Chapter Eleven
Cian
THE CHILL MORNING AIR parts around my exhalations, petrichor invading my lungs and clearing my head. With Hunter at my side and my warriors a step behind, I feel the power of the earth speed through my hooves, connecting me to everything that lives.
This is the season of our magick. This is our time, downed ley lines notwithstanding.
Impossible to believe that Ayala doesn’t know this joy. Buying the ability to shift for brief stretches can’t give her this sense of the soil thrumming. I almost regret being so close to the monastery. I could run for hours more.
But just outside the gates of Mayhaven, I send out my mind. The connection snaps into place. I’m there, inside Ayala, as she sobs, surrounded by beautiful blooms.
My garden...
My feet stumble to a halt. My warriors curse as they try not to plow me down.
“What is it?” Hunter demands, keeping his voice soft as he attunes himself to our surroundings.
“Just... sensing.”
He focuses, sending his own honed senses around the clearing, through the gates, and to the walls of the warded monastery.
Let him think I’ve alerted to danger. I can’t tell him I’ve entered Ayala from a distance, that I’m feeling her emotions. He’ll chide me and look worried, because usually the only way such a long-distance connection is possible is if she’s my...
Mate.
I try to brush off the thought. Instead, it settles into me, refusing to be ousted.
“Cian?”
To throw Hunter off the scent, I say, “We tread on the god’s domain. It pays to be wary.”
“Duh.” He rolls his eyes. “Next, you’ll be telling me that dust is dry, morning grass is dewy, and a strong stag won’t lose a great part of his strength if he mates with a weaker doe.”
Nope. Not looking at him.
But he continues, his voice in my head strangely dejected. “I remembered the saying I was thinking of last night. ‘Mate on your level, all will flower. Mate too weak, lose half your power.”
I don’t respond.
“Shit, Cian. Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about it.”
“Fine. I won’t tell you.”
But he’s right. Does are, by nature, weaker, but an equality of levels can still be managed.
A stag must mate with a doe of similar standing.
Any great aberration must be equalized according to nature’s laws.
He gives to her or she gives to him, in the rare case she’s of a higher caste, thereby unifying that which has been joined.
“Book of Natural Principles,” I mumble finally. “But it doesn’t make sense, does it? Stags are almost always more powerful than does.”
“Which is why, I suppose, the natural laws speak of levels. How long has it been since any stag sought a mate of significantly lower status?”
“I don’t think it’s ever happened.”
He punches his shoulder into mine. “There’s no way to mate Ayala, so stop testing it in your head. You’d lose so much strength that you wouldn’t hold onto your crown.” His rack taps gently against mine. “Maybe you’d even lose points.”
“Am I so obvious?”
He moves further from me, giving me necessary space so our antlers don’t lock.
“To me, yes. Look, you’ve always known you’d have to marry to secure a dynasty.
The doe’s your plaissance. People may talk, but taking her into your bed, even bearing a fawn with her, won’t shake up society.
Mating her will destroy everything you’ve built.
Don’t cause trouble where there needn’t be any. ”
“Wise words, friend.” And they are, though they ring all wrong inside my skull. “Call for entrance.”
He stretches up his neck and lets out a furious howl, the power in his voice enough to raise my hackles. We all have our magicks. This is his, though he rarely uses it. Handy in battle, though, the ability to disorient the opponent with sound.
When the gates swing wide, we stride into the first courtyard where cubbies of simple white linen robes line the left wall. As per custom, we shift back to human form and dress ourselves in the robes provided. We’re not offered shoes.
In Cernunnos’s house, magick stronger than anywhere else flows upward from the earth.
It’s a privilege to feel it under our soles, a high honor to drink it into our bones.
In truth, even in the courtyard, I feel the tingles up my spine, down my limbs, and into my fingers and toes. Power. So much power.
Monks aren’t generally the strongest stags.
Most are middling, generally respectful, and usually celibate in honor of Cernunnos.
None mate. But even the weakest among them can pull magick from the earth and peer into the intent of others.
The ley lines, damaged though they might be, cross under our feet and surge with strength.
Why was Ayala crying?
Stop it. Get your thoughts where they need to lie.
“Gather your monks,” I order the gatekeeper. “Especially Murdoch, the healer.” The one who told me I was poisoned by juniper berries.
The man rushes off after bowing. I follow in his wake.
Having been to the monastery numerous times since being crowned under the Sacred Fir of Mayhaven, I know exactly where I’m going.
Hunter, silent, marches beside me, his gaze swinging from side to side.
His hand keeps seeking a sword he doesn’t possess.
We left them back at the palace. No weapons are allowed at Mayhaven. Shifting inside is impossible, and narrow hallways prevent the odd insult of potentially entering inside in stag form. But even in human guise, we’re weapon enough.
We pace past many rooms until we arrive at the Great Hall, where the Sacred Fir grows from the moss-covered floor through a round hole in the domed roof.
One of the monks sits on a bench at the base of the giant tree, feeding a jar of ants onto the bark.
Another tills moist, loamy dirt onto other dirt.
Soon, some fifty monks are gathered. The Abbot enters, bowing low.
“Great King. Welcome to Mayhaven.” He straightens and raises his gaze to mine.
He’s much shorter. It’s a long distance for his eyes to travel.
“We know why you’ve come. If you would leave your men here, refreshments will be provided for them.
The answers you seek will be given you in the Aurory, but the words are for your ears only. ”
Hunter steps forward, his hand again straying to his non-existent sword. “I go with my king.”
Before I can speak, the abbot says, “Only a king may enter the Aurory, Lord MacAvern. This is not your time.”
Odd choice of words, but I’m too busy pulling Hunter away as he threatens the older stag by stepping too close to him. “Easy, Hunter. Remain with the others. That’s an order.”
Gesturing to the abbot to lead the way, I stride beside him to the Aurory.
It’s a separate stone building open to the sky.
The floor is a shaved carpet of fresh grass.
At the center lies a small pool. Benches line the walls, but within the space, the seven aurors take stag form and lie upon the earth.
In this place, the power screams. This is the crossing, a portal to other worlds, or so it’s told.
I’ve visited inside the building only once, on the day I was crowned, having defeated Charlin in a fight he took to the death.
It’s here that I was given the cryptic warnings from Cernunnos on how best to secure my rule and provide for my people.
One of the monks, a man aged and bent in human form, gestures me to where he perches on a bench. In a robe identical to the ones we wear, he resembles a white statue, one shade stretching from hair to skin.
I thought I’d have to wrest truth from the monks, possibly tear down the monastery stone by stone, but the old man smiles kindly.
“My name is Grall. I see you’ve puzzled out the message of the juniper berries.
I’d hoped Murdoch would convey the information correctly, but though he is a great healer, he’s oftentimes unable to find his way in conversation. ”
“He told me I was poisoned by juniper berries, but I’ve learned they are a harmless ingredient. Why did he lie?”
“I asked him to, of course.” Grall gifts me with another smile. “Here. You’ll have need of this, Cian Malvernon.” He holds forth a small book. “You’ll find the poem on page seven particularly inspiring, I think.”
Taking the book, I flip through the pages before reading the cover. The Book of Natural Principles. “Hunter just reminded me of this very section.”
The monk nods. “He’s got insight, that one. He’ll make a good king should you decide to mate your plaissance. Not as powerful as you, to be sure, but he’ll be the best of what’s left behind.”
I sink onto the bench beside him. “I don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with my poisoning? And how can you possibly know—think—I wish to make my plaissance my mate? I’m not even certain that’s what I want.” Because it’s insane. Unthinkable. “I’ve only truly known her a day.”
“Ah.” He graces me with another smile. “That’s why I’m the auror, isn’t it? Do you remember the tale of Cernunnos and Cerfwynn?”
“Of course.” Every child learns it. It’s one of those morality poems used to teach loyalty to the tribe rather than to individual desires.
“Cernunnos fell in love with Cerfwynn the moment he spotted her eating sweet grass in the meadow. Buttercups ringed her neck. A crown of tulips circled her fair head. Unable to restrain himself, he went to her. There, on the grass, he rutted her, and in return, he gave her his heart. He fell in an instant and loved forever.”
“Yes. Love is like that. It’s the blow of a heavy bell to the head. And what happened next?”
“Even though they were both deities, Cernunnos held vastly more power than Cerfwynn. And...”
Ah. Another warning.
“Yes?” the monk prods with a kind expression.
“And he knew he must make a terrible choice: mate her and lose much of his magick, or push her away, because he knew... he knew...”
But suddenly, I can’t continue. Because there’s no denying anymore what’s already in my heart and head.
“Go on, son. You must say the words, no matter how hard they fall.”
I swallow, trying to find my voice. I’m forged from courage.
I’ve faced down certain death, what seems like a thousand times.
My sword and rack never falter, but I suddenly feel small and helpless.
“He knew that if he kept her, he’d mark her one day or the next, no matter how he tried not to.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. And so, he exercised great magick, pulling a too-large portion of it from Dubnos, which is why the underworld is so dark and miserable, and with the magick separated night from day.
He took control of the day and gave Cerfwynn control of the night.
In doing so, he created an unbridgeable divide between them, and should he ever try to cross to her, the entire world would spin to its ending. ”
“Because?”
“Because nature demands a balance. If Cernunnos mated Cerfwynn, nature would balance their strength. He would lose too much and no longer be able to keep the world spinning. Only by the grace and magick of Cernunnos do we draw our earth powers. Only by his sacrifice do we continue as a people. The loss of his great love was his ultimate sacrifice on our behalf.”
I mull over the words, each one a razor-sharp dagger. Which is ridiculous. I’m not considering mating Ayala. People just keep telling me I am.
Except... Ayala’s tears that I connected to earlier still live inside me. Hurting me as if they’re my own.
Focus.
Right. Juniper berries. I try to join them with the story he’s had me recite. “You fed me the lie about juniper berries, risked Ayala’s life for that lie, all so you could get me here to tell me that I mustn’t mate her?”
His head bobs side to side. “Seems like the long and short of it.”
“But I never would have known her had you...”
“Oh, there was poison. You’re here to learn of it, aren’t you? But it didn’t originate with us. The lie about the juniper berries being poisonous served to bring your plaissance to your attention. To vest you in the story. The lie about your allergies gave her the opportunity to try to stand out.”
“So, I’m not allergic to spices?”
“Nope.”
“And you had the edict against spices inserted so...”
He smiles. “So, your future mate would stand out, so you might pick her. Of course, the choice is still and always, yours.”
I run my hand through my hair and close my eyes. Earth magick pulses from the heels of my feet to the top of my head, but it isn’t clearing up my confusion. “This is ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous and true, as the best things usually are. Son, when the god wants a repetition of his history to be staged by his worshippers, he lays the stones long before the actors are born.”
Right. I don’t know what to do with that.
“As to the poison, I had a vision from Cernunnos. I knew someone would attempt to take your life and fail. In fact, you only live because I’d already sent Murdoch to you with the antidote before the runner arrived to seek him. The god wishes you to live.”
Apparently so, since I’m his current plaything. He engineered the entire mess, risking Ayala’s life and mine, simply so I’d become vested in her existence... and all so he could replay his sacrifice of Cerfwynn. Breadcrumbs laid, trail followed...
No wonder so many hate the gods.
“Who placed the poison in the closet?”
“Ah.” He smiles again. “That I don’t know, but you shouldn’t worry. All will unravel as it’s meant to.”
“Will the unraveling bring me answers?”
“Always, though not always to the questions one asks. Now.” With difficulty, he rises upon his legs, shaking from the effort.
I grab for his arm to steady him, rising to my own feet.
He pats my hand. “I’m for a nice nap, son.
And you’re for getting home and doing some unraveling.
And making some choices.” He squints up at me. “Let’s hope you choose wisely.”
I draw my fist from my left shoulder to my navel and up to my right shoulder in a V shape to represent my obedience to Cernunnos. Despite the fact he’s an asshole for controlling me, I took an oath to follow the god in all things, and to do right by my people at any cost to myself.
I don’t believe I’ll need to set Ayala aside because of some imaginary need to mate her, but still, the weight of Cernunnos’s sacrifice sits heavy in my chest, filling me with dread.
Ridiculous dread.
But absolutely true.