by Brindi Quinn
I felt Windley’s posture slump even more and suspected that he had put his face into his hands.
“So that’s who I am, Queen Merrin—a villain and a coward. And I’m sorry that I wormed my way into your life. My hands are far from clean, and my spirit is far from pure. I’m not sure if there’s any man out there that deserves you, but it sure as hell isn’t me.”
I knew then that he was finished, as if his soul was budging up next to mine. There were so many things I wanted to say, a raging sea behind my teeth.
Yes, I was horrified.
But it wasn’t because of Windley.
“Windley, may I look at you?”
When he didn’t answer, I prompted:
“Wind?”
After he nodded his permission, I felt it—the pit. The pit of my stomach sinking, for the face he was making was one I hadn’t seen before.
The way his eyes stared so intently at nothing, the way his eyebrows wilted in shame, the way his jaw was clenched as if holding back a great wave of emotion.
An ache set in me, deep and sharp.
“Windley.” Crouched in the flowers beside him, I took his shoulder, as around us, his story hung in the air, echoing like the memories coursing through his temples. “You were right;” I told him, offering him the tears he refused to shed, “my opinion of you has changed.”
He nodded, as if accepting fate, until I finished—
“For you are so much stronger than I ever knew.”
“Tch!” He slapped my hand from his shoulder. “Don’t patronize me, Your Majesty. Maybe I wasn’t clear—the hexes I placed drained people of their lives. I took the cleanest spirits—spirits like yours—and I fed them to a wolf! I was some rich asshole’s plaything, kept in a cage like a rat! I beguiled the filthiest of souls, staining my hands with their lust. And I abandoned Pip—a little kid who had no one else—to save myself. Don’t make me a victim in this, Merrin!”
How could he think I would blame him for any of that!?
Again, I reached for him, this time his cheek, unafraid of the rejection I may face, and bored into him the full weight of my deep and dangerous stare. “You’re wrong! I have watched countless lives unfold in my queendom, but I have never seen a life as difficult as yours, Windley. Nothing I say will take away the pain or the shame you feel, but I must say it: these sins you carry are not yours to bear! You were a tool, exploited by great evil. But would you blame a hammer for striking a thumb? Or would you blame the carpenter who missed the nail? You aren’t a villain, but you aren’t a victim either.” I swallowed the moisture that sought to escape. “You’re a survivor, Windley, and for that, you should feel proud and strong!”
Now, the look he gave me was one of disbelief, like he really thought I would reject him over the suffering he had endured.
I set my forehead against his, taking his skull in both hands.
“Even if you don’t believe it now, I will champion for you until you do. You don’t need a savior, for you have already saved yourself, but I will be your defender just as you are mine. I will continue to love you as you struggle to love yourself. I will be whatever you need me to be. Please, Windley, stay by my side.”
I held him there, for several minutes, while his hands dangled limply at his sides and his heart beat audibly in his neck.
In the absence of a response, I considered he might want to be alone, but when I stood to leave, he caught my wrist and pulled me down to the dewy ground, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and burying his face in the back of my neck.
Some things can’t be solved by being powerful; they must be solved by being vulnerable.
Together, we breathed.
Together, we grieved.
Until we had nothing left to give.
Unfortunately, as Windley’s soul was feeling peace, mine was beginning to disfigure. For the story had further fed the darkness blooming therein.
And unfortunately, there was an important piece of the tale Windley had left out.
Chapter 9
Beguiling
Windley and I stayed that way for the better part of an hour. I’m certain Rafe must have seen us at some point—surely his baths weren’t so long—but he didn’t interrupt.
With our knees in the petaled ground, Windley held me tighter than he ever had, as if trying to merge his aura with mine.
And there, in the depths of my soul, I was wrapped in an ever-present growling:
“We will make them pay for what they did. We will tear the flesh from their bones. We will crush them into dust. Our fury shall be great that none will withstand our wrath. We will destroy all without merit, for we are she who wears the Nemophile’s Crown.”
And, frighteningly, I wasn’t sure whether it was the voice of the echoes.
Or my own.
“M-Merrin? You okay?”
I raised my head from Windley’s chest to find his eyes worried.
“I should be asking that of you,” I said.
“No, I mean…” He gestured to the space around us. “You’re leaking.”
Indeed, the air had become stained with wisps of broody smoke—smoke that seemed to be coming from one of my wrists.
I clamped down on the thin trail of shadow with my opposite hand. “I’m fine! The echoes are just restless,” I lied, “now that we’re away from the forest.”
He snatched my hand to inspect my wrist. “Really?”
Like a whip, I retreated it behind my back. “What else would it be? And anyway, how are you feeling?”
“Oh.” He put a hand to the back of his hair that was slowly turning blue to match the floral ground. “Look, Queen Merrin. I understand if—”
I touched a finger to his lips. “I almost forgot. You owe me an answer.”
“An answer?”
“As I told you, I intend to put in a request for your transfer to my court when we get back. Will you have it?”
With a troubled brow, he set his eyes firmly on mine, as if commencing our gazes to battle. He seemed to be calling my bluff—though I had no bluff to call.
His story had not broken me.
It had reinforced me.
After giving it a good run and finding I wouldn’t break, the blue-haired guard nodded once slowly, followed by several quicker bobs before looking to the ground with abashed cheeks. “Yes, I’ll ‘have’ it. But don’t think you’ll get to start ordering me around.”
“In that case, I revoke my offer.”
For the first time in hours, his mouth twitched. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now, queenie.”
There was no one I wanted to be stuck with more.
As he took my hand to lead me back to the hermit’s abode, I offered a final word:
“If ever you want to talk about it, rationalize it, grieve it—”
This time it was his finger to my lips. “I know, lion queen. Thanks. What I need is time.”
The rest of the day was uneventful. Windley bathed much longer than was normal, as if washing away the remnants of his story that stuck to his hair and skin. I hoped that in telling me, he could free himself, if even a little. And I hoped that he knew my acceptance of him wasn’t because I was great or merciful, but because he deserved it. There would be no justice in blaming him for the sins coerced from him when he was a child.
You agree, don’t you, captive ones?
Please tell me if I’m wrong.
Rafe made a meal, the wallop took a nap, and I surveyed the sky for signs of upset, in fear of Luna pulling another stunt.
But as night fell across the plains, Luna didn’t show, not that night, nor the next. She didn’t seem the type to sulk. Maybe Exitium’s power had weakened her.
I didn’t go into the darkness to ask.
We kept an even pace, traveling by night, sleeping by day, Windley slowly slipping back into his old self, Rafe becoming grouchier the further we distanced from Beau, until, after treading long and far across several sunrises and sets, we reached the first of the
southern cities, a cobblestoned country village not unlike the outskirt cities of the north.
“I spy a meadery, a trading post, and an inn,” I said.
“Right then, to the meadery,” said Windley.
But he was only joking to piss Rafe off. Rafe didn’t take the bait, however, instead folding his arms and leaning against the wall of the inn, where there was a large sign with pointy lettering.
“Can you read this language, Windley?”
He let out an ironic laugh through his nose. “It says: NO UNSOLICITED BEGUILING.”
Our plan was to stock up on supplies before heading to the coast in search of the legendary painted shore, where the sea and sky showed more colors than were found in the rest of the world, where Rafe would pact a new goddess, and where Windley would lure Ascian for his final penance.
That was our plan.
But it wouldn’t be so.
And the fault was mine. I’m only human, after all. And even queens can suffer a lapse in judgement.
“So you’re going to go into the trading post and seduce the shopkeep into giving us food, canvas, etcetera?” said Rafe.
“That’s plan B. Plan A is to offer them my services in exchange for goods. If they refuse, I’ll do it anyway. Sound good?”
It didn’t sound good at all, but we had little other choice.
“Once you do it, we’ll have to leave quickly, won’t we? Because Ascian will be able to feel where you are?”
“Afraid so.”
Shame, it would have been nice to stay at the inn.
“I’d prefer you two wait out here. I don’t want our royal lioness getting jelly.” He drummed his fingers in the air, and my eyes caught on his blackstone ring.
“Wait! Is this the ring Ascian gave you, Windley? Could that be why you can sense each other’s power?”
“Good thought, but it isn’t that easy. The reason we can sense each other is because we’ve beguiled each other. If a Spirite beguiles another Spirite, it leaves an imprint in them that resonates whenever they use their power. The closer you are, the more accurate it is. Get too far away and you can’t feel it at all, which is why they only started to feel me when I used my power on southern soil.”
Ripples, he’d called them.
Absentminded, Windley twiddled with his ring. “I haven’t felt Pip, Charm or Ascian use their power at all since we saw them, though.”
“Because they’re too far away?” I said.
“No, my suspicion is they’re making that new guy use his so that they don’t have to.” He meant the one with the deep voice and tight grip who had helped Charmagne restrain me. “Never met him before, so I definitely haven’t beguiled him.”
“So we’re essentially blind to their location?!”
“This is why I didn’t say anything earlier.” He patted me atop the head. “Don’t worry; we’ve been careful. I haven’t used it since I tamed Dandelion.” He pointed with his thumb to the wallop resting a distance away.
“You gave the wallop a name?” One unfitting for a massive, tusked beast.
“Of course, isn’t it cute?” He wrinkled his nose. “Dandy is my second favorite lion.”
“Enough. Flirting,” Rafe said, deadpan. “Get in there and bat your lashes at someone else.”
“Boo.” Windley stuck out his lip before giving us a wave and tucking into the trading post.
He seemed sturdy, normal, like his mischief was no longer forced. The last few days atop… Dandelion had proved therapeutic for us both, for the longer I rode snuggled up behind him, the more set I became in my resolve and the more he seemed to accept that I didn’t see him as a villain—that I didn’t find him responsible for the sins of his past. More than anything, I felt for him—for him being forced to shoulder someone else’s evil.
Yes, a deeper conversation about all of it would come eventually, but not here, not now, not with enemies to vanquish and lives to protect.
Time. My gift to him was time.
Selfishly, it felt good to have him back.
The village was quiet—a single strip of road amidst a spattering of cottages. Rafe and I saw only two residents, humans—one sitting out on their porch and another collecting tomatoes from a garden—neither appearing to take much note of us.
“He’s been in there a long time,” Rafe observed.
“He has.”
And he was right; the thought of him using his powers on someone else turned me ‘jelly.’
When Windley emerged some time later, he carried with him a large pack that looked to be full.
“Holy hell, what did you do to them?” said Rafe.
Windley upturned his palm. “Let’s just say they took me up on my offer.” He flicked his gaze to me briefly. “I didn’t screw anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking. Now, come on. I used enough power to decently give away our location. We’ll travel through night and stop for camp in the dawn.” He raised both hands and pointed to the east. “The coast is that way.”
Luna still hadn’t shown herself by the time we stopped for camp in a hilly area sparse with farmhouses.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I said. “We’re less than a day’s distance from where you used your power.”
“Ascian has no reason to think we’re going to the coast. If anything, he’ll assume I went south to see—” He stopped himself.
“To see whom?” I persisted.
“A friend. Er, my keeper’s daughter.”
The one who had told him stories. The one who had helped him escape. His savior.
“Merr? You’re leaking again.”
This time, it was both wrists. I shoved them into my pockets, lying: “I must be tired.”
“Pity,” said Windley, reaching into his pack. “Because I got us these.” Triumphant, he revealed two bottles of mead.
“You got booze?” scoffed Rafe. “There had better be a tent in there too, or so help me—”
“Easy, chap. There IS a tent in there. Here—” Windley heaved the pack and the rest of its contents at Rafe’s chest. To me, he lowered his voice: “I know you haven’t been sleeping since I told you everything. I figured this would help.” He handed me one of the bottles. “Though I’d prefer I be the one sending you to oblivion, we can’t risk it.”
I eyed the bottle warily. To be honest, a drink sounded dulcet after everything we had been through, and Windley was right—I hadn’t been sleeping well because the echoes had been particularly noisy with thoughts of revenge as of late—but I wasn’t keen on losing my wits in a foreign land with wraiths and Ascian afoot.
“I wouldn’t suggest it if there was a chance of danger,” said Windley, reading my thoughts. “Rafe’s feather cloak has worked thus far to mask his scent, Luna won’t make an appearance now with the sun soon to rise, and Ascian has no idea what we’re after—there’s naught chance they’ll think to move east. We’re safe, lion queen, and you need sleep.”
True, the first blush of dawn was soon to show.
True, we were needles in a vast haystack.
True, we had put good distance between us and that village.
And I have already mentioned I’m a glutton, haven’t I?
“Rafe?”
“Do whatever you want, Your Majesty,” he said. “Better to drink it now than to carry around the extra weight, in my opinion.” But he wasn’t much vested in the conversation, for he was eager to pitch the tent.
“Fine,” I said, handing the bottle back to Windley. “But I’m not drinking alone.”
Foolish, foolish me.
That was the decree that jeopardized everything.
We didn’t know it yet, though, and Windley accepted the charge with—pardon my phrasing—a beguiling smirk.
Rafe took first sleep, while Windley and I settled atop a hill to watch the sun rise. I was to join Rafe in the tent once I was sufficiently drowsy; meanwhile, Windley and Dandelion would keep watch.
What we didn’t anticipate was how strong the mead wo
uld hit.
“This is like old times on the tree fortress’s veranda,” I observed, waiting for first signs of the sun to show in the bluey sky. Only then, there hadn’t been a massive gray beast nuzzled up on Windley’s other side.
“It was all I could do not to pounce on you back then.” He tinked his bottle of mead against mine. “You have no idea how I suffered.”
“I’m sure you didn’t suffer that much. You played with Beau’s handmaids some, didn’t you? You had to have.”
He turned up his nose. “They meant nothing.”
“Ha! I knew it! And here, you kept calling poor Rafe a bounder when you’re the real canoodler, aren’t you?”
“That was merely me practicing.” He trailed the back of his finger along my arm, towing a shiver along with it. “You’ll be glad I did.”
For some reason, his nails sliding against me felt even better than usual, as if they might split me open in their wake. This I thought, while nervously drinking down a particularly large gulp of wine—sweet at first, bitter at the end.
“Can I ask you something, Wind? Something I’ve been wondering about?”
He took a drink and the mead made a lovely sloshing sound as it settled against the bottle. “Mm.”
“It doesn’t… upset you to use your powers now, after being forced to use them on undesirable people in the past? It doesn’t cause you trauma?”
He thought a moment. “I can see why you would think that, but in this specific case, that would be like asking if I no longer enjoy food because I was forced to eat something unsavory.”
“So humans really are just prey to you, after all,” I said, flat.
He tapped his chin. “Yet in some ways it feels like you caught me.”
The earliest reaches of orange began to color the sky.
A sip of warm mead fell into my stomach.
“That reminds me,” I said, “the night before you told me everything, when we stopped for camp after fighting the wraiths, you said something else I’ve been wondering about.”
“You mean you’ve been wondering about multiple things? Shocking.”
