Chapter 28
I gasped, rupturing the quiet. The voices hushed to whispers in the other room.
Briarwood. Though I sat in stillness, the name was a bloodied scream within, like bounding off the walls of a bottomless prison. Deceit did not speak, but his nails churned and tail whisked like a cat in threat.
Alistair killed Briarwood? My breath rasped, clawing up my throat.
A man struck down another. A lord assaulted his kin.
Alistair killed Briarwood.
Briarwood’s days were numbered, I only did not think a fellow lord would be his downfall. Here, I understood why Edith required my silence of his death. She was protecting her nephew.
I could see Briarwood’s final sight in my mind. I’d seen it before—the Raven Lord consumed by Shadows, with a thousand black veins pulsing a dark power. One swift slice of his blade, and Briarwood’s body was left to wring dry.
And yet you believe the young lord should live? Deceit uttered.
The god’s question was warranted, I knew it was. The lords of this age were destined to die. Alistair was not only marked by Shadow, but also a killer. Though Briarwood’s death was craved for by the gods. And Briarwood was a threat to me, knowing too much. Be it intuition or speculation, he knew too much.
The door opened, murky moonlight slipping through the crack. Alistair abandoned the white light and showed himself to the hearth’s dying flames with Edith at his back. Her shoulders drooped, and her feet dragged heavily.
I feigned sleep, but I had already been seen.
“How are you feeling?” Alistair sat, leaning into the chair beside me with fingers wrenching back his unruly hair. The dark strands rebelled and fell back over his forehead. With the soft simmer of embers on his features, they illuminated—not a killer—simply a man.
“A throbbing head, an aching ankle, and a tender stomach.” My voice was chalky.
“I am feeling alive.”
Edith sat at my feet. The cushion bent, sending a hot pang in my ankle.
“I am glad you are well, Rhoswen. You gave me quite a scare.”
I cleared my throat.
“I had no idea your nephew had such gifts with potions.” I found him in the corner of my eye, watching me.
“I am thankful to serve a skilled lord.”
Edith twitched—undoubtedly because she knew where my loyalty truly lay.
“Good help is hard to come by these days,” Alistair said with his deep-set voice.
“It is best to keep alive those who are of benefit.”
I scoffed and mirrored his tone with a grin, “Benefit.”
A subtle dimple tacked his cheek.
Stabbing my elbows at my side, I fought to sit up. In a breath, Alistair’s hands were on my back.
“Be careful tonight, Rhoswen,” he said, helping me lean against the armrest.
“It will take some hours for the potion to fully heal you. The wound was deep.”
We shared the air until he settled back into his seat. Looking past Alistair, without the brilliant flames to light the surroundings, I could only catch faint outlines of the room. My mind filled the voids with memories from yesterday—shelves, scrolls, tapestries. It seemed like a library, though no library I knew.
“Where are we?” I asked, beholding the endless silhouettes of a many things, each wall falling into shadows. A room with no ends.
“This is my study, apart from the estate.”
I could never forget the additional building that contended the size of the Raven Estate, situated beside the fountain where Alistair and I spoke when I first arrived.
Alistair’s fingers brushed through his hair again.
“Much of it remains a home for webs and dust. It was built for grand gatherings and accommodations in the second age, but these days do not allow for such joyful events.”
“This is all yours?” I asked.
Alistair crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the tapestries, tomes, maps, and ingredients.
“I spent many years here, studying and learning in the quiet without politics or distractions. It was not until my father’s passing that I was required to spend so many waking hours with the others.”
“I swear, some days he never saw the light of day,” Edith jested.
“There is no light of day, Aunt.”
Bitterly, she argued.
“There is always a light.”
An unfortunate lull froze words if any more were to come. It was a heavy silence. I swung out one leg from the couch, then slowly pried my broken ankle from beneath the blanket.
Edith stayed seated at the end of the couch beside my feet and set her palm upon my shin.
“Are you sure you can stand?”
“No.” I shook my head, hair hiding a coy smirk. Squirming out of the wool, feeling winter’s crisp bite at my skin, I set my toes on the floor and.
“Sands,” I hissed, teeth smashing together.
Alistair watched me twist back onto the couch.
“I cannot risk giving you more potions so soon. It will be safer to continue your healing in the dawn.” Without further explanation, he stood and walked towards a nearby corner, fading behind the curtain of shadows.
“What are the risks of potions?” I asked Edith.
“One soul can only endure so much magic at once. Too much, and you will lose yourself to the enchantments, your blood diluted and mind overcome.”
Deceit skulked. Much like the powers of the gods. Mortals are weak. Small. Pointless.
I was nearing an ends with the god sauntering in my mind. I traded his words for silence.
Reemerging into the ember light, Alistair held two wooden slats and a banded roll of leather. Clearing the potions from the table, he set down his materials and found me between the slats of his hair. His chin tucked with arched brows.
“Can you lift your leg?”
I tried. I couldn’t.
Alistair kneeled at my feet, handling the leather and wood. He reached for my ankle, and my heart skipped for reasons I was no longer able to deny—his touch.
Just before his fingers found my skin, he paused.
“I can form a brace in the meantime,” he said and stayed still, waiting.
Colors were hot in my cheeks.
Deceit’s bony fingers tightened against the ripples of my mind as I used his gifts for—what the god would consider—pathetic reasons. Painting my cheeks, I concealed them with my sunless, pale complexion. Alistair looked at my cheeks, interest glinting—the space between his brows shortening with a slim crease. Perhaps my cheeks flushed too intensely, but if they had, Alistair did not say.
“I already owe you greatly for your kindness, my lord,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.
“Another act, and I might be eternally in your debt.”
“You owe me nothing, Rhoswen.”
“After everything you’ve done, I’d disagree.”
A snicker came and left.
“You saved my life in Tharen Crest. Perhaps now we can be counted even. Though, if that day had never come, you would still owe me nothing.” Stretching the leather, his forearms, biceps, and shoulders tautened. He stilled with all those muscles flexed, waiting again for my consent.
I nodded calmly with a heart ready to burst through my chest.
With purpose, Alistair’s fingers glided through the frays of my gown. I was anticipating it—his fingers on my skin—but gods, the softest touch burned like he’d bent the bones all over again. I winced through the pain, and he rested my foot upon his knee.
“Take deep breaths,” he hushed, examining my skin of blacks and blues.
My stomach sank. The bone was bent in ways it should not be.
Alistair fixed the wood at either side of my leg, beginning just before the base of my foot and ending halfway to my shin. He then unraveled the leather spool.
“Deep breaths,” he reminded me.
My lungs stretched, but the air dragged out of me like a serrated blade. My fists clenched and face tightened and coiled. Sharp pain was shards of fire and glass, burning and stabbing a hundred times over. I imprisoned my cry through sealed lips.
Spooling leather around my leg, Alistair made quick work of it. My vision blurred for a spell. The wood splits became tighter and tighter, my ankle burning hotter and hotter. The leather came near its end, and Alistair secured it with a knot and rested his hand upon my knee.
My blood vigorously pounded beneath his palm. I focused on the sensation and the smells of sage—the smells of him. Dizzy sights subsiding, I noticed the scars etched upon the back of his hand. I’d never noticed those before.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His brilliant teeth hid behind a half smile. He raised his hand as though he might hold my spinning head, but something gave him pause.
I managed to strain.
“Refreshing, actually.”
His dark eyes of starless skies followed the path of my lips. My heart fluttered.
The door swung open, a cold stormfront blistering into the room. A frigid gust extinguished the final remnants of flames, the dark leaving us in blind mystery. A mass walk beneath the doorsill. The god snarled.
Alistair stood and drew out his blade, the steel ringing.
“Who goes there?” Edith piped at my side, causing me to shake.
I had forgotten she was here.
Feet hammered the ground.
Alistair’s timbre sank low.
“Speak before you lose your head.”
“Where’s my sister?” A feminine voice splintered the dark, and a mere second later she asked again.
“Where is she, dammit?”
“Vera?”
“Gods, Rhoswen, where are you? It’s bloody dark in here. What have they done to you?”
Alistair sheathed his blade. Anger struck his tongue.
“Get out. What happens here does not concern you.”
“It damn well does!” Vera contested his tone.
“It’s my sister you’ve locked up in this damn place, so it bloody does concern me! Though—” Her feet hammered closer.
“Perhaps a lord, such as yourself, does not understand the simple concepts of family principles. Sisters protect each other.”
Alistair growled.
I spoke to the dark.
“Vera, I’m fine.”
“Gods, where are you?” Her disembodied voice vaulted around us.
A foreign word hushed at my side. A small, silver flame alit in Alistair’s hand, and he cast it to the logs. The quarters shone in orange light from the flames. Curiosity steadied my gaze upon Alistair—this lord of unknown magic—but the woman wielding the fire spear needed to be addressed first.
Alistair growled at Vera again.
“What are you doing here?”
Vera’s glare was devoted to me.
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I not welcome?” Her glower then transitioned to the lord, measuring him and deeming him inadequate in every way.
Alistair gnashed.
“None are welcome here.”
Fire curls charged forward a pace, and her finger nearly stabbed his chest.
“I do not wait for welcomes when you’ve got one of my own locked up.”
“Vera,” I spoke quickly.
“Edith and I were attacked, and the lord healed me.”
Her neck twisted with a tilted jaw. She looked me up and down, so I pulled back the blanket, revealing evidence—the countless tears of my gown and crusted blood.
“Sands, Rhoswen.” Vera fell mute, and the iron rod hit the floor. In a drastic dizzy, her locks tossed and bounced, and she nestled beside me.
“What happened to you? You’re all right, aren’t you?” She wrapped me in her arms.
I found peace in her embrace.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“What happened?” She asked with shock still intact.
“I had asked others if they’d seen you, and Maisie said she saw you being carried off by Lord Alistair in here.”
Alistair’s tongue slashed the air.
“And what had you thought I’d done to her?”
Vera threw her junipers at Alistair with a glare.
“Don’t give me your damn questions, like I shouldn’t be concerned for my sister’s wellbeing.”
Alistair showed his teeth.
Vera turned towards me, hairs tickling my face.
“Come back to your quarters. We need to get you into some clean clothes. And it’s bloody cold in here.”
Edith spoke from the edge of the couch.
“She needs rest, child.”
“She will get rest in her own quarters, thank you, ma’am.” Though Vera’s tone held no thanks.
Vera was a spirit of fire, skin to bone—if she wanted me by her side, and away from Alistair, she’d make it so. Whether I agreed or not, I knew I’d find myself in my own bed.
“Yes,” I said.
“I would like to return to my quarters tonight.”
Alistair stood before the roaring fire, arms crossed, hair a mess, and eyes… gods, those eyes.
“Thank you both for everything,” I said, trading glances between Alistair and Edith.
“If it weren’t for you, I would not be alive.”
Vera stood up.
“Come on, Rhoswen. Let’s go.”
I positioned myself to stand, and Vera latched her arm around my waist.
Alistair paced forward, reaching for me.
Vera chomped.
“I can take care of my sister by myself.”
Alistair ignored her. His palm carefully fell down my spine, and his fingers glided along every knot, lowering to the curve of my back.
There was an ache I experienced, but it was nothing of pain.
“Move slowly,” he breathed and lifted me from the couch. I was on my feet, and he stayed beside me.
“I will walk you back.”
“I will walk her to the estate.” Vera’s voice was a shout in contrast to Alistair’s.
“You enjoy your plotting and scheming, as a lord does in the late hours of the night.”
He was so close, I needed to only whisper for him to hear.
“I will be fine to walk back with Vera.”
Keenly, he studied my eyes.
“Are you certain?”
“I think it’s for the best. And truly, thank you for what you’ve done for me. I owe you greatly.”
“You owe me nothing.” His hands at his sides, he reached out just enough to brush his rough thumb against mine.
“Thank you, Alistair.” As his name slipped from me, his eyes traced my mouth. I studied the thin wrinkles on his skin, the delicate pores, the peak of stubble on his jaw. I yearned to memorize this—to be able to see him when he was not there.
“Ah hem,” Vera grunted.
“Shall we?”
I bit my lip where it aimed to curl and found Edith lingering in the shadows, observing ever so curiously.
“Goodnight, Edith.” I bowed as I could.
Edith raised her palm.
“Goodnight, child.”
Vera took me in her arms, stumbling me towards the door. We walked past the scrolls that were stacked tall. Wooden barrels lined the wall with bouquets of rolled parchment, waiting for prying eyes. And my eyes dared to be so prying when I saw Brine etched in black ink, sprawled out upon the table. There was another parchment bearing the king’s seal.
Contracts.
Perhaps answers to the riddles—what do the Ravens’ own, where does their weakness lie, and how might the gods tear down another house?
Deceit crawled from the yawning dark, his voice ravenous, I can feel it in you, child. In two, you are being torn by questions without answers, ambitions without aims. But it is not the gods and the Shadows that leave you torn. It is your heart, weak and unknowing, and your mind that can discern reason.
The god’s anger latched the beating flesh beneath my chest.
The door closed at our backs, winter’s frost nipping and scratching my skin. Vera and I shivered in the new air, and she began to utter words that did not find me. I was too busy conversing with the god lingering within.
Deceit’s spine spiraled, his voice haunting. The gods will reign, and man’s secrets must be known. Your lord is the most powerful lord in the realm. His fate—
I know his fate, Deceit.
Vera set me beside the doorframe at the estate’s entrance. I looked at nothing but the cobblestone at my feet, avoiding the laurel wood and statue of Amelia that was most likely watching me.
The hinges grinded.
Threading me in her arms, Vera raised me up and guided us through the estate.
Her tone grew.
“What in the name of the gods was going on in there? Here I am, worrying about where you are, and meanwhile, you’re off doing gods knows what—”
Deceit’s breath was calloused like grinding stone. You cannot change what must come to pass. Remember Percival. Remember each part of you that has died as your heart continues to leave you helpless like a lost babe. And remember Hendry Baird—the life that the Raven clawed away.
My footsteps clicked against the ebony marble of the front room.
But the influence of the Shadows—I began, but I only provoked him.
I saved you from your father’s hand, and to me, you do owe a debt! The god ached my ears. Forget of your heart, before it turns to ash. You have sworn yourself to the gods, and we will have our retribution against mankind.
I gripped the banister. Balancing upon the beams of the stairs, I lifted one step by one step. Soon, we walked beneath my room’s doorsill.
The voice in my mind was frail. Get out, Deceit. I am tired.
I wanted distance from the deity that had been sewn to the shadows of my mind since childhood. His presence was like a splinter I could not yank out, or a song I could not forget… perhaps a hold I could not break.
And his hold tightened. Yee who wishes the lord will live dares to wish for the god to leave? Tell me, Rhoswen, when did your faith waver?
I projected within myself, I do not want you here. Get out.
You know he must die, Rhoswen. Whether you care for him or not, Alistair Raven will see the end, just as Briarwood. Just as Percival. As the dismal sun rises and sets, his days are lessening.
A tear flowed down my clenched jaw. Dammit, Deceit, go back to the Everlaides, and be amongst the gods!
You cannot change his fate! The gods have decided!
LEAVE ME!
My woes did not stay within—it was involuntary, the cry that tore a mourning note from my lungs and tears down my cheeks. The god no longer held me, fleeing me with hot rage, so I held myself, wrapping my arms around my stomach as I pinched the skin of my waist with curling fists.
“Rhoswen, gods, are you all right?” Vera fretted, leaning beside me.
Gagging on air, sorrow embellished my heart, dragging me down.
“What has happened? What do you need?” Vera asked, and my breath skipped twice as I gulped for air, but I couldn’t get out a word.
“Speak to me,” she said.
I looked at Vera, seeing the dread on her face.
“Use your gift.”
Vera lifted me from the ground and set me upon my bed. Sitting beside me, she searched my eyes.
“I will not. Not until you tell me what’s the matter.”
She was blurry as I looked through the water.
“Please, I-I just want to rest.”
Vera held my cheek, wiping the tears where more fell.
“Rhoswen, are you hurt? Did the lord do something to you?”
I shook my head.
“He did nothing,” I said, though it was not entirely true.
I was a mystery to Alistair, and in the Dark Era, mysteries were a threat. I was a threat, and Alistair was too wise and cunning not to know it. Even still, amidst the secrets I stored, he tore me from the clutches of death. He delayed the inevitable.
But my oath. My oath to the gods. Gods that desired death to rebirth Andrael into a new era where darkness was vanquished by the light. But I had come to care for this life—Alistair Raven’s life. A life the gods deemed beyond redemption.
The weight of my vows was too much.
I no longer knew what remained the influence of Shadows and what remained the nature of man. I was once so sure. Even as Percy lay upon the stairs of his father’s home, bathing in red, I was certain his fated death was just. Only now, knowing Percy had aims to lessen elvish strife, and as I was now tasked to tear down a man imprisoned by his name and Shadows… I was not sure.
“Please,” my throat cracked.
“I only wish to leave this night in yesterday.”
Vera’s mouth tugged open.
“I have never known you to beg, sister. And you hate dreams given by Slumber.”
“I would prefer his dreams.”
Her breath drained slowly.
“I will do this for you, but you will tell me what happened when you awake.”
“I will tell you everything,” I swore this. What anger Vera might feel towards me, I needed her. I needed to not be alone.
“Good,” she said.
“And if you don’t—”
I laughed feebly through tears.
“You will go through my dreams as I sleep.”
One edge of her mouth curved.
“And you know I will.”
“And I will replicate your form and do humiliating acts throughout the entire estate.”
Vera rolled her eyes.
“Oh yes, what a threat, that is. As though I care what these people think of me.”
I huffed a few breaths and settled into bed.
“I envy your spirit, Vera.”
She snorted.
“Oh, please, spare me of your mockery. If anything, it is I who wishes to be more like you.”
“I mean it,” I said.
“You are sure and brave, never accepting anything less than what is owed to you. You have a fierce passion to live wildly and without cares.”
A sparkle showed in Vera’s smile.
“Oh, Rhoswen, that is where you are wrong. I care. I care so much for brighter days, for the Shadows to be ripped from the lands. And I care for you.” Her curls flattened against the pillow.
“You are the only one who has stayed beside me all these years. You are the one who has allowed me to be sure and brave. It is reckless being me in these days. And you are the one who has always protected me.”
“I am not the only one who has stood beside you.”
“Ah, yes, Taison. That lug.” Vera gave a sad laugh then sighed with a sniffle.
“I worry about him. But he is not you. He is not my sister. I am continuously reminded of the same lesson over and over again since the day we met.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
“No amount of devotion can outmatch the protective love of a sister.”
My grief subsided.
Vera leaned towards me, her lips meeting mine for a severed second. But a severed second was all that was needed. Slumber’s spell simmered in my lips, dried my tongue, and burrowed down my throat. My ribs became weightless, allowing calm, lasting breaths to fill my lungs to the brim. My eyelids were dragged down, and my eyes rolled back.
As all fell dark, I saw him there—the fine wrinkles, the subtle dimple, and that brilliant smile. Every stray strand of hair that fell against his brow. The scars etching the back of his hand, and the veins lacing his forearms. And, above all else, I saw his eyes. Clouded by Shadows, sodden in darkness. Before I fell beyond consciousness, I wondered, what truly lay behind those eyes?
Vera whispered at my side.
“Spare your dreams this night, Slumber.” And to me, she strengthened the spell.
“Sleep, Rhoswen.”