Chapter Sixteen #9
He stood before the raging, torch-carrying mob wearing clothes. Not just any clothes, but light, breezy, colorful breeches and a silk shirt—the style of Lyricans. In that second, I knew.
“You,” I hissed, lips peeling back from my teeth.
Meallan looked at me, then flicked away—turning his back on me completely. He didn’t have a clue who I was.
“Today we fight back!” he hollered, sending the mob into a frenzy. Behind them, a wall of wolves clashed with the Lumenfell soldiers, ever obedient to their alpha. “We take back Lyrica! We take back Elva! We free our home from the scourge of Alisdair Shadowsoul!”
“Yeah!”
“Take the flowers, everyone!” Meallan presented the delicate, purple flower crushed in his grip. “Rub it over your fists and weapons. Weave it into your magic. It will protect us, and kill him!”
“Yeah!”
“No!” I screamed against the wind—a lone voice in a raging sea.
“Attack!” Meallan shouted.
They charged the drawbridge, the most unnatural sight with beautiful flowers in their hands, and hate etched into their faces.
“Don’t do this!” I ran out in front of them and was roughly hauled back.
Riordan snapped me to his chest, throwing us both out of the way of the stampede.
“Riordan, the mark!”
“Was on Emiana’s body, not yours,” he finished, helping me up.
I slapped my forehead. “Of course, you’re right. That means he can’t scent that I’m right here. Fuck’s sake, he thinks I’m dead and—”
The mob threw everything they had, magical and physical at the castle doors.
Palace guards dropped down or charged around the structure to meet them, but the wolves were coming from everywhere.
Pouring out of the forest, overwhelming the town, leaping on fleeing villagers and tearing out their throats. They were Meallan’s army.
“That stupid, bitch-ass pup is using more trickery and manipulation to steal Alisdair’s throne, and his li-fe!” I spun to meet two wolves who broke off from the pack, bounding straight for us. I earthed two vials from my pocket. Lobbing them overhead, they flew true—smashing on the wolves’ faces.
They yelped, skidding to hard stops. Shrieking and whimpering, they frantically batted at their faces trying to get the stuff off.
Dropping on all fours, they turned tail and ran as fast as their hands and legs could carry them.
“What was that!” Riordan goggled at me, the crystal he’d been about to use hovering in the air. “How did you do that!”
“You can do it too.” I shoved three vials in his hands. “Now, move!”
I sprinted for the drawbridge, then veered sharply left—jumping off the edge to the frozen lake below.
“Artisa!”
Magic washed over me—warm like the rush of dipping your toe in a hot, steaming bath. I lifted into the air, flying over the angry mob. “That’s it, Riordan! Higher!”
Yes, finally! Once Riordan sets me down in the outer gardens, I’ll find Alisdair and set everything right. I know this castle better than anyone. All of its secrets and hidden corners. All I have to do is—
“Die, stunted scum!”
A hard force slammed into me, vaulting me out of the sky.
“Calli, no!”
I plummeted to the ground. My head collided with hard, unforgiving, frozen earth.
Darkness claimed me.
“What were their names?”
Alisdair leaned against the glass, tearing apart a pilfered apple, and watching me tend to its brothers and sisters.
“Caitriona, Ashling, and Nora.” A soft smile withered away the sharp edges of his features. A smile I only saw when he spoke of his children. “All so different, but in many ways, the same.”
I packed in the muddy dirt, loving the feel of living earth squishing through my fingertips. “What were your days like? Were they like this? Did you watch your girls do all the work with the horses while you kicked back munching on apples?”
Alisdair chuckled. “I’ll have you know I did all the work.
My faywens told grand tales every morning of all the help they’d be to me, and then Nora would spend all her time petting, grooming, and riding her favorite horse.
Ashling, my dreamer, chased butterflies through the field, and Caitriona.
.. well, she would sing.” He shook his head, laughing softly. “Like you, she had a beautiful voice.”
I blushed like the silly mare I was.
“Her crooning could calm the wildest stallions. Looking back, those are the days I miss the most. Not the carefree days of my youth, or causing trouble with Bradach, or galloping across the plains with the herds.
“I miss the common days where nothing really happened, because it didn’t have to. I didn’t need any more love or adventure than being with Raelina and my girls.”
I ducked my head, not wanting him to see me cry.
“That’ll be what I miss most about you.”
“What?” I frowned, raising my chin. “What do you mean?”
“When immortality takes me away from you like it has everyone I’ve loved, I won’t miss the days you bit me, rolled in manure, or announced to the court I have a hairy growth on my cock that’s bigger than my cock itself.”
I snorted, bursting into giggles.
“I’ll miss this,” he said, smiling that smile. “Listening to you sing while you play in the dirt.”
I both laughed and rolled my eyes. “You won’t miss me, my love. We didn’t start together, but we’ll end together. That I promise you.”
“...promise...” I rasped. “Alisdair...”
I peeled my eyes open, vision spinning.
Pain assaulted me—roaring through my head and ripping out a groan.
Every part of me from my head to the bottom of my feet ached.
I lost my boots in the fall. Whipping winds beat and froze my bare feet.
How long was I gone from this world? Strolling in a land of daydreams while the world fell apart around me?
Somehow I pushed up to my knees, clutching my head. In the distance, I heard clanging swords and the rage of battle.
“I’m... not too late.” I tried to stand and pitched to the side, my aching head spinning the world upside down. “Alisdair... I’m coming.”
Flipping over, I screamed.
Riordan draped over the snowbank, blood staining his perch red. Long, vicious gashes raked lengthways on his chest—not the slash of a wolf, but the mangling of a falcon. Riordan tried to protect me from the flying faeriken who knocked me out of the sky. Her, or one of her comrades.
To the end, my friend saved me.
“Oh, Riordan, I’m sorry.” I threw myself on him, my heart cracking in half.
“You’re a new husband. You have a baby on the way.
Now you’ll never get to see your child’s face, all because of me.
Ahhh!” I screamed, frustration strangling me.
“Why was I so stupid? Why didn’t I realize how to break the curse sooner! ”
“Cal... li...”
I shot up, gaping at his fluttering eyes.
“...help...”
I sprung into action. Ripping the hem of my dress, I bound his chest with the strips, grasped his arm, and heaved him onto my back.
The weight of him bent me in half. Gritting my teeth, I took a step, then another, then another. “It’s... going to be okay. I’ll get you help, my friend.” The gaping hole where the palace doors used to be beckoned me forward. “I promise.”
I stumbled over the threshold and clamped hard on my lip, holding back a cry.
Talulla beheld me with unseeing eyes. My little, quiet taste-tester, who was saved the same night as I when I refused the poisoned meal and decided to eat with the rest of the court.
Turned out I only saved her for a few more weeks, only for her to meet her end with a sword driven through her chest—pinning her to the wall.
Tears soaked my face as I forced myself on, refusing to look in the faces of the guards resting still and quiet at my feet. “Healer! Healer Soulstitcher!” I called. “Someone! Anyone, help!”
Creeping around the corner, Riordan and I fell down the stairs together—following the roar and misery of fighting. If the healers were going to be anywhere, it’d be in the middle of the battle.
“You’re not dying today, Riordan!”
He groaned.
“That’s right. Keep talking.” I clung tight to the banister, straining to keep us upright. One slip and we’d tumble to our deaths—for good this time. “Tell me about the baby. Have you thought of names yet?”
“...ric...” he wheezed.
“Gilric? Oh, yes, Gilric. After your father. That’s a great name for a boy.” I injected my dry, raspy voice with all the enthusiasm I could muster. “A strong, warrior’s name. What about for a girl?”
“C-C-C-... Cal...li.”
The corner of my mouth tugged into a trembling smile. “Really?”
He grunted. “Fuck no, keva... it’ll be... Keelin.”
I let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, igniting shaking chuckles in Riordan.
Good. If he’s laughing, he’s alive.
I climbed off the final step. The sound of breaking glass muffled under—
“ARGGHH!”
“Alisdair?” I lurched into the throne room, and there he was.
Aeris, Eadaoin, Bradach, Foalan, and the big, hairy, hulking beast that was the love of my life held a shrinking line against the fray.
My friends were bleeding, sweating, and gasping—all of them fighting to beat back the mob, and destroy the flowers they so eagerly wielded against Alisdair. But some were slipping through.
Alisdair bled from dozens of cuts. He was huge, but not as big as he could be. He was terrifying, but his fangs weren’t as sharp. His claws not as long. He was weakening, and somewhere in the chaos, Meallan was waiting for the right moment to finish him off.
“Agh!” The Lyricans surged, slamming into Foalan’s hastily erected barrier.
Both sides were pushed back with Aeris and Eadaoin tripping over the dais.
“Help,” I shouted, addressing the jumping, screeching stragglers bringing the rear of the mob.
No one bothered to turn around.
“He’s dying! We need help!” I swiped at someone’s arm, and they swiped back—nearly knocking me off my feet. “We’re Lyricans,” I burst out. “We followed you to aid the noble cause of saving Elva, and now one of our own is dying!”
Two, three, half a dozen scrunched, glaring faces turned our way.