Chapter 18 Carwynn
CARWYNN
“It’s so girthy,” I muttered, cringing at the alarmingly phallic-shaped growth on the side of a tree.
A cool mist in the air smelled like earthy moss and honeysuckle.
I woke this morning out of a nightmare—shattering the onyx relic again. I shot out of bed, swearing my breath billowed like clouded frost before dissipating, just before the haunting voice.
“Two flames defy the dark . . . One buried in the womb of the mountain . . .” the voice breathed urgently, clutching at my soul.
Never had it spoken before. But I knew it was the box—it was calling to me. Speaking in riddles, yes, but definitely growing stronger. I needed to see Lochlainn’s archives first thing after work. I had to find it.
But of course, it was one of those rare mornings when we all headed out the door at the same time to teach. Breena insisted on taking the scenic route to the Institute, dragging us through thick forest to collect a questionable mushroom specimen before work.
The pale, squishy plant sprouted from the base of the trunk, hanging like a flaccid extension of the tree. Breena set a glass jar at her feet and pulled a small blade from her bag.
Oh god, she was actually going to do a castration. Right here. Right now.
Gross.
Aine’s face mirrored my own, disgust meeting curiosity.
“Ya cutting the tree’s lad off?” Aine quipped.
Breena’s head snapped around, lips tightening. “It’s not a penis!”
Turning to me, Aine’s mouth pulled up into a devious grin. She thrived on pushing Breena’s buttons.
“I don’t know, Carwynn. It looks like a penis to me.”
“Definitely a dick,” I replied quickly, swallowing down a laugh.
Breena growled in irritation. She was passionate about her plants and had a pet peeve against anyone who disrespected them—something Aine and I took full advantage of.
“It’s not a penis!” Breena screeched, fist tightening around the blade. Likely a threat. “It’s a fungus!”
“Well, I mean—” I gave the tree a pitying look. “He could be if his willy cheered up a bit.”
As soon as Aine’s eyes met mine, we lost it.
Breena’s glare alone could’ve cut the tree down. She huffed, kneeled, and sliced the mushroom off in one clean sweep, dropping it into the jar. The curving length jiggled slightly as it plunked down.
“Eejits,” she muttered. “If either of you ever bothered to let me teach ya something, you’d know how precious a Mirthridate Mushroom is—a rare primitive species with antidotal properties when turned to tea.”
“Ohhhh,” I drawled as realization hit. “That’s what you used when I poisoned myself with those cute pink ones!”
I was in my naive, honeymoon stage of living in Luckland back then. Picking mushrooms and wildflowers like a carefree ditz. Within hours, I puked my guts out, feverish and on the edge of blackout. Breena and Aine had taken care of me.
Breena nodded. “I don’t even think anyone knows this still exists. I was so bloody panicked that night. Lucky Aine’s luck spell worked and led me to it.”
Warmth imbued into my chest, wrapping around my heart. They’d barely known me or owed me anything. And still, they saved me.
“And ya haven’t told the Institute or the Elders?” Aine asked, brow skyrocketing.
Breena secured the jar in her bag before meeting Aine’s gaze. “With things being a little off lately, I didn’t want to risk the information getting into the wrong hands. Anyone corrupt would make it disappear. Better to keep it hidden while I tend to it.”
Mine and Aine’s heads bobbed in unison. Better safe than sorry if it’s as rare as she believed.
“All right, we need to walk and talk if we wanna get to work on time,” Aine said, stepping back through the trees, Breena in tow.
Once we found the path again, the woods opened up to the bustle of The Mounds. The smell of spiced ciders, fatty meats, and fresh grass hung in the air.
“How’s ya classes going?” Breena asked, knowing I’d had my fair share of meltdowns this term.
“Ferie Geography I don’t mind—easy enough. But Professor Lead’s monotone voice is like an elephant dart to the face.”
Breena chuckled as I scooted past a couple walking by. “It’s History that’s the thorn in my side. It feels like an endless storm of info bombs—thousands of millennia shoved into one crash course. At least we’re finally into more recent history now, which helps.”
“We’ve a long history,” Aine cut in, a flicker of darkness in her eyes. “Uneventful, compared to the bloodthirsty drama queens of the Human World.”
I’d pay to see Aine’s horrified reaction to a human newspaper.
“Oh!” I held up a finger. “Speaking of history—I had no idea the Ossory wolves were linked to royalty?” I turned to Aine in question, grinning. “All right, Professor of creatures, explain.”
Aine slowed, that subtle, secretive smile ghosting across her lips.
“It’s in their bloodline. An urge to serve and protect Luckland’s royalty.
Back when Padraig became the first Lord, his most loyal followers were gifted the Ossory abilities.
Fearsome creatures to defend their Lord and land. It’s been passed down ever since.”
“So if it’s in their bloodline, does that mean Ossorys have to mate with their own kind?” I asked.
Aine nodded, pinning me with a knowing look.
“Yes. They’re encouraged to mate within the bloodlines. This way, they can carry out their sacred marriage ritual and ensure the abilities pass on.”
Aine’s glance lingered a moment too long, and I could sense her worry for me. I’d seen the way she noticed Finley at the hot spring—and my fluster. Was he obligated to only date Ossory women? But he’d asked me out. Maybe everything else was just fun and games until duty called.
Internally, I deflated at that possibility. I never wanted to be someone’s fun and games ever again.
“Oh,” I said quietly. “Gotcha. That makes sense.”
Breena caught my gaze and offered an encouraging smile. Ever the optimist.
The crowd swelled as we neared the Institute. Lost in the chaos around me, my mind whispered a name. Or was it a voice?
Breena homed in on a tall, lanky man in the distance. “I’m off!” She waved a hand, gliding away. “Have a great day, ladies!”
“Wait—” I shot out to Aine. “Why do the Ossory hang around Lochlainn then?”
Aine’s brows cinched. “Well, he—” Her words sliced in half as a high-pitched voice called her name. A petite woman with buttercup-yellow hair whispered something urgent in her ear.
“Tell them I’ll be right there,” Aine firmly replied, and the woman scurried off.
“Sorry,” Aine murmured, casting her eyes away in thought. “An unannounced visit from the Elders. See ya for dinner?”
“Definitely,” I said, jerking my head toward the direction the secretary had gone. “Go on. I’ll catch you later.”
Aine spun on her heels, but her gait was stiffer than it had been before. My stomach tightened.
Hmm . . .