Faeborne: A Novel of the Otherworld

by Johnson, Jenna Elizabeth

  He paused to take a breath, and then those deep gray eyes of his locked onto hers. “Tell me you do not love me as fiercely as I love you, and I will walk away and never pursue you again.”

  Seren tried to pull away, but the astonishment at hearing Brenn’s words had her frozen in place. She had secretly and desperately yearned for this moment, but it had come too late. Spirits of the Weald, she wanted to stay with this man, to return the love he so openly declared. And she wanted to stay with Rori. But that was precisely why she had to leave. She loved them. And she would not risk their safety for her selfishness.

  Brennon continued to caress her face, leaning forward and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Say it, Seren,” he whispered against her hair, his gentle words almost a plea. “Say you don’t love me.”

  His strong fingers loosened their grip, becoming gentle as they moved over her face and trailed down her neck. She shivered at the intimate gesture.

  Despite her current distracted state, she would say it; tell him she didn’t love him. Seren opened her mouth to do just that, but nothing came out. Brennon took advantage of her upturned head and slightly parted lips, swooping in for a real kiss, one that sent fire through her blood and purged every thought from her mind. Her own glamour roared to match the passion she felt brewing in his, and she stopped resisting. She could worry about leaving him later. Right now, in this sacred moment, she would be selfish.

  Seren pressed herself forward, fully giving in to the kiss. She wrapped her arms around Brennon’s neck and parted her lips even more to give him full access. Brenn reacted immediately. He pushed his tongue forward and deepened the kiss, his hands running down Seren’s back as his arms tightened their hold.

  It was clear she would not be running away from him, after all. At least, not tonight. As the moon rose above the horizon, and as the denizens of the night crawled from their dens to brave the cold, Seren drew Brennon into her; his essence, his body, his overwhelming presence. Her wild glamour flared, meeting his and soon, she could no longer feel the bone-deep chill of the winter evening or the cold bite of the frost beneath her feet. All she could sense was warmth, and happiness and Brennon Roarke. For the very first time in her life, she knew what it was to share her spirit and her soul with another, and she gave over to that sensation, leaving no room in her heart for fear or doubt.

  ***

  A winter wren woke Seren from her sleep, its sweet, gentle song a rare gift on such a morning.

  She turned her head, her silky russet hair slipping away from her face like water. Her pale brown eyes fluttered open, flashed gold and then green, then back to brown before her lips curved into a smile. She reached up and touched Brennon’s cheek. They were both nestled under his heavy winter cloak, the thinner one he’d been wearing beneath it the night before now protecting them from the pine needle and leaf littered ground. Despite the chill in the air, Seren was delightfully warm.

  Brenn drew in a deep breath through his nose, and then, his slate eyes opened. He regarded Seren for a split second before his own smile joined hers.

  “You cried out in your sleep,” she murmured, biting her bottom lip.

  Brennon sighed again and closed his eyes.

  “Dark memories from my past,” he admitted.

  Seren’s smile faltered, and her own eyes darkened with sadness. “I managed to chase away your nightmares after Samhain, and burn away some of the darkness haunting you on Winter Solstice.” She reached up a hand, so she could run her fingers through his hair. “I only wish I could heal them permanently instead of just stopping them temporarily.”

  Brennon captured her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm.

  “But you have begun to, Seren.”

  He reached out to touch her then, anticipating the feel of her skin against his. With a callused finger, he traced the straight bridge of her nose, the smooth curve of her cheek, the soft fullness of her bottom lip. She was so beautiful, this Fae-creature of the Weald, even more so than his own Fae race. Cernunnos had crafted the Fahndi from Faelorehn stock, but when he did so he had gifted them with the natural grace and beauty of the wild creatures of this world. As fair and beautiful as the Faelorehn were, their spirits were not as free as those who belonged to the wilderness.

  A wave of sorrow rose in Brenn then as he remembered their previous exchange of words. Despite what had happened between them last night, Seren’s wild spirit yearned for its home. No matter how much he loved this woman lying beside him, she would never truly be his. She may choose to stay for a while, but the fertile, beating heart of the Weald would always call to her own, always draw her heartstrings ever tighter until she had no choice but to return. Last night, and the precious moments they shared now, were only temporary.

  Brenn felt something soft tickling his chin, only to flick his eyes downward to see Seren giving his face the same attention he was giving hers.

  “Your eyes hold sadness,” she said quietly.

  He huffed out a small breath and shook his head, pressing his lips to her palm again.

  “Tell me,” she implored.

  Suddenly, Brenn was terrified. Telling Seren of the reason for all his nightmares would be like extracting a barbed arrowhead from his flesh. It had been so much easier admitting he was in love with her, but this, this was rawer, more frightening. This was proving what simple words could not demonstrate. To tear one’s heart and soul open, to leave it bare and naked before the one person in the world who mattered above all others. That was proving one’s love. If he could not do that, if he continued to hide the part of him which needed healing the most, then how could he ever convince Seren he needed her?

  Tell her. Tell her everything. She deserves to know.

  Taking a deep breath, Brenn braced himself.

  “When I was barely sixteen,” he began, his voice rough and coarse as the day’s worth of beard growth on his cheeks, “the Morrigan’s scouts came to Dundoire Hollow seeking recruits for her army. A sliver of her realm stretches into this part of Eile, in the northwest corner, and she often sends out her most decorated generals and their captains to scour the fringes of her territory, looking for young men and women to bolster her troops. Most of the time, these recruiters have no trouble persuading young people to join them. A second son, convinced his brother is favored above him, a young woman unhappy with her oppressive parents, the local outlaws who have been sentenced to death or slavery. All of these people readily agree to join up with the Morrigan in order to, in their minds, better their lives. Those who showed up in Dundoire Hollow, however, were ready to move on to the next town and on to the next band of misfits. They never would have even come to my parents’ house, but someone in town tipped them off; told them there was a boy who lived in a large stone house on a hill overlooking the forest on one side, and the valley on the other. They told them he had a rare gift, one the Morrigan would find very useful.”

  Brennon stopped speaking, and Seren could feel the anxiety and dread building in him. She rested her head on his shoulder and drew herself closer, pressing her skin to his. Some of Brenn’s tension eased, but not all of it. A few more moments passed before he began speaking again.

  “My gift, my ability to manipulate the minds of others, was a secret I thought only my family and our closest friends knew. I had always trusted them to keep it safe, but someone told the Morrigan’s men.”

  Seren stilled at Brenn’s astounding revelation. Gods and goddesses of Eile. He could control another’s mind? Such an ability would be incredibly dangerous, and valuable, to someone who had the power to exploit it. For a fraction of a second, Seren wondered if Brenn had ever used this power on her, but she dismissed it quickly, angry at herself for thinking he’d ever do such a thing.

  To prove her trust in him, Seren reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, stroking his face with affection.

  “I am here, Brennon. Take your time.”

  He drew in a shuddering breath and rel
eased it slowly.

  “They threatened my family and took me away in chains,” he said eventually, his voice shaking a little. “For four days, we marched across the barren lands to the heart of the Morrigan’s cold realm. I wept the entire way, longing for the comfort of my home, missing my parents, yearning for my sister’s love. The Morrigan’s kingdom was desolate, cold and dead.”

  “Why would someone do such a thing?”

  Seren’s voice was whisper soft, no more pressing than a leaf falling to the forest floor. Tears fell from her eyes, and she reached up, running her fingers gently through Brenn’s dark hair, her touch lingering and warming his skin.

  Brenn turned so his eyes met hers.

  “The same men who threatened you yesterday before you left.”

  She froze then, her hand stilling in its efforts to soothe him.

  “Wh-what?” she asked, her voice faltering.

  Brenn took her hand and kissed it, his lips lingering against her skin.

  “Rori told me, Seren. He told me two men came to the house looking for me. He overheard part of your conversation. I know it was Baird Corcorain and Uscias, the Druid, who threatened you.”

  Seren made to pull away, her heart racing in her chest. Brennon couldn’t know about their demands of her. If he did, he would do something to stop them, she knew he would. He loved her; there was no doubt in her mind now. And that love would cost him, quite possibly his life.

  Brenn sensed her anxiety and reached up, taking hold of her arms just above the elbows.

  “No, Brenn,” she gasped. Sorrow, fear and anguish rose in her throat. “This was a mistake! I should have left sooner, run faster. I should not have let you talk me into staying!”

  Seren struggled against him, but Brenn’s grip tightened. When she didn’t stop her thrashing, he encircled her in his arms and pulled her back down onto his cloak. He cradled her against his body, whispering words of comfort until she settled down. When her sobs had slowed, and her shivering stopped, he took a breath and said, “Why did you not tell me, Seren? Why? Is this the true reason for your running away? Did they threaten you? What did they say? You can tell me.”

  “N-no,” she cried. “I cannot!”

  Brenn put her at arm’s length. “Look at me, Seren.”

  She turned her head away. He took one finger and used it to tilt her chin up so that their eyes met. His were the color of storm clouds over the ocean and just as fierce.

  “They cannot hurt you. I will not allow it to happen. Not now, not ever.”

  “That is not what concerns me!” she hissed. “I don’t care if they hurt me. It’s you, and Rori. If I don’t do as they ask, they will kill you!”

  Brennon grew very still, and Seren clenched her teeth at her own stupidity. Why had she told him that?

  “They won’t hurt me or Rori,” Brenn promised, his voice low and dangerous. “Now tell me, what did they say to you?”

  Feeling defeated and mentally exhausted, Seren gave in. What was the point of fighting anymore? Brenn knew about their visit, and he wouldn’t let it go until she told him the truth.

  Taking a deep breath, Seren closed her eyes and said, “They told me if I didn’t meet them at the crossroads in three days’ time, they would hurt you and Rori.”

  Brenn spat out a curse, his fingers tightening on her arms for just a moment.

  When he faced her again, he had a look of predatory danger on his face. Growling, he drew her up against him once more, holding her close, breathing in the scent of her hair.

  “I won’t let that happen. Baird and Uscias will not harm any of us. I will kill them both before they get the chance.”

  Seren shuddered, but Brenn’s declaration did not frighten her. She believed him. He would kill those who threatened her and Rori. But would he die trying?

  After several minutes, Brenn let Seren go, and they crawled back under his cloak. The morning was still young, and their emotions still ran high. Seren reached up and trailed her fingers through Brenn’s hair.

  “Was this the only reason you left?” Brenn asked again, placing his palm against her cheek.

  Seren nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

  Brenn’s jaw tightened. “They cannot have you, Seren. They will not tear my family apart again.”

  Seren almost gasped at his words. Family. He considered her family. Tears formed in her eyes, but this time not from pain or fear.

  To keep herself from falling apart, Seren sniffled and asked gently, “Why are they doing this, Brenn? And why did they hand you over to the Morrigan those many years ago?”

  Brenn ran his hand over Seren’s hair, a gesture she was growing to cherish.

  “They wanted my sister, Meara, for Baird. And they wanted me for Baird’s sister, Arlana. Meara shunned Baird and married another man, and I was not interested in marriage then, especially not to that vile woman.”

  Seren stilled ever so slightly, the way a deer does when listening for predators. Brennon would not have noticed if not for the fact she was pressed so close to him, her delicate body betraying her every emotion.

  “One cannot force another to love them,” she said, her voice holding more grievance than compassion now.

  That surprised Brenn a little. “You speak as if from experience,” he commented.

  All this time, he had thought her on her own; lost, with no one to worry after her. Had she left behind a lover in the Weald? Brenn tried to ignore the bitter sting of jealousy rising in his chest.

  Seren must have sensed it because she lifted her head, her lips finding his in a reassuring kiss that proved to him her love was his and his alone.

  She pulled away and looked up at him, her brown eyes deep.

  “Like you, I have a past filled with sorrow, and you will hear my tale,” she promised, the bitterness in her voice fading a little. “But first, I will hear the end of yours.”

  Brennon sighed and ran his hand down Seren’s back, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. “You will not like what you hear,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “No,” she murmured, leaning in to press her lips to his throat, “but I will share the burden of those memories with you, if it will help heal your soul.”

  Brenn released a soft sigh, overwhelmed by her reaction. Before he lost his nerve, he continued with his story, determined to get it all out.

  “For six years, I did my duty by the Morrigan. When I first arrived, I thought I would be just another foot soldier, the kind who charges into battle and acts as a shield for those more important to the goddess. A role envied by anyone forced into her service. To die early is far better than to witness and take part in the horrors she wreaks upon those unwilling to bend their knee to her. But that was not to be my fate. Not when she received word of my glamour’s capabilities. I was taken directly to the dark queen, down into the depths of the icy mountain cavern where she resides.

  “The soldiers who brought me there forced me to my knees and explained to her what my glamour was capable of. I refused to do anything she commanded, of course, thinking that although I had cried for my family, I was a young, strong Faelorehn man, honorable and unbreakable. She had me obeying her within the hour, sending terrifying and unthinkable images into my head until I was curled upon the freezing, filthy floor of the cavern, whimpering and sweating against the pain and mental anguish.”

  Brenn stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw as the horror of those images resurfaced in his mind as fresh and new as the day he’d first experienced them. Visions of his mother and father, tied to a pole in the middle of Dundoire Hollow, their eyes plucked out and the kindling piled beneath their feet crackling with flames while their screams of agony scraped at his ears. His sister, suspended over the deepest part of the creek, a giant hook piercing the flesh of her lower back and protruding through her abdomen. Her mouth frozen in a grimace of pain, her eyes milky and lifeless and her dark hair falling in soiled plaits from her head. The bluish taint to her skin suggested she was de
ad, slowly drowned in the stream she and Brenn used to spend their summer days exploring.

  Brennon’s fingers, which had been splayed against Seren’s back, curled into tight fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. Oh gods, the memories hurt, even though they weren’t real. The Morrigan had used them to control him, but in the end, his family had died anyway. Perhaps not exactly in the ways the Morrigan had depicted, but they had died. Taking a sharp breath, he continued on, knowing Seren had been right. He had to get this out. The arrowhead had been pulled free, but now the wound needed to be cauterized. Though he feared the infection had already taken hold.

  “For six years, I served as her puppet, using my glamour to invade the minds of others and make them do as the Morrigan wished. I will not repeat what I made them do, but trust me when I tell you I wanted to kill myself every day for it. She would not let me. She kept me chained in a cage in her underground lair, guarded by her Cumorrig, those horrible, half rotten hounds she keeps as watch dogs. I could have starved myself, or simply thrown myself against one of my fellow captive’s swords, I suppose.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Seren asked, struggling to keep the horror at what he’d experienced from her voice. She knew she couldn’t have lasted as long as he did. “Was it your Faelorehn honor that bolstered your will to live?”

  Brennon shook his head. “No. Honor is not strong enough. Only one thing has the power to keep a man from ending his life in the face of such suffering.”

  “What?” she wondered aloud.

  He glanced down at her then, catching her eyes with his. He saw the compassion there, as he expected, but also a hint of pain. His pain reflected back at him. But there was also understanding. She was not judging him. She did not blame him for the choices he had made. And just like that, his heavy heart grew lighter.

  “Love,” he sighed. “Love is the only power in this world, and all the others beyond, that could make someone endure such suffering.”

  She nodded and stroked the hair from his forehead.