A Crown of Reveries (A Crown of Echoes Book 2)

by Brindi Quinn

  It was a bit late for that. Surely, they could feel the sudden absence of his power at work. Surely, Windley could too, wherever he was. I only hoped we had given him a strong enough signal to determine our location.

  I scouted the room. Quaint, clean, with applewood furniture, a thick woven rug spread out in front of the fireplace, and trinkets over the mantle. Homey, like a country inn. Nothing of much use for a queen planning her escape, though.

  “Edius!” I shouted at the door. “I’ve the upper hand! Pip is incapacitated and now my hostage. I will be leaving this place of my own volition. You have two choices: get in my way and die OR fetch me a bag with supplies and leave it outside the door. I will spare your life if you step out of my way.”

  Though I sounded confident, it was with wobbling legs that I made my way to the door and placed my ear against the hard mahogany, finding silence on the other side, until—

  “There are two of us, Merrín, and only one of you.”

  Wrong.

  “THERE IS A LEGION WITHIN ME!”

  I clamped my mouth after I said it, unsure whether it had come from me or Exitium. Meanwhile, a ring of darkness was settling around me like a halo—yet I wasn’t controlling it—as the echoes flurried around with excitement—yet I wasn’t calling them forth.

  “What even is she?” I heard Charmagne scoff.

  “A royal?” whispered Edius.

  “Besides that, you idiot!”

  They were taking their time answering.

  “If you stall, I shall make your decision for you.” I followed the threat by stomping into the ground to make use of the lingering shadow in the air. The darkness at my feet raced away under the door.

  “Argh!” Charmagne gave a shriek. “FINE, you royal cow! Go running. See how long it takes Master to find you again!”

  “Not so fast,” said Edius’s deep voice. “Think about it, Merrín. You’ll end up his pet either way. He’ll treat you kinder if he doesn’t have to track you down again.”

  “I don’t fear Ascian any more than I fear any of you. Next time I face him, no one, not even Windley, will be able to betray my spell.”

  “Tch! Quit calling him that; his name’s Windalloy. I can’t wait for Master to drag you back in chains. I hope he finds you on your way out! Go fetch her a pack, Ediot.”

  “Really? We’re giving up?”

  “Unless you’d like to sacrifice Pip for the cause?” she sneered.

  “This is your fault, Charm. I might have been able to reason with her if you hadn’t come stomping out of your bath.”

  I listened to Edius’s heavy footsteps storm away.

  After, we were alone, Charmagne and I, separated by a thin slab of wood.

  I still had no idea what she looked like. Edius either, now that he wasn’t wearing Windley’s face.

  “What’s your plan now, cupcake?” Charmagne’s voice was a sickening level of condescending as it dripped through the cracks around the door. “Head straight back to Windalloy’s arms? Run from one evil to another?” She laughed through her nose while landing a fist against the wood. “How ironic! He’s the most dangerous one of all because he’s gotten you to believe he actually cares about you. That façade back in the forest? Please! He’s a thirsty boy, and if hades froze over and Windalloy DID somehow care about a human enough to protect her, I can GUARANTEE he wouldn’t choose a fat, frizzled human like you.”

  I know, captive ones, from all of my half-read books, that the thought of blood boiling is somewhat cliché; however, I assure you, in this moment, my blood boiled. It boiled hotter than when Sestilia’s assassins came for me, hotter than when Ascian pulled out that three-pronged whip. Hotter, even, than when Windley subdued me at the woodcutter’s cabin.

  There aren’t many people I can say I’ve hated in my life. And of those people, Charmagne is the only one I hated before ever laying eyes upon.

  When I answered, it was venomous enough to shame all the queens that had come before me. “Do not speak his name like you know him, you snide bitch! Spending a couple of traumatic years with someone is not the same as watching them grow into who they are, exchanging breath with them, touching souls with theirs. I suggest you find a bureau or chest to curl up in because I will not hesitate to send all the fury of the world unseen, in your direction should you happen to be in the hall when I exit this room!”

  After, I was shaking, my nails curled into my palm, my teeth ground together.

  “The bloodlust writhes in you now, Merrin. It is branded to your soul. Together, we will kill everything.”

  Exitium’s earlier words flooded back to me, or maybe they were being spoken anew, and like the last moment of a lost tug-of-war game, I recoiled back to my senses.

  Rage had befallen me. The Nemophile’s Crown felt heavy on my head. On the edges of darkness, Exitium was trying to get my attention, but I pushed it away, for the first time considering that I might not be able to keep my promise to Beau. I might not be able to carry the echoes for nine whole months.

  Were they truly staining my soul, awakening a darker version of myself, eliciting bloodlust within me?

  When Charmagne responded, she was far more composed than I expected, which only served to make my blood heat hotter.

  “Edius should have hexed you when he had the chance. Know I won’t make so moronic a mistake. When I find you, I won’t even bother with Master Ascian, cupcake. I will make you my pet, and I am much less delicate with my pets than the others. You will regret the day you raised your voice to me. I swear it.”

  With that, she stomped away like a child caught in tantrum.

  I told myself to calm down. I focused on drawing clean air in through my nose and exhaling out the darkness. Being this powerful seemed both a blessing and a curse, for while I felt safe from the rest of the world, I felt unsafe from myself.

  Once Rafe pacted a new goddess and Windley defeated Ascian, then it was my turn. I needed to figure out something better to do with the Nemophile’s Crown before Exitium’s voice grew louder and the echoes corrupted my soul.

  With Charmagne gone and Edius off fetching me a traveling bag, I returned to the side of the bed to check on Pip. His breathing seemed fine, and his appearance had morphed back to its original teenage likeness. He resembled a purple-haired puppy taking a nap, though his hands remained stained in the darkness of the echoes. I found the key stowed away in his pocket and remembered that we were likely in his bedchamber, though the décor was generic enough to belong to anyone.

  With legs significantly sturdier now, I made my way to the window. The rain still ravaged; the wind still bellowed. I wouldn’t be able to make it far, though that was probably for the best. If Windley could sense Pip’s power, then this house would be his destination. Better to be waiting nearby than to go venturing off into unknown lands on my own.

  “Heya Merrín?” There was a rap on the back of the door. “Gotcha some crap. A canteen, blanket, knife… not that you really need a knife, do you? Loaf of bread, cheese—you like cheese?”

  “That’s all fine, Edius. My cloak?”

  “Out here.”

  “And coin?” I said.

  “Coin?”

  “Currency,” I clarified.

  “Ah, you mean farthings. Look, the more shit I give you, the more pissed off Master’s going to be.”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “Like hell it isn’t! Who do you think’s gonna get whipped when he hears we had you and let you go?”

  “Would you prefer I knock you out?” I sent another wave of shadow under the door with my foot.

  “Yow! Knock that off if you want me to help you! And no, I prefer not being knocked out by your witchery. What are you anyway, I mean besides a queen?”

  I deemed it best not to answer that question. My identity was best left secret.

  Exitium, it seemed, had other plans.

  “We are she who wears the Nemophile’s Crown. We are eternal. We are Destruction!”
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  A second time I covered my mouth, certain this time that though it had been my tongue, it hadn’t been my voice manifesting in the physical realm.

  “No shit? The Nemophilist?” said Edius. “Thought that was a myth. Then again, never seen magic like yours before. That why you taste so good?”

  No, Windley said my taste didn’t change after taking on the echoes.

  “Enough idle chat, Edius. Retreat to another room so that I can take my leave. If you try anything, I will not hesitate to end you.”

  “Sure, sure. But don’t expect me to be so nice next time, little human queen. Ciao.”

  I held my ear to the door until satisfied that his footsteps were distant. After, I tipped my head into the darkness and pulled a helping of it into my hand. Back in the physical realm a cluster of shadow undulated in my palm. With one final look at Pip, I turned the heavy key and slipped into the hall.

  The second floor overlooked the first floor, partitioned by a waist-high banister on all three sides and a candle-lit chandelier hanging in the center. Mahogany doors adorned the walls, all closed but one on the opposite side of the hall. That door was open, and within the doorway stood two figures—nay, two lackeys.

  Charmagne and Edius.

  Charm and Eddy.

  As I collected the cloak and pack at my feet, I kept eyes locked on them, finally beholding the appearance of the rest of Ascian’s adopted family.

  Bitch or not, Charmagne was beautiful—pulchritudinous even, it pains me to say—with smooth, rich skin and short, glossy hair. And here I had hoped her appearance would be as ugly as her personality, but the only thing ugly was the disgust in her scowl as she gave me the evilest of eyes. One might call her overall demeanor crusty. She wore all white over a physique rivaling even that of Sestilia. No wonder she thought I was thick. Anyone would be next to a silhouette like that.

  Beside her, Edius was quite a bit taller, with arms folded and eyes sharp. He was brawnier than either Windley or Rafe, with his hair tied loosely back so that pieces fell around his face. Men in the queenlands didn’t wear their hair that long, but it seemed fitting on him, as though he may look strange with it short. He was a bit older, maybe, than me or Windley—and, as with every other incubus-type I had encountered, he was nice to look at.

  Really, you can’t blame me for thinking so.

  Though his mouth lay flat, he seemed to show amusement in his other features as I started for the stairs.

  For now, Charmagne’s hair was rose gold, Edius’s dark, but considering how frequently Windley’s changed, I didn’t expect it to be the same the next time we met. If there was a next time.

  They would be wise to avoid it.

  At the base of the staircase, I didn’t bother with one last look at them before stealing an umbrella and venturing out into the unknown of night.

  A city, to be sure. Though my line of sight was stifled by the rain responsible for extinguishing the lanterns, sporadic clashes of lightning lit the boulevard lined with houses similar to Ascian’s. I supposed if there was one thing to be thankful for in all of this, it was that the sky was too clogged with storm to allow through any moonlight. Things would be bad if Luna made an appearance while Rafe and I were separated.

  In my opinion, she was a much bigger threat. Ascian was only mortal.

  I didn’t fear him finding me, not with the echoes at my side, so I settled a few houses down, in a neighboring shed, to outlast the storm amidst hay, seed and gardening tools until the last drops of rain graced the earth and the sun began to light the sky.

  Only then did I see how dismal the city really was.

  Chapter 13

  Kind and Warm

  I had traversed many cities on my visits to other queendoms—hamlets, villages, towns—and always in them the proof of life was present.

  The city I found myself in now, though, while inhabited by the living, was…

  Well, let me describe it.

  In the dawn hours, I collected myself, stole up my hood, and ate the breakfast Edius had packed for me. Then, I waited for the city to rouse. Little by little, shutters opened, and the cobbled street, cramped with houses made of brick, welcomed its earliest risers—a parcelman, a patrolwoman, a shopkeep.

  The city itself was of medium size, abundant with shaded alleys and chimneys toting smoke. It was as modern as any of the cities of the north with a designated sector for businesses and shops, and signs meant to keep order in an alphabet I couldn’t read.

  I kept to the shadows like a beggar or ghost, observing the blooming of the day, noticing as the city shed its shawl of night, that something was off about them—the parcelman, the patrolwoman, the shopkeep.

  It was in the way they carried themselves, as if going through preordained motions without setting their eyes on a destination. As more of the city awoke, it was the same with the rest, listing about their routines without making eye contact with another person or thing.

  At first, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the longer I observed from the shadows, the more I came to realize the problem with the city:

  The people here seemed empty. A two-dimensional portrait of what life should look like in its shallowest form.

  For good measure, I entered what smelled to be a bakery, pretending to browse a menu I couldn’t read.

  “Think more rain’s on the horizon?” I asked the balding baker, doing my best to mimic Windley’s accent.

  “Could be,” he drawled, eyes breezing through me on their way to the window.

  Moments later, a woman in a patterned dress entered. Without a sound, she set a piece of parchment on the counter. Without a word, the baker handed her a seeded loaf. She stowed it in her satchel, never exchanging so much as a greeting or glance, and left.

  I followed after her, careful not to stray too far from Ascian’s street, observing similar interactions between the few dozen residents milling the streets.

  The people here suffered some ailment. This city was not a place of life nor light.

  I knew better than to go digging for answers, though. Instead, I retraced my steps, back to Ascian’s, careful not to be seen while staking out a vantage where I might head off Windley and Rafe should they happen to arrive.

  But as day melted to night, I saw no one close in on Ascian’s house, save a lamplighter torporing through the habit of igniting the streetlamps out front.

  I assumed Ascian was already inside, arriving sometime in the night while I hid in the shed, but as the house brightened against the encroachment of night, I saw no movement at the windows, no one leaving or coming, no blaze of fury erupting from the bricks because I had escaped. Was Ascian really inside? Couldn’t I just blast the house to smithereens and be done with it?

  But that would involve blasting Pip away too, and I knew how Windley felt about Pip.

  As the city fell asleep just as drearily as it had awoken, I began to lose confidence in my plan.

  What if Windley hadn’t felt Pip’s magic at work, after all? What if he didn’t know where I was? Or what if something had detained them? Something big, bad, and orby.

  Last night seemed to have been too clouded for an appearance from Luna, but…

  “Echoes?”

  In an alley cluttered with boxes of cargo, I slipped into the void beyond my eyelids and let a swarm of bodiless hands catch me.

  “MerriN!”

  “MeRRIn!”

  “Ones without merit! Let us tear them! Let us rip them! Let us turn their teeth to gnashing! We hate them! We loathe them! They are the filth of the earth!”

  The intention of the darkness was riled from our earlier encounter with Pip, Charmagne, and Edius.

  “Not yet,” I pressed into them. “I need something else, a means to an end. If I spread you over the city, can you see if Windley is near?”

  “MerRin?”

  “mErrIn?”

  The echoes dripped around me in their eerie, disjointed way, until—

  “Why keep up this game,
Merrin?” hissed a distant voice, more defined than the rest. “Their purpose is destruction. Feed them as you should have done last night. You only delay the inevitable by sparing your enemies.”

  “I wasn’t asking you; I was asking them.”

  “You should be asking me,” said Exitium, growing nearer. “I am the one that can help you.”

  It was likely true. Up to this point, the echoes themselves hadn’t offered much in the way of advice. Despite my better instincts, I took the bait.

  “Okay, then. Is Windley near? Can you see him?”

  “I can tell you the beastling is not in this city, but there is someone here who is looking for you—a girl the next street over. I hear her whispering your name.”

  “A girl? Is it Charmagne?”

  “A human girl, not a beastling.”

  Pardon the interruption, captive ones, but did you notice? Exitium called the Spirites ‘beastlings.’ Yeah, it was my first time hearing it too.

  Keep it at the back of your mind.

  “It may prove worthwhile to see what she is after. She does not sound hostile.” This was Exitium’s parting advice before subsiding into the host of unhuman voices copycat-ing:

  “See what she is after. We will see what she is after. MeRRin, MErRiN, see what the human girl is after.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered as I drew back into the physical world. The echoes were even more riled now, set on following Exitium’s instruction.

  A human girl was looking for me? The only plausible one was Beau, but if she really had ventured out this far into danger after me, I would never forgive her.

  Not true, but I would be pretty irate.

  With the chill of night on my breath, and with body stiff from disuse, I shifted out from my hiding place, keeping close to the stony wall of a nearby house for cover, and crept through the alley to the next street over, which was as deserted as the last, save for a figure at the far end walking briskly beneath the lampposts.

  The girl Exitium heard?

  I pulled a small helping of shadow into my palm before stepping into the light.