Chapter 24
JESSAMINE
Water dripped from stalactites hanging from the ceiling, forming crystalline stalagmites around the cave floor.
It was the only sound other than my voice speaking the old naiad tongue.
The chamber was bathed in blue light from the piece of blue coal Redvyr burned in a lantern beside him.
I’d told him I thought bright torchlight might frighten a naiad from answering my call.
I’d been reaching out to the naiad I believed lived here in the cold of this entombed cave since before dawn. Redvyr had settled himself against the wall near the entrance. While the ethereal energy of a naiad resonated in this chamber, she did not heed my call.
“Perhaps it’s your presence,” I told him. “Sometimes, they’re shy. If it’s a female who lives here, she may not be answering me because you’re here. Many of them don’t care for males.”
With his arms crossed over his chest, his long legs stretched out in front of him, also crossed at the ankles, he heaved out a breath. “What if she gets violent? I’ve heard these creatures can be vicious sometimes.”
“They can,” I agreed. “But none has ever hurt me before.”
I didn’t tell him that one had threatened me back on the isle near my home in Morodon.
“I don’t like leaving you here alone,” he growled.
His rumble echoed in the small chamber. The well was a circular pool as wide as I was tall. The water was as blue as a midnight sky, no telling how deep it went. There appeared to be no bottom.
“Please, Redvyr. Let me try on my own. I’ll be fine.”
Confidence filled my voice, but it didn’t fill my heart. Naiads were independent fae creatures with a will of their own.
He pushed to a stand and strode over to me. Crouching next to the pool where I knelt, he cupped my face in his hands.
“I will be right outside. If you sense any danger, call out to me.”
“I will,” I promised him.
Then he brushed his lips across mine, purring against my mouth as he swept his tongue inside. When he pulled back, his hold on my face tightened.
“Call me if you need me.”
When he stood and turned to leave, a tinkling laugh, then another, filled the chamber, raising gooseflesh on my skin.
“No, no, no, beasty. Don’t leave so soon.”
My skin glowed, responding to the presence of magickal fae. On the far side of the water well, two naiads stared at us. Their skin was as deep blue as the water, their hair only a shade lighter, and their eyes pinpoints of silvery-white light.
“Hello,” I spoke to them in the demon tongue rather than their own language I had been using the past several hours, since they spoke it themselves.
“Greetings, water fae,” said the one on the right. “I have never seen one of them, sister, have you?”
“Never. She beams too brightly. You must douse your lights, girl, or you will hurt our eyes.”
“He does not hurt our eyes,” said the first, her tone dripping with seduction. She was identical to her sister. “Beasty is a feasty for my eyes.”
Their voices were sibilant and otherworldly. I didn’t simply hear them, I felt their words skating across my skin. They were old naiads. Very old.
“I apologize,” I told them with Redvyr kneeling beside me, who stared with both fascination and wariness. “My magick responds to the power you hold. I am a willoden.”
“Tsss,” the one on the left hissed. “We know what you are. You’ve been babbling—”
“Begging us,” chimed in the other.
“To come out and speak to you.”
“But you are more than that,” said the one on the right, gliding to the middle of the pool, her eerie silver-white eyes searching me up and down. “A syrenskyn, sister. That is what she is.”
“My, oh my.” The other slithered across the water without making a ripple, both of them coming closer. “Rare water fae, aren’t you, little girl?”
“My name is Jessamine,” I said politely, not bothering to correct their insult in calling me a girl.
To them, I likely was one. But naiads, especially old ones, were moody creatures that could decide I wasn’t worth talking to and vanish before I ever got around to seeking the answers I needed. “I come from Morodon.”
“And yet, here you are in our mountain home in Ghastagar Valley.”
I looked at Redvyr, confused.
“That is an old name,” he said. “We call it Ghasta Vale now, my ladies.”
They both giggled, sounding much younger than the centuries old beings I knew they must be. “He calls us ladies, sister.”
“A long time since we’ve been called that.” They tittered again.
He crouched closer. They obviously liked him more than me. “I am Redvyr, Lord of the beast fae of Vanglosa.”
The naiad on the left glided toward our side of the pool, still not touching the rim of the well. “I am Bethevier. This is my sister Lethemier. We are pleased to meet the beasty lord who brings his people to sip at our well each winter.”
“I thank you for your kindness in allowing us to drink your cool waters.” He smiled and flirted back. “It keeps my clan healthy and strong.”
They laughed again, batting their long blue lashes. They were obviously infatuated with him. I couldn’t blame them, but it was irritating. We needed answers, not to engage in this ridiculous flirtation.
I rolled my eyes then nodded toward the sisters, meaning for him to ask the questions we needed the answers to. He understood.
“My ladies, our clan has had some trouble, and I’m wondering if you might be able to help us.”
“Speak, beasty,” said Bethevier. “We may answer.”
“And we may not,” said Lethemier, narrowing her gaze.
“I understand,” he said, though he honestly didn’t.
Naiads were fickle and moody and, yes, they could be quite vicious. These two might seem receptive and even benevolent, but they radiated with power and their ancient lineage. I could sense it so easily.
“Trouble has come to our clan here in Ghasta Vale,” he told them. “Fae monsters called grimlocks have come out of Wyken Woods and attacked our clan.”
Lethemier grimaced and hissed again, revealing a row of serrated teeth. “The grimlocks do not come from Wyken Woods, beasty lord.”
“They were born far beneath Mount Gudrun.” Bethevier twirled in a circle, ending up directly below Redvyr.
I knew my geography well enough to know that Mount Gudrun was the tallest mountain in the Solgavia Mountains, where the shadow fae lived.
Bethevier gripped the sides of the pool, her pearly white claws long and sharp. “The mountain wights have come to bother you, sweet beasty?”
“They have taken two of our youngest clan members, mere children. Why do you call them mountain wights? They do not look like those controlled by the wraith fae.”
The wights, which were created by wraith fae that held this power, like the former King Xakiel were nothing more than an army of the dead. Skeletons that crawled out of the ground and were bound to that evil king with a blood bond to do his bidding, to attack his enemies.
“Grimlocks are golems,” said Bethevier, gazing up at my male like he was hers. If I didn’t need answers so badly, I’d shove her backward.
Of course, then she might drag me into the pool and kill me.
“They are soulless creatures,” added Lethemier, “a fusion of many of faekind, created only to do their father’s bidding.”
“Who is their father?” I asked.
Bethevier furrowed her brow at me, having forgotten I was there apparently. When she did not answer, and nor did her sister, Redvyr repeated my question.
“Tell me, sweet ladies, who is their master?”
“We do not know,” Bethevier admitted, tracing the claw of her forefinger in a circle near his boot. “He is older than us and he blocks the intrusion of magick.”
Older than them? By the gods, who was this sorcerer?
“Oh, ho, ho, dear sister. But he does like to pour his rotten power into the world, that is for certain. He whispers through earth and stone to those who will listen.”
“Indeed, sister.”
“Thank you for your knowledge,” said Redvyr. “These grimlocks, or golems, have taken two of our children and hidden them somewhere in Wyken Woods. Or perhaps somewhere beyond. Do you know where they might have taken them?”
“How would we know such a thing?” asked Bethevier coyly, rising out of the water up to her waist next to Redvyr, leaning her weight on one arm.
She tipped her head back, jutting her breasts outward—and while she was hundreds of years old, her body was perfect.
Naiads didn’t age. Not like faekind. The only hint of their age were the threads of silver in their blue hair.
“You know many things,” I stated, though it was more of an accusation. “You know where this dark lord dwells. You know what he creates. Two naiads of your age and with your power would certainly have knowledge of where the golems might keep the children.”
“It is not always children they catch,” said Lethemier. “Any light fae will do.” She looked me up and down, my skin still glowing. “You would be a tasty morsel for their father.”
Redvyr’s expression darkened, but he kept his voice genial when he spoke. “If you know something, I would be most grateful.”
“What will you give me if I tell you?” Bethevier tilted her head coquettishly.
“What do you require?”
“A taste of your blood.”
“No!” I snapped, my skin pulsing with white light.
The sisters hissed and guarded their eyes from the glare.
“You cannot have his blood,” I told them. I shook my head emphatically at Redvyr.
Giving your blood to any magickal creature was a dangerous risk. They could use it to control or curse or spy upon the one whose blood they tasted.
“Douse your light, fae girl!” shouted Lethemier.
I focused on calming my breathing, which did dim my skin’s brilliance.
“No blood, then.” Bethevier swished in the water and pushed up with both hands on the stone lip of the pool beneath Redvyr, bringing her face closer to his. “Give me a kiss.”
Redvyr instantly shot me a look. My belly soured with the thought of his lips on hers, but a kiss couldn’t hurt him. And it could give us what we want.
“Alright. Give me your hand.”
Bethevier’s silver eyes glittered, her mouth dropping open as she lowered back into the water and held out her hand.
I wondered why Redvyr needed to lift her out of the water to kiss the stupid naiad.
But rather than pull her from the water, he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it before releasing her.
She bared her serrated teeth and made a sibilant growl. “Not a kiss on my hand! On my lips, beasty!”
“You did not specify.” Lethemier laughed with glee, spinning in a circle in the water. “You know the rules.”
“I want a second kiss!” cried Bethevier.
“Sweet lady,” he said in that crooning voice that always made me feel warm and tingly. “I cannot give you what I can only give to my gods-given mate. But I will cherish the memory of my lips on your elegant, soft hand.”
“Ooooooh, beasty talks so sweetly, sister. You must give him what he bargained for. He gave you the kiss. Now it is your turn to give him what he wants.”
Bethevier seemed mollified, twirling back to the center of the pool beside her sister. “The golems lock their captured in a cell made of magick. It is within the trunk of the Ancient One. When they are done hunting these woods, they will carry them back to their father.”
“The Ancient One?” he pressed.
“The oldest oak in Wyken Woods. He stands at the center where the trees grow thin. No other will grow too close to him, giving him space, for he rules as their king. You cannot get into the hidden chamber by cutting down the tree. In fact, if you try, you will kill them. The black magick that holds them will crush them if it feels threatened. You must use magick against magick.”
Her eyes glowed pure white, the hum of power wafting over me. Her voice took on a dreamy timbre when she spoke. Her words rang with the tone of prophecy.
“The father of the golems is a hungry god. If you kill his golems, he will simply beget more of them. For he has awakened from a long slumber, and he will not go to sleep again. The Father of Night will never sleep again.”
“We must kill him, then.” Redvyr’s voice was gruff and aggressive.
Bethevier blinked her blue lashes, returning from her trance-like state. She scoffed at him. “You cannot kill a demi-god.” Then she vanished beneath the water.
“You cannot kill a demi-god,” repeated her sister before disappearing as well.
The ripples lapped at the edge of the pool, and then it was quiet again. Only the sound of the water dripping from the stalactites on the ceiling broke the silence.
“A demi-god?” Redvyr stood, staring at the still pool. “Why would a demi-god be plaguing us?”
His mind was racing, I could tell. I stepped into his arms and forced him to look at me.
“First things first, we need to get Bes and Saralyn back. Then we will worry about the rest.”
“We need magick to get inside the hidden chamber. You heard them. If we hack it down, it will only kill the ones inside.”
“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”