by Deanna Chase
She tortured him with another long silence. Daman shifted from foot to foot, but not even that familiar, but alien motion was enough to distract him. She held his future in her hands.
“You tried to tell me about her and I didn’t listen.”
Her voice was so low, Daman almost didn’t hear her. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands as if that could take his mind from the pulse-pounding trepidation eating him from the inside out. “She’s your sister and you love her. That’s a bond not so easily broken by the accusations of a stranger.”
Maribel’s blue eyes glittered at him, with tears or emotion he wasn’t sure.
“But you weren’t a stranger. I know you, I—” She looked away for a moment as if regaining her composure. Her hands toyed with the material of her skirt, bunching it up, letting it go. Finally she met his eyes again. “I cared about both of you, and I was so worried about hurting one of you that I buried my head in the sand. I could have tried to find out the truth, but I was willing to let both of you believe what you wanted to while I tried to find some way of making you both happy.” Her voice hitched, tripping over her breath. “And because of that, I could have lost both of you.”
A tear rolled down her cheek and Daman couldn’t help it. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head against his shoulder and resting his chin on the top of her head. “Shhh. It’s all right. Everyone is all right.”
“I thought you died,” Maribel sobbed. She folded against him, hands pressed to his bare skin, roaming in small circles as if reassuring herself he was really there, really all right. “All that blood…”
“Shhh, it’s okay. Maybe you were right in the end. Corrine may have lied, but you believed that deep down she did care about you, and you were right. You offered her your energy, told her to take whatever she needed. She could have drained enough to heal herself, traded your life for hers. But instead, she took just enough for one more spell. She lifted my curse so I could heal, and I know she did that because she knew I would take care of you. In the end, she chose you over herself. I can’t think of more convincing evidence of someone’s love.”
He was somewhat taken aback at the words coming out of his mouth, more so that he could feel the truth of them on his tongue. Corrine had chosen Maribel in the end, had been willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. Even Daman couldn’t have asked more of her than that.
“Maybe if I’d given her more attention, I would have seen there was something wrong.” Maribel pressed her cheek against his chest. “Part of me always resented that she didn’t do more work, that I always had to take care of her. But maybe if I’d really listened—”
“You know nothing of the world beyond humans.” Daman rubbed small soothing circles on her back, fingers pressing into the knots her muscles had worked themselves into. “There’s no way you could have known what was happening.”
Maribel stiffened. The knots beneath Daman’s fingers grew to the size of large hailstones.
“But Mother Briar did.”
“In all likelihood, yes.” A warm, burning anger stirred in his belly, soothing in its familiarity. “She probably knew right away what both of you were, that you were sidhe and Corrine was touched by a patron. That witch hasn’t lived as long as she has without learning how to manipulate people.” His fingers stilled as his mind raced, followed the line of thought leading into darkness. “In fact,” he said slowly, “it wouldn’t surprise me if she set this whole thing in motion just to find Jeanne.”
The scent of spring wafted past his senses as Maribel stirred against him, raising her eyes to his. “That sounds terribly complicated,” she said doubtfully. “To manipulate Corrine into coming here, your curse, the Rose of the Mist, me.”
“But what if Corrine was her plan A?” Daman kept his arms around Maribel, the feel of her warm body comforting in the midst of the discomforting thoughts churning in his mind. “She knew Corrine’s weaknesses well enough after spending so much time ‘training’ her. She could have easily planted the idea in Corrine’s head that marrying me would end her misery, give her a safer life. Then after that failed, she might have seen you as a viable plan B. You would do anything for your sister, after all.”
Maribel clenched her hands into fists where they rested against his chest. “Corrine got worse after we came out here, got worse with every season that passed. You’re saying it was that witch, that Mother Briar was twisting her mind, feeding her fears so she would be desperate enough to manipulate into coming here?”
A supple lock of her hair tickled his finger and Daman absent-mindedly toyed with it. “Possibly, but Corrine may have gotten worse from being in a rural area instead of the main village.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“When you’re this close to nature, working with the land, vulnerable to any change in the weather, superstitions have a much stronger hold. Belief in creatures beyond the veil is stronger, and people are more vigilant of them, more fearful. That kind of emotion has a tangible effect on magic. Corrine may have gotten worse, because her power grew stronger out here, fed by the fervent faith of her neighbors.”
“And Mother Briar would have known about that too,” Maribel guessed.
“Most definitely.”
Maribel clenched her teeth. “She can’t get away with what she’s done.”
Daman rubbed a hand up and down her back, offering what comfort he could. As much as he wanted to dispose of Mother Briar for Maribel—taking his wyvern form and eating her seemed a viable idea—part of him was loathe to take on a witch so soon after breaking his curse. He had underestimated a witch once, it would be foolish to do so again.
“We will need to speak with Corrine,” he said finally. “She should have some say in this.”
Maribel pulled away, peering behind her down the hallway in the direction of Corrine’s room. “She’s sleeping now, I don’t want to wake her.”
The sadness and stress that had weighed so heavily on her when she’d first arrived pinched Maribel’s features, pushing her shoulders down until she stood hunched over, defeated. Daman pulled her back into his arms, tilting her face up to his with one hand under her chin. “We will make Mother Briar pay,” he promised. “There is more than one way to burn a witch.”
Maribel tensed and leaned back. “That’s a hideous thought.”
Daman flushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s all right,” Maribel interrupted. She folded herself back into his arms. “For Mother Briar, it’s appropriate.”
Daman bit back the urge to apologize again. Witches had been evil in his mind for so long, it was going to take some time to adjust his thinking now that saying anything against witches would be saying things against the sister of the woman he…
His thoughts trailed off. He only meant to glance at Maribel, but once his gaze landed on her, he couldn’t look away. It wasn’t until she shifted, her cheeks taking on a pleasing pink hue, that he realized how long he’d been staring.
“About what happened before you went to see your sister…”
Maribel bit the inside of her cheek, but she didn’t take her eyes from his. “Yes?”
“I’d still like you to stay. If you still want to be part of my life.”
“I’d like that,” Maribel said, putting her hands on his shoulders.
“I love you.” The words hurt coming out, hanging back, too afraid of rejection to stray farther than his tongue. But he’d almost lost her, almost died without telling her how he felt. Never again.
“I love you too,” she half-sobbed.
Daman tightened his arms around her, dragging her against his chest. Happiness more profound than any emotion he’d experienced in some time nearly overwhelmed him, left him feeling as if he could fly, human form or no. He bent his head to press his lips to Maribel’s, sealing the promise of their new life with a kiss.
Chapter Eighteen
“Your sister has gone, you can stop pretend
ing to be asleep now.”
Corrine slowly opened one eye, just enough to test the veracity of the pixie’s claim. True to the fey’s word, the bed beside her was empty, the rumpled sheets all that remained of her sister. Slowly, Corrine sat up, wincing as the skin in her neck tightened and pulled. Her wounds were closed, already pink with new skin, but the pain lingered.
As did the memory.
“I’m sure your lack of a formal expression of gratitude is merely a result of your exhaustion and emotional turmoil,” the pixie assured her. “Don’t feel too terribly about it.”
Corrine eased herself into a sitting position, resting her aching back against the firm cushion of the headboard and pressing a hand to the sensitive skin on her neck where a fatal wound had once been. The puckered skin felt strange under her fingertips, the slick texture at odds with the harsh memory of what had caused it. She stared at the door, imagining where Maribel must be. In Daman’s arms, most likely.
A small flicker of warmth eased some of the tightness in Corrine’s chest. She’d expected to feel jealousy, or resentment, at the thought of her sister finding happiness in a life she could have no part of. But there was none.
“You’re happier.”
The corners of Corrine’s mouth rose, the expression foreign to her in ways a smile should never be. She laughed and ran a hand over her face.
“I am happy,” she admitted. “Happy-er.”
“I don’t doubt it. Wounds like yours take an incredible amount of energy to survive, even with a sidhe using a magic flower to heal you. All that magic you’ve been fighting to suppress has probably been nigh exhausted.” The pixie fluttered down from her perch on the bedside table where she’d been lounging in a teacup filled with faintly steaming water. Droplets of water plopped onto Corrine’s skin as the fey marched up her arm to sit on her shoulder, running in warm rivulets to leave wet spots on the sheets.
“What?” Corrine started to roll over, but stopped, wincing at the sensation of the wet spots left by the pixie soaking into her nightgown. She craned her neck to see the pixie’s face. “What magic? I haven’t been suppressing anything. I’ve been trying to get all the magic I can.” She groped around her neck, stiffening as she discovered the amulet was missing.
Panic prickled over her nerves like a dozen sharp needles and she thrashed to the side, searching for the crystal. The pixie shrieked as she fell off her shoulder, her body twitching in the air as her wings burst into a flurry of movement to keep herself from falling.
“Careful! Warn a pixie before you go jumping about, you could have squished me.”
“Where is it?” Corrine ran her hands over the sheets and under the pillows, bunching up the comforter, feeling for any sign of the missing magical item.
“Where is what?”
“My amulet! The one Mother Briar gave me.”
“You mean that rock on a chain? I gave it to the wardrobe.”
Corrine gaped at the pixie. “You…what?”
“I gave it to the wardrobe,” the pixie repeated slowly. She crossed her arms, drumming her fingers along her rose-tinted skin. “Maybe you should go back to sleep. You still seem a bit—”
The rest of the fey’s sentence was cut off by a squeak as Corrine shoved herself out of the bed and dashed over to the wardrobe. She flung open the doors, searching for some sign of the crystal. “Where is it?” she muttered, a lump forming in her throat. She pulled open the drawers one by one, growing more frantic by the second. “I need that amulet. It’s all I have left.” The last drawer failed to yield results and Corrine slammed it and whirled to the pixie, pointing a shaking finger at the flying creature. “Why would you put it in the wardrobe? Don’t you know they’re enchanted? Who knows where it is now, I may never get it back.”
“I gave it to the wardrobe, because it asked for it.” The pixie sniffed, examining her nails as though she were bored. “I don’t like it when you shout at me.”
The floor rushed up to meet Corrine as she sank to her knees, tears burning behind her eyes. “That’s it then.” Her voice grew thicker and she put her back against the wardrobe and drew her knees up to her chest. “What do I do now?”
A small weight pressed down on her head and the pixie’s voice floated down. “Why are you upset? It was only a crystal. The wardrobe promised to give you some particularly exquisite clothes for it.” A little hand stroked her head, toying with her hair. “You like pretty clothes.”
“You don’t understand. That was the only magic I had left from Mother Briar. She’ll never help me now, not after I failed so terribly to get her what she wanted. And Maribel is staying here…”
“Why would you want Mother Briar’s magic?”
Corrine didn’t respond. There was no point. She was tired of trying to explain how she felt to people, tired of having to justify why she needed magic, why she needed help.
“When you came here, I thought you were going to try and break up your sister and Daman.”
The pixie’s voice had turned thoughtful, with an undertone of something more serious, more…calculating?
Corrine leaned heavily against the wardrobe, letting it hold her full weight. For a moment she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, making her think the furniture was shifting, trying to make her more comfortable.
“I wanted to,” she admitted, her voice as numb as the rest of her. “Part of me thought I could kill two birds with one stone. If I could convince Maribel to make Daman tell her where Jeanne was, I could give Mother Briar the information she needed, and possibly make Daman angry enough with Maribel to send her home in the process.”
“But you didn’t.”
An image of Maribel floated through Corrine’s mind, her sister’s face while she talked about Daman. The spark in his eyes when he looked at Maribel.
“Everyone thinks I’m selfish, that I use Maribel and don’t really care about her.” Corrine raised a hand, offering a perch to the pixie. The tiny fey accepted and settled into her palm so Corrine could bring her down to face her. “They’re wrong. I’m not proud of everything I’ve done, but I never wanted to hurt Maribel. I was scared, and I’ll admit there wasn’t a lot I wasn’t willing to do to feel safe, but…”
She swallowed, blinking back the tears threatening to fall. “I never hurt her. Never. I was never evil, I… Today when I… When she…” She clenched her teeth, breathing through the sudden burn of impending tears. “I didn’t mean to. I stopped as soon as I realized…” Words failed her, sounding pathetically inadequate even to her own ears. She covered her face with her free hand as though she could hold the tears in. “I couldn’t take that happiness away from her.”
A hurried tapping on her fingers made her lower her hands. The pixie’s face hovered in front of her, lit with a brilliant smile. “You have a good heart,” she declared. “That’s what we needed to hear.”
“We?”
“Yes.” The pixie jumped into the air, wings beating furiously. “Come with me.”
“Wait, where? Who’s we?” Corrine stood, but made no move to follow the pixie. Her brain was having trouble processing the abrupt change in conversation and what she really wanted to do was go back to bed. The silky sheets and thick blankets looked awfully inviting.
“She was right, you know. You have a lot of raw power. I don’t know who your patron is, but they really poured it all into you.” She pursed her lips. “Not very kind if you think about it. They didn’t give you a familiar or a mentor. Just let you go. No wonder you always felt like you were dying.” She perked up. “No matter, though. It’ll all work out now.”
The faint stirrings of a memory came back to Corrine, hazy voices she’d thought she’d dreamt up, people talking over her, about her, while she lay unconscious. Patron. Power. Evil Fire. “You’re saying I have power.”
The pixie arched an eyebrow. “You’re just now picking up on that?”
“But Mother Briar said my magic wasn’t very strong.”
“Whi
ch makes her a dirty liar.”
“But the amulet, the potions… She needed to make them for me.”
“She created them for you because you didn’t know how, but she used your blood. That’s where the power came from. That amulet was a trick of the mind, a way to pass your magic off as hers so you would think you needed her.” The pixie snorted. “That old bat doesn’t have the juice to do half of what you did today. Do you know how rare it is for a witch to work a spell through sheer willpower?” She paused. “Of course, being near death tends to give one quite a bit of extra oomph. I doubt you’d have been able to do that on an average day. Obviously I wouldn’t recommend it as a first course of action…”
Corrine’s head fell back, banging against the wardrobe. She hissed and jerked forward, rubbing the back of her head.
“You pulled energy from a sidhe too,” the pixie continued. “Pulled enough from her to hurt her. Even panicking as much as you were, that was impressive. Not sure you could have done that if you hadn’t already been taking from her for so long, but still.”
Maribel. Corrine had a flash of seeing Maribel collapse, remembered the euphoric feeling she’d been lost in, how long it had taken her to register what she was doing, what effect she was having on her sister.
“I could have killed her.” Saying the words out loud made her blood run cold.
The pixie tilted her head, eyeing Corrine from her new position on a tented portion of bedsheets. “Surprisingly, yes. Well, maybe not killed her. Sidhe are creatures of the earth, and the land around us is vital. She may have survived even if you did attempt to drain her.”
Corrine covered her face with her hands, trying to shove the memory away. “I never wanted to hurt her.”
