by Chloe Cole
The last of the tension inside me dissipated and I let my tense muscles relax.
"Thank you for coming,” she said. “I was certain you would, but I also know that following a stranger's word isn't always the easiest path.” Her crackly voice filled the clearing around us and she adjusted her robe.
“We’re here now,” Gatlin replied warily. “Can you tell us why?”
"Now, you, I remember,” she said as she pointed to him. "And this one I like best of all." She grinned at Michael. “Strong, handsome and quiet. My favorite type of man.”
She winked at me and I couldn't help but smile in return.
"You've come a long way. You must be in need of some refreshment." Walking toward the fire pit in the center of the small clearing in front of her cottage, she moved her hands over the logs inside and a fire instantly burst to life.
She nodded with satisfaction but didn’t seem surprised at all at this bit of magic.
"I'll put on some tea. I'm sure I have cookies in here as well." She stepped back into the house and the sounds of her banging around inside echoed back to us through the crisp, night air.
I stood stock still, waiting for the brothers to say something, anything, but they were obviously as taken aback by this encounter as I was. It seemed as if our herbalist was more than just an herbalist. She wouldn’t be the first person in the land capable of magic. Nearly every town had an elder who was knowledgeable in the ways of old. To see such a feat, the making of fire, so effortless. No spell, no incantation, not a word spoken? That was new to me, and I suspected it was only a small sampling of what she was capable of.
She would make a powerful ally or a powerful enemy.
We all remained silent until she reappeared with a pot, a tray, and an arm full of cushions.
“If you won’t come in then we’ll sit around the fire. We may be here for some time." She let the cushions fall onto the dirt and we each took one before settling ourselves around the fire. Placing the pot of water over the flames, she whistled a ditty that sounded remarkably like the one we'd heard in the pub.
"What's your name, ma’am?” I asked finally.
"So a lion hasn't got your tongue, then? That’s good. My name is Theodora. And yours, is Anaya.”
I glanced around me, but seeing only guarded expressions on my companions' faces, I offered her a shaky nod.
"Well, Anaya," she took a step toward me and then settled onto a cushion between Michael and I, completing our circle around the fire, "I think you and I have a lot to talk about. Especially if you're the only one willing to talk to me."
"We all want to be a part of this," Gatlin interrupted. "We just don’t know you or know that we can trust you, so forgive our hesitation.”
She bobbed her head in agreement. “I can understand that. What can I do to ease your mind?”
Lucian leaned forward and held the older woman’s gaze. “You can start by telling us why you summoned us here.”
"Good question, for which I hope to provide a good answer." She offered him another serene smile. “I've been waiting a long, long time for the likes of you. All of you."
"But why?" Lucian demanded.
"Now this one I don't know," she said, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Come, I've told you my name. Let me learn yours."
In turn, the men went around the fire, telling her their names, Connor introducing Michael.
"Not so hard, was it? Now, Lucian, as I said, you have good questions for which I hope to provide good answers, but first I must speak with Anaya."
She turned to me. "May I see your palm, dear?"
With trembling fingers, I held out my right hand and she took it in her surprisingly soft grip. With one finger, she traced the lines of my hands, feeling every crease and crevice as she murmured to herself. Then, when she'd studied each of my knuckles in turn, she bent long and sniffed my palm for good measure.
"Oh, Anaya," she said, not with sorrow but with something different. Something like concern. "You have a long and difficult road ahead of you. All of you do, of course. The journey is fraught with danger.”
She released my hand, though the intensity of her gaze kept me glued to the spot.
“But if you can get to the other side, freedom is yours."
"The other side of what?" I asked.
She took a deep breath. "The other side of your journey. You will go down in history, my dear, but you must tread lightly. One false move and all will be lost."
Ringing her hands, she took another deep breath and then pulled the pot of tea from the fire.
Rather than pouring us all cups, however, she tipped the spout over the fire and watched as massive plumes of purple and green smoke screamed with pops and crackles toward the sky.
"I hope you don't mind. I make terrible tea," she said apologetically, though as she spoke her gaze followed the twists and turns of the ringlets of smoke as they writhed in the air before wisping into nothingness.
“What are you doing?" Lucian asked warily.
“Double-checking,” she said with a grim nod. “Making sure that, if you succeed, the end result is worth all this risk. But now that you’re here, I’m certain I am right, so I must tell you what I know.”
We nodded and I held my breath, suddenly overcome with the inexplicable sense that whatever she was about to say would change everything.
She set the pot down in the dirt and faced us, touching upon each one of us with her gaze as she began to speak in a low, almost hypnotic voice. “Book burning is a sin, you know,” she murmured softly. “That was when I had my first suspicions.”
My mind reeled as I tried to keep up with her seemingly random change of topic.
“I’m sorry, but what does book burning have to do with the king, ma’am? You said this was a matter of lives and deaths,” I said.
“And it is. So let us begin with the deaths, then.” She stared into the fire as if it held the secrets to the universe as she continued. “When the Great Sick came, it was a difficult time for us all. Terrifying, really. You were all just cubs then, but I was already an old woman, my own young grown and gone. Maybe that’s why I paid such close attention. My fear wasn’t for my own children, and that gave me a different perspective. Less to fear and that allowed me a certain clarity, plus a gift for tapping into things that cannot be seen with the eyes that allowed me even more. When the babies began to die, like everyone else, I wept. But in between my tears, I forced myself to read. Desperate for a cure, I went through my entire collection of old books in search of spells, prophecies and potions. Traveled far and wide to meet with other healers and find new herbs that could help. There were a thousand failed attempts just in those first few weeks alone, but I persisted.”
Her clear, green eyes seemed to grow cloudy and her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Then the king’s men came and started burning the books. Sure, they tried to disguise it. They took blankets and encouraged us to burn clothes and beds and pillows as well. They couldn’t fool me, though. History has proven time and time again that the first step toward tyranny is the burning of books. Our new king was trying to erase our history. Our prophecy. Our art.
“Instead of continuing to search for a cure that I sensed would never be found, I began to travel the countryside pretending I was part of the effort to collect and burn the books, but instead, I rescued as many as I could in an effort to preserve as much of that knowledge as possible. I built this hut and several others throughout lands to store them,” she paused, a grim smile tugging at her lips, “and their secrets.”
Standing, she made her way back into the house and returned with a massive tome in hand. Opening it, she took her seat beside me and I swallowed hard.
“It took years for me to find it. The Great Sick had come and gone, leaving our people terrified, our numbers and our will depleted, but find it I did. And it’s been sitting here for all this time, waiting for you, Anaya.”
She cleared her throat and read aloud.
&nbs
p; “A golden king will come to rule, power his only goal,
But a darkness that cannot be lit, lingers in his soul.
He must be stopped if we’re to survive, please heed what I say,
A girl cub will be born that year and she will lead the way.”
The words echoed long after she stopped speaking, resonating deep inside me like a favorite sad song. And for a long moment after, the only sound was the pop and crackle of the flames, until Lucian spoke. "And you think this prophecy refers to Anaya?"
“I know it,” she said with a decisive nod. “There is more to the prophecy, and when you hear it, you will agree. But more importantly, consider if you will, a new king. He has managed to get the crown despite being nothing more than a distant cousin to our previous king after the unfortunate murder of the king, his wife, and his only son. What do you think he would do if his mystical advisors informed him of a rumor of a prophecy such as this?”
My mind felt like it was going to explode, it raced so fast. And when I caught the gist of what she was implying, it nearly knocked me over.
“Murder,” I whispered, searching her enigmatic gaze with my own. “You think he somehow manufactured the Great Sick to kill baby girls born that year to keep the prophecy from coming to pass.”
I covered my mouth with one hand, horror and revulsion rolling through me in a nauseating wave.
“What monster could do such a thing?” I asked, knowing the answer in my heart already.
A power monger who would stop at nothing to ensure their position.
Lucian slowly rose to his feet, his cheeks bone white. Wordlessly, he stepped away from the fire as Gatlin, Michael and Connor shared a furtive but telling glance.
This news was hitting the Saint John men hard as well and I made a mental note to talk with them about it once we had some privacy. For now, though, I needed to know more from Theodora.
“How is this possible? How could he have made so many of us sick?”
Theodora grimaced and shook her head. “I hate to admit he would’ve had to employ a healer. One who also was knowledgeable of sorcery and willing to use their powers for evil. There are many poisons that would’ve worked, many spells that would’ve helped ensure that most of the victims were female cubs.”
“Others died as well,” Gatlin reminded her, his tone clipped and his eyes filled with a fury that chilled my very bones.
“A handful, yes. Just enough to keep people from asking questions and looking too hard. It also supported the narrative he wanted to create. Baby girls were the weakest of our kind and therefore weren’t able to fight it off. That narrative marked the beginning of these harems and forced marriages. The beginning of our power being stripped away so slowly, most didn’t even realize it was happening. He would ensure that all of the baby girls born that year perished, and if there were those that didn’t? He would make certain that they had as little power as possible.”
“Bloody hell…the Offering Ceremony,” Connor said with a start, “Where he chose Anaya?”
Theodora inclined her head, looking impressed at Connor’s quick mind. “You see it now. Yes, all the girls there would’ve turned nineteen this year. The precise age of the girl in the prophecy. He had his eyes peeled, searching on the off chance he missed her in the initial culling nearly twenty years before. And when he saw a girl who stood out among the rest, he took her as his own.”
“To be murdered once I got to the harem,” I muttered quietly as it all fell into place. “Which wouldn’t look all that strange since others have died and gone missing as well. Probably others he suspected as well.”
Which meant that my initial sense was wrong. If Theodora was right, I’d been marked for death not because of a queen's jealousy, but because of the power that he believed I held.
“What makes you think it’s me and not someone else?” I asked softly.
Theodora shook her head. “You’ll understand soon, dear. Trust my word, though. I have seen it in the smoke and again in your palm. This is your destiny, Anaya. You need only accept it."
"Where do we start?" Connor asked, already rising, fire in his eyes.
"You must find the hermit, Viktor. He lives in a cave outside of Hammertown. He holds the rest of the prophecy. He can instruct you further.”
We stared at each other from across the flames, silent with the weight of our new burden. Deep down, I knew even now that she was right. One way or another, this had become our fight.
The only question was whether we were equal to the task.
Chapter 8
As we walked back into the woods, in a daze, I glanced at the lanterns that had led our way to the herbalist’s den. It had felt so mystical, so important when we’d arrived an hour ago and now, as we left, I felt as though the entire world had shifted on its axis.
The silence all around me let me know that I was not alone in this. That each of us was reckoning with the enormity of what the herbalist had told us…and what she suspected.
But it wasn’t just the prospect of finding the truth that shook me to my core. No, it was the idea that something that had begun as a journey to free myself from a man I didn’t love and would be forced to mate with had now become a quest that could shape the future.
That responsibility, that sacred knowledge, if it was to be believed, weighed heavy on my shoulders and I thought again of what the hermit might tell us next. If it was anything near as stunning a revelation as the one Theodora had served us, I wasn’t quite sure I could take it.
Breathing in a ragged breath, I glanced at the men surrounding me, wondering if they felt the same bone-deep fear that was overtaking me. If they did, I knew they would never show it, but I couldn’t be the only one who was overwhelmed.
“I’m going to shift and just run for a while to let this all sink in,” I said, my voice sounding choppy even to my own ears.
The men turned to me, with their brows pinched in concern, but Gatlin nodded slowly. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Lucian seemed about to argue, then gave an abrupt nod before they all began stripping their shirts over their heads and stuffing their clothes into their bags. I undressed along with them, unbinding my breasts and breathing a sigh of relief as the night wind kissed my skin.
Already, I felt freer, more liberated, and I was desperate to glory in that feeling of exhilaration rather than mire in the cold grip of fear clutching at me. When I finished placing my belongings in my sack—including the book Theodora had insisted I take—I slung it around my neck and then closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of my bones lengthening and stretching. The pull of my skin as fur sprouted from my arms.
I sank to the ground on all fours and the chilly night air seemed to fill with the scents and sounds of the forest. The rusty iron in the blood of the animals who skittered away at the scent of a predator on the prowl. The nearby peat bog that teemed with frogs. It would be tempting to hunt. To rid myself of this excess of emotion and exert some control over even one little thing in this life, but that wasn’t what I wanted. Not right now.
Instead, when the Saint John lions surrounded me, their golden and dark manes shining in the moonlight, we lined up and sped off through the trees as one.
Now was the time to let my animal mind overtake me, to set aside the problems that had now come to rest on my shoulders. In being one with nature, I could force myself to focus on what mattered most and then, with any luck, when I returned to my human form, that sanity and calm would come along with me.
I increased my speed to a flat-out sprint, reveling in the power of my legs churning beneath me.
The brothers sped up and flanked me on either side, crashing through the leaves and twigs with ease. I listened to our collective footfalls, a solid beat on the forest floor, and closed my eyes to focus on the rhythm of our steps. Occasionally, a sound in the distance would temper them with caution, but ultimately, we were as one, running together like a true pride.
We’d run for an hour into t
he darkest of night, when an unfamiliar scent tickled my nose. It was faint at first, almost unnoticeable. Then the earthen smell of dirt was masked almost completely by it. The sweet scent of water mixed with that of minerals.
I stopped short, listening as the patter of our paws slowed and the eerie silence I’d expected did not answer back. Instead, there was a strange noise. Like a gurgling mixed with a hiss.
I glanced at Gatlin and he nodded for me to stay put as he made his way forward and examined the thicket of trees ahead. A moment later, he motioned for us to follow him.
We loped toward him until the thicket of trees cleared and we found the source of the new scent.
A hot spring lay before us, surrounded by rocks, the steam of the water practically wrapping it in an ethereal blanket.
I’d had a bath the night before but looking at the natural wonder, I felt like it had been placed here especially for us. As if, once I climbed inside the water, the tension that even my frantic run couldn’t shake would finally wash away and give my cluttered mind a moment’s peace.
Shrugging my sack off my neck, I let it drop to the ground before testing the water with one paw. It was decadent and perfect, like a hot bath, and I plunged in, letting the water swirl around my fur. I closed my eyes as I slipped beneath the water, willing myself back into human form.
When I bobbed back to the surface, I found four lions standing on the rocks before me and motioned for them to join me.
If I needed this, there was no doubt they were feeling the same, and some time in the steamy depths felt like the perfect solution. Each of the males shrugged off their packs before slinking into the water and dipping below the surface to bathe their fur before willing it to shrink away as they shifted.
When at last we were all human again, we floated wordlessly as the heat seeped into weary muscles. There was so much to discuss, but it was hard to even know where to begin. Instead, we floated around, lost in our own thoughts as we stared up at the moon and doubtlessly contemplated the days to come.
