76. THE SHIFTER AND THE SHROUD
Breck stiffened.
A shroud. A shroud for the selfless deed he’d done—risking his life to the point of almost sacrificing it completely, if it hadn’t been for the healing waters.
I recalled the look of respect on Breck’s face and the awe in his voice when he discovered that Niall was shrouded. Like he longed to be worthy of something of that magnitude, but still didn’t believe he would ever be deserving of it.
And now, the moment was staring him right in the face.
Syros beckoned with his hands. “Come.”
When Breck didn’t move, Saxon and I gently grabbed him by his arms and guided him forward, leaving him to stand before The Adorner.
“Kneel, and remove your shirt,” Syros instructed.
Breck did as he was told. His damaged shirt fell to the cave floor with a wet slap, and he peered up. “I—I don’t think I deserve—”
“Quiet, now.” Syros lifted his hands. “The fates have spoken. They have deemed you worthy of the mark. But I must say, this . . .” He paused to look around. “Isn’t the typical location I find myself in when bestowing a shroud.”
Breck cleared his throat. “Like she said, it’s a long story.”
Syros glanced over to me. “I’m sure it is.” He proceeded to rub his hands together before holding them above Breck’s shoulders.
From where I stood, I could barely see Breck’s face in the dim light, so I sent my orb adrift above us all. This moment was too special to be hidden in the dark. It needed to be seen.
Syros gave me a gentle nod in thanks, then he spoke a string of ancient words I did not understand.
His palms flared with a faint orange glow, and he brought them down, placing them at each side of Breck’s neck upon his shoulders.
There were no other special words. The Adorner only moved his hands, and the markings appeared beneath them, blooming across Breck’s wet skin.
When the glow faded, and Syros pulled his hands away, Breck looked down at himself as he stood. His markings were in the shape of vines, twining along his collarbones and shoulders, draping over them and down his back. Vines for his woodland roots. Vines for his ability to grow and adapt.
Syros smiled and offered Breck a congratulatory bow.
Not knowing what to do, and still stunned by the unexpected bestowment, Breck gave him a wobbly bow back.
The Adorner proceeded to take a quick glance around the space, and I could have sworn he lingered just a little longer on the dark corner of the pool where the wraith waited, fully concealed in shadow. His eyes found me next. “I trust that you are not in danger with this lot?”
“No, I’m in good company,” I reassured him. “I take it you have never been here before?”
“I have not,” he said, turning in place. “Where are we, exactly?”
“Inside a mountain. I’m afraid I don’t have much more information to give you than that. But, how were you able to get here if you’ve never been here before? I thought you could only port to places you’ve seen?”
“I was summoned by the fates. It is involuntary. Think of it as a directive. I am drawn through space to the fae’s precise location, regardless of where it is.”
“Ah. Well, uh . . . Please do me a favor and don’t speak of this place to anyone else. It’s . . . special.”
“Of course.” He glanced down at my shredded shirt. “When all this is over, I do hope you will inform me of the events that brought this about.”
“The fates don’t tell you what you’re being sent for?”
“It’s usually obvious, but this”—he gestured to the space around us—“is quite unusual.”
I nodded. This probably looked very strange indeed. “I will find you after the war.”
“Good. May the gods be with you, Lady Auren. I know my prayers will be.” He offered a final bow, flashing a gentle smile before he vanished.
In his absence, the wraith emerged from the shadows, gliding forward through the water, her wafer-like dress clinging to her skin as she moved to the shallows and strode up to where we stood.
“What sort of ceremony was that?” she asked.
“A very fae one,” I answered. “When a fae does something of great importance, or acts selflessly in someone’s stead, they are bestowed what is called a ‘shroud.’” I pointed to Breck’s new markings.
The wraith disregarded any physical boundaries and stepped up to him, her nose practically touching his chest as she examined the design. When she pressed her finger to the markings, he shuddered.
“Shifter,” she whispered.
Shifter. Shifter!
“You shifted in the forest!” I exclaimed, scanning Breck from head to toe as if I would see the evidence of his magical ability. “You became a cù-sìth. How?”
“I can shift into anything, animal, human . . . As long as I’ve seen it, I can become one.”
“You never told me that was your gift.”
“You never asked.”
He was right. I hadn’t. Perhaps I’d assumed I would find out in time. But seeing as our time had been cut short . . .
“I . . .” I didn’t know what to say.
“It’s all right. I don’t use it often, and I’ve never used it to become another fae.
Only animals. I don’t like anyone knowing I have the ability in the first place.
Shifters don’t have the best reputation—for obvious reasons.
My cousin was a prime example of that.” He stepped around the wraith and reached for me.
“Auren, I’m so sorry for what Killian did. ”
For a moment, I didn’t respond. All I could think of was the memory of Breck’s face shifting into Killian’s.
“He looked just like you,” I finally said. “But he didn’t move the same way you do. That’s what gave him away.”
Breck’s voice lowered, as did his eyes. “He came back to Elandrew—walked right in like nothing had happened. I was too busy trying to figure out his next move to realize he’d compelled me and poisoned my wine.”
“Breck, I’m—”
“No. Don’t you say you’re sorry. I’m the one who is sorry.
I should have seen it coming. I should have killed him while I had the chance.
You have no idea what I felt when I realized what he’d done.
And when he told me what he was planning to do to you while I lay there, helpless .
. . I tried to fight the poison, and I thought I’d succeeded, but then I blacked out.
When I woke, I feared too much time had passed, but I followed his scent anyway.
He never was good at masking it or covering his tracks.
I just prayed that you were still alive and unharmed.
When I got into the forest, his scent became stronger, and I picked up on yours too. That’s when I found you under attack.”
“Why didn’t the poison kill you?” I asked.
He chuckled under his breath. “Growing up alongside Killian taught me a lot. I’ve witnessed his antics from a young age, and I know the types of things he dabbles in.
He’s killed with poison before. Since he has a quick temper, I’ve always tried to ensure I was protected, just in case he ever decided to turn on me.
I’ve been ingesting small doses of different poisons since I was young.
The toxins still have debilitating effects, but my body recognizes them and works through them, instead of succumbing to them. ”
I stared up at him, shaking my head. “When he made the threat on your life at my mating ceremony, part of me didn’t think he would really take it that far.”
“Neither did I. Thankfully, my precautions paid off.”
He made no mention of Killian’s death, and I realized he might not have seen his cousin’s body lying where I’d left it—that he might have missed it amongst the chaos of fighting the shadow entity.
I wasn’t sure how he would take the news, and I hesitated to tell him. “Well . . . you won’t have to worry about him or his antics ever again.” I paused, and just as I suspected, his brows pinched in question. “Killian is dead. I killed him.”
Breck was quiet for a long moment, then his shoulders sagged with relief, and he let out a breath. “The realms are better for it. You did what I failed to do.”
“You didn’t fail to do anything, Breck. You risked everything. For all of us.” The words—though they were as sincere as I could say them—didn’t feel like enough.
Weston came up to my side and extended his hand toward Breck. “I would like to offer my thanks as well.”
“You were there to protect her before I was,” Breck said. “I should be thanking you.” He took Weston’s hand and shook it.
It was then that I noticed Weston’s face. Before, it was strewn with small scars. Now, it was smooth. Not a blemish or remnant of injury in sight.
“Weston, your scars . . . The water must have healed them.”
He reached up and touched a finger to his cheeks, finding unmarred skin. Whether or not he considered the healing to be a blessing, he didn’t have time to say, because the wraith drifted forward with a chilling warning.
“You must go,” she said. “I feel something terrible is on its way. There is a shift beyond the mountains that has tainted the atmosphere.”
I straightened and looked at Breck. “Lyceius.”
The time had finally come.
I reached for the wraith’s hands and clasped them in mine. “You must stay hidden here, in the caves. War is coming. If our enemies somehow manage to get past the territory lines, they will scour the realm, and they must not find this place or you.”
She squeezed back. “I will make sure they do not find it.”
I nodded and released her hands, then stepped away and reached for the Dionachs and Breck. “We’re going to the war camp.”
Breck glanced between the Dionachs. “You can port the three of us and yourself?”
“How do you think we got here?” I lifted a brow.
His mouth fell open. “You did that while you were on the brink of death?!”
“You’re welcome.” I winked.
The wraith stepped forward once more. “I-I never learned your name when you came here before,” she said, almost shyly.
“Auren.”
“Auren,” she let the name linger on her tongue. “Will you return after the war, Auren?”
I paused and stared at her. Perhaps after being alone for so long, these unexpected visits to the cave had brought something back to life within her. Whatever it was, I saw the determination in her eyes. A spark had indeed ignited, and it was kindling a flame.
“Yes, I will,” I said, giving her a smile. “I believe I owe you a great deal of shadows for letting us barge in and use your sacred water.”
Her expression brightened as she grinned. “I am happy to help.”
“And what shall I call you, then?” I asked her.
She lifted her chin, flushing with pride, as if she had been waiting for so long to give her name to someone. “Sahren,” she said. “My name is Sahren.”