by Casey Bond
Cyril’s eyes snapped to Arron, who sauntered over as if he had nothing better to do. “You betrayed me,” she accused.
“I was never bound to you,” he informed her nonchalantly. “I am bound only to the Daughter of Fate.”
“I should have killed your father when I had the chance,” she grunted to Tauren as the serpent coiled tighter around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her eyes bulged from the snake’s insistent pressure. Her face mottled and contorted grotesquely.
I stumbled forward, falling to my knees. With a flick of my fingertips I conjured fire, reaching out and lighting the wood piled at her feet.
25
I could hear my name being shouted as the light began to fade.
It was on Tauren’s tongue, on Brecan’s lips. I could feel Mira’s hand clutch mine, and taste the brine of Fate’s sorrow from within. But all those sensations drifted into nothingness as I slipped into a pale gray void somewhere between this world – this life – and the next.
In death, time was meaningless. Only life gave it shape. I realized this fact within the span of a few moments as I died, and as Fate tugged me from Death’s cold clutches, gifting me a second chance and breathing life back into my lungs. He squeezed my heart until the rhythm suited him, and then bade me open my eyes once more.
I woke feeling numb, only to find that I wasn’t the only one who had danced with Death and returned to the living.
The instant Cyril died, the flames surrounding Ethne, Bay, and Wayra winked out. When Mira began to cry, the sky cried with her. Torrents of rain soaked the earth and everything on it. The droplets hissed as they evaporated off the charred wood beneath Cyril’s victims. Tauren gathered me in his arms. “You’re okay,” he breathed.
“So are you.” I couldn’t have been more thankful.
“I was so scared,” he admitted.
“I was terrified for you, too.” Terrified was too soft a word for what I felt when my mother whisked him from the Night Garden, or the events that unfolded afterward.
Dry coughing startled everyone… because it came from Ethne. Mira rushed to her. “Oh, my goddess. You’re alive.”
She untied the Priestess and helped her out of the pile of charred logs stacked around the base of the stake. Ethne blinked, took in Bay and Wayra’s still forms, and let out a shrill, keening sound I never wanted to hear again.
She fell to her knees with heaving sobs. “I thought I could protect them!” she cried, her hands trembling violently. Mira knelt at her side, offering what comfort she could. Ethne’s sorrow and rage were difficult to endure, but the Priestess gathered her wits and calmed herself to the best of her ability. Moments later, she stood with Mira’s help and the two of them assisted Brecan as he took Bay’s body down. Brecan hefted the Priest’s weight as the ladies unbound him.
Brecan lay Bay on the earth for a moment while he helped free Wayra, and then he carried her to his House. All the lingering Wind witches trailed behind their new Priest, mourning the loss of their former Priestess.
Mira made her way to Bay. Water flowed over her palms, forming an aquatic stretcher, and she carried him to her House.
Ethne stood in the pouring rain, staring at Cyril’s charred body. “You did it,” she whispered.
I swallowed thickly. Tauren grasped my hand and squeezed.
“You saved us,” she said.
“I’m sorry I was too late to save Bay and Wayra,” I rasped.
The flame in Ethne’s eyes had nearly been put out, but within their depths, it flickered. Her once vibrant, red robes were charred and stiff, but even they had survived. “Their deaths were not your doing. You shouldn’t blame yourself for someone else’s acts, Sable.” It was the first time Ethne had ever used my name, and the kindest words she’d spoken to me.
The Fire Priestess looked at Cyril again, raised her hand, and incinerated my mother’s body. It burned white-hot and was consumed within seconds. The second she was gone, I could breathe easier.
The Center’s pentagram paths were scorched, and the lawn was a mess of mud and clumps of thick grass.
“I think I’ll go home and rest, if you don’t mind,” Ethne finally said, exhaustion filling her voice.
She stiffly walked toward the House of Fire, her witches surrounding her with love and flame as they guided her inside. She met my eye before entering the door and inclined her head respectfully. I nodded back in silent understanding.
Tauren was still holding my hand. “Thirteen suffered great losses, but much more was saved, thanks to you.”
“When Cyril made me choose – you or them – I chose you, Tauren. I’m not sure how the witches will feel about my divided loyalty once the shock of everything that happened wears off.”
Tauren and I slept in the House of Fate in the room I claimed before he sent the invitation, wrapped in each other’s arms, both too afraid to let go. But dawn broke and with it, the responsibilities of the world returned and settled on our shoulders again.
Standing awkwardly on the steps of my House, we joined hands. Tauren’s golden eyes searched mine the same way they had when I first read his fate.
“I have to go to him. He’s probably worried sick, and that’s the last thing he needs,” he softly explained.
“I know. I’ll take you to him.”
“You won’t stay?” he asked, clasping my hands a little tighter.
I shook my head. “I can’t. There’s so much to do now that they’re gone. The important thing is that you’re safe, and that’s all that matters. The witches my mother used to strike at you will be swiftly dealt with.”
“How will you find them?”
Fate conjured an image in my mind. He had inscribed his sigil in their foreheads. They would be easy to identify now. I silently thanked him – again.
“Fate marked them. I will find them and see that they pay for their attempts on your life.”
He bent down and placed a lingering kiss at the corner of my mouth, then I closed my eyes and spirited him to the palace. In a blink we were standing outside his father’s bedroom, our sudden appearance startling the guards from their posts.
At the sound of the commotion, the King’s chamber door opened and Annalina rushed to her son, hugging him tight and crying into his neck. Her tears made my throat feel tight.
Tauren did his best to comfort his mother. He promised to tell her everything and assured her that Thirteen was safe – thanks to me. She dragged him into the room where the King waited, propped up on his pile of pillows. I met his eye and gave a small wave, which he returned. But I didn’t step foot inside.
When Tauren turned to wave me in, I gave him a small smile and hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m needed in The Gallows.”
“Now?” he asked, sadness arcing through his eyes. “I thought you might stay for a few hours, at least.”
“Now.” I nodded, affirming the most difficult lie I’d ever spoken. While no one had called for me to return, my friends needed me. Tomorrow would be a day of mourning. The day after would be the first of many we would spend attempting to restore what had been destroyed. Though it was a noble enough excuse, it wasn’t the only reason I needed to leave his side. I couldn’t stay there a second longer or I knew I would never leave.
Tauren needed the following days with his father, for they would be his last.
“I wish you well, my prince,” I whispered, disappearing from the palace.
His glittering golden eyes and the look of longing mixed with disappointment marring his beautiful features burned into my mind.
I landed back on my cold, rain-soaked steps and opened the door to the House of Fate, wondering if I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life and feeling sure I had by the time I reached my bedroom.
I changed out of my sodden dress with trembling hands and laid down. When the tension final
ly flooded from my muscles, I let myself cry.
Lightning lit the room in fiery bursts as booming thunder cracked across the sky.
26
I didn’t sleep.
I watched the night fade away as dawn stretched pink fingers across the sky. A knock at the front door dragged me out of my bed, and I found Brecan waiting on the landing. I squinted against the early morning sunlight and waved him inside.
“Are you okay?” he asked tenderly.
I nodded, afraid that if I spoke, my voice would crack.
“She was your mother…” he started.
“I do not mourn her, Brecan. She was no mother to me.”
I mourned Bay and Wayra. I even mourned Ela. I mourned for the witches who would have nightmares of Cyril – who my dark looks unfortunately favored – for years to come. But most of all, I mourned the loss of Tauren. Nothing would ever fill the hole of his absence in my life.
Fate attempted to comfort me, but I wouldn’t allow it.
“Tomorrow, a new Priestess of the House of Earth will be anointed.”
“Who will it be?”
“A few have indicated their interest. One seems to be more powerful than the rest, though.”
I nodded and looked out the back door. Not a single living leaf hung from the branches of the deciduous trees. They’d all turned brown and brittle, curling in on themselves. Even the evergreens had dried from the root up, their deep green color nowhere to be seen. The earth needed to be revived. A new Priestess could bring life to what was now dead.
“Did you take Tauren home?” he asked, looking out over the Center, studiously ignoring my face.
“Yes.”
“Is he expecting you back soon?”
I swallowed. “No.”
He closed his eyes for a long beat. “I will urge the Circle to ignore the mandate placed on you before you left.”
Hand-fasting. I hadn’t thought of their forced decree since I returned. Decrees, typically, were sealed with magic. If Brecan didn’t succeed in persuading them, I would have to honor my word.
A tear fell from my eye. He saw it before I swiped it away. “I know it was hard for you to leave him there.”
It was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
“I just hope you know that things will be different for you here in Thirteen from now on. Mira and I, and even Ethne, will not tolerate anyone showing you disrespect. Not after all you’ve done.”
“I didn’t do anything, Brecan.”
“The hell you haven’t!” he whispered angrily. “I know what you did, what you sacrificed for us, and I’ll make sure that you’re not only respected, but treated like the Guardian of the House of Fate.”
“Thank you,” I told him. What more was there to say? “I want to help,” I said, taking a deep breath and straightening my back. “I want to help set this mess right.”
“Come with me,” he urged, clasping my hand and pulling me toward the door. “There’s something you need to see.”
He threw open my front door and tugged me onto the landing, where I gasped at the sight of every witch in the Gallows staring back at me. “What is this?” I whispered, inching backward.
Brecan was the first to bow, then everyone did. Ethne, Mira, and every witch from every House. “Thank you for saving us, Sable,” Ethne’s voice rang out over the crowd as she straightened.
Tears clogged my throat.
I didn’t do enough. I hadn’t saved Bay or Wayra. I was too late to help them.
My fingers trembled as the assembled witches bowed again and then meandered back to their chores.
Brecan hugged me from the side. “You are revered.”
A strange laugh bubbled out of me. I didn’t deserve it, but for the first time in my life, it felt good not to be looked upon as a pariah.
That evening I washed my hair, scrubbed the soil from my cuticles, and donned the best dress I had left. Arron waited patiently downstairs near the door, peeking out the window across the lawn. “I’m not sure I’ll be welcome,” he said with a wince.
“You are a member of the House of Fate, and we have been invited to mourn. You are as welcome as I, Arron.”
He inclined his head, but I could see he thought we might be in for a fight.
As the stars began to wink, the two of us walked across the lawn side by side, our strides falling in sync. Brecan waited on the landing, greeting each witch as they entered his home. Each wore the colors indicative of their Houses, a kaleidoscope of red, blues, and green. Arron and I added black to the hues.
Brecan had cleaned up, too. He donned new, pale blue robes that somehow made his lavender eyes brighter. I was absolutely certain Mira had helped with those.
Two Fire witches climbed the steps, pausing to greet Brecan. They bowed to him, expressed their condolences, and entered the House of Air on silent slippers.
Brecan took a deep breath and let it out when he saw me. “I’m glad you came.” When I tried to bow like the other witches, he wouldn’t allow it and instead pulled me in for a hug. “Thank you, Sable.”
I squeezed him tight and stepped away. Brecan accepted Arron’s brief bow and waved us inside.
Every wall was painted sky blue, and on every ceiling was painted a different type of cloud. It was light and airy, just the way the witches of the Wind would want it. The furniture was painted white, accented with silver candlesticks and pale tapers. Even the soft-spun drapes looked like airy extensions of the sky.
In a large, open room where rows of witches lined the walls, Wayra’s body hovered in the air beneath a constant torrent of wind that held her upright and still, as if there was a slab of marble beneath her. Her long, white hair stretched to the creaking floor boards. Once all had mourned her, she would be offered to the sky. Brecan would float her up until she vanished from sight, and the goddess would receive her body.
Wayra wasn’t as young as most of the witches in The Gallows, but you’d never know that by looking at her. She didn’t have a single wrinkle. Her skin was as flawless in death as it was in life.
Arron and I paused in front of her for a long moment and then moved further into the House to allow others to pay their respects, before exiting out the back and making our way to the House of Water.
Mira’s dark blue robes swirled around her like a whirlpool, wrapping around her legs. A tear fell from her eye when she saw us in Bay’s line. She took a moment to usher in three Earth witches and then threw her arms around me. I cried into her soft hair.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed.
Her body shook with the sorrow that tore through her.
Arron waited on the step, giving us a moment to grieve together. When we parted, I pulled him up onto the landing to stand beside me. “You remember Arron,” I said politely, desperately trying to regain my composure.
“I do. Thank you for helping us. At first, I wasn’t sure we could trust you,” Mira said honestly.
His cheeks turned scarlet and he stared at his feet. “It was nothing.”
“Do you know where the witches who helped your mother are hiding?” she asked.
I gave a nod. “In the Wilds.”
“I want to hunt them with you.” A calculating chill took over her demeanor. Mira wanted them to pay. In addition to the witches, they killed the animals she’d brought to life and sent to Thirteen.
“I plan to leave at midnight.”
She grinned wickedly. “Count me in.”
Arron’s silver, slitted eyes narrowed at her. “You hunt?”
“I do now,” she sassed with a quirked brow that dared him to question her again.
With our plans settled, we turned our attention back to the somber processional. Inside the House of Water, everything was painted in varying shades of blue and teal. Some faded from pale to dark, reminding me of the graduated po
ol in the palace.
Bay rested on a column of water rising from an indoor fountain. The tips of his wavy gray hair were tugged along with the current. We stood in front of him for a moment and stepped away to allow others to pay their respects.
Ethne waited in the hallway, standing straighter when Arron and I approached. “May I speak to you for a moment?” she asked quietly. “Alone.”
Arron told me he would be nearby but stepped away, making small talk as he walked further into the House with a small boy. The child showed Arron a small twister that he swirled between his palms and Arron pretended to be most impressed.
I turned my attention back to Ethne. She swallowed thickly. “I felt you should know that Bay was your father. He was hand-fasted to Cyril in the months you were conceived. He wanted to tell you, but Ela forbid it and I seconded her. Even Wayra believed it unwise.”
The revelation knocked the breath out of me.
It was why he was kind. Why he tried to empathize with me. Why he supported me in accepting the invitation and sent Mira to help me.
My eyes began to water. “Thank you for telling me.”
She inclined her head, her fiery hair falling over her shoulders. “I am so sorry, Sable, for how I treated you. We thought Cyril had twisted you. We were afraid of you, but that doesn’t excuse how we treated you. If I could take it all back, I would.”
“Thank you,” I whispered despite the knot in my throat.
I stared at Bay again as Ethne took her leave, patting my arm as she passed me by. Bay – my father –loved me. He was bound by a duty I didn’t fully appreciate or understand, but he did what he could for me when he was able.
And now he was gone.
A tear fell from my eye. Standing in the middle of the House of Water, I cried for Bay, for all he did for me, for his sacrifice, and for all the wonderful moments life would offer that he wouldn’t see come to fruition.
Arron came to stand at my side, silent but present. I appreciated it more than he knew.
Soon, Mira would take Bay’s body to the lake, situated in the wood far beyond the Center. She would place him in the water, where the Goddess would absorb him. Then, she would come find me. Together, we would hunt down the witches who tried to kill Tauren.
