Chapter 17 #2
“He turned into a wolf,” Reyna said, firmer. “Don’t try to tell me I didn’t see what I saw. He turned into a wolf and back. Cadenza set the grass on fire. You were joking about eye of newt and lizard tongue.” She planted her hands on her hips, eyebrow raised as if daring him to deny it.
His eyes narrowed. “I would have known if someone else were in the field, I would have heard you, seen you.”
She spread her hands. “You did see me. But I looked different. That goes back to my question.” She gave Cadenza a small smile. “Don’t freak, ok?” Reyna ran two steps and leapt into the air. Cadenza ducked, but then straightened, mouth agape.
A great horned owl flew a circle over their heads, landed on the stairs, and blurred back into Reyna.
“I really want to know why I can do that.”
Cadenza slumped against the kitchen sink in the cottage, waiting for the tea kettle to boil.
Drostan and Taran were in the living room explaining to Reyna, who said she’d been able to shift since she was a child, what a Guardian was, how the “production line” worked, and Taran’s situation.
Cadenza had volunteered to make tea for everyone as an excuse for a quiet moment.
She didn’t know how many more revelations she could handle.
In one day, her career plan had been ripped away and two people that she’d thought she had made the choice to interact with, whether that was professionally or as a friend or both—she winced; Reyna was both, she had thought Thomas was both—were also a part of this world of Fate. Coincidence? Was there such a thing?
Or were the Fates tightening their weave around her? How much of what was happening in her life stemmed from her own choices and how much from what the Fates supposedly decreed?
Lips pursed, she dug a box of herbal tea out of the cupboard. But then if me meeting Thomas was the Fates’ doing, did that mean they wanted Taran to fight him—to kill him?
Taran had said if the Fates cared at all, they would have broken the curse themselves. But if they sent Cadenza to find Thomas, was that their way of doing that? But then why wait so long? If they wanted the curse broken, why not do it hundreds of years ago?
Her head started to pound.
It doesn’t matter what they want. The serving tray rattled on the counter as she slammed mugs down on it.
Because I’m choosing my own path. She’d figure out how to break the curse, learn how to control the earthsong so she didn’t hurt anyone, and then she and Taran would decide their own path. Together.
Right, she scoffed at herself. Learn to control the music, just like that.
Because it’s been so easy so far. The image of Thomas’s face tangled in her thoughts—Thomas with his quirky glasses and thoughtful insights.
Thomas, who had been trying to help her before she knew what it was that she needed help with.
How could that Thomas have done something so vile to Taran?
Taran with his grace and humor and anchoring ocean of music. Taran that she loved.
How could Taran have done something so heartbreaking to Thomas?
All of it happened so long ago; there had to be a way to heal this, to heal them.
“I’m one to talk,” she told the steaming kettle. She had yet to forgive her mother. Who was she to tell anyone else to forgive?
The kitchen door swung open and bodhran song flowed around her. “Alright?” Taran’s arms followed his song, and she nestled into his chest.
“I just needed a minute. Che giornata.”
“It has been a day at that.” The kettle whistled and Taran poured boiling water into each mug while keeping one arm around her waist. “Come on. I think Reyna’s just about up to speed.”
The blacksmith was on her feet with her hands on her hips as they entered the living room. “So, you’re saying I’m a glorified bodyguard to some random guy who is basically a human charging cable for when the planet needs to juice up?” she asked incredulously.
“No,” Drostan said from the couch. “Not ‘some random guy.’ The Crown. Who is not some inanimate object like a charging cable but actively works to connect the entire planet to the source it needs in order to create the energies that fuel said planet and guide the life of every person on it. And,” he added, “who, often as not, isn’t a ‘guy.’ The Crown when Taran’s mother—” he cut off, jaw clenched.
Cadenza handed him a mug and squeezed his shoulder.
“The Crown when Taran got into this trouble with Ercildoun,” Drostan started again, “was a man, from our own country. And, incidentally, Taran’s first Crown. ”
Cadenza glanced at Taran. “The first one you had to protect?”
He half smiled. “Told you I was ‘young’ when it happened.”
“But there’ve been Crowns from Kenya to Korea and Argentina to Australia,” Drostan continued, “and the Crown is just as often a woman.”
Taran gave Reyna her tea and sat next to Cadenza on the loveseat.
“And we’re not ‘glorified bodyguards.’ There’s a bond between the Guardians and the Crown.
It’s a wee bit tricky to explain, but it’s never been any kind of servant dynamic, or formal relationship with distance.
We’re friends, equals. Anyway, don’t worry about it overmuch, since we don’t have a Crown just the now. ”
Reyna sat across from Drostan. “Why isn’t there a Crown now?”
“Because Ercildoun hasn’t found a new one,” Drostan said.
“That’s his job in the whole thing. He’s the Seer, he finds the new Crown once the old one passes on, but he stopped bothering with his duty after his wife died.
” Drostan’s eyes flicked to Taran. Taran gripped his mug harder, and Cadenza laid her hand over his.
Taran took a turn with the story, face somber. “You remember we hid my mother, thinking the Silence attack was focused on the Crown?”
Reyna nodded, and Cadenza scooted closer to Taran to lend support, listening to the constant flow of frame drum rhythm rolling off him.
“Well, once we realized we were in the wrong place, we rushed to where my mother was hiding. We knew it could be an ambush, but what else could we do? We arrived too late. She was already gone. And the then-King was killed in the fight. A double failure.” His lips twisted bitterly.
“Ercildoun found a new Crown shortly before I led my blasted raid, so before his wife was killed. But after she died…” He left the sentence hanging.
“That new Crown died in 1757, and Ercildoun’s not been interested in looking since. ”
Drostan grunted. “He doesn’t do his job, we can’t do ours.”
Taran shot his father a doubtful look. “I don’t know about that, but it’s true that there’s been no Crown for the Guardians to protect since then. And until you, Cadenza, no Spinners either.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Reyna plunked her mug on the table, tea sloshing over the sides.
“Drostan, you said that you and your family before you, have all been Guardians for as long as there have been Crowns to guard. That’s a long time,” she stretched out the word for emphasis.
“I mean, you guys are, like, forever old, right?”
“Oof!” Taran grabbed at his heart like he’d been shot. “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? What do you think, Cadenza?” He dabbed at the skin around his eyes. “Am I getting wrinkles? Maybe I need more moisturizer.”
She laughed, happy to hear him joke again after having to talk about the events that led to the curse.
Reyna rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Drostan chuckled. “Aye, forever old, as my braw, young son likes to remind me. The Crowns have a bit of a say in how long they want to serve. Us poor buggers? Eventually we’ll wear out, although usually someone takes us out before that point.”
“What about Spinners?” Cadenza sat forward, surprised at herself for not thinking to ask before tonight.
“Same as Guardians.” Taran’s eyes burned.
Cadenza fell back against the cushions like she’d had the wind knocked out of her.
Her mind refused to grasp all the implications of that.
Not yet. Not tonight. Taran snugged his arm around her shoulder as if he understood the abyss of time she was suddenly staring into. She supposed he did.
Reyna was still pacing the floor, stalking answers to the questions she’d chased her entire life.
“And being Guardians—that was the whole point of your family, yes?” she asked Drostan.
“That’s right. The Fates changed wolves—in the case of our family—to be able to be people to guard the Crown. After several generations, human became our default state, with the ability to shift to wolves. But, yes, we were created, chosen to be Guardians.”
“Ok, but my family haven’t been Guardians.
” Reyna pointed at her chest. “No one else in my family, no one else I’ve ever met, besides you, is like me.
And you’re saying there hasn’t been a Cown in over 200 years.
Why would the Fates make me a Guardian if I didn’t inherit it and there’s no Crown to guard? ”
“Fair question. Athair?” Taran asked his father.
Cadenza’s headache returned. She laid her forehead on Taran’s shoulder, too burnt to speculate.
Drostan set his mug on the coffee table and gestured to her. “Why do we all of a sudden have a new Spinner when none have been found since the last Crown died?”
Reyna looked at him expectantly. “Well, why do you have a new Spinner?”
Cadenza perked back up. Drostan opened his mouth. Shut it again. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe because we’ll need you two if we find a new Crown. And we need to find a new Crown.” Taran said. “The earth needs it.”
“We don’t need to get into that tonight,” Drostan said, his tone firm.
“Fine, you old goat,” Taran shot back. “Then maybe we have a new Guardian to take my place? Since I’m so bloody useful right now.”
“No one needs to take your place,” Drostan said, pointing a finger at Taran. “Because you’re going to take it back. We know where Ercildoun is. Ruairi, Cyrus, and I will go fetch the self-righteous bastard and bring him here. You kill him. End of curse. The Fates can replace him.”