Chapter 3
Three
Samaria
The coffee in Mahaffey’s pub tastes like sewage.
Seeing as it’s the only option I have, I choke it back and wait for the rush of energy to kick in. The past two weeks have dragged as we’ve waited for Agnes and the others to join us in Wickersham. They should have been here much sooner, and each day that passes with their absence is torturous.
Every waking minute we spend idle has me itching with anxiousness. The Stones I’ve kept hidden in my pack ignite the magick beneath my skin, the feeling much like soaking in a hot bath when you’ve been out in the cold all day. But without Elora, I have no way of knowing just what magick waits for me or how to awaken it. I should be used to this feeling, having lived my entire thirty years knowing it was unlikely my magick would be awakened at all. But now, with the Stones so close, it feels more possible than ever.
My stomach sours, and I shake my head clear of the selfish thought. Elora is enduring Mother knows what in Valebridge and all I can think about is what I’ll gain if we free her.
When we free her.
Despite knowing better, my head lifts from the table with each chime of the bell on the pub door, hoping by some miracle Agnes or Letty’s face will appear. In my darkest moments, I sometimes imagine Elora or Galen will appear instead.
The last image I have of Galen replays in my mind. His eyes widened with horror before my vision went black. Sorin swears he saw him thrown onto the back of a horse, but my mind has drifted to darker places. What if he never made it off the mountain?
A lump forms in my throat just as another chime from the bell rings. And, like a dog trained for obedience, I glance up from my empty cup. I’m immediately disappointed when it’s just another passerby looking for a quick bite and a break from the rain.
“Another cup?” Jarek’s hands are warm as they massage the back of my neck. I lean into his embrace, encouraging him to keep working the knots forming there.
I push my empty cup away and take a deep inhale through my nose in an attempt to relax. “I’m not sure my stomach can handle much more of this.”
“I don’t blame you, there.” His nose scrunches as he downs the rest of the sludge the barkeep, Park, calls coffee and sets the empty cup on the wooden table.
“It’s been too long,” I say quietly and angle my body sideways to face him.
His fingers slide from my neck and land on my hips before tugging me closer.
“I know, my queen. Agnes and the others are bound to be here any day.” His hand runs up and down my spine, and I know I shouldn’t be frustrated with him, but I am. Jarek is the other half of my being and my love for him is endless, but his ability to keep calm in any situation infuriates me for all the wrong reasons.
But mostly, it’s envy.
“Aren’t you worried? What if something has happened to them?” I regret the edge that’s laced in my words, but I’m too tired. Jarek knows me well enough to know I don’t mean the harshness that’s there.
“Of course I’m worried, Sam.” His lips brush my forehead, a reminder he’s right here with me. “But what good does it do to dwell?”
I blow air through my nose loud enough for him to hear, and he responds with that perfect smile that won me over all those years ago. His blue eyes captivate me, even the fine lines starting to form around the edges aid in his beauty. I run a finger over his tattooed knuckles that are placed across my lap. His sandy blonde hair is up in a knot, the usually close shaven sides have started to grow out, concealing the tattoos that adorn either side.
“I suppose you’re right, dwelling is getting me nowhere.” Resting my head on his shoulders, I close my eyes and try to imagine what it would be like not to be in a constant state of worry. How it must feel to face each day with a clear mind and not one that plays each way a situation can go wrong before it lands on what could go right . That is, if it ever lands there at all.
Must be nice.
The chime on the door slams louder than usual, and because I can’t help myself, I pop my eyes open.
Charles’ black cloak drips onto the pub floor, leaving small puddles to form at his boots. He’s one of Sorin’s right hand men in Wickersham, his tall frame and shaved head make him distinguishable even through the dreary rain.
“They’re almost here,” Charles says, walking toward us.
I tear myself from Jarek’s warmth and slide out the opposite side of the large booth.
“You’re certain?” My voice is weary as I head to where my cloak hangs on the wall.
“Got word from the stablemaster just now, they’re due to arrive any minute.” Charles nods.
My heart races as I pull my tight curls into a low bun, then secure my hood over my head. Jarek joins me, donning his cloak as well.
They’re here . My mother and the others are here, and we’re one step closer to getting Elora and Galen back. My fingers itch as I pull my bag onto my shoulder, the Stones still securely inside, and head out the door.
The walk to the stables is miserable in the downpour. I’ve always respected each of The Mother’s four seasons but the constant rain that comes with Autumn is one thing I could do without. I smile despite it. Elora would probably love this gloomy weather.
We step into the small barn, our boots squelching, and my heart stammers as I see my mother, Letty, and Eviey dismounting their horses.
I feel like a child as I dart towards Agnes, but I can’t help the swell of emotions that seeing her brings. Relief that she’s here.
Guilt that she's here.
Her limp is more prominent than ever as she meets me halfway, confirming the guilt sitting low in my gut.
I should have never made her come all this way.
Wrapping my arms around her, I take a deep inhale of her familiar scent—peppermint and pine. A sense of home washes over me, and the feeling leaves me relieved and nostalgic.
She pulls me back and pats both of my cheeks with her cold hands. Her silver coiled curls spring free as she draws back her hood, and her amber eyes drift behind me to where I know Charles and Jarek stand.
“Sorin?” Her voice is hushed, and a pang of jealousy hits me that she hasn’t asked how I’m doing before she asks about him. I should be used to everyone being in Sorin’s favor, but it still hurts to see myself pushed aside. I love my brother, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t hurt to be cast in such a large shadow.
“He’ll be back in a few days. He seeks aid from the Jade Guild.” I try my best to keep my voice light as I grab her hand again and give it a squeeze of reassurance.
The last thing my mother needs is more worry, so I pull her in tightly to my side, rubbing her arm.
She nods but remains silent as we make our way out of the stables and into the gray rain.
Back at the Sherwood Inn, the walls of our room are suffocating as the six of us shuffle in, cupping and rubbing our hands together to warm the dampness from our bones.
“How was the ride in?” I ask cautiously, setting down a tray of tea from the pub on the only table in the room. The walls of the Inn are thin, and you can never be too certain who might be listening. While Loxley isn’t a secret to all, it’s a secret to most, and I wouldn’t want to give away too much information to wandering ears.
“It was just as you’d expect.” Agnes purses her lips and stretches her long, thin fingers near the fireplace. The different runes permanently inked across her brown knuckles make me smile. My mother’s words are vague, but I know she has the same intuition as I do.
Be cautious .
I nod, shooting a glance at Jarek. I hand him one of the cups of tea and the other to Agnes. Letty and Eviey help themselves, making small talk with Charles on the opposite side of the room.
My mother has always been a fighter. Fierce and powerful yet kind and just. The perfect leader for Loxley, even when my father, William, was still at the helm. The two of them were the ideal pair. Their love for each other and their children is almost fearsome to those not in it. But today, as she sits across from me, she looks tired. The typical amber glow to her eyes is more dull than when I saw her last. And her limp…
“Where are they?” Her voice is quiet as she cups her mug with a slight tremble in her hands, not yet bringing it to her mouth. “The Stones?”
Her eyes remain on the fire, but Jarek and I catch each other’s gaze only for a moment. His brows pinch together, and I know he’s having the same concerns about her health that I am.
“They’re here, in my bag.” I stand to fetch the pack from Jarek, but before I can cross the room, Agnes grips my arm. Her eyes are glazed and milky white. Her nails dig into my tunic, piercing the soft flesh underneath. A shudder runs through me as I recognize what is about to happen.
A vision.
I steady my breathing and focus on the rise and fall of my chest as my mother’s face transforms before me.
“ Not all those you trust are worthy .” Her voice becomes a low howl, and in an instant Jarek is at my side. His palm is heavy on the small of my back, but my eyes stay focused on my mother’s face.
“ Those who once were, are no longer. And those who are, will rise .”
If it wasn’t for my gray linen shirt, I’m certain her nails would have broken the skin on my arm.
Like a wave crashing into the shore, Agnes’ features soften. Her eyes return to their soft honey; her brows relax as her shoulders unclench. Her grip lessons on my arm, but her touch lingers.
A soft whoosh of air escapes my lips as her fingers slide from my arm. I open my mouth to speak but all the words lodge in my throat.
Not all those you trust are worthy .
“Clear the room,” Agnes snaps, though no one moves.
“Shouldn’t we discuss this plan together?” I gently place a hand on my mother’s shoulder.
“No.”
Stubborn dragon. I peer at Letty and Eviey, fully expecting them to argue, but instead, they’re already following Charles out the door.
“Let’s get you two a hot meal,” he says to the twins as the door clicks shut.
Good man.
Jarek, however, stands rooted. His eyes meet mine, and I nod, assuring him it’s okay to stay.
With only myself, Jarek, and Agnes left in the room, we unwrap the Stones. My mother and I gasp as the four Stones lay openly on the bed, their magick pulsing through the air. Panic claws at my chest thinking of possible hunters nearby.
My eyes dart between Agnes and the Stones. “Should we really be risking taking them out?”
“Relax, Samaria.” Agnes beams down at the four crystals. “With no Dyrsjel present, their magick won’t be emitted.” She turns to me, a slight smile slanting across her lips. “We’re safe.”
Safe.
“All this fuss for a bit of rock?” Jarek moves to grab the ruby Stone; fire.
As quick as a whip, Agnes reaches out and slaps the back of his hand.
“Don’t touch!” She traces her fingers over each of the crystals but doesn’t pick them up. “I’m sure the Mother is not pleased with the Stones being shoved in a bag, let alone being touched by a man .” She cuts Jarek a scowl, then me.
“How was I supposed to know he couldn’t touch them?” I ask. “It’s not like I’ve received many history lessons on Enchantresses or the Awakening Stones.”
The words are softly spoken, but Agnes’ eyes narrow anyway. The bitterness of my sheltered upbringing rising to the surface.
“Where else were we supposed to put them?” Jarek asks, flopping himself onto the bed. “Besides, didn’t you say they were a bit useless without a Dyrsjel?”
“ Useless ?” Agnes and I both say in unison.
I may not have had many history lessons, but just from being in the presence of the Stones and knowing their power, they are anything but useless .
“Maybe that wasn’t the right word.” Jarek sighs, scratching a hand along his jaw. “Would it be best to leave you two alone?” His eyes find mine, desperation lining them.
Shaking my head, I walk over and place a kiss on his mouth. “Go,” I say, gesturing to the door. “I’ll meet you at the pub when we’re through here.”
He lets out a long breath like I’ve just relieved him of work for the day. Rolling my eyes, I kick him in the arse as he heads toward the door.
After he’s gone, I rejoin my mother at the table where she’s arranged the Stones; fire, earth, water, air. She cups her tea in one hand and uses the other to run delicate fingers along each vibrant Stone.
“They’re truly amazing, aren’t they?” she whispers, her eyes never leaving the Stones. She gazes at them with such admiration. My stomach twists at each line around her eyes and mouth. The tremble in her hands and the silver of her hair.
How has so much time gone by? I remember days from my childhood like they were yesterday. Agnes and my father, doting on each other in the way they always did. Kissing and playing. Before he got sick. Before we lost him.
“Yes,” I finally say, taking a slow sip of my tea that’s now gone cold.
She runs her finger across the blue Stone. “I wish your brother were here.”
“Well I’m here, Mother, or have you already forgotten?” Shite . I wince; the words are out of my mouth before I can bite my tongue.
My mother’s eyes snap to mine, the glow beneath them is faint but her irises flare as she watches me.
Clutching my mug, I tip it to my lips and swallow down the rest and avoid her gaze for as long as I can. I hate that my jealousy rears its head as ugly as a sprite. I hate that she sees right through me, and I hate that no matter how old I get, I cannot help but feel this way.
“Sam,” Agnes says, shaking her head lightly. “Your brother’s destiny is far greater than?—”
“Yes,” I cut her off, my exhaustion getting the best of me. “I’m all too aware of how important Sorin is.” The bitterness sticks to my tongue. I’ve been told every day of my life since I was seven years old just how important he is. How we must protect him. How he is the true king. And I know I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on my mother, but sometimes the child inside of me takes charge and I’m no longer thirty. I am shrunk down to a seven year old whose life was turned upside down. “What I need is for you to help formulate a plan to help get Sorin into Valebridge safely.”
“Sit down, Sam.” It’s only when my mother uses her most stern tone do I realize that I’ve stood from my chair and have been pacing.
I glance down, picking at my fingers before I rejoin her at the table.
Her eyes scan my face for a moment, before she sighs. “Don’t think for one second, I have more love for Sorin than I do for you.”
Her words jolt me. They hit me so heavily that my body physically pushes away until my back is pressed firmly against the wooden chair in which I sit.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” I whisper.
Damn that inner child.
“Yes it was.” Her tone softens, but her gaze doesn’t. “The reason I have a more…” I glance up as she closes her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose. When she opens them, there is no spark lining her irises. She clutches tightly to her teacup. “The reason I have a more fierce protection over your brother is because of who he is, Sam.”
I nod, unable to find anything else to say.
“Please stay for a while. It would be good to catch up with my only daughter, because despite what she thinks, I have missed her very much.” She loosens her grip on my arm but her fingers stay atop it.
“Okay, mum.” I sigh, pushing away my cold teacup. “I’ll stay.”