Chapter 3
Jenyfer was unable to take her eyes off Ulrian Tregarthen.
He had slumped to the sand-cloaked stones, sitting like a child, the cross of the One God looming above him.
This man had done so much evil, so much harm to people like her, to women like her, to those not willing to conform and be what his blasted book said they were supposed to be.
To see Arthur crouched beside him, with such concern on his face, made Jenyfer want to scream.
She wanted to shake Arthur and remind him of the harm his father did to him as well.
Eventually, Arthur sighed and sat back on his heels. Ulrian had uttered Arthur’s name and not spoken another word since, eyes darting wildly between them, never settling.
‘We have to find what we came for, but we can’t leave him here, not like this.’ Arthur turned to his sister. Kat’s face was hard, her arms folded as she glared down at Ulrian. Jenyfer could only imagine what was going on in her head – Ulrian had tried to destroy her as well.
Arthur cleared his throat. ‘Kat, I need you and Haly to do something for me.’
Katarin’s eyes narrowed, but before Arthur could continue, she shook her head. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘While we search the house,’ Arthur said. ‘Please?’
She glared, then threw her hands in the air. ‘Fine!’
‘Just… make sure he doesn’t wander off,’ Arthur told her.
She scowled and approached Ulrian, standing over the former Chif but no longer willing to acknowledge him. Beside her, Halymere’s frown was deep.
‘She is darkness and death, she speaks with His tongue, the poison on her breath will see us all undone,’ Ulrian chanted suddenly, tucking his knees up to his chest. He rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped around his legs, dark eyes closed.
His hair was longer than Jenyfer had ever seen it – it had a curl, like Arthur’s did.
It softened the usual severity of Ulrian’s face but could not soften what lurked beneath his skin.
‘Who do you mean, Father?’ Arthur asked.
Ulrian’s eyes snapped open, his gaze passing over them all searchingly, until he stopped on Jenyfer’s face.
‘One so fair, hair like gold and—’ Ulrian paused and his face spasmed. ‘She made me kneel. She made me repent my sins. She and he, the one who speaks with a serpent’s tongue.’ He laughed suddenly. Arthur’s whole body jerked, but he did not move away.
‘Lamorna,’ Jenyfer breathed, suddenly understanding.
She shook off the gentle hand Ordes placed on her shoulder, going to kneel by Ulrian and peering into his face.
Up close she could see the grime that coated his skin and the unwashed scent of him made her want to retch.
She forced herself to breathe, to stay calm.
‘That’s who you meant, isn’t it? Lamorna? ’
‘In the dark and the dark is in her,’ Ulrian said. He sighed and, for a moment, the madness fled his face. ‘I’m sorry,’ Ulrian said, reaching for Jenyfer’s hands. ‘I’m sorry.’
She stumbled back before he could touch her, crashing into Ordes’ legs.
He reached for her, but she shoved him aside, bile rising in her stomach while her blood burnt and her song screamed.
She could see her horror reflected on Arthur’s face.
She stood on shaking legs. ‘Don’t let him near me, understand? ’
Arthur shook his head gently. ‘He can’t hurt you, Jen.’
‘No,’ Jenyfer managed; her magic pushed against her flesh, trying to force its way out, and she wasn’t sure she could hold it back.
Ordes’ fingers curled around hers – he squeezed her hand, giving her something to anchor herself to.
‘But I can hurt him. Denny, come on.’ Pulling her hand free, she turned and stormed off so quickly that Denny had to run to keep up with her.
Ordes’ heart beat alongside hers, and she took some solace from that steady rhythm she had come to know and rely on to ground her.
She could feel Ordes’ eyes on her back, but she needed to be far away from Ulrian, away from that town square, the cross of the One God and every memory that had stirred to life inside her.
As she led the way through the town, memories rushed back in vivid colours, smells and sounds – the detail consumed her, and Jenyfer wondered whether she had somehow stumbled backwards into the past. Her head was filled with Bryn as the boy he was, with Lamorna racing after them, begging them to stop and wait for her; with the Konsel and their red robes that glowed like a smouldering fire; with prayer circle and the ache in Jenyfer’s knees as she was made to kneel and recite the Word.
She could smell the sea under a bloated moon and hear the waves crashing on the shore.
Her aunt’s voice in her head, korrigan magic swirling all around her, and fear, the ever-present burn of fear, coated the back of her throat.
Without checking Denny was still following her, Jenyfer marched up the hill towards what used to be her home.
Her aunt’s cottage was silhouetted against the sky.
Birds wheeled overhead. The gate was open, the garden grown wild, flowers spilling onto the stone path.
The curtains were drawn, and there was a distinct lack of human life about the place.
Jenyfer paused at the gate, then took a deep breath and walked down the path.
‘I’ve never been here,’ Denny mused, his voice making her jump.
‘Why would you have?’ she asked, then pushed open the door.
It was strange to see the cottage empty.
She wiped her hands on her trousers and went in, her bare feet padding gently against the floor.
Denny lingered in the doorway before following.
Jenyfer didn’t go any further than the kitchen.
She wasn’t sure she could. She was aware of Denny, taking it all in.
‘If you’re searching for evidence of witchcraft, I’m afraid you won’t find any,’ she quipped.
Denny blushed. ‘No, I—’
‘I’m teasing, Denny. Right. There should be some herbs or something here,’ Jenyfer told him. ‘I’m not great at this. My aunt tried to teach me, but I wasn’t the best student.’
Denny fidgeted. ‘Whatever you can find will be fine, I’m sure.’
‘Is your mother sleeping?’ Jenyfer asked, opening the cupboard where Tamora used to keep the tonic she gave Jenyfer daily.
She told Jenyfer it was to help her sleep, but Jenyfer now knew that wasn’t what it was truly for.
Denny muttered, ‘Not really,’ as Jenyfer found a jar of dried herbs at the back of the cupboard.
The label said it was valerian root. She placed it on the table.
‘Make tea from this,’ she said, then returned to rummaging.
In the end, all Jenyfer could find was some camomile, peppermint and yarrow as well as some dried lavender flowers.
‘These should help,’ she said, gathering up the small jars and placing them in the basket left sitting on the bench.
She stared at it for a moment. It was Lamorna’s, the basket her sister always took to the market. For Lamorna to leave it behind…
‘Jenyfer?’ Denny asked. ‘Are you alright?’
She laughed shakily, picking up the basket. ‘No, Denny. I am very much not alright. Let’s go.’
They walked side by side down the path towards the town, a journey Jenyfer had taken a thousand times before.
It was odd to have Denny walking beside her.
She realised she could not recall ever seeing him anywhere except for the shop.
She snuck a look at him from the corner of her eye.
Denny was taller than she’d remembered, with muscular arms from hauling baskets of fish.
His face was tired, his skin pale, cheeks hollow, but his eyes still held the same kindness she remembered.
Jenyfer slowed her steps. From up here, Kernou didn’t appear any different than it ever had, an ocean of thatched roofs and grey stone.
The only sign anything had changed was the lack of smoke rising from chimneys.
She glanced out to sea. Another view she was achingly familiar with.
The ocean sparkled like a jewel under a cloud-streaked sky.
The breeze tugged at her hair; irritated, she pushed it away from her face.
‘What was it like here, after I left?’ she asked.
Denny shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
‘It was… odd. I was so used to seeing you and your sister. I didn’t go to the beach the morning they tied Lamorna…
I didn’t go. And then, when they locked you up, I saw you from a distance.
Mother forbade me from going anywhere near you.
’ He shot Jenyfer a quick look. ‘She said you were dangerous.’
Jenyfer shook her head. ‘I had no idea what I was, what I was doing, what had happened on the beach.’ She gazed back out to sea, to where the stakes – eight of them now – stood. The faintest trace of smoke wound around the timber like ribbons, but the bodies of the Konsel were gone.
‘But you know now?’ Denny asked.
‘Yes,’ Jenyfer said, but would not elaborate any further.
She didn’t owe Denny or anyone in this shell of a town an explanation.
In the distance, the White Dragon was perched like an oversized ornament atop the headland.
Beneath the beast was the cave where Jenyfer had gone to meet Ordes.
The dragon yawned, and even from the distance, Jenyfer could see its large pink tongue.
Its wings unfolded, and it stretched like a cat before settling again, rocks tumbling from the cliff face to plop into the ocean.
Beside her, Denny gaped. ‘Is that… is that…?’
‘A dragon, yes,’ Jenyfer said. ‘It’s Arthur’s.’
‘What, like a pet?’ Denny whispered.
She laughed. ‘No. Denny, do you know anything about a prophecy?’
‘I heard a rumour,’ he said, his eyes on the dragon. ‘And then Mordred convinced everyone that he would save them from the darkness to come.’
‘Did he now?’ Jenyfer mumbled. ‘And my sister?’