Chapter 30
The next morning, I’m waiting at the front gate when Tristan arrives. He approaches with easy confidence, his steps echoing off the stone walls. When he sees me, he stops. A small grin transforms his face.
“Eager for more lessons, Red?”
The implication makes my stomach tumble deliciously, low in my belly.
I study his face. His shadowed eyes are brighter today.
His skin looks a little less hollow. It’s like the veil of despair has lifted, letting a hint of sunshine through.
At this moment, I can finally see what Nalina meant when she said this man used to be happy.
After last night, I think I know what destroyed him.
“We have to talk.” My eyes dart toward the villagers arriving early for their work within the castle. “Somewhere private.”
Tristan’s smile fades, and I hate that I’m the reason for it. He leads me outside, around the castle, and toward the remains of old Gwyllion. Frost sparkles on the ruins as leaning towers stand tall against the receding night. Out here, only the ghosts can hear our secrets.
The dawn is vibrant pink and orange as we settle onto an old, toppled column.
I tilt my head toward the rising sun. It’s warmer today, promising a day of melting snow and dripping icicles.
There’s a war raging inside me, fighting against the joy of the cloudless sky and the fear of what it will bring: spring.
And with it, my father and his Fox Army.
For all I know, they’ve begun marching through the mountains already.
Tristan touches my hand lightly, and my power flares in my chest in response.
We’ve kept our secret this past week. Whenever we’re in the castle, I hardly dare to look at him.
If I do, someone will see how I blaze with the need for more of him.
Someone will notice how much I crave to have this Wolf’s hands on me again. How I ache for him at night.
My skin grows warm, and it has nothing to do with the sun on the horizon.
Tristan clears his throat. “It’s been my experience that nothing good follows when a woman says, ‘We need to talk.’”
A breathy laugh escapes me. “No. I suppose you’re right about that.”
“So, what do I need to be worried about?”
“You mean beyond the fact that the Fox Army is on its way to murder us all?”
He nods.
I sigh, not sure how to break this to him, but there’s no way through it but forward. “I discovered something last night. I think it helped me understand you a little better.”
Next to me, Tristan shifts, turning a curious glance my way. “Oh?”
I nod.
“And does this have anything to do with Nalina stealing you away to the village?”
I tilt my head. “You knew about that?”
He leans back, his palms bracing against the stone. “I make it my business to know everything about you, Red. You should know this by now.”
“Does Nalina tell you everything?” My voice comes out petulant, but I can’t hide my annoyance.
He shrugs. “Sometimes. Other times, not so much. We have … unresolved issues.”
“You and me both.”
The corners of his lips hint at the ghost of a smile. “She always forgives me though, eventually.” He tilts his head as he watches my reaction. “She hasn’t had it easy.”
“So she mentioned.”
He turns to face the rising dawn. “Nalina is a lot like your Golden Boy, you know.”
I scoff. “Those two couldn’t be more different.”
He gives me a challenging look. “They’re both unendingly loyal. They’ll always do whatever they think is right, no matter the personal cost. And they will always choose the ones they love over themselves.”
Above us, the sky has broken into a blue morning. I watch, captivated, as the last remnants of the blazing dawn evaporate before our eyes. All around us, animals begin to wake. Birds chirp and mice scamper through the tall grasses surrounding the ruins of old Gwyllion.
I pause, thinking. “Is that why Nalina’s such a miserable bore around me? She’s protective of you?”
He barks out a laugh. “Maybe. Nalina’s methods can be … unconventional. But she believes in them.”
“She doesn’t believe I can help Gwyllion.”
“Oh, she does, in spite of herself.” He huffs a laugh. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have brought you to the village, even if Elisandra asked her to.”
I flick a pebble off the stone we’re sitting on. It bounces off another fallen column. “If she believes in me, it’s only on account of you telling her she should.”
“Maybe so.” He shrugs. “But I’ve made no secret of my faith in you, Red. Eventually, other people will believe in you too.”
As if in response, my power flutters inside of me. My voice is edged with relief. “I thought my power was gone forever.”
His voice is softer now, filled with something like earnestness. “I knew it was still there. We just had to figure out how to reach it.”
I turn to face him. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” A slight breeze blows a lock of his dark hair across his forehead. I want to reach out and smooth it back with my fingertips. To feel the warmth of his face. To release the pain locked behind his eyes.
“How do you always have so much faith in me? Even when no one else does, not even me?”
He shrugs, tilting his head up to the rising sun. He closes his eyes, savoring the warmth. “Because you are worth believing in.”
My throat tightens, threatening to smother me beneath the weight of emotion.
I’ve never felt like this before. It’s as if I can finally breathe.
As if I can be myself, without reservations or hiding.
It’s empowering, and yet it leaves me distraught for all the lost time.
All those years when I doubted myself. All the loneliness and anger that I’ve carried for so, so long.
“Hey, Red. It’s okay.” Tristan leans forward, reaching his hand to cup my jaw.
He wipes away a stray tear that I didn’t know I’d shed.
His gray eyes are worried, his eyebrows pinched together with concern.
“Whatever it is, we’ll find a way through.
You’ve found your power again. You’re unstoppable now. ”
I laugh lightly. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
It takes me a while to find the words, but Tristan waits patiently. He scoots closer to me and puts an arm protectively around my waist. It’s so simple, so beautiful a gesture that I hate what I must tell him next.
“I know what happened to you. At least, I think I do.”
Around me, I feel his arm stiffen. “What happened to me?”
“I met someone last night. Or rather, they finally told me who they are.”
His expression is wary. “Who?”
I study his eyes, watching for any hint of emotion. “Isadora.”
He blinks rapidly several times before shaking his head. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” I whisper. “She’s been visiting me all winter. She’s the woman who led me to the sacred temple that first night. Who led me to the cliffs.” I swallow. “To the room on the far side of the castle that night. It was her room, wasn’t it?”
His face pales. He shakes his head again, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I don’t understand. Isadora is—”
“Dead. I know.”
Tristan stares at me for a long time, barely breathing.
I shift to face him. “The first time I saw her, we were outside the castle grounds, when the corpse wolves chased us to the gates.”
Tristan is so still, he could be mistaken for part of the stone column we’re sitting on.
“She led me to the fae in the dungeon.”
“You went down there?!” His eyes flash and he grabs my face in both hands. “Red, promise me, never go down there.”
I’ve never seen Tristan lose his composure before.
His panic makes me realize just how dangerous the fae in the dungeon really is.
I may not fully understand everything yet, but two things are clear: First, the fae in the dungeon is a bigger problem than I realized.
And, second, Tristan fears losing me like he lost his sister.
I draw his hands down and hold them. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
He’s breathing heavily now and sweat glistens on his brow. “No, Red. You don’t understand. You can’t possibly …”
“Then help me understand.” I squeeze his hands. “All of it. What is Isadora trying to tell me?”
Tristan looks down at our entwined hands and lets out a shaky breath. “Okay.” He nods. “I’ll tell you.” He closes his eyes before squaring his shoulders. His face is wan again and his eyes are haunted.
I hate that I did this to him.
“This castle, Gwyllion, it’s the only safe place we have now. Further north, we can’t survive the winter. And to the south …” He doesn’t need to finish that thought. To the south is my father. To the south are the territories stolen by Llwyn.
He takes a deep breath. “But this castle has a price.”
“Nalina mentioned that.”
He groans and mutters to himself. “Of course she did.”
“But I want to hear it from you.” I nod, encouraging him to continue.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “For centuries, it was abandoned. Inhabited only by the fae in the dungeon. Moribund. He’s … revolting.” Tristan closes his eyes in disgust. “He considers this castle on loan until we claim territory back from the Fox King. It’s taken longer than expected.”
“What do you mean, ‘on loan’?”
“Moribund requires payment.” He swallows hard. “Beauty and youth.”
Ice runs through my veins, freezing me on the spot. “The hair …”
Tristan nods. “He collects it.”
“Not just any hair though.”
“No.” Tristan shakes his head slowly. “He has a preference.”
“For blonds.”
“Yes.” His face is guarded, like he’s hiding something. It makes me suspicious. I’m missing something important. Something he doesn’t want me to know.
I tilt my head. “But Moribund said he wants my hair. It’s auburn.”
Tristan’s eyes drift back over to me. They travel over my coppery hair, which I’ve tied into a thick braid that hangs over one shoulder. His eyes flicker up to meet mine.
“Yours is unusual in Annwyn. Exotic. Moribund covets unusual shades. I’m sure he’d consider yours a treasure.”
“That’s horrible.”
Something defensive flashes across his face. “Yes. It is horrible. In case you hadn’t noticed, in Annwyn we sometimes have to do horrible things to survive.”
His sharp tone catches me by surprise, but he’s right. Conditions in Annwyn are deplorable because of the unending war. Because of my father.
Tristan tips his head up toward the sky and gathers his composure. “We hate this, you know. Even as we love our kingdom. There’s beauty in this place, but …”
“Also terror.”
He nods.
But I still don’t have all the answers. “What about your sister? You told me she died suddenly.”
He swallows hard. “He killed her when I was twelve.”
I shake my head. Something doesn’t add up. “But that can’t be. I’ve seen your sister many times. She isn’t blond.”
Tristan laughs humorlessly. “Moribund demanded my sister that summer. She had the palest blond hair I’ve ever seen.
It was long and thin, like spider silk. It’s why he desired her.
” Tristan’s face hardens. “In my hubris, I thought I could trick him. I’d picked the darkest berries I could find and pounded them into a paste.
We worked it through her hair until it was the shade of midnight.
I thought he wouldn’t want her anymore since her hair was spoiled. ” His voice catches.
My heart sinks. “It didn’t work.”
He leans forward and puts his head in his hands.
“I insisted on bringing her to the dungeon myself, even though I wasn’t a Wolf yet.
I wanted to see Moribund’s face crumble when he saw I’d outsmarted him.
” He scoffs at the memory. “At twelve, you think you’re a man.
That you’re in control and you know everything there is to know about the world.
But you’re still a child in many ways, na?ve and hopeful.
” He swallows. “Moribund just laughed. I’d forgotten about fae magic.
He just turned her hair back to the shade of moonlight.
Even terrified, she was so, so beautiful … ”
I’m too afraid to speak.
“He killed her. Right in front of me.”
I reach out toward him and place a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He shrugs my hand off gently. “I should have saved her. It was summer, so we could have survived a journey through the Spires. It was the only time I’d ever considered abandoning Annwyn. Of following the other refugees that hide throughout Llwyn.”
“You couldn’t have known Moribund would demand your sister.”
“I knew he desired blonds. I knew my sister was beautiful. Everyone did.”
I think of the wraith with her long, floating hair. Dark as midnight, just as Tristan said. She’d kept the shade in death. After the torture her blond hair brought, I can’t blame her.
“It was only a matter of time,” he says, as if to himself.
Something in his words makes me pause. “A matter of time? How many women has Moribund taken?”
“I can’t be sure. We’ve lived in Gwyllion a long time.”
That’s not good enough for me. “When does he require payment?”
Tristan stills. “Every season we remain in his castle.”
My eyes widen. “Every season?” I remember the corpses in the dungeon. The nest of blond locks. The snakes of pale braids woven through it. The urge to vomit rises in me. “I’ve lived in this decrepit castle for nearly three months now. That means—”
“Yes,” he whispers. “He’s taken someone since you’ve been here.”
My mouth falls open in horror. “Who? When?”
Tristan looks away. “A girl from the village. On the night of the midwinter full moon.”
“The night of the bonfires? The night you kissed me?” My voice is rising in pitch, but I can’t restrain my horror. “How did he find her?”
“He doesn’t leave the dungeon while we’re here. It’s part of the deal.”
“Then someone brought a girl to him. Delivered her to be killed?”
He nods. I study his face. His jaw is clenched, his eyes tight on the horizon. A shiver runs down my spine as realization spreads through me.
“Who?” I ask, though I fear I already know the answer.
“It doesn’t matter.” He closes his eyes.
My resolve is firm in this. I need to hear him say it. “Who?!”
“It’s one of the duties of a Wolf.”
“Which Wolf?” My eyes are slits of rage, but I refuse to break my glare.
His head drops as he stares at the frozen ground. “I did,” he whispers. “I always do.”
My heart sinks into my stomach.
“And I will live with that horror every day, until I die.” His voice is hollow, haunted.
I can’t stop staring at him, searching his face for a sign that it isn’t true. That he’s lying. I’d begun to care for this man, this Wolf. He’s my sworn enemy, yet I’d let him touch me in the most intimate ways. I’d craved him like the dying crave life.
And he’s a murderer.