by Sam Ledel
She waited for the half second between footsteps, then whirled around with her saol aimed and ready.
In less than a moment, her flame was extinguished as Eegit waved it away like a bothersome gnat.
“Really, child. How you’ve managed this long is beyond me.”
“Eegit!” Jastyn pulled her into a hug. A startling crack sounded where her arms gripped Eegit’s back. She released her quickly. “Are you okay?”
Eegit, one hand on her spine, twisted and bent, a look of relief on her face. “I’ve needed that one cracked for decades!”
“What are you doing here?”
Eegit shook out her arms like a wolf shaking water from its fur. She glanced up through the few eyelashes she had left. “Child, every fae, witch, and elf south of Uterni has heard about what happened at that public house.”
“It wasn’t my fault. The leprechauns who run it—”
“The leprechauns.” Eegit held up a twisted finger. “You should be mighty careful with them, child. You’re making more enemies than allies.”
Shaking back her braid, Jastyn huffed. “It’s not my fault they’d rather shapeshift then have a normal conversation.”
Eegit grunted and motioned for Jastyn to follow her. “I heard you pulled a weapon on an innocent fae.”
“She was hardly innocent,” murmured Jastyn, recalling the barmaid’s suggestive hand on hers. She ducked when Eegit swung a miserly fist her way. Feeling defensive, Jastyn exclaimed, “Is this all you’ve come for? To scold me for everything I’ve done wrong?”
At this, Eegit turned, her eyes narrowed. “It would do you well to be more careful. Word travels fast in the Wood.”
“I understand.” Jastyn stepped back, taking a good look at her friend. She hated to admit it, but she was glad to see Eegit. Did she know that Jastyn slept outside her clearing the night before she left the kingdom? Had Eegit sensed her turmoil? Heard her cries? Momentarily, she lost herself in memories of that night. The image of her mother—standing alone amid the stormy hills—came rushing back.
“How is Alanna?” Jastyn knew Eegit kept eyes on her family and had ever since Alanna fell ill as a child. Perhaps she had news of her mother, too.
Eegit’s eyes fixed on the sky, which grew grayer by the minute. Jastyn could smell the moisture collecting overhead, and Eegit seemed to be in conversation with the darkening clouds.
“Your sister remains the same. She misses you.” She caught Jastyn’s gaze before adding, “Branna does, too.”
“My mother has Elisedd to comfort her.” Jastyn couldn’t resist the bitterness that swam in her mouth. It remained surreal, what her mother had told her. What made her think such a message, dropped like a stone in a calm riverbed, would do? Encourage her? Thrill her? Its effect had been quite the opposite. Jastyn carried the message with her like a dead weight tied around her ankles. She bit her tongue, resisting the urge to spew more hatred toward her mother.
For a moment, it looked as if Eegit was going to start in on her. She opened her cracked lips, and Jastyn noted the familiar look of annoyance pass through her gaze. Maybe Jastyn deserved a lecture. It could do her some good. She was feeling more conflicted the longer Aurelia was with her. She knew that once the royal search party found them, it would be over. Aurelia would return to her family. There would be no noble sacrifice, whatever that entailed. Somehow, she would have to avoid the parties for as long as she could. She knew Aurelia had little to no concept of where they were in the Wood, which helped. They were heading more south than east. If Jastyn could continue to convince her they were headed back to the kingdom, rather than farther away, it would be too late for Aurelia to venture back on her own once she realized.
That was the part Jastyn was dreading. What would happen once Aurelia did understand what was happening? How would she react, knowing that she was a pawn in Jastyn’s plan to save her sister? Jastyn balked at the thought of the way Aurelia would look at her. The image was unbearable. This new feeling toward Aurelia was not part of the plan.
At what appeared to be a reprieve between herself and the sky, Eegit pouted in temporary defeat. Coran’s voice emerged from the depth of trees.
“I’d better get back,” Jastyn said, her eyes on the dead leaves sticking out from beneath her boots. “Coran probably sent a piece of spell-fire into Aurelia’s hair.”
Eegit followed. “Ah, yes. Her Royal Highness. She’s tougher than one would expect from a Diarmaid.”
Jastyn pictured Aurelia’s escape from her captors, a feat she still wasn’t sure could have been undertaken on her own. Aurelia’s battered hands and legs leapt to her mind. “Eegit, you don’t happen to know what calendula herb looks like, do you?”
Without breaking stride, Eegit yanked off two heads of the waist-high flowers flopping lazily nearby atop thin green stalks. She handed the tangerine-colored petals, fanned out around the flower’s center like a blazing lion’s mane, to Jastyn. “You’ve been standing in it for the last fifty paces.”
“Thank you.” Jastyn tucked the herb tightly in her hand. When Eegit followed behind her, Jastyn asked, “You’re staying for dinner, then?”
With her eyes back on the sky and her feet somehow missing every rock and stray branch in her path, Eegit nodded. “There’s much to sort out.”
Jastyn mulled over her meaning as they cleared a line of bushes and thistle and rejoined Coran and Aurelia at their campsite. Much to her surprise, the two had a modest fire burning. Aurelia fussed about beside it, reminding Jastyn of a hen she once raised who happily clucked back and forth in front of her bedroom window each morning. Coran, a look of accomplishment on his face, drank lazily from his flask.
“You fetched water?” Jastyn asked.
Coran wiped his mouth. “There’s a creek not far that way.” When he noticed Eegit, his smile faltered. “How did she find us all the way out here?”
“Followed your scent, naturally,” Eegit replied.
Jastyn gave Coran a shove, unable to hide her laughter. “Apparently, we’ve been causing quite the stir. Eegit wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
“Eegit?” Aurelia, who had been arranging spare logs into a formation that gave Jastyn the impression she intended them as seats, straightened. “You’re Eegit?”
Eyes still skyward, Eegit replied, “For some time now, I’m afraid.”
An affectionate smile filled Aurelia’s face. Jastyn longed to know what she was thinking as Aurelia stepped around the fire, holding out her arm for a handshake.
“Aurelia Diarmaid. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Eegit tore her gaze from the sky, now an eerie slate of gray. Her beady, watery eyes took in every inch of the young woman standing before her. They roamed over her like a king surveying his land from the highest hill. Aurelia, much to her credit, never flinched.
Finally, Eegit spoke. “I am sorry about your brother.”
Aurelia’s hand fell. “Thank you.” They stood staring at one another. Coran shuffled closer to the fire, feeding it handfuls of dead leaves. Jastyn wasn’t sure whether she should interject or let Aurelia and Eegit continue like this until nightfall. Right as she was about to suggest Eegit help her with a hunt, she spoke.
“Jastyn fetched calendula for your knee.”
Aurelia blinked. “You did?”
Holding up her hand, Jastyn revealed the herb.
The look Aurelia gave her sent a flutter in her chest, and she knew Eegit could see the effect Aurelia had on her. To hide it, Jastyn quickly turned and grabbed one of the logs Aurelia had set up in a semicircle. “Decided you wouldn’t be much help with only one good leg.”
Eegit snorted, which Jastyn ignored as Aurelia joined her. She pretended not to notice the moment’s hesitation as Aurelia passed by the closest log, then plopped down beside Jastyn on the same splintered seat.
Self-conscious of her dirty tunic and earth-covered hands, Jastyn fumbled with the clump of flower in her fingers. Unsure how to proceed, she muttered, �
�Well, you’re the expert.”
Thankfully, Aurelia seemed to pick up on her uncertainty. “Here. It’s best to mash and stir into a paste.”
Jastyn grabbed her satchel. Handing the wooden cup to Aurelia, she bit her lip at the surprisingly cool touch of Aurelia’s fingers as they grazed against hers. Her gaze flickered up to Aurelia, who smiled before tossing the herb into the cup. After a quick scan of her surroundings, she scooped up a pear-shaped rock, which she used to ground the petals into a sticky paste.
Jastyn sat in silence, watching Aurelia’s hands work deftly with the mortar. Once the herb was sufficiently mashed, she frowned.
“Did I grab the wrong herb?” Jastyn asked. It would be like Eegit to mess with her, teasing her like a playmate would.
“It’s not that.” Aurelia’s cheeks gained a tint of blush before she said, “I just remembered that…well, I’m afraid this particular herb, while useful in alleviating infections from wounds, is quite painful upon application.”
When Jastyn didn’t say anything, Aurelia added, “It’s going to hurt.”
Unable to hide a smile, Jastyn took the cup. “Stretch out your leg.”
Aurelia shifted so that she sat perpendicular to Jastyn, who swiftly moved so that she was straddling the log. Aurelia’s left leg in front of her, Jastyn placed the cup between her legs, then slowly began removing the rags she’d wrapped around Aurelia’s knee the day before.
Once the knee was exposed, Jastyn couldn’t stop the gasp upon seeing the rust-colored gash framed in a garish dark red.
“It looks worse than it is,” Aurelia said.
Jastyn looked up, analyzing Aurelia’s stoic face. “I’ve seen you limping. I know it hurts.”
Aurelia swallowed. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”
Leaning back, Jastyn wondered if she had somehow offended her. It continued to surprise her how proud Aurelia could be. When her blue eyes flickered up, Jastyn dipped her fingers into the paste and held them over the wound. “Ready?”
Aurelia nodded. As gently as she could, Jastyn laid two of her fingers—coated in the thick paste—onto one edge of the sliced skin. Aurelia screamed once, her mouth flying shut a second later. When Jastyn glanced up, she found Aurelia’s eyes slammed shut, her lips clamped tight together.
While trying to be gentle, Jastyn swiped the herb across the gash as quickly as she could, being sure to add an extra layer over the deepest part. Aurelia’s leg was tense beneath her, and she felt Aurelia’s entire body relax once she added the final dab of calendula.
“There. Done.”
Aurelia exhaled slowly.
Jastyn splashed her hands with water. As the sun lowered over the trees and the world darkened around them, the firelight flickered, throwing shadows over Aurelia’s face, which had turned serene. Her high cheeks looked as smooth as a fresh eggshell. Jastyn suddenly felt overcome with the desire to run the back of her hand across that cheek. She even raised her hand between them. Aurelia continued to analyze her wound and didn’t notice Jastyn hasten to run that hand down her braid before clearing her throat. “You’re pretty brave, for a princess.”
Aurelia smiled. “I was thinking of my brother.”
The sun had set behind them. Across the fire, Coran skewered a tree-dweller with Eegit, who gesticulated impatiently as Coran, wearing a fearful look, leaned the critter over the open fire. Sensing she and Aurelia could speak without being overheard, Jastyn said, “The village criers said the prince died in battle. They said it was a swift death worthy of a soldier.”
Aurelia grunted, the noise startling Jastyn. “You don’t agree?”
After a moment, Aurelia said, “My brother was part of a scouting party. We had received news of fae factions growing restless in the Wood. It was my brother’s duty to go out, interpret what was happening, and report back to my father.”
Jastyn flashed back to that night in the Wood, the one where she had felt helpless to help her sister. She remembered the harsh clashing of swords, the whirlwind of spell-fire, the sickening thump of the arrow landing in the prince.
“It was his first true outing. He had longed to take up arms and serve his kingdom.” Aurelia’s voice dropped to a whisper. Her eyes were wet as she spoke. “He was eager to be of service. Eager to contribute to the well-being of our kingdom and its people. That was all he wanted—to be useful.”
At her last words, Jastyn had a feeling she wasn’t speaking of only her brother.
Aurelia shook her head, wiping a tear that escaped. “My brother was murdered. His death was not swift. The last seconds of his life were full of agony and anguish.” Her voice was hard when she added, “He deserved so much more.”
Before she could second-guess herself, Jastyn reached out to rest a hand on Aurelia’s thigh, above the wound she’d dressed moments ago. When she met the eyes looking back at her, Jastyn felt red-hot. She ached to move forward, to pull Aurelia close and hold her. She wanted to tell her she would help her to avenge her brother’s death. Aurelia’s pain made her chest feel as if it was being torn like used rags and left in pieces on the ground.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a sibling.” She pictured Alanna, the old quilt they shared wrapped tightly around her frail body. Was the Red One’s cure still working? Had the effects began to wane? How quickly would she have to move to make sure her own sister didn’t meet a similar fate?
Jastyn was pulled from her thoughts when Aurelia’s hand lay on top of hers, her fingers grasping Jastyn’s wrist like a lifeline.
A crackling jumped out from the silence. The fire flashed as Coran and Eegit pulled another crispy tree-dweller from the flames, lining it up next to three others ready to eat. Jastyn blinked. She looked at Aurelia’s hand. Her fair skin was impeccable, the only signs of life the lashes on her wrists, each a gruesome souvenir from a life that Aurelia was not built for.
What was Jastyn thinking? It was impossible to even imagine a possibility of feelings for somebody like Aurelia. Not only was she not of the village, she was now the future queen of Venostes. Jastyn scolded herself for forgetting, once again, that Aurelia was a Diarmaid. She came from a line of royal blood, and Jastyn…she didn’t even know who she was. Her mother was deserted, and her father was a fae. There was no use believing in a future where people as different as she and the princess could stand together in front of a crowd. Aurelia had a place, and that place was higher than any one Jastyn would ever be able to go.
It was also useless pretending she could help Aurelia gain vengeance. The source of Jastyn’s own pain had ties to the woman sitting in front of her. She had no business entangling her desires with Aurelia’s. It was the Diarmaid family who put Jastyn in the position she was in to begin with. There was no room, she reminded herself, for sympathy toward any of them. Especially Aurelia.
Pulling her hand away, Jastyn stood. “You should eat. We have a long walk tomorrow.” Without looking back, she moved around the fire, putting as much space between herself and the princess as she could.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Aurelia reached out. The tips of her fingers caressed Brennus’s icy cheek. Her brother lay on the black-draped table in the main hall. His white tunic and pants gave him the image of a ghoul or spirit, floating eerily above the ground in the chamber of darkness. She ran her fingers over his brow, then into the thick locks of hair curling over his forehead.
They were the only two in the vast room inside the castle; the only light in the room was three candles situated at the base of Brennus’s boots. Her brother’s stiff fingers clutched the sword he was to bear on his way to the funeral pyre. If she listened carefully, Aurelia could hear the construction of the towering structure outside.
Her body ached with grief, and she laid her head down beside her brother’s. With her cheek resting on the table, Aurelia stared at the profile of his still face, framed by the soft glow of the candlelight.
Grief turned quickly to exhaustion. Her heavy eyelids closed.<
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“Aurelia.”
She jolted upright. A scan of the room found no one. Her brother lay motionless. It couldn’t have been.
“Help me, Aurelia.”
Gasping, Aurelia’s chair clamored to the floor as she stood, one hand over her mouth. Her brother’s eyes flew open.
“Brennus?”
He didn’t move. Only his eyes roved from side to side as if searching for something.
“Aurelia?”
She stepped closer, using the edge of the table to steady her trembling hands.
“I’m here.” Her voice shook, and she couldn’t bring herself to reach out to touch him.
“There’s not much time. Drest—”
“I know,” she said. “I know it was him.”
“Drest is a plaything.”
Wiping her eyes, Aurelia breathed through a laugh. “He’s not my favorite, either.”
Soot from the candles floated over the ankles of Brennus’s pants, leaving a dusting of black on the hem. When her brother remained quiet, she leaned closer.
“Brennus?”
“Drest is a plaything.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Thrice more, her brother repeated himself. Aurelia shook as her brother’s words echoed with unnerving clarity. Swallowing, she reached out. When her fingers brushed the collar of his tunic, he screamed.
She leapt back.
With one hand, Brennus raised the sword that had been resting on his chest. Hilt skyward, he gripped the middle of the blade, and Aurelia cried out as blood seeped between his fingers where he held it steady.
She watched in horror as Brennus drove the end of the sharp blade into his side. His screams intensified, filling every corner of the empty room.
