Chapter 19 #2
I smirk at his question. Julius raging through my room is not an image I was expecting in my time here.
Mathilda shakes her head. “Odessa said he was with her the whole time.”
“Lena, may I have a moment alone to speak with ye?” Lachlan asks, and his face is so full of anguish, I nod my agreement before I can even register his words. He brushes past me and into the temple.
I make eye contact with Mathilda before I follow after him, and she asks, “Are you sure?”
I nod and make my way back up the temple steps.
Lachlan’s back is to me, and his head is tilted up at the dome ceiling when I approach. His wings are now tattoos upon his golden skin, and he sighs deeply before turning around to face me.
“I am so sorry I wasn’t there to protect ye today.”
My eyes flash to his. “I don’t need you to protect me. I needed you to be honest with me.”
My words land their blow, and his eyes widen slightly. “I deserved that.”
“Anything else?” I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.
He takes a deep breath. “Ye ha’ every right to be mad, and if you’re still not ready to ha’ this conversation or hear my reasonings, I willna push ye on it.
But it is absolutely my duty to protect ye and I will be doing that, gladly, for the rest of my life.
” His eyes narrow onto the blood on my leathers, and his jaw clenches tightly as he grinds out, “From here on out, no one is allowed to lay a hand on ye, and if I find out they ha’ I will personally remove it from their body. I don’t give a fuck who they are.”
His words echo through the temple, and my blood heats in response. His eyes soften a shade as they meet mine again. “Be angry with me all ye like, but I will always be here for you.”
I swallow audibly at the emotion rising in my throat. Every moment before this, he has always been there when I needed him.
But before I can respond, a howl rents the air, and a stiff wind rips through the temple.
Lachlan’s eyes grow wide at the sound, and I take an unguarded step in his direction.
The sound of the wind’s howl sends goosebumps down my arms, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
Dread pools in my belly. We rush from the temple and halt as we take in the capital down below us.
My eyes widen with horror, and my jaw slackens as I take in the horrifying spectacle occurring.
A massive, dark thunderhead is ripping through the blue sky and building quickly right over the city. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles loudly. That sound wasn’t rocks tumbling earlier. It was thunder.
We all share similar looks of horror.
“It’s just a storm, right?” I question. It looks similar to a storm but feels like something much, much worse. The black mass of heavy, rain-leaden clouds roils over itself as it builds at an unnatural rate.
Mathilda swallows. “There has never been a storm in Idirhalla.” She flinches with a crack of thunder. “Rain, yes, but never a storm.”
Evander pales. “It’s one of the signs, isn’t it?” he whispers.
Mathilda and Lachlan nod as a gust of wind surges through the trees and pushes us all off balance.
“Another sign?” I yell over the howling wind, but no one replies.
The pressure around us changes, and my ears pop painfully. The bottom is falling out of the storm.
Mathilda races to Evander with her arm outstretched as he swings her up and over his mount. She settles into the saddle behind him. Lachlan grabs me around my waist and throws me up over my horse.
As he settles in behind me, my mouth drops open, and he nods to Evander.
Lachlan wraps his arms around me, grabs the reins, and takes off like a shot down the mountain.
I brace myself against his broad chest and grip the saddle horn with all my might as we hurtle down the mountain.
We’re both bent forward at the waist, adjusting to the speed of the horse. My body bounces against his.
Above the sound of the howling wind, Lachlan murmurs, “Hold on and do not fall. I would hate for us to ha’ a lackluster death.”
The sound of his voice, so close to my ear, unintentionally sends shivers down my spine. If I weren’t so terrified of our breakneck speed down the mountain, or the fact that I am still furious with him, I would relish having him so close.
But anger wins out over fear, and I lean farther forward, trying to put some distance between us. Lachlan takes one hand off the reins and wraps it around my chest, pulling me back towards him. My stomach tightens from his possessive touch.
“Stop touching me,” I grate out between clenched teeth, fighting against his hold.
“I focus better when I can feel ye,” he chuckles, his usual charismatic self familiar and comforting, but I continue to pull against his hold.
“Unless ye want us to fall off this mountain, then be my guest.” He loosens his grip on me immediately.
Our horse launches over a fallen limb, and the motion causes me to wobble in the saddle. A gust of wind kicks up dirt that whips past me. The shape of it is eerily similar to a wolf. Another specter races by us that looks similar to a man.
My stomach clenches with fear before I right myself, and I heave a sigh, irritated that I’m stuck in this position, before leaning back against him.
“Can’t you just fly home?” I spit out.
It’s grating on my willpower, the want of needing him battling the bitterness of his betrayal.
His scent is enrapturing, and his arms embracing me give me the security I’ve desperately been craving.
Thunder crashes, causing me to flinch, and the wind whips heavy tree branches into our faces.
We duck to keep from being clotheslined off the horse.
“The wind says otherwise,” he loudly yells over the storm.
We continue our breakneck speed down the side of the mountain, weaving in between the trees, and our bodies jostle against each other in a steady rhythm.
My cheeks heat at our thumping bodies, and I clear my throat. Lachlan merely sighs in my ear. He’s not the least bit frightened or uncomfortable, and I clench my thighs tightly against the horse’s sides.
We’re clearing the forest and onto the narrow footpath behind the guard’s quarters when the torrential downpour starts. It’s as if the entire ocean had been held aloft over the city and then dropped.
Rain soaks us as we make our way into the stables, our breaths heaving as hard as the horses as we dismount.
Evander leads both of our horses into their stalls, and I whisper to Mathilda, “Is this because magic is fading?”
Something passes between Mathilda and Lachlan before she sighs and answers me. “No, that was the Wild Hunt.”
The image of the painting flashes in my mind: the storm, the howl, and the specters.
It is an omen of the Great War.
I press my lips into a thin line. “But Odin is supposed to ride with the Wild Hunt and—” I stop myself from retorting as I glance at Lachlan and Evander.
They are guards, royal guards, sworn to Odessa.
Mathilda murmurs, “They think the same as I do.”
I nod before asking, “I just don’t understand. Magic is still obviously fading, but you guys think it’s all signs of an impending war?” The silence stretches between us.
Lachlan studies me cautiously. “Why couldn’t it be both? Why couldn’t magic be fading, and there be signs that the Great War is approaching?”
“Is that what you guys think?”
Evander peeks out the stable doors before answering, “We know that magic is fading, but these disasters are coming more frequently and have been increasing in intensity. It’s best to err on the side of caution, which is why we want the training grounds open, among other things.”
When it’s phrased that way, it does make sense. Coupled with the tale about the Fomorians and the Idir tree, why shouldn’t we prepare just in case?
“What can I do?” I ask. There’s a weighted pause; their faces vary in degrees of shock.
“Wait,” Mathilda responds, “You will help us? Just like that?”
I get the feeling I’m missing something.
“Yes—I mean, I’m here, and the disasters are still happening and now more rapidly.
I know Odessa believes my presence should put an end to all of that, but it’s not, and the problems are progressing for the worse, especially if that was the Wild Hunt.
I definitely think you are all right, and it’s an omen of war. My mother told me the stories.”
Lachlan shakes his head, his gaze grim. “I dinna think ye ken. What ye just said goes against everything Odessa and Julius are trying to establish with the council; this would make ye a rebel.”
The sound of that word should make me afraid or, at the very least, guilty for turning my back on my only family member here, but it doesn’t. Something about following this path spurs me on further.
“I can understand how they would initially think these disasters are related to magic fading, but this,” I point to the storm like Mathilda did earlier, “is a really bad sign if it is the Wild Hunt.”
The rain stops instantly, as do the roaring winds, as if they, too, agree with my words. The sun bathes the land, the clouds dissipating rapidly. It’s still and quiet, almost as if there wasn’t ever a storm to begin with. The only evidence is the soaked grass and mud.
“Lena,” Mathilda starts, “You can’t tell anyone what we think, not even Odessa.”
There’s something cautious about her words.
“Why not?” I ask, trying to understand. If I were wrong, I would want to know so that I could fix it.
“Let’s just wait and see what they say when you get back. Feel them out, okay? This is dangerous,” she replies.
My head tilts in confusion. “Dangerous, how?”
Lachlan’s face turns grave. “There ha’ been accidents, unexplainable, deadly accidents that seem to take out anyone who disagrees with them. Nothing obvious enough to point a finger directly at anyone. But people who dinna share their opinions on this wind up dead.”
Mathilda’s eyes shine with sorrow.
I swallow loudly before asking, “Is that why you guys haven’t done anything yet?”
They all share a look before Lachlan answers, “We dinna ha’ the support before, with most being happy to live in peace. But with ye becoming queen, ye could save us in more ways than one. Ye can change things without the bloodshed we would cause if we tried to stage a coup.”
I nod quickly. “I can do that.”
Evander peeks out of the stable doors, checking both ways before he motions for us to head back. “Let’s just keep our theories to ourselves for now,” he mumbles.
The path is muddy and dotted with puddles as we trek back to the Great Hall.
The fields of poppies have been shredded, their petals strewn about on the path.
The scene is heartbreaking, and my eyes burn, taking in the desecration of the once resplendent land as we continue to slip and slide our way up the path.
My boots are caked in mud, making the trek even more treacherous as I try to stay upright. Water rushes down the steps out of the throne room, down through the terrace, and creates a waterfall to the gardens below. The water cascading over the edge violently drowns the flowers.
“Whoa,” I breathe as we carefully make our way across the rushing stream and into the throne room. People are still huddled together under the covered portions of the roof.
They stare up into the open air in the middle, and a mix of fear and relief swirls around the room.
Odessa’s eyes pin me the moment I enter the throne room, and she walks to the center of the room, her arms outstretched before her.
“Our heir has returned, and the storm has subsided. There is nothing to fear.” Her voice resonates around the throne room.
If I hadn’t witnessed the howling and spectral wolves myself, I would almost believe the authority ringing in her voice. But now I fear that she might be delusional. How would the decline of magic cause something so large and powerful? I school my features and head to her side.
“Come, my dear, let us speak in private,” she whispers. She locks our arms together and leads us from the hall. “If you could give us a moment,” she throws over her shoulder as Lachlan and Evander move to follow us.
They halt, their eyes flicking to me in question, but I subtly nod my head. We don’t want to seem like we’re undermining her authority already.
We make our way from the throne room to the council room, and I whisper to Odessa, “Was that normal?”
She shrugs, not looking at me. “The Gods must have been angry that your blood was spilled, but I have rectified the situation,” she responds, leading me into the council chamber and shutting the door behind us.
Odessa thinks all of this was because Julius punched me?
I study her as she rests her forehead on the door briefly before spinning to face me. She seems like she’s struggling under the weight of her position, and I suddenly find myself feeling sorry for her.
“There was an incident after you fled the grounds,” she begins, but I cut her off, her words making my hackles rise, and my sympathy vanishes.
“I did not flee,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. Her mate threw a sucker punch at me, and she’s trying to twist the story in her favor?
She rolls her eyes but sighs as she continues, “Someone ransacked your room, but it was obvious they were looking for something.” She walks around the table, her eyes on the paintings behind me.
“I’d like to take precautions and establish a hand-selected private guard. ”
There’s something about her demeanor, the maneuvering, that puts me on edge. I want to turn and point at the painting of the Wild Hunt, but I refrain. But her words have my stomach sinking. She wants to have me followed.
A guard would hinder any future movements or conversations about an upcoming war I would need to have, and ‘hand-selected’, undoubtedly by her hand, would mean the guards would report to her.
I feign confusion. “Surely the culprit realized I have nothing of importance here, and that’s the end of that. I don’t think a guard would be necessary.”
Odessa looks shocked at my refusal. “Are you saying you don’t see a need for a guard?”
I shrug my shoulders as I walk to stand in front of her. “I am safe here, Aunt, so no. I don’t need a guard.”
I force a smile. I’ll play this game. She returns the smile, accepting my submissive attitude quickly and seemingly enjoying it.
“Well then, that settles that,” she replies, gently stroking my cheek. “I’m relieved to see your nose has healed nicely.”
My eyes hold hers. “Ack, no big deal. Accidents happen, right?” I shrug.
“More than you realize,” she murmurs softly as she heads to the door. “Shall we?” she says a bit louder, leading us out of the room.
Something between us has shifted. I’ve just entered a game I don’t know the rules to.
Even though she is my blood, I think I’ve finally realized that maybe we aren’t actually family.