Chapter 78 Carys #2
“I’m not the man you’re looking for. I’m only second-in-command of the Zenith.”
The flames are closing in around us and the screams of the councilors have subsided. Iywan’s heart is beating so loudly that I can hear it.
“Who’s the leader of the Zenith?”
Sweat streams down his face. “Lord Commander Rheon.”
I furrow my brows at him. “Thank you, Iywan.” I step back and inhale deeply, reveling in the heat of the flames all around us.
Iywan’s head darts left and right, taking in the growing blaze so close to engulfing him.
I want to watch him burn. I want to watch the skin melt off his bones and his bones turn to ashes.
“Your mother would be so horrified,” Iywan says.
His words douse me like icy water. I draw in a shuddery breath as the overpowering heat inside me flickers.
“My mother would be horrified?” I ask. “By me?” I point the dagger at my chest and he follows the movement.
“You kept her alive with magic, prolonged her suffering, turned the entire Council, the entire royal staff against her daughter. She trusted you. I trusted you; you were once like the father I’d lost. You were supposed to be on my side. You were supposed to help me.”
The fires around me begin to dwindle and Iywan slumps against the wall, hope washing over his face. “I did what neither of you could,” he says. “For our kingdom. For your own good. I did what I had to!”
FINISH THIS, the cold voice in my head roars, and that heat rises within me like the high tide.
“Well, then … I suppose you’ll understand that I’m doing what I have to.”
Iywan’s eyes widen, a question parting his lips. I step back and clench my fists, sending up a wall of flames that aren’t nearly as powerful as moments ago, but Iywan’s shrieks follow.
I back away, the flames behind me parting like water around a boulder as I make my way toward the door.
Iywan’s screams die by the time I’m past the charred bodies and ash of the councilors and out of the chamber. The doors slam behind me, and I press my back against it, trying to catch my breath as the cold presence within me fades away.
A tremor runs through me, jarring my bones, pain radiating everywhere.
My face smarts, my vision spots, and my stomach churns.
I double over and dry heave uncontrollably.
I have nothing to give, but the heaving doesn’t stop for a while.
I take a few steps forward and drop to the floor as sobs render me immobile.
I never want to sense that cold, alluring presence in my mind again.
Enchantress … it’s what Briony had called me and what I’d heard my own voice speak.
As if I’ve summoned her, Briony’s soft voice travels down the corridor. “Princess?”
I lift my head as she approaches. “What’s happening to me?” My head pounds in time with my erratic heart.
“The fulfillment of a prophecy,” she says.
My vision begins to wane, and I blink repeatedly.
“We need to get you healed. May I touch your face? You’re bleeding rather profusely.”
My stomach dips and roils as my body recalls Eefa slicing me across my face. I nod and everything wavers, my body becoming both heavy and light at the same time. Then I succumb to unconsciousness.
When I come to again, Briony’s face hovers over mine. I’m flat on my back, and the pain in my face is gone.
“Here, let’s sit you up. You need to drink something,” she says. She slides a hand beneath my shoulder blades and helps me sit up. Then she hands me a goblet that was sitting on the floor beside her. “Recovery elixir,” she says. “It’ll help a little as … everything wears off.”
Without question I lift it to my lips.
“Drink slowly,” she warns.
I take a sip and fight the urge to guzzle down the sweet, lukewarm elixir. After a few sips, I try to focus on the priestess through my dizziness. Slowly, my head starts to clear.
“Briony? Were you ever on Iywan’s side?”
She winces at the question. “Yes. I believed in the mission of the Zenith until I realized that they had it all wrong.”
“You called me Enchantress,” I say. I called myself Enchantress. I shiver.
“Years ago, it was believed that the Heirs of Dusk and Embers banished Enidwen from the realm. The jury’s still out.
The truth is that she wasn’t banished right away.
A lot is still left to discover, but what has been speculated for years among priests and scholars of the old religion, what has become startlingly clear, is that her spirit—in fact, hers and the Underling Prince’s—lived on.
Passing through the generations, through the descendants of the Heirs.
“Her spirit has lain semi-dormant, but it was prophesied that one day it would awaken within one of Agryna’s Chosen—that is, one touched by fire.
You bear the curse of Enidwen through your mother’s bloodline and firewielding from the sun goddess through your father’s.
The Zenith has been looking for the one who is going to continue Enidwen’s mission to open the Veil.
They thought they’d found her through your mother, but soon they realized there’s more than one person who shares her blood. ”
My body is weighty and my mind too sluggish perhaps to fully process this new information. Agryna’s Chosen? Curse of Enidwen? A true descendant of the sun goddess?
I should be in denial of all these ridiculous claims.
Instead, I feel nothing. I take another, larger sip from the goblet and close my eyes as the elixir slides down my aching throat. “Did my mother know?”
“Yes. Iywan ensured that I kept her asleep, but she appeared to me in a dream when there was a lapse in the effects of the potion that I was giving her. It’s how I came to realize the dire mistake the Zenith was making.
If they used you to open the Veil, who’s to know what would come forth. It would be catastrophic.”
I watch her uneasily as I finish the elixir. “Why should I trust a word of what you say?”
“Because, Princess, I have seen your power, and I can assure you that I do not want to awaken the enchantress again.”
My heart plummets into my stomach. Gods, neither do I.
Suddenly remembering the thick black veins that had lined my arms back in the dungeons, I flip my arms over. My skin is speckled with cuts and bruises but nothing else. I search within myself for power, for that cold presence, but there’s only nervous energy coursing through my veins.
Briony takes the cup from me. “Princess, I’d like to answer more of your questions, but as we speak, Lord Commander Rheon and a few of his men are riding to Paramount.
He expects a bride tethered to a conduit for his wielding, and if he doesn’t get that …
well, he has the entire Royal Brigade and the Zenith at his fingertips.
I’m afraid Paramount is not safe for you anymore.
In fact, the whole kingdom will be in danger if the Zenith gets their hands on you. ”
I’m a weapon to be wielded. Gods … I expect to be more moved by this news, but fatigue has thrown a blanket over my emotions. “Are you suggesting that I run, Priestess?” I still have so many questions about her loyalty, her title, her dedication to the god of death.
She nods. “Respectfully … Not suggesting—telling. Angharad is already prepared to get you to safety.” She stands and helps me to my feet. My legs are reluctant to support my weight, and I’m overcome with nauseating exhaustion. Briony slings my arm around her, and we start down the hallway.
Then her words circle back to me. More than one that shares her blood. More than one? As in more than me? My thoughts all meld together into a mess.
“Is my mother still alive?” I ask, already struggling to keep my breathing steady.
Briony catches her lower lip between her teeth, then slowly shakes her head. “I’m sorry …”
My chest constricts, sensation trickling back into me for a moment before ebbing away.
“What did you mean when you said more than one shares my mother’s blood.
Are you referring to my brother? Because he’s—” A brawny soldier clad in charcoal livery rounds on us, and I nearly swallow my tongue from the startled yelp I bite back.
Her uninjured brown eye regards me with a respectful intensity.
“Sorry to scare you, Your Highness,” she says. For her intimidating appearance, her voice is warm and melodic. “But we must hurry.”
This must be Angharad.
I nod and Briony releases me to the soldier. I glance over my shoulder to thank Briony, but Angharad yanks me down the hallway so aggressively that my feet leave the ground for a moment. Everything aches. Even my soul aches. I want to lie down on the floor and never get up.
Don’t you dare, says that cool voice in my head.
My back jolts straight, my muscles straining, and I bite back a grunt as I’m half dragged down the hallway.
Feet pounding on the floor, we launch ourselves into the cool night air.
Pains shoot through my shins as I struggle to keep up with Angharad’s racing steps across the small, covered bridge from the castle.
I open my mouth to ask where we’re going, but I can hardly breathe, let alone speak.
I try to make sense of Angharad’s direction.
Rather than taking a more secluded path, she moves right to the front of the castle, through the hedge-lined pathways and past oddly wilting flowers, straight toward the rocky trail that runs alongside the loch below.
Hugging myself against the wind that whips around me, I drag uneven breaths into my lungs. My chest burns, my throat is raw.
“There she is!” a voice calls. Briony?
Angharad and I turn toward Briony whose arm is outstretched, her finger pointing at me.
A stocky man in brown Royal Brigade livery stands beside her, a few other soldiers at his back. The dozens of stripes and patches on his uniform clearly denotes his high rank. The highest rank.
Lord Commander Rheon.
Shit …
All hopes of catching my breath vanish, and my pulse skitters.
Angharad’s unaffected eye is intent, almost … regretful? “Stay alive,” she says, gently placing her hands on my shoulders.
As I pull in a ragged breath to question her, she shoves me.
I stagger backward, throwing my arms out to catch myself, but the back of my heel slams into the low wall behind me.
I get one last look at the castle looming ahead, at the bright, full moon in the inky sky.
The breeze chills my body as I tumble off the edge of the cliff.
My stomach lurches, my hands grasping at anything, at everything.
This is it.
All of that for nothing.
All of that for everything, says the enchantress’s voice. Hold your breath.
So, I do.
My body plunges into the dark loch below, and the icy water forces me to draw in a breath. My mouth fills, my lungs object. I fight to propel myself back to the surface.
But there’s no fight left in me.
Find the daughter of Dusk again. Find your sister.
The world begins to fade.
Rest now, the voice croons. For when you wake, the world will burn.
**To be Continued**