Brandubh was a horrid, impossibly beautiful creature. The Wicked King, her mind knew to call him. One of countless names this androgynous ancient being had earned in his many, many lifetimes.
Atop his head was a towering crown of polished onyx, carved to give the appearance of gathered branches. His straight, jet-black hair shimmered like satin. It pooled over his shoulders and reached his hips. His snow-pale body was long and lean – but unnaturally so. As with his slender, black-taloned fingers, his entire form was elongated ever-so-slightly beyond that of a human. It gave his appearance a disturbing elegance and grace. His torso was bare, aside from numerous black runes painted to match those on his forehead and temples. Onyx bands to match his crown graced his biceps. Attached to each were long stretches of black fabric that billowed and trailed after him as he moved. A black loincloth skirt hung low on his narrow hips. Its material was made up of black feathers, likely collected from his own wings. Aside from the black leather of its belt, the garment failed to cover the flawless porcelain flesh of his thighs and legs.
Once he was close enough for Skye to gaze upon the exquisiteness of his face, more involuntary tears rained down her cheeks. His high cheekbones and crystalline blue eyes… His full lips and delicate features… There was no denying the likeness between father and son. Terrified of Ciaran’s secret somehow reaching Brandubh’s thoughts, she locked it up even tighter within her mind.
Brandubh stopped before her and tucked his splendid wings behind his back. “Clever, clever child,” he breathed in awe. His eyes, thickly bordered in flawless black liner, studied her features intensely.
Skye glanced around behind her as more whispers echoed his voice from the trees, translating his Gaelic words for her understanding. This time, the one speaking English added almost inaudibly…
“Help me.”
Skye looked up at him in confusion. Brandubh was either unaware of the words or chose to ignore them. Perhaps in an effort to prevent any more unwanted additions to his dialogue, he spoke in English as he continued.
“What a delightful surprise. How have ya found your way here to me?” he asked with a dangerous smile. He reached out with taloned fingers to stroke a strand of her hair. His lips trembled as he gasped in pleasure at the contact. “Tell me, how have ya uncovered our link?”
Skye was unsure of why she was not running away. Part of her brain – likely the part in charge of self-preservation – was demanding that she do so. She just could not get her feet to move. “I didn’t come here by choice,” she declared.
Brandubh smiled as if she was hopelessly naïve. “But of course, ya did, Sgitheanach. Only your power could have carried ya here. This path was purposefully barred to ya by Sorcha, herself. Ya were ne’er meant to find it. Ya were ne’er meant to find ME.” He tisk-tisked and smiled wickedly as he warned in a singsong tone, “Mother shall be very angry if she hears of this.”
Skye studied his striking features as she tried to recall how she had come to be in this place. The last thing she could remember was succumbing to the tranquilizers. A sense of hopeful relief washed over her. “This… This is another dream. This isn’t real,” she insisted as she looked down at her body. She noticed for the first time that she was wearing a gown of white feathers. Each wrist was adorned with a bramble bracelet of carved ivory.
“‘Another’ dream?” Brandubh repeated. “So ya dream of me often then, do ya? Oh, tha is positively delicious, pet! Come now, ya can tell me – are they naughty dreams?” he purred. Seeing that she was not going to play along, he rolled his eyes. “Real is relative, dear, sweet child,” he whispered as he circled her. “If ya mean tha I can nah wound ya here, ya are correct.”
He stopped behind her, bringing his arms down around her and gently pulling her body against him. He spread his wings before slowly bringing them down and wrapping them around her, blocking out the world so all that remained was the two of them. She felt his body shudder in desire as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck. Despite the warning bells that were blaring in her mind… Despite the disgust at being touched by the creature responsible for so much death and torment… Her eyes involuntarily closed in pleasure at the sensation of his tongue against her skin. A breathy moan escaped her, and she swayed in his grasp, her head swimming in unwilling arousal.
Brandubh brought his lips to her ear, kissing the lobe before he whispered, “But trust tha this moment, this meeting between us, is indeed happening.”
He slowly released his hold of her and raised his wings. Moving to stand in front of her again, he cocked his head to the side and searched her eyes. She watched in wonder as he gracefully tucked his immense wings back behind his body once more.
“What were ya thinking of tha led ya to my throne, I wonder? What question was in your mind as ya drifted off to sleep?”
“I have no questions for you. I want nothing from you,” she ground out through clenched teeth as she fought off the unwanted sensations his touch had stirred in her. “You killed my family. You murdered my mate. You stole everything from me.”
“I have stolen everything from you?” he snarled in outrage as his eyes swirled to black. “Ya know nah what ya have done! What ya have cost me! 4,000 years… 4,000 years I have suffered, waiting for ya to come and deliver my revenge!”
Again, the whispers echoed his voice from the stone trees. Again, their words betrayed him, differing from what he had elected to say.
“…my salvation.”
And this time, the black-haired woman’s whisper joined:
“…deliver his salvation.”
Skye’s brow furrowed. She turned when she found that his glare had become affixed on the trees. The black-haired woman was gazing out at them mournfully from within the forest.
“Who is she?” Skye asked.
“An echo. An accursed specter of torment, nothing more,” Brandubh spat. “Be gone, spirit!”
The black-haired woman looked to Skye imploringly before fading away.
“Why have ya come here?!” Brandubh demanded in a strained voice.
Skye shook her head and tried to understand. If what he said was true, why would her power have brought her to him? “The nightmares… The visions…” she said. She met his gaze angrily. “It’s you. You’re the one doing this to me, aren’t you?”
“What have I done now?” he asked in a bored tone.
She replied without thought, for some reason making no effort to conceal the truth from him or to downplay how greatly she was being harmed. “A spell or something… A curse. I keep having these terrible dreams and hallucinations. They sap my strength. They drain my power.”
Brandubh’s features went slack in shock. “They drain your…?” he began to repeat in barely contained fury. He slowly turned and walked away from her, though he kept glancing back at her over his shoulder. Holding his hands up above him, he summoned black magic. A portal of sorts opened before him, its appearance like a black hole. He gazed into the darkness for a moment in silence, discerning something from the inky depths that she could not see before dismissing it with a wave of his hand.
Returning to her, he brought his hand to her forehead and closed his eyes. Again, Skye’s mind cried out to recoil from him. Again, she could not move an inch. When he opened his eyes, they were a familiar blue once more – the shade she associated with his son.
“This torment is nah of my making, Skye. Those responsible will be warned of the dire consequences tha will befall them, should they continue. If they give ya any more issues – any at all – call to me. I shall see to it personally tha they are stopped. I assure ya, I am nah the one targeting ya. True, I wish to punish ya for destroying my plans but nah by causing ya harm.”
“Not by causing me harm?” Skye repeated in disbelief. “Are you fucking mental? All you’ve ever done is harm me!”
With an impatient wave of his hand, Brandubh cast an orb of light up the stone stairs. It shone to reveal a second throne, recently cleaved in h
alf in a fit of rage. Skye’s eyes widened in realization as she felt a crown forming atop her head – the ivory twin to Brandubh’s own.
“Ya were to take your destined place at my side. Perhaps ya still may…” he breathed in anticipative delight as he pulled her forward, drawing her chest flush with his. She stared up at him in contempt as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “My punishments will fall upon the mutts tha dare stand between us, Sgitheanach, but I would ne’er hurt ya directly.”
“You let the fògaraich torture me for a decade, you sick bastard!” she choked out past the rising lump in her throat. “You let them take me when I was a child and twist me into something violent and terrible!”
Brandubh huffed impatiently and took an overly dramatic step away from her. He waved his hand dismissively. “None of tha was by my request,” he declared. “I gave up waiting with bated breath for your arrival more than a century ago. I was trying the ‘a watched pot never boils’ approach.”
Skye flinched at the unexpected storm of emotions that raged through her in response to that statement. She felt the strangest stab of betrayal in her heart – as if he had somehow shifted in her mind from the one responsible for her suffering, to the one who could have prevented it, but had not cared enough to do so.
Before she could stop herself, she threw her hands up in the air and demanded tearfully, “So, what? You got bored of waiting… and you just left me to be torn apart by those animals?”
Brandubh exhaled sharply, this time free of theatrics, and turned away. He stood in silence for a long moment. “Sooo many centuries…” he finally whispered with a shake of his head, sounding surprisingly steady for once. “Ya are so impossibly young. Ya can nah begin to comprehend the absolute immensity of the time I spent waiting…” His brows drew together, and he looked down at the tiled floor, wincing as he added in a strangled voice, “…and all the terrible ways it has altered me to carry on in this condition for so long.”
Skye studied his profile. There was something about the way he said those words that made them feel heavy and meaningful.
His eyes went out of focus as he recalled, “Entire millennia spent watching each of your ancestors grow from infants to maidens. When each was old enough to prove herself woefully ungifted, I selected just the right male candidate to serve as her mate and add further strength to your gene pool. I tried everything to bring ya here sooner, d’ya understand? Everything. My every waking thought revolved around finding a way to unleash ya. But time and again, generation after generation, my efforts proved useless. In a family of 15 children, 14 were boys who only produced sons. There was only ever one female child and she was ne’er sired by a male of your bloodline. Daughter begot daughter begot daughter and on and on. A single line running straight through the ages, ne’er once branching off. After so long devoting so much into each daughter, I had to step back. It was all too… disappointing. Infuriating. Painful.”
He inhaled slowly through his nose, attempting to reign in his emotions as memories replayed in his mind.
“And I… I was changing… more and more every day. I… could feel… tha I might…” He clenched his teeth as tears slid down his face. He was too overwhelmed to continue that sentence. He took a tremulous breath and said instead, “Becoming so invested, only to have my hopes dashed again and again and again. I finally just stopped meddling altogether in the hope it would release ya somehow. I had your bloodline living freely out there in the world – closely monitored by the fògaraich, of course. But what they did to ya and your family…”
He slowly moved back in front of her. He shook his head and arched a brow in distaste. “They acted on their own. I did nah even know ya had presented the potential for being the One, let alone tha ya were taken. They were supposed to bring ya to ME if ya showed even the slightest hint of potential. They thought they knew better. They wanted to train ya first – to prepare ya. The torments ya were subjected to were done with the intent to turn your heart as black as mine. To harm this precious body…” he whispered breathily as he traced his hands over her bare arms. “…so tha ya would learn your true strength. To teach ya how to find pleasure in pain, so tha we would share similar appetites. To teach ya true suffering so tha ya would understand mine.
“I did nah find out ya had been in captivity and what ya had been subjected to until I felt ya release your power the night ya escaped. I was… greatly displeased with the fògaraich. Beyond the ones ya killed at the coven tha night, I took my time searching out and tearing apart every last one who knew of your imprisonment. It was of little consolation. The damage was well done. I felt the only good tha may have come from it was ya saw the horrid depravity of the fògaraich firsthand. I hoped ya understood the need for their eradication.”
Skye stared up at him in perplexity. “Their ‘eradication’? They’re your own creations. Why would you want them destroyed? They serve your will.”
“Only when I have use for them,” Brandubh answered in disinterest. “I had thought the ancients I put in charge of watching over your bloodline would follow my commands without issue, but clearly nah even they could be trusted. I have my closest servants – hand selected over the ages. They are unwaveringly loyal and see to my needs and wants. The rest are nothing. I owe them nothing.” He turned and walked away, his eyes wandering over the stone forest in reminiscence. “The creation of the fògaraich was a mistake born of my own fear,” he stated plainly. “My need to survive and keep Sitheag hidden drove me down many a regrettable path. But the fògaraich are a disease. They have long-since served their purpose. While it is true tha, so long as they exist, I will continue to use them in my efforts to bring ya back to me – know tha I, too, am eager to be rid of them.”
Skye struggled to process this unexpected information. “Why would I trust you?” she demanded. “You’re hell-bent on controlling me, using me for whatever warped plans you have. Why should I believe you aren’t the one harming me now?”
“Because, most cherished Sgitheanach, if ya believe nothing else, believe this: I would ne’er seek to reduce your power. Ne’er diminish your precious light.” He bowed to her deeply with impossible grace. When he rose, he asked, “Why would I take from ya the very thing that makes ya so irreplaceable? Ya remain my only hope of putting right what was done.”
“By you!” Skye fired back in disbelief. “What was done by you! You’re responsible for four millennia of suffering and death!”
Brandubh flinched and took a step back as if she had struck him. He cocked his head to the side, confusion clear in his features. Slowly, a look of infuriated realization passed over his face. “I see… Have I been sufficiently vilified then?” he demanded contemptuously. “Hear me well, Skye, I have ne’er claimed tha I am wholly innocent in what has come to pass, nor would I falsely represent myself as a Saint to ya now. I am twisted and wicked and cruel…”
His eyes swirled to blackness as he extended his slender arms above his head, spreading wide his glorious wings. He bared his terrible fangs and displayed his splendid, corrupted form with a mixture of pride and bitterness.
“I am the horror which Sorcha has made me – the monster she drove me to become. But her…?” he hissed, his lips trembling in revulsion. “She is something far viler beneath all the pretty fairy tales she weaves. She masks the truth, locks it away. History is written by the victors, as they say.”
Skye groaned and clutched her head as she was hit with the sudden dizzying sensation of being dragged away. She was sleeping, she recalled. Someone was attempting to rouse her. “I’m… I’m waking up,” she informed him, though she was unsure of why she offered the warning.
Unwilling to allow her to leave yet, Brandubh launched forward and snatched her by the wrist. “Doesn’t it all seem a bit too neat? A bit singular in its blame?” he asked as his hold on her wrist strengthened. His eyes bore into hers pleadingly. “Have ya ne’er once questioned the lies ya have been fed, child? Have ya inherited Faolan’s misguided trust
?”
“Let go. You’re hurting me,” Skye gasped in pain as she felt her bones snapping and giving way beneath his crushing grip.
“I do nah ask tha ya believe me, Sgitheanach. I ask tha ya believe your instincts. Believe your power. Open your eyes, girl. Open their eyes. Let nah your foolish loyalty blind ya to the truth. And when ya are ready to hear my side of history, call to me. No matter where ya go, I shall always hear your summons.”
And with that, he released her.
Skye awoke with Brandubh’s words echoing in her mind. She groaned and clutched at her wrist, confused by the lingering sensation of broken bones. She flexed her fingers and hand, surprised to find that everything was intact. Brandubh had said that he could not wound her through their link, but it seemed inflicting very real pain was still possible. She frowned wondering why he had not taken advantage of that ability…
“Hey, love. Are ya all right? Did ya sleep on your wrist wrong?” Ciaran whispered, taking her hand and inspecting her skin for any sign of injury.
Goddess Rising Page 19
