Daughter of Retribution (Crescent Queen Book 1)

by Wren Cartwright

  “Yes,” I sighed happily. “Better.”

  I found myself lying awake later that night. After a warm meal with everyone and the pain from earlier, I had expected to fall asleep immediately. Callisa seemed to be having trouble as well, fidgeting and turning as though restless. She also chose the side closest to the window, and every so often would turn to let the light shine on her face. “Callisa?”

  She turned over to face me, the moonlight from the window turning her blonde hair silver.

  “Will you tell me about Elias now?”

  She hummed, adjusting the thick quilt above us until she was thoroughly snuggled, then began. “He took the loss at solstice really hard.” Her blue eyes appeared haunted. “We all did; I mean, we lost a huge chunk of the family we had formed over hundreds of years. The mourning was intense. Even a thousand years later, it stings.” She sighed, long and weary. “Elias took it poorly. Where before he was friendly and fairly outgoing, now he’s suspicious of others, gruff and closed off.” She closed her eyes, whispered like her words were going to disappear the moment she spoke them. “It hurts. I love him like a brother, like a best friend. I miss the old him; I miss how happy he used to be. Azael’s different, too, colder and reckless. I think we’ve all gone a little mad after so long in isolation.”

  “You lost your brother that day,” I winced at my forthrightness, hoping I didn’t just trigger something sore.

  A tear leaked out of her eye. “Yeah, Alaric. He was best friends with Elias; I think his loss hit Elias the hardest. He just changed after that, became harder, withered away in adamanteis until all that was left was a shell that existed only to protect us and get revenge.” I couldn’t even begin to imagine the type of pain this group carried. Being confined together for years, mourning the loss of their family, and having no outside source to help them heal sounded horrifying.

  “Can you tell me about him?”

  “Yeah.” She sniffled. “We may have been triplets, but he got his looks from our father. Jet black hair, medium height, and my mom’s blue eyes.”

  “Like yours.”

  “Like mine. He loved to tease Azael; they would play pranks on one another, challenge each other to sparring matches, stay out all night at parties,” she coughed out a wet laugh. “He was fiercely protective over me. Always escorting me to and from celebrations. I’m an immortal warrior, for the gods’ sakes. But even at 200 years old, he made sure that I was safe. He and Azael both. They encouraged me to practice my healing, to begin working with the medics so that I could match my gift with practical experience.” Her voice broke, “and yet I still couldn’t save him before Theia drained him.”

  “Oh, Callisa.” I pulled the blanket tighter around her pale shoulders. It was hard to reconcile the sweet and joyful countenance she usually had with this hidden pain exposed. Sometimes I forgot that no matter how many jokes they told or how cheerful they seemed, each group member had experienced a devastating loss and had changed because of it. I wanted to comfort her somehow, but I had nothing to offer. I had not experienced loss, not truly. Not when I’d never had anything to lose. So, I offered the only thing I could. “Please, tell me about him whenever you want to share a memory or something you miss. I promise I’ll always listen.” They were all a little broken, these warriors, which was fine for me, because I was all empty spaces and hollow caverns, and I felt like I could be a balm if I tried. And I wanted to try.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered. “Thank you for listening.”

  “Anytime.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The sun shone the next day brightly, rousing me from sleep. I got up quietly, careful not to wake Callisa, and headed to the bathing room to change and get ready. My neck ached fiercely; the tonic having worn off overnight. Callisa was upright in bed when I got back, with only slightly puffy eyes to show for her tears. “Morning,” she declared cheerfully, stretching her arms over her head and heaving a big yawn.

  “Morning.” I bit my lip, wanting to ask her but not wanting to disrupt the nice peace we had found, with the sun shining through the window and the dust motes whirling.

  “What is it, Aeryn?” She laughed. “You’ve obviously got something on your mind.”

  The bed creaked as I took a seat at the edge, next to her. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but why have you been so nice to me?”

  “Do you know what my brother was doing when he came back to camp after being stranded for days with a stranger?”

  “Uhh, crying with relief?”

  She snickered. “No, he was smiling, laughing, teasing. I spent so long with him in that prison, sullen face and quiet demeanor I thought he would never smile freely again.” She began braiding her hair while speaking, her fingers waving in and out deftly. “Like I mentioned last night, he’s different now, he’s reckless and wild, and he smiles a fraction of the time he used to. Even if he’s just teasing you… even if he’s just excited to see a chest he doesn’t associate with family or another face after all this time, you make him smile.” She tied off her braid and gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I like it. I like seeing happiness on him again; it suits him. So, thank you.” She stated softly. “You’re good for us; you’re new, kind, brave.” I felt the heat flush in my cheeks as I nodded. It felt weird to be thanked for doing nothing. For merely existing, but I was grateful nonetheless and offered up a small smile in return.

  “Thank you for being so welcoming, Callisa. I’ve never had a friend I could confide in, rely on.”

  She bumped my shoulder gently. “Anytime.”

  “Now, let’s go torture Azael.” I tied my hair back and winced at the sharp pain in my neck. “Maybe after he applies the salve,” I murmured. She laughed; the seriousness of the moment broken.

  “Thanks again for all your help, Lavinia.” I quickly embraced her, getting a faceful of her wild red curls.

  “I’m glad I could be of service.” She handed me a bundle of herbs that she’d gathered earlier, neatly tied in a linen cloth along with several tins of salve. “Please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.” I smiled at her. Her eyes darted to Nerys as she watched the woman pull her leather boots on. “Look out for her,” she murmured.

  My brows creased, but I nodded my head in understanding.

  Bastien came up behind me, tugging on my loose braid and cackling.

  “Must you?” I huffed.

  “It’s so long, I couldn’t resist.”

  “Bastien,” Lavinia sing-songed, a wicked smile on her face. He quickly blanched and retreated several steps, hands held out pleadingly.

  “Mercy! I’m sorry, Aeryn.”

  Eleste and Carwyn were falling over with laughter. Meanwhile, I took pity on his panicked face, and patted his cheek consolingly. His green eyes were wide, dancing with mischief. “Come on, Bastien, no hard feelings.” I winked at Lavinia behind his back, and she gave me a cheeky wave before retreating into her cottage.

  Azael paced back and forth, holding a new map. His brows were furrowed with concentration, and he bit his lower lip as his eyes flitted back and forth over the trails. “We’ll reach Bram’s estate in several days. Hopefully, we don’t run into trouble on the way; they’ve been expecting us, so our quarters should be prepared.”

  I peeked over his shoulder, subtly inhaling the scent of oak and fire that always seemed to cling to him and pointed towards our location on the map. “Are we camping the entire way? There’s a town not too far from here.”

  “It must have been established in the past thousand years because I’ve never seen it before,” Eleste remarked, pushing her golden hair back behind her ears so that she could have an unimpeded view of the map.

  Elias tied back his brown hair and grumbled. “One night in a bed, and I never want to go back to sleeping on the bedroll; I feel like an old man these days, aching back and sore muscles.”

  “You are an old man,” Callisa quipped, an affectionate smile on her face.

  Elias r
uffled her hair, and the corners of his mouth turned up just a fraction. He was truly stunning when his face softened, and the harsh edges smoothed out. When that underlying current of menace and guardedness left his hazel eyes, I could almost see a glimpse of what he must have looked like before. I wish he looked like that more often; Elias seemed to need happiness in his life.

  I felt an arm slide against mine and looked up into Azael’s smirking face. “We’ll be camping tonight, and we can stay at the inn tomorrow.” I nodded my understanding, ignoring the way that his lips lilted at the corner and his pale hair rippled in the breeze. I grimaced, then realized my mistake when he spoke. “Something wrong, love?”

  “No,” I groaned. “Leave me alone, heathen.”

  He chuckled, fastening his sword to his back and pulling his long black coat tighter beneath it.

  Carwyn knelt to tighten her bootlaces, and I patted my trouser pocket, making sure that my dagger was secure. Carwyn always seemed to be wearing formidable black boots, and it looked as if she could incapacitate a man just from a well-placed kick.

  “Shall we?” Nerys gestured towards the path leading back into the forest.

  It was quieter than usual; the sun that had risen in the morning had quickly been eclipsed by clouds and fog, creating a gloomy atmosphere. I loved it. I loved the way the mist curled around my skin, how the sky looked like it was weeping—a cleansing performance. I spent many days while traveling reading any novel I could get my hands on and admiring the haunted sky. I liked that it looked as solitary as I felt.

  “I miss the sun,” Eleste huffed. I looked over to see her hair sticking to her rounded face, pink with exertion. She looked like a creature of the sun, all golden and cheery.

  “I don’t,” Nerys replied. She looked colder than ever; her skin had taken on a darker pall from the shade.

  “I like overcast days as well.” I chimed in, adding my defense to Nerys’. Everyone else mumbled their opinions, as we navigated through the forest. The air was thinner here, the trees darker.

  I had been proud of myself for keeping their pace, not leaving an opening for quips from Azael. I’d been limiting our interactions, trying to shake my lingering attraction. The one I had when I didn’t want to smack the smirk off his smug face. It was probably the training from Elias; I’d noticed definite improvements in my movements and stamina. “Elias, can we train with weapons once we reach the estate?”

  His hazel eyes widened in surprise, just a fraction. Sure.” He picked up his pace to match Azael’s in the front.

  I tilted my head up to the sky, letting the fog soak into my skin, letting the dim light wash over me. I took a deep inhale in, regulating my system, feeling my soles of the feet on the ground.

  “Does that really help?” Bastien asked curiously.

  “It helps me; it’s always helped me. It regulates my breathing and grounds me when I’m feeling overwhelmed or even when I’m already calm.”

  Bastien stood still for a moment, a look of intense concentration on his face. He then cracked one eye open to look at me incredulously. “It didn’t work!”

  I stifled my laugh. “Bastien, I’m not entirely sure you did it correctly. It won’t work for everyone.”

  “If you say so. I’ll stick to ale and women, thank you very much.”

  I laughed at his grunt from Carwyn’s smack, tilting my head up to the sky once more.

  We set a good pace, deciding to make camp half a day away from the nearby town. We were sitting huddled around a small fire, already having eaten supper. I’d just finished telling Callisa about how I threw a branch at Azael when she threw her head back and laughed. Wiping tears from her eyes, she said between chuckles, "Goddess, my brother truly is an idiot."

  I couldn’t stop a wide grin from taking over my face; her laughter was infectious. She was everything her brother made her out to be, all light and warmth. She patted my shoulder before gathering her cloak and finding a branch to stoke the flames.

  Everyone seemed excited; it had been so long since they’d been ensconced in civilization. Eleste seemed the most nervous, twirling her golden braid between her fingers and nibbling her lower lip. Nerys had been sure to stick close to her side, distracting her with small talk about what she thought they’d see.

  It was pleasant watching stoic Nerys comfort sweet Eleste. I was unaware that I was smiling in their direction until Azael’s thumb caressed one of my dimples from his spot on my right. I refused to humor him, sending a bored glance his way. If I had not noticed the flash of disappointment in his eyes, I would have thought him completely unaffected. “What is it about them that’s put that look on your face?” He asked, nodding towards the two girls across the fire.

  I hesitated in answering. Sure, sometimes we’d discussed solemn things. But it felt more like an exercise in loneliness than two friends confiding. “Please,” he whispered, stroking down the side of my cheek. I suppressed a shiver and glared at him for playing dirty.

  “I don’t have any friends. I never had a chance to bond with anyone in that way, and sometimes it’s hard to watch others who are clearly so close.”

  His silver eyes flitted back and forth between mine, and a small frown tugged at his lips. “You have us now.”

  I sighed, gathering my legs to my chest and resting my chin on my knee. “Yes, now. I suppose as far as past regrets go, it’s a small one.”

  “Alaric used to say that regrets were just lessons, paving the way to a happier future.”

  On Azael’s other side, Elias’s face turned to stone. He stood abruptly, then stalked off into the dark trees beyond the clearing.

  I opened my mouth to ask, brows creased in confusion but closed it at the Azael’s quick head shake. “It’s not my place.”

  “Sure.” I traced patterns into the dirt. “Can you apply my salve?”

  For once, he refrained from making a joke or a one-liner. Just nodded solemnly. I grabbed the tin from my bag and set it into his hand. Sweeping my hair back from my neck, he took a deep breath in.

  “What is it?” I tried not to be alarmed, but he was not one for dramatics when it came to injuries.

  A light finger stroked down the side of the wound. “It’s practically healed,” he rasped.

  I frowned. “I noticed it was aching less, but I just thought the salve was doing a good numbing job.”

  “Aeryn...” His warm fingers traced along the marks. “Could this be related to your essence? Have you always healed this fast?”

  I thought back to all my scraped knees, bloody noses, bruises. “Yes,” my voice came out slow and hesitant, and I cocked my head to the side as I remembered. “Yes, I guess I’ve always healed faster than others. I’ve never gotten sick either.”

  “That’s excellent news; maybe your powers will surface soon.”

  I sighed, laying my head back onto my knees. “Maybe.”

  “It’s okay to take a step back and decompress,” he murmured.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you decompress.”

  “I do not have that luxury.”

  “Then I will help you get it,” I said resolutely. Perhaps I could reciprocate all his help in the only way I knew how, to keep him laughing and smiling with me instead of the alternative.

  I woke that night gasping, sweat rolling down my temples and soaking the blanket beneath me. I opened my eyes to the night sky and surmised that it must not have been long since I first fell asleep. I cradled my head in my hands, trying to slow my breathing. All I remembered from my dream was darkness. Not darkness like from my dreamscapes with Sinaia, but a heavy, weighted, malicious darkness. I shuddered, lifting off my mattress and inhaling the brisk night air. Letting it caress my skin and cool my sweat-slicked body. Trying to cleanse that awful feeling the nightmare left me with.

  I glanced over at the fire, noticing a figure sitting with their back to me. Squinting, I could see the unruly brown hair falling to their shoulders and realized it was Elias. I pulled my sweater tighter a
nd headed over to join him.

  He took one look at me and turned to face the fire; his profile partially hidden.

  "You're no good for him,” he rasped.

  "Is anyone?"

  He was silent. A long moment passed before he spoke again, his voice hushed.

  "He was a happy child, and an even happier man. Once he was locked up, a part of him crumbled away. Like he withered without love and affection, without contact with the world. The violence in our world is rampant, but in that place?" He shuddered, his voice trailing off. I had a suspicion that we were no longer discussing Azael.

  I shifted slightly on the hard ground, feeling surges of sympathy and guilt. I had heard rumors about the brutality in the adamanteis prison, the torture.

  "What is it about Alaric that made you this way?" I watched his face for any of the reactions he displayed earlier but he looked like stone, granite. His features were emotionless in the light of the flickering fire, his olive skin shadowed.

  He glanced over at me; his face impassive.

  I nodded, acknowledging the silent demand. These were words between us, witnessed only by the light of the moon and the flames of the fire at our feet, and they were not to be repeated.

  He looked down at the ground, uses the stick to draw nonsensical shapes in the dry dirt.

  "His brother... his brother was like the glue to our group."

  I turned to look at him suddenly, hearing his voice tremble, but his gaze was facing inwards, his glazed eyes reflecting the flames.

  "She killed him last, you know, made Azael, Callisa, me, everyone watch." His voice cracked slightly at the end.

  My jaw dropped, and I looked closer at his face, finally understanding why he acted the way he did, how he was so thoroughly broken. “You loved him,” I whispered.

  He made a small pitiful sound, clenching his fist so hard that his skin turned a bleached white. “I never told him. I should have done something, protected him better.”