Burn Bright

by Bec McMaster

  Clenching my fist, I raised it to the sky, and thick roots burst from the earth, wrapping around Hussar's chest like steel bands. He screamed, those smoldering flames still eating the heart in his chest. Black eyes met mine, "No!"

  And it was not Hussar that yelled the denial, but something else. Something that tainted the very air with the sound of its hollow voice coming from his mortal throat.

  I drew my fist in sharply to my chest, and the roots withdrew into the ground, taking their vile prize with them. The second I released my fist, the earth closed back over him, leaving nothing but the scar of raw dirt in the forest floor.

  The strength drained out of me, and all of my flames died down, leaving the faint crackle of smoldering heat in the dry leaves beneath my feet.

  It was then I realized I had witnesses.

  Only the crackle of the fire broke the silence, as I turned to survey the four men who remained alive. Casimir, Evaron, and two others whom I'd marked with the trident when we first entered the woods. Hussar must have killed the others before I returned, for their bodies lay broken and bloodied around us.

  "What was that?" Evaron rasped, and I could see the wildness in all their eyes.

  Even Casimir's.

  The strength that had flooded through me at the well suddenly faded, as if I'd been running on borrowed energy throughout the fight. My knees hit the ground, and I gasped. "The Old Ways. Useful for more than just hunting." I said, trying to summon a smile. "I asked for the firebird’s protection and she granted it. You should try it."

  Evaron tried to sit up, and Cas caught him as the prince fell back.

  "Your highness? Ev?" Cas shook him as Evaron's eyes rolled back in his head. Then he looked at me. "Help me. Please."

  Only the pure of heart could survive the Well of Tears.

  We were about to find out just how pure our prince truly was.

  "Put him down here," I said, gesturing to the cobbles beside the circular well.

  Cas carried Evaron in his arms, barely struggling beneath the weight. No, the strain showed in his tight expression, and at the thought of losing his friend.

  We'd left the other two guards at the clearing, to scrape through the flames and see if they could find the firebird's 'heart.' Evaron was unconscious, his pulse a thready flicker in his throat. Only Casimir stood as witness.

  He knelt beside me, cradling his prince against his chest and looking at me as though he knew I could save his friend.

  I just hoped I lived up to the promise I saw in his eyes.

  "What do we do?"

  "Hold his mouth open," I said, cupping water in my hands and filling them with water.

  It dripped from Evaron's slack lips, and as soon as I thought he had enough in his mouth, I clamped his jaw shut, pinching his nostrils closed.

  "We're either going to drown him, or save his life," I warned grimly.

  "What is this place? Is the water magic?"

  A laugh tore free. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

  Evaron started to choke, his chest racking as I held his airways closed. Somehow he swallowed. Light raced through his veins, lighting up like silver lines upon a map.

  Cas sucked in a sharp breath. "Is that supposed to be happening?"

  I didn't know. I'd been somewhat out of it when I drank my own share of the well's water.

  "An immortal prince," Galina whispered, "is a dangerous man."

  "I know his heart."

  And a king who was a religious fanatic was only slightly less dangerous than the Darkness. That poison would spread as quickly as the Darkness's might.

  Evaron convulsed, and we both knelt by his side helplessly. His spine arched obscenely, his mouth and eyes wide in shock—or perhaps horror, I couldn't tell.

  All of those racing silver lines gleamed beneath his skin, surging along his arms and face and disappearing beneath his shirt.

  I tore his shirt open, just as the silver light centered on his heart. It pulsed in the middle of his chest, like some fist of pure moonlight.

  And then he collapsed on the cobbles, the breath deflating out of him like a pricked bladder of water.

  "Ev?" Cas demanded, shaking his prince's shoulder. "Ev?"

  The prince groaned, and both our shoulders relaxed.

  He was alive.

  "Vashta's tits," Evaron rasped, trying to sit up. His arms quivered, reminding me of a newborn foal trying to pitch itself onto all four legs. He pressed a hand against his smooth chest, feeling the skin there as if he could sense some momentous change within him. "What in the Darkness did you just do to me?"

  I released the breath I'd been holding, smiling in relief at Cas. Heat filled my eyes. He'd survived. Our prince was pure enough, after all.

  The ladies in Caskill might have something to say about that, but when it came to intentions... he would probably make a very good king.

  "Welcome back, your highness. You can now say you have the blood of a unicorn running through your veins—as well as a firebird's tears," I said.

  Evaron looked at me dubiously. "Is that some sort of backwater jest?"

  Only Cas looked at me as though he knew I told the truth. He probably did. I could see his nostrils flaring, and flushed at the thought of what my scent was telling him right now. The other two soldiers had believed my story about the firebird granting me her protection.

  Cas was no fool.

  "What happened?" Evaron demanded, struggling to his feet. Cas caught him as he staggered. "Where’s Hussar?"

  "Dead," Cas said. "Neva killed him."

  "So did the firebird," Evaron said grimly, "and then the bastard got to his feet again."

  "I don’t think he’s getting up this time," Cas said. He grimaced. "The ground swallowed him whole."

  Ash marked Evaron’s face as he glanced at me, and I could see him thinking. "You ruled the earth itself?" He held up a hand. "No. Let me guess… The Old Ways?"

  I kept silent.

  Evaron rubbed at his chest. "I can still feel it." He shuddered, and then turned toward the Well of Tears. "It looks like we no longer need the firebird’s heart. This could heal the king."

  I shook my head. "No. I don't think so. There is a price to pay for drinking from the waters here. Only the pure of heart survive."

  "Pure of heart?" Evaron snorted. "It healed me."

  I shrugged. "I don’t make the judgment. Perhaps the Well sensed something within you no one else has."

  "You’re starting to sound like Cas."

  Cas crossed his arms over his chest. "Sensible?"

  "Distinctly lacking in respect." Evaron slumped onto the ledge of the Well, trailing his fingers through the waters. "Well, my father's definitely not pure. Vashta's ti—" He caught my eye and stifled what he'd been about to say. "What am I going to tell him? What happened to Hussar? Why did he attack us? Or me, to be precise?"

  Shadows darkened his eyes, and I remembered what Galina had said about the king sending his eldest son to hunt the firebird.

  "What happened to the firebird?" he continued. "It all happened so quickly, and Hussar cut me down before I had a chance to get close to the flames, but I know there was nothing within them. None of her remains left behind."

  I crossed my arms over my chest, unease filling me. What if the king sent more men? What if Evaron started questioning everything he'd seen?

  "There was nothing left," Cas said, scrubbing at his mouth slowly. "The firebird's dead. I saw it happen with my own eyes."

  "I don't understand." Evaron looked between us, as though seeking answers. "The firebird is meant to be immortal, isn't she? Every time she gets old and dies, the flames renew her."

  "You thought she was a bird," Cas pointed out, when I didn't dare say anything at all. "All myths start somewhere, and grow in the telling. Who knows what the truth is?"

  He very pointedly did not look at me.

  My bones felt like lead. I couldn't move. Barely dared breathe.

  "What do we do now?" E
varon asked.

  "I think it best if we bury the dead," Cas said, "and head home. The king will be displeased, but we have over a week to consider how to play this."

  Evaron laughed, a little slowly. "You know him. Do you think he'll truly be just 'displeased'? My father meant to rule forever." A dark look filled his eyes, as if some memory swam to the surface. "He meant for me to die."

  "Then all we have to do is return the favor, and survive until he dies," Cas said coldly.

  12

  Our arrival back in Densby felt like stepping into another world. Villagers turned out in their droves—almost the entire village, breathless and searching for the prince among us.

  "He's alive!" My neighbor Hatti cried, spotting Evaron's golden head in the middle of the tired riders.

  Evaron gave them a weary wave, and a princely smile. The more I came to know him, the more I could see the role he played.

  We’d lost almost ninety percent of the company, and most of the horses, but the prince was alive—the country’s precious, perfect Crown Prince. And he had to play the part they expected.

  Only Cas and I were aware of how close we’d come to bringing home his corpse. We'd spent two days resting in the forest, simply allowing the prince to regain his strength.

  The ride through the forest had been a great deal less exciting on the return. No brambles marked our path, and the trees no longer loomed. I could sense the forest’s watchfulness, though it didn’t seem to consider us intruders or enemies anymore. Gravenwold was a living entity, every tree somehow connected with the others, and it regarded the prince and his men as though it had formed some sort of wary truce with them.

  Or maybe it was my presence among them that held it at bay.

  I could feel the fire within me, and my sense of affinity with the forest had grown in ways I knew I hadn’t fully explored yet. It felt alive; it felt like it was mine.

  But possession worked both ways.

  I belonged to the forest too.

  Even leaving its boundaries felt like someone had muffled my sight and hearing; as if a piece of me had vanished.

  "Are you all right?" Cas murmured, glancing back over his shoulder.

  I sat behind him on the horse, having lost the argument to walk. In hindsight, I wouldn’t have made it very far anyway. Whatever strength the Well of Tears had granted me for the fight with the Darkness, I’d long since succumbed to weariness.

  "Tired," I admitted, slumping against his back in the borrowed shirt and breeches I wore. I’d woken up drooling on his shoulder barely an hour ago, and was too exhausted to care. It felt like too much had happened. Everything was moving too fast, and I didn’t know where my future lay.

  I was home.

  It didn’t feel real.

  "Your sisters will be glad to see you."

  And I them.

  My arms tightened around his waist as he drew his horse to a halt. Cas’s breathing stilled, and his eyes hooded. If I looked up, just a touch, I could make out the soft outline of his mouth, and the harsh slant of his nose. How long had we been gone? Six days? Five?

  Everything had changed.

  "Your kingdom will be pleased to see its prince returned to court," I whispered.

  For where Evaron went, so too did his Hound. My gaze caught on the collar around his throat. It wasn’t fair.

  "You could come to court," Cas murmured, offering me his arm to help me dismount. "Evaron owes you a debt, and he dislikes having such things held over his head. He could name you Master—or Mistress—of the Hunt."

  And what about him? "Cas—"

  "He would pay well. You could feed your father and sisters. Keep a roof over their heads."

  "I can’t." A shiver ran through me, translating through my arms. He felt it. Galina had warned of the price to pay for her gift. I hadn’t understood it then. "Even now I can feel the forest calling to me," I whispered. "I don’t think I can stay here, even in Densby. It itches too much. And I can’t— The Darkness—"

  "I understand." His hand slid over mine, pressing lightly, and yet there were a thousand things left unspoken in that single touch. Then he offered me his arm again, to help me down from the back of his horse. "Your sisters have seen you."

  What? I looked up, hearing my name echoing through the village green. Averill’s tight halo of spiraled curls came into view, along with their summer-kissed faces.

  Averill and Eloya shoved their way through the crowd of villagers, skirts flapping around their legs. Ellie slammed into me as I hit the ground, nearly driving me off my feet, and then Avie was there... I was surrounded by a crush of warm bodies that smelled like home.

  "Thank Vashta," Avie whispered. "I was so worried you weren’t going to return. There was so much smoke in the sky and we feared the worst."

  Ellie drew back and punched me in the arm. "Father was so mad when he woke! You’re going to be in so much trouble."

  Averill looked away from me.

  "What?" I demanded. "What is it?"

  "He was worried," she admitted. "He’s spent the past few days fretting, and his health took a turn for the worst."

  I pushed away from the pair of them, turning for home and expecting the worst.

  "Neva, wait!" Evaron called. "We’re to have a feast for our return. You’re to be the guest of honor!"

  But I shoved the door to my home open, and rushed to find my father.

  "Here, father," I whispered, helping him to sit up, and tipping the flask of water to his lips. I'd filled it at the Well of Tears, and the water was almost luminescent as I tipped it from my steel water flask.

  "What... is it?"

  "It will make you well again." I knew my father. There was no man more pure of spirit than he. All he lived for was the hunt, and for his daughters.

  The water from the Well of Tears gleamed on his lips as he swallowed, and then he gave a startled cough, spraying some of it across the room. His chest heaved, and for a second I thought I'd killed him.

  Then his spine arched and he bowed off the bed, his eyes wide and staring.

  "Neva!" Averill exclaimed, her face pale.

  "What have you done?" Ellie asked.

  "Wait for it…"

  The same silver lines appeared beneath his skin, but at least this time I knew to expect them. Father hacked and coughed, until finally he collapsed back on the bed, gasping for breath. The ominous rattle in his chest was gone. So too his pallid color. Blood rushed through his cheeks, revealing the gaunt hollows of his face.

  Averill sucked in a sharp gasp as he reached for my hand.

  "What… what did you do to me?" he whispered.

  I helped him to sit up, flinging my arms around him. "I only did what you told me to do, papa. I followed the Old Ways. All of them. You’re healed now."

  "Healed?" Ellie whispered, sinking onto the bed and wrapping her arms around them both. "How? What did you do? Is this medicine? Is it—"

  "It’s a secret," I said fiercely, meeting her gaze and then looking past her to Averill. "One the king would kill to get his hands upon."

  Averill gave a short, sharp nod, and I knew despite her cool expression she was simply overwhelmed right now. I held a hand out to her, and she came and sank onto the floor at my feet, squeezing my hand.

  "We won’t say a word," Ellie whispered.

  "Is it magic?" Averill finally asked.

  I nodded.

  "There is always a price to pay for magic," she pointed out.

  "And I will pay it," I whispered, earning a start from my father. "No. It’s not a bad price, father. It just means… My life will change. I have a new home now. The forest needs me, and I will be nearby."

  I could see they didn’t understand. With a sigh, I rested my chin on my father’s head and told them everything.

  13

  The following morning dawned bright. Noise echoed through the village as I moved from house to house, trying to find the prince and his men. They were leaving as soon as they’d saddled u
p, I’d heard, despite a late night spent remembering their friends with some of Master Haskell’s best brandy.

  I saw the two guards who were all that remained of Hussar’s men. The prince’s golden head gleamed in the foggy morning, his breath steaming in the air as he laughed at something the mayor said.

  But there was no sign of a stubborn, dark-haired man with wild yellow eyes.

  I found him in the inn's stables, if it could be called that. Cas preferred the company of animals to that of men, and the horses seemed to be used to his scent. He stroked a hand against one glossy bay shoulder, cinching the saddle tight for the ride.

  And all the words that rushed to my mouth refused to leave it…

  What could I say? Stay, please. He couldn’t stay. He was wolvren, and bound to the prince’s will. A slave when all was said and done.

  They’d never find us in the forest if we ran, whispered a little voice inside me.

  But they’d find my sisters and my father. And we’d never be able to stop running.

  He’d asked me if I could go to court, but there… there was no answer there either.

  All that came out was: "You have no feather. And you have no firebird. What are you going to tell the king?"

  "Are you certain we have no firebird?" He stroked his straw braid along the horse's spine, and his yellow gaze flickered up, to meet mine.

  He knows. I steeled myself, trying not to reveal my surprise upon my face. "I'm fairly certain Hussar stabbed her through the chest with a spear and she burned to ashes. There was no sign of a new firebird in the flames when they finally died down."

  "I saw the sparks settle on your skin." He strode around the horse, casting aside his makeshift brush. "Neva, I saw your eyes. Something happened in that forest. Something beyond my understanding. Your scent changed. You look different. You even sound different. I saw one of the sparks from her pyre hit your skin, and everything about you changed."

  "What do you want me to say?" I whispered.

  "The truth."

  "You know the truth. Or you've guessed it." I closed my eyes, the words spilling from my lips as I told him everything. Galina's offer. The tests. My choice.