CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
After what had happened the day before, with the protests and arrests, our second day of parading through Eskalon was called off, exactly as the Hermit said it would be.
Instead, I was ordered into my own private carriage, and Brennan into a separate one for the long ride back through the district and city.
Our already extensive guard doubled, keeping us both surrounded.
No one was taking any chances as we traveled back.
The remaining flowers and bags of grain were instead handed out by soldiers, or left on the corners of the streets.
I watched the buildings go by, the streets of Batron. We hadn’t passed it the night before, but I was able to see a clear view of the building that used to be Geoffrey’s. Now it was a pile of wood and stone.
The day passed slowly. I was listless, still worrying about the night before with nothing to distract me.
I could still feel Brennan’s touch, his kiss, his scent, even after I’d bathed and changed into a fresh travel gown.
And worst of all, I could still feel his energy, his lifeforce running through my veins.
When we’d finally made it back to Lafir Castle, I transferred to a carriage with Olivay’s parents.
That turned out to be much harder than being alone.
I had to keep up conversations with them, accept their love while I was actively trying to turn away their affections.
I had to be Olivay again, be her in a way I was forgetting to be when I was alone with Brennan.
Because when I was with him lately, I was starting to feel more like myself.
Like I was a real person again. Like being with him was one of those big life events my mother told me about, the kind that made the real you come out.
And all I was doing in return was lying to him about who I was, hurting him every time I was alone with him and fed, every time I was even near him. I was so glad we were apart, glad he could recover his energy, so he would be strong for the hunt.
But I missed him anyway.
We reached the king’s hunting lodge just as the sun set for the night.
It was located in the woods on the very border of where Eskalon met the wildlands one had to travel through to reach Azeal’s enclosure.
The Mortsen Mountains and the Dark Woods.
I recognized the trees, the lay of the land.
It wasn’t the exact spot, but we were dangerously close to where my mother had been killed.
And to the caves where the real Olivay was being held captive.
My chest tightened as I stepped out of the carriage and onto the open field. Trees lined either side of the clearing like a wall, while the lodge sat open and unencumbered in the center.
Slowly, emerging from behind the walls of trees, soldiers in shining steel armor and blue capes emerged, standing guard. Soldiers I’d been seeing every day for a week, soldiers who’d been protecting me, some of whom I’d even become friendly with.
And yet, the sight of them appearing as the sky darkened in these woods made my chest seize. And the warmth of the day vanished, my body shivering with cold.
It was winter. The ground was covered in snow. I was with my mother, riding to Eskalon to negotiate with King Tirian. The border was near, but then his soldiers came …
Our guards were dead …
The chimera was howling …
And there was blood, so much blood, so much pain, and she was dying.
Dying.
I had to save her. I needed to be there. But I was hurting her, killing her faster with every touch. I needed to get away. I needed to run, but the chimera was still out there, and she was holding onto me, holding me so tight …
“Samara, it’s okay. I trust you. I love you. And I need you to live. To survive. So take it. Take as much as you need.”
No. No. No.
I stumbled back, clutching my chest. My arm was on fire—the old scar that never healed—that never would.
Someone was yelling, calling out to me. But I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. Whatever they were saying to me, it was in another language, and their voice sounded far away. They shouted again, the same phrase, the same word. But it was foreign and unfamiliar. A name. Not mine—not mine.
“Olivay,” the man said. No, the prince. Brennan.
I blinked, looking up as he raced toward me from his moonstag, his boots kicking up dust from the dirt, his blue cape flying behind his shoulders. Golden thread shone in the sun.
What were we doing here?
He held my hands in his, and he felt warm and steady and solid. “Hey, Olivay,” he said. “Olivay?” His thumbs rubbed soft circles over my skin.
“W-What?” I asked, my chest heaved suddenly, only letting me know then that I’d stopped breathing. What the fuck? What had just happened? “Who-Who …”
“Hey now,” he said. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m right here.”
I looked into his eyes. Green. So green, like emeralds. Beautiful and blazing.
“What happened to her?” A man asked. He was bustling through a crowd of people to reach Brennan and me. Servants. Staff from Eskalon. From Lafir Castle.
“Is she all right? Is she hurt?” a woman asked, her voice anxious. There was a sense of love and worry emanating from everyone around me, pouring into me. And something inside was awake and feeding.
“Olivay?” Brennan asked. “Tell me what’s wrong, what happened?”
“She needs water,” a man said. He was ancient.
A witch. The Hermit. “Go,” he yelled, ordering a girl who gawked nearby.
“Princess Olivay will be all right. It was a long journey, and we’re on elevated ground.
She just needs some water and a nap, and she’ll be fine.
Won’t you, Princess?” His voice was pointed.
It all came back to me. I was Princess Olivay. The Hermit was Lord Brandon, and the man and woman were her parents, the King and Queen of Spartva.
And Brennan was—he was … mine, said something inside me. But he wasn’t mine. He could never be mine.
He will die.
Like my mother had within these very woods. My fault. It was always my fault.
Abigail approached with a glass of water in her hand. Brennan took it and held it up to my lips. “Take a drink for me, Olivay,” he said. “It’s all right.”
I opened my lips, and he tilted the cup, slowly letting the cold water slide down my throat.
“There you go. Good girl.”
More energy came in. Brennan’s. King Dairen’s. Queen Noemay’s. No. No. But I straightened, feeling energetic again, feeling strong.
Gods. I panicked. I thought I could handle being here.
I’d passed through here already with the Hermit.
But it was different this time. We weren’t just riding through.
We were staying. And again I had someone to protect, someone I …
someone I was falling in love with. Someone whose life was going to end because of me.
I was ushered inside the lodge soon after, into a long one-story building that stretched the length of the clearing.
Two walls of trees stood on either side.
Built of brick and stone, it was surprisingly dreary and plain for a king, despite the presence of a great hall and enough rooms to allow the entire council an overnight visit.
The lodge also boasted a small throne room, and a library filled with a private collection said to have been amassed by Tirian’s late wife, Brennan’s mother.
Brennan laid me down on my bed and took a seat in the chair beside it, stroking my forehead. The guilt was going to eat me alive. I had to do something, find a way to stop this, to end it.
But every thought I had of telling him the truth, of pushing him away, ended with a burning sensation in my wrist. Between the fiery pain shooting up my arm and the way my stomach twisted, I was in agony.
I turned away from Brennan, burrowed deep into the blankets, and feigned sleep until he left.
I had dinner alone in my room, and soon after I fell into actual sleep.
Without much to contribute to the hunt the following day, especially once the scouts returned, reporting the latest sighting of the wild boar, I kept to my room with a borrowed library book.
Every now and then I looked through the window, watching the knights confer, sharpen their weapons, or practice riding their moonstags above the trees.
I only emerged that day for dinner. And while Brennan watched me intently from across the room, his attention was taken by all the planning that had to be set for his departure in the morning.
When the time came, we all gathered outside to wish the knights a bountiful hunt and to send prayers to Kavrir that they remained safe as they triumphed over the boar.
They all sat atop their moonstags, their camping gear strapped to the saddles, their swords brandished in excitement.
Brennan rode Aurick over to me and descended to say a personal goodbye.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said.
“And I you,” I replied, hoping to keep it brief. I needed him strong, needed him energized as he rode out. But every second he spent with me, I was draining him, hurting him.
“Olivay,” he said carefully, “Do you feel …” He leaned in closer. “Have I upset you at all?”
“No,” I said. “You haven’t.”
“I’ve been worried about you since yesterday, since the night before.” His jaw muscles flexed.
“I was just tired when we arrived,” I said. “Nothing more, I promise. Now go! The sooner you leave, the sooner I can welcome you back into my arms.”
“It’s the only place I want to be.” He reached into his purse and pulled out the white lace ribbons I’d given to him to show my favor for the tourney. “I’ve carried these with me everywhere,” he said. “Day and night, they’re never out of my sight.”
My chest tightened. “May they continue to bring you to victory.”