Chapter 15
Well, wasn’t that just a proverbial kick in her backside?
She had magic. And not a kind that might aid in her research or make her life easier, but dream magic. And she wasn’t fated, or really even all that special. She had… potential.
Ryn supposed she should be thankful. For the first time in her life, she’d been labeled something other than a nuisance.
“You say I have the potential to be the fated one,” she mused, stepping around Xaviel so she could see the fae more clearly.
It was kind of him to want to protect her, but he was a bit too furious at the moment to entrust with such delicate negotiations. Not that she blamed him. He had every right to his anger and devastation after what the curse had done to him.
“You are suggesting there is more to this bride curse than simple fate. What more does the curse demand from me?”
“The bride must be worthy,” the fae replied, in an almost thoughtful tone. Something about her expression suggested it wasn’t going to be an easy thing to prove.
“What does that mean? And why am I the one being tested for worthiness when it was the king whose character you doubted?”
This time it was unmistakable—the look the fae woman shot her simmered with some dawning emotion. Anticipation? Or perhaps even satisfaction? She might be playing the poor old woman begging for help, but something here was not quite as it appeared to be.
“The one who would break the curse must be willing to endure trials. To show themselves capable of standing by a king’s side.”
All right then. Given that the fae had found Keldreth’s character lacking, a series of magical trials were well within the usual bounds of a curse like this.
At least in books, but what else did she have to go on?
“What sort of trials?”
The fae woman thumped her cane on the floor. “A curse such as this one cannot be cheated or circumvented. The bride must be wise, powerful, capable, and tenacious. Beyond that… you must discover for yourself.”
An interesting choice of words. In fact, every moment of this conversation had been filled with interesting word choices, and Ryn barely suppressed a shudder as an icy finger of dread crawled down her spine.
As it turned out, she knew this story. There was an entire category of legends based around powerful, mercurial beings who toyed with mortals for their own amusement. And honestly, she would have preferred a volcano.
Because these kinds of stories often weren’t the ones with happy endings. They almost always involved great sacrifice or loss, and not everyone was able to find their way home again.
But she was here, whether she liked it or not. Trapped in a legend centuries in the making. Surrounded by magic, both wild and unpredictable, wielded by immensely powerful beings who seemed to place little value on human life.
And what weapons did she have at her disposal?
Magic she didn’t know how to use. An overabundance of curiosity. An unhealthy fascination with folktales and a burning need for answers.
Not much as weapons went, but perhaps in this case they were exactly the weapons she needed.
“All right then,” she said softly, shutting her eyes and searching her memory for anything she could recall from such tales, whether of fated brides, fae curses, or vengeful magic.
“I suppose there must be a test, or a price. A series of trials to be passed, and a toll to be paid. The brides in stories are often quite desperately in love, so they must prove their commitment through sacrifice.”
“Very good, human scholar,” the fae woman said, her tone gone quiet and contemplative, as if with surprised approval. “I do believe the curse will require sacrifice. Possibly even great suffering, as all worthwhile undertakings do.”
Ryn winced, and at her side, Xaviel grew tense with fury, as if poised to erupt once more. But that was the last thing they could afford. Angering a creature like this fae was never a good idea, so Ryn placed herself hastily between them and laid a placating hand on Xaviel’s arm.
“It’s all right,” she said quietly. “I can do this. In fact, you might say I’ve been preparing for this moment my entire life.”
She’d been so focused on the fae, she’d forgotten that she and Xaviel weren’t exactly allies either.
Until he froze, staring at her hand on his arm as if trying to decide whether to simply tear it off.
Then that glowing nightmare gaze turned slowly to focus on her face, and if she thought very long about what he was capable of doing to her for her presumption, she would probably end up whimpering in terror.
So instead of jerking her hand away like a rational person, she smiled and patted his arm. Exactly like she might pat the head of a dog while saying, “good boy.”
Yes, he was definitely going to murder her later. So long as this fae didn’t murder her first.
“You can do this?” Xaviel repeated harshly, making her jump with the sudden whip-crack of his tone. “How? With your notebooks and your stories and your dreams? She’s planning to feed you to this curse to save herself!”
“Oh, you mean exactly like you and Kel were planning to do?” Ryn demanded heatedly, feeling irrationally disappointed by his scorn. “Don’t pretend there’s any real difference.”
Xaviel recoiled, his eyes darkening with shock, while the fae cackled quietly in the background. He looked as if she’d stabbed him in the heart, but it was the truth and she would not take it back.
“You took me to that cavern knowing what was likely to happen. Expecting me to simply vanish forever. This way, I at least have a chance. Or have you decided you don’t want me to break this curse after all?”
She didn’t think she could explain this to Xaviel, but the brutally practical side of her could acknowledge that there might not be a better person for the job.
There were a hundred tales of such trials, and she’d studied them at length.
Granted, before today she’d thought the majority of them to be mere metaphors. Instructive rather than descriptive.
But unless she chose to doubt her senses, it seemed they were very real indeed, and she was about to experience one firsthand.
Perhaps she should be grateful. After all her years of studying a topic everyone considered useless, she was being handed an opportunity to prove it could be very useful indeed.
“Just out of curiosity,” she said, turning back to the fae, whose avid gaze seemed far brighter than the moment warranted, “what happens if I refuse to become the fated one? What if I decline to take part in these trials of yours?”
The old fae regarded her with those dark, fathomless eyes and leaned forward, her head tilting to the side as she seemed to stare directly into Ryn’s soul.
“The same thing that happened to all the others.”
Ryn swallowed, or tried to, but her throat had gone dry and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Something about the fae woman’s tone warned her that she did not want to continue that line of questioning.
It was too late to be horrified by whatever those women’s fates had been.
Too late to regret following Xaviel into the mountain, too late to berate herself for being trapped by this curse.
If she didn’t want the previous brides’ endings to become hers, she had no way out but forward.
Even if she still didn’t intend to marry anyone when this was over.
“Very well,” she said coolly. “Looks like I don’t have a choice. Just tell me where the magic door or whatever is, and I’ll figure out how to break this curse.”
A harsh cracking sound reverberated through the room, and with it Ryn felt a curious sensation of both finality and beginning. Her words had triggered something—something that could not be undone—and the fae woman responded with a smile.
It was bright, but there was no kindness in it. Only sharp anticipation. As if to validate Ryn’s suspicion that the tiny, helpless old woman on the surface was hiding something far deeper, far older, far more vicious.
“As you have spoken.” The cane in her hand began to stretch and grow until it became a gnarled wooden staff. She struck the floor with the end of it and gestured towards empty air.
And suddenly, there was a door where none had appeared before.
“Go,” the fae said. “If you are wise and powerful and very, very lucky, you may one day become a legend in your own right. And if you fail? Well, perhaps in the future another, more worthy candidate can be found.”
The absurdity of the situation struck Ryn all at once, and she began to laugh quietly as she stared at the door…
The magical door.
How many stories started out in exactly this same way? How many times had she lain on the rug in her father’s library, kicking her feet as the hero’s adventure began? Wondering gleefully how he would triumph this time? Because of course, he or she always did.
But along the way, how many other stories ended in failure? How many other brave adventurers had vanished into the pages of history not because their lives were less interesting, not because they were cowards, but because there was no happy ending?
And not a single one of those heroes could have known the difference when they opened that door and set out along that path.
Would she be strong enough to see this through?
Wily enough to defeat the fae? To determine her game and beat her with her own weapons?
Or was this effort doomed from the beginning?
Would she ever achieve the professorate she’d dreamed of and return to her family in triumph?
Or would she vanish like all the others, swallowed up by an unknown fate and lost even to memory?
There was no way to find out without choosing to start the journey.
“I suppose this is it,” she said soberly, and set her hand to the door. Pulled it towards her for a moment, then turned to Xaviel.
“I hope you know I’ll do my best. Despite what you tried to do, I hold no grudges against you or your king, and would like to see you freed from this.
” She turned next to the fae. “You, on the other hand…” Whoever and whatever she was, the old woman seemed like a creature best not loosed on the world.
But if it was the only way to free Xaviel and Keldreth from this curse?
She would just have to deal with that problem when it arrived. Not that she could imagine killing anyone—even an evil fae enchantress—but she could probably manage a moderate degree of violence given strong enough motivation. As she’d told Xavi, even a determined duck…
An apt metaphor for her life, now that she thought about it.
She turned again to the door—such a plain, ordinary door—and pulled it open.
The only thing she could see was darkness. There was no way to know where it led. No way to know what this curse entailed, only that it was born of fae vengeance and she’d best be on her guard…
“No.”
Her head whipped around.
Xaviel was glowering fiercely as he strode towards her. “You aren’t going through that doorway. Not alone.”
The fae woman said nothing, only observed, her expression strangely eager.
“You can’t exactly come with me,” Ryn insisted. “This trial isn’t intended for you.”
“Neither was the curse,” he growled, “and yet I am a part of it anyway. And the witch never said you had to survive these trials without help.”
That was… true, actually, but Ryn refused to give ground.
“These trials are meant for the bride,” she reminded him, feeling rather annoyed at him for stopping her right when she’d finally worked up her courage.
“Are you volunteering for the position? Come to think of it, you might look quite lovely in a dress.”
“Bride or no bride.” His jaw was set, his hand clenched on the edge of the door so fiercely that his knuckles turned white.
“Whatever part of me is not yet twisted by this curse understands that if Kel and I bear no guilt for these circumstances, you bear even less. Whatever suffering lies beyond that door, I will not stand back and have my life purchased at such a cost. And neither would Kel.”
Oh. He was being noble. It was rather sweet, if a bit unexpected, and Ryn found her heart softening as she regarded his unrelenting glower.
“A life is always worth saving,” she told him. “And I am choosing this path for myself.” Well, mostly. If only because it seemed preferable to simply vanishing into thin air.
“And I am choosing to go with you. I will not send a human to face this alone. Especially,” he added, “when this particular human was nearly taken down by a terrified salamander.”
They were left glaring at each other until the fae woman thumped her staff fiercely on the wooden floor.
“Enough. Make your choice. Before the door is closed to both of you forever.”
Ryn started and looked over her shoulder. “So you’re saying we can choose to go together?”
The ancient fae shrugged. “The door is open. Whether it accepts you both is not for me to decide. But this I can promise you—that while a hardship shared is a hardship halved, the curse will not be cheated. You will face double the trials. Should neither of you turn back, this will prove the more difficult path in the end.”
“I will not change my mind.” Xaviel stood immovable beside the doorway, and in his steely gaze, Ryn read the stubborn resolve that had carried him through centuries of waiting. Searching. Clinging to shreds of memory and a loyalty strong enough to withstand even the power of the curse.
“Well, I suppose that’s that then,” she said with a shrug. “I have no desire to vanish from existence just yet. And if I was willing to brave the monsters of Dunmaren to find the source of my dreams, how could I turn back now?”
“You’ve chosen,” the fae interrupted, thumping her staff once more. “May the strength of your resolve prove equal to the pain that lies ahead…”
A swirling wind rushed through the opening, slamming the door against the wall and throwing Ryn’s hair into a wild tangle. She tried to hold it back, but then the wind caught her and tugged her forward.
She yelped, but it was too late. She’d fallen through the door, into darkness and a howling storm. She called out for Xaviel, but heard nothing beyond the shriek of the wind that snatched at her skirts and tore at her skin with icy fingers.
Nothing but the wind and a ghostly echo of the fae woman’s voice.
…And may your pain prove equal to the cup that it must fill.
As curses went, this seemed an appropriate beginning, Ryn thought, just before the storm snatched the last of her breath, and with it, the thread of her consciousness, sending her spinning into a blank, black oblivion.