Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Theo waited for Wyn, turning back towards the mysterious woman standing in the brazier.
The atmosphere was heavy as indescribable tension replaced the fog and smoke.
The look on Wyn's face had been clear; even unlucky in love as Theo had been throughout his life, he knew the face of a man completely entranced.
There was no other way to describe the pain and adoration etched into Wyn's features. Theo wondered if he should summon the courage to speak when Wyn finally opened his mouth.
“Niamh.” His voice almost cracked, clearing his throat before repeating himself. “Niamh. Welcome to the Barufakr.”
“I wondered when you would call me.”
The mysterious woman, Niamh, crossed her hands over her chest. She did not attempt to move, as if standing above their heads in an exalted position was more suited to her.
Theo had to admit, Niamh was dripping with power and authority.
She had a genuine case of 'fuck around and find out' energy that Theo was not interested in testing.
He knew that much, young and inexperienced in the world of magic as he was.
Wyn cleared his throat, finally pulling his eyes from Niamh and looking down at his feet.
It was the first time Theo had seen Wyn cower in someone else’s presence.
Elves were particularly proud, and elvish princes were even guiltier of that indulgence. Wyn didn't defer to anyone, ever.
Except for the lady on fire.
In a series of ungraceful and awkward movements, Wyn ripped off his shirt and tossed it towards Niamh. She plucked it out of the air and slipped it on. It barely grazed the top of her thighs, but she was decent. Wyn sighed in relief, looking undeniably pained, as if it were bittersweet.
“I’m calling in the favor you owe me, Niamh.” Wyn's voice sounded clearer, as if he was no longer struggling to find the right words, but not by much.
“Obviously.” Niamh's lip curled, barely containing a tirade. She started looking around the boat, taking in her surroundings before turning towards the ocean and the horizon. “I’m surprised you let me near your little boat again.”
Wyn's head snapped towards Niamh. “I’ll have you know that you won't be able to turn her into kindling this time.”
Niamh stuck one dainty foot out over the deck and gracefully hopped down from the brazier.
She hardly made a sound when her body hit the deck, striding towards Wyn until there were hardly any inches between them.
Theo watched on, in horror and intrigue, debating if he needed to be prepared to defend Wyn from the mysterious woman.
The tension in Wyn’s and Niamh’s bodies echoed throughout the entire ship. It practically emanated from them like an earthquake’s aftershocks. They stared at each other with an unmistakable fire in their eyes, except for the real fire in Niamh’s eyes.
“I could burn it to a crisp if I wanted,” Niamh cooed, her voice much more pleasant and tender than her words. “No amount of your charms or incantations could stop me.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Wyn grunted, his muscles tense as he kept himself back. “But you're here to do me a favor.” He enunciated the word favor like it was a curse word, clearly more frustrated than relieved that he had to call upon Niamh.
“The idea that I owe you a favor after everything you put me through is a mockery,” Niamh hissed. This time, her tongue flickered out between her lips, revealing a forked shape like a snake's. Wyn quivered but didn't take a step back.
“Well, you do,” Wyn deadpanned, holding his ground. “I was given the right to call upon you, to summon you—”
“You've summoned me like a common dog!” Niamh shouted. As she raised her voice, the sparks at the end of her braid turned into flames and consumed more strands of hair.
“Oh, please,” Wyn rolled his eyes, “I don't believe I could call a dog with incense made of dragon's blood and ground-up gold dust.”
“You shouldn't be able to call on me at all!”
Niamh emphasized the word me, clearly frustrated that Wyn was able to get a hold of her. Theo knew a descent into nonstop bickering when he saw it, and thought of Lyra, somewhere beneath the sea with Cliodhna.
It was a horrifying enough image that he was able to summon his remaining courage and intervene between Wyn and Niamh.
Theo would never truly realize what a historical event this was.
The last person to come between Wyn and Niamh sparked a conflict that required two treaties and a marriage alliance to squash.
“Please.” Theo put his hand on Wyn's shoulder, not stupid enough to step any closer to Niamh. “Can we focus on the matter at hand?”
Niamh cocked her head to the side, the fire in her eyes flaring as she studied Theo for the first time. The flames in her hair turned down to simmering sparks, her anger visibly appearing when she turned her attention away from Wyn.
“And who might you be?”
Theo opened his mouth to speak, but Wyn interrupted, throwing his arm across Theo’s chest and pushing him back a few steps to protect him from Niamh.
“I’m the one who called you. Don't lose sight of that,” Wyn growled the words in a warning, his tone harsher than before.
Niamh's expression lit up in delight and challenge. She tapped one long, elegant finger against her cheek.
“Well! I shouldn't be surprised you're trying to keep me from any fun. What is it that you need help with then, Wyn?” She looked over his shoulder towards Theo, now full of consolation. “Although you can bargain with me if you'd like any particular favors, pet.”
Wyn stomped, pushing Theo even farther away. “Over my dead body!”
Niamh rolled her eyes, sucking a sharp breath through her teeth.
“You've gotten boring, Wyn. How abysmal. What is the favor I owe you?”
Wyn squared his shoulders and gave Niamh an abbreviated version of everything that happened between Lyra and Cliodhna.
There was no way to tell the story without giving Niamh some details about who Theo was and why they were out here in the first place, but Theo could tell Wyn was keeping those details as close to his chest as possible.
When Wyn was finally done, Niamh's expression was frustratingly unreadable.
“You want me to go up against a goddess?” Niamh started walking in a slow circle around Wyn, who refused to move.
It was impossible to watch Niamh without noticing how serpentine and graceful her movements were.
Each step she took, her whole body seemed to undulate with it, not unlike the way Lyra's tail moved in the water.
Somehow, it didn't look ridiculous, but only further convinced Theo that Niamh was not someone he ever wanted to meet alone in a dark alley.
Although with the amount of firepower she was carrying, it wouldn't be a dark alley for very long.
“Subtlety doesn't suit you,” Wyn quipped in return, keeping his gaze dead ahead. His brow was furrowed, refusing to rise to Niamh's obvious attempts at baiting him. “You'd take on any person in the seven seas if they looked at you funny.”
Theo held his breath, but Niamh only cocked an eyebrow and didn't respond with any heightened sense of fury.
“Besides,” Wyn continued, “you owe me.”
Only then did he turn to look at Niamh. The tension between them intensified, and Theo could see the flames flickering in Niamh's eyes even stronger than before. He didn't think there was a single space on the boat safe enough for him or Wyn if she decided to set it ablaze.
Niamh paused. Her brow furrowed, gaze shifting up and down as though looking at Wyn for the first time.
Theo was holding his breath. Somehow, this woman was their only option if they wanted to go save Lyra.
Otherwise, they'd have to run back to Edinburgh first, and he couldn't imagine her in Cliodhna's clutches for that long.
“Aye,” Niamh's voice was quiet, almost gentle, but her expression was stone cold. “That I do.” She gave Wyn a curt bow. Theo had never seen someone bow sarcastically before, but Niamh managed to pull it off.
“In which direction do you want to point your blade then?” Niamh started walking back towards the smoldering basin.
Wyn's eyes were fixed on her now. “Cliodhna. The Irish—”
“Goddess of the seas and of banshees.” Niamh paused but didn't turn around. If she was surprised or discouraged, she didn't show it. “Interesting, Wyn. Very interesting.”
Wyn's body language caved in on itself. His shoulders hunched over, and he grimaced ever so slightly. The bravado he'd previously been putting up in Niamh's presence vanished in an instant.
“It's not my intention to put you in his path.”
“I don't care what your intentions are!” Niamh roared, the anger coming out of her like a sudden eruption.
Her braid lit up with flames, and smoke poured down her body, trickling towards where Wyn and Theo stood in a mixture of awe and fear.
Theo was mainly afraid. Wyn was mainly in awe—and turned on, which was likely the most inappropriate response for the scenario at hand.
“You have that,” Niamh turned and pointed toward the basin, “and I gave you explicit instructions on how to use it. You call in the one favor I owe you, and this is it?”
Theo wanted to start apologizing on Wyn's behalf, or pleading with Niamh, anything to get her anger to dissipate.
Wyn shook his head slowly, his eyes cast downward, every inch of his body practically oozing regret.
Theo had never seen Wyn look anything less than confident. Now, he looked like a kicked dog.
“I didn't intend—”
Niamh waved him off and turned her back on him. “Again with your intentions. I told you, I couldn't care less.”
Theo's jaw dropped when Niamh jumped from a standing position several feet in the air, landing perfectly in the belly of the basin.
Coals and ash flew up in the air from the impact, but the basin didn't even tremble or make any noise like it'd been struck.
Niamh had both catlike and serpentine ways of moving, and it was disconcerting to see.
Without any additional warning, Niamh exploded into a column of fire. Theo screamed and fell to the deck again, which he knew his knees would never forgive him for, but Wyn didn't even flinch. Clearly, there was history between him and Niamh, and he wasn't surprised by anything she did.
Theo held one of his hands to his brow, trying to block out some of the light and heat as he kept his eyes trained on the fiery basin. Niamh's silhouette turned white in the flames, and the crackling roar grew louder.
And louder.
And louder.
Until it wasn't quite the roar of a flame anymore. It was more primal, something even more tangible than the sound of heat and flames.
A huge, bright red dragon burst from the bonfire, flying straight up into the night sky until it disappeared. Theo let out a long string of curses, scrambling backward until he hit the side of the boat, pointing at the spot where Niamh disappeared.
“Oi, calm your tits, boy,” Wyn snapped, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked like he had aged twenty years in less than an hour.
“Did you see that?” Theo was awestruck. He slowly got to his feet, gripping the railing for support while his knees still knocked together. “That was…” Theo trailed off, unable to make himself say the word.
“A beithir,” Wyn finished Theo's sentence for him, throwing open the door leading downstairs to the galley.
“What?” Theo shouted after him. He'd had decent schooling, both magical and mortal, but he'd never heard that word before. Wyn disappeared below deck, but his voice carried up from the covered stairwell.
“Niamh is a dragon.”