ball of flames.
“Owain,” she said quickly. “He’d tolerate a woman being at the forefront, but Gelida’s warrior classes would try to make him the figurehead.” She shook her head, seeming unconvinced. “Or Nisien…”
I went still, drawing in a slow breath to compose myself. Anwen hadn’t wanted me. She’d wanted me to speak with Nisien.
“She’s a mage, Emrys. A powerful one.”
I turned fully in my saddle toward her. “She’s what?”
Isca nodded. “She can keep me out just like you. I felt her magic building in the throne room when you seemed ready to attack her. But you were…distracted.”
By the gods, I had been distracted—by wanting to pull her castle down stone by bloody stone. The curse shifted uneasily at the thought.
Isca was trying to save Gelida even after they’d kidnapped her. And I’d just slaughtered hundreds of their countrymen. I wasn’t fit to be in the same room as her.
“Anwen also said they keep a few trusted mages on retainer, but the one who put me to sleep for the journey was hired from the Assembly.”
“I know,” I said gruffly.
It was clear from the look Isca settled on me that she knew more than she was letting on.
“The man who did that to you is dead.”
Her voice was a quiet murmur amidst the horses’ clomping. “Anwen said you kept none alive.”
Cursed gods, she was disappointed in me—a sentiment she wasn’t alone in.
“That’s not entirely true.” I was as offended as a child caught with his hand in the honey jar. “I brought a man to Tir Gelida on horseback!”
That look from her again. “Just one?”
Fuck.
What could I do but nod? Isca knew who I was better than anyone else, possibly better than myself. I braced myself for her to look away in shame, but she surprised me.
“Thank you, Emrys. I know you had to go into a dark place to do what you did… I’m… I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” If I didn’t change the subject, I’d open another rift in the poor farmer’s field we were skirting. “Thanking me… I never knew you were so bloodthirsty.”
The devilish grin she flashed my way eased the curse’s tension.
“The Assembly has always brought out a certain ruthlessness in me. Just like your twin brings out a special type of ruthlessness in you. I think Anwen and Nisien would be a good match.” Isca went on explaining, “He has power, but he hides it, just like she does. Nisien would easily blend into their warrior society and slowly win them over to magic from within. They wouldn’t fear him the way they fear you. ”
“They should fear me,” I muttered.
Her laugh was soft. “Oh Emrys…”
She was right. Isca saw things I often missed, especially in people. Isca was incredibly perceptive and far more diplomatically inclined than the formally trained diplomats I’d met.