Here in the innermost chamber, a place of prayer, sacrifice, honor, and love, I watched Mabilia lay sprawled beneath a thousand flushed, gleaming crystals, among scattered scraps of parchment she had sketched innumerable scenes.
Nearest me lay an image of a forest wrought with thorns. Sentient thorns, the footnote claimed. I tilted my head to find ‘wiggle wiggle’ written along one ominous branch.
“That’s the Waking Wood. It’s the passage between realms. The thorns only move for those they deem worthy enough to enter.”
My brows furrowed. “You’re creating a passage between the worlds?”
“Of course. How else am I going to visit?” Her lips pouted, and she shed another image into the collage, starting on another with wisping strokes. “I’m tired of walls set in place to keep me in or out.”
I plucked another page off the ground, and my stomach convulsed. A palace. Unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Great spears of ice jutted out of the ground, blackened like obsidian. Every spire sliced through the clouds. A misting fog surrounded the base, and through it faint hints of razor-sharp holly bushes and rifts of snow marked the ground.
It was astounding.
Another page fell beside me, and I blinked at it. This palace was brighter, significantly. Seemingly the trunks of a hundred tediously placed trees, leaves and flowers bloomed all over the light wood. Lovely, perhaps, but heat radiated off the page alone. No winter fae would survive it.
“That’s for your sister court,” Mabilia clarified, reading my thoughts. “If they still exist and I can manage it, they’re coming to the new world as well.” She added a final stroke to her current masterpiece, then stretched and sat up among the blissful chaos she had created. “I think that’s everything I want. Any requests?”
“Food that grows well in freezing conditions.”
She shuffled through the pages. “Already thought of that. These are frost berries. Brilliantly purple and best served cold.”
The oval fruits hung in heavy clusters on the bush she’d drawn. Tiny flowers peppered the plant, hinting that more would come still.
“What pollinates this?”
“What?” she blurted. “I need to make insects too?”
I nodded. “Every detail must be covered.”
“If only you’d been honest with me sooner. We could spend years planning this and be nowhere near done.” She lifted a blank page, her brows furrowed, then lowered it. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I couldn’t risk her parents finding out. I couldn’t bear the idea of rejection. For as long as I could, I wanted to pretend that I wasn’t the person who had so harmed her family, that I wasn’t the person who needed to use her, that I wasn’t the person who had to leave her behind. “All things happen at an appointed time.”
“Must you be so insufferable?” A sad smile curved her lips. Her pen met another new page, and she mumbled something about making Mythalzen a house. My lips parted to mention how he had hardly left my side since his birth, and, like now, his room would be next to mine, but I bit my tongue. And remembered. And wished I could forget.
“I WANT TO MEET MY GRANDFATHER.” The words left Mabilia’s mouth no sooner than we returned to the ravine and ducked into the palace tunnels. I held the now-empty picnic basket. Her arms burst with her drawings.
“Trust me. You don’t,” I said after a long moment.
She didn’t flinch. “You’ve made it hard to trust you so far, Rumpel. In my parent’s time, people couldn’t have more than one child by law. He’s the only family I have besides them, and if he’s still alive, I want to meet him. I don’t mind if he’s difficult. Today’s my last day here, so—”
“I gave him to the succubus. By now, he’s little more than a shell of what he once was. It will not be pleasant for you to meet him, though I don’t at all mean to imply it would have been pleasant to meet him before.” I worked my jaw a moment and avoided looking at her. “He beat your mother and your grandmother, Mabilia. I took him for the single purpose that you would never have the ‘opportunity’ to meet him.” I turned down a dim passage leading back to her room and called a few lights into being above our heads.
When her footsteps stopped, I faced her, bracing for the argument sure to come next.
Challenge rested on her face, but the angle she debated was not what I had expected. “Why protect me? If all you want is to use me, why protect me from someone who would have hardly been a threat in my position?”
Simply, I said, “I told you I love you.”
“You’re confusing me again.” Her cheeks heated, and she clutched the pages in her arms.
My head tilted. “It’s no secret I care for you a great deal. You are in possession of half my soul.”
Something injured flickered through her eyes, and she stiffened. “That’s why…” It looked like I had just hit her she looked so pained. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s never been me. That’s why this is all mixed up. You don’t like me; it’s your soul in me.”
She couldn’t be more wrong, but I stared at her silently, deciding if I should tell her. I could spin countless lyrics and poems depicting all the ways she made me smile, all the ways I found myself entranced, but to what end would that bring us?
“You’ve only just realized this?” My tone stayed level and cool, cracking only in response to her expression. I had killed her grandparents, tortured her mother, lied to her for years, but none of that seemed to compare to what I had just said. My chest squeezed, convulsing violently, so I added, “I have tried to distance myself and be honest with you now. My people need you, but I recognize I’ve hurt you deeply, so I’ve tried—”
She passed me, shaking her head. “Save it, Rumpelstiltskin. Your efforts were appreciated. I don’t want bloodshed or harm to come to anyone, so you don’t need to worry. I’ll do what you made me for.”
My heart broke as her soft footsteps drifted away behind me, but I reminded myself this was right. This was better for her. It had to be. If I were in her place, if I had to watch her disappear, if I had to make her disappear, I wouldn’t be able to heal from it if I knew she loved me as dearly as I loved her.
Maybe with this and with her humanity she would stand a chance. If not, I was sorry. I hoped she knew I was sorry, though that did little good at all.
Chapter 8
All Prices Are Burdens We Bear
Mythalzen shifted on his hooves, scenting the iron growing thicker in the air the farther we went into the caves beneath Dale. I had insisted he not come to drop Mabilia off this morning, knowing what would greet us, but he had insisted quite the opposite.
If Mabilia hadn’t supported him, he’d have been back home right now, safe.
Firelight met the azure hue of my faerie lights, and I stopped. Mythalzen halted behind me, but Mabilia took another step before realizing we had arrived. Aurea and Daryl stood in the path, alone. Clad in iron, Daryl held a broad sword—Mabilia’s work if I didn’t mistake the elaborate, and unnecessary, designs on the hilt—in one hand and a blazing torch in the other. The fire danced in his eyes, like a forest aflame. Tight relief filled both parents when they saw their daughter.
“Are you all right, Lia?” Aurea asked, her voice quiet if not choked.
“Physically or mentally?” Mabilia murmured. She startled when fear flashed across her mother’s face and corrected herself. “I’m fine.”
“Who’s behind you, Rumpelstiltskin?” Daryl narrowed his gaze on Mythalzen, who, like last time we were in these tunnels, ducked behind me childishly.
I met Daryl’s glare evenly. “My ward. He grew close to Mabilia and wanted to see her off.”
“H-hel—” Mythalzen started.
Aurea blurted, “Grew close?”
“Where’s your armor?” Daryl added.
Mabilia winced, her fists clenching around her bag, where her armor rested beneath her other clothes. She stomped away from her parents, ignoring when they jerked forward, and stopped before Mytha
lzen. “I am grateful you came. Instead of drinking yourself into a stupor.”
His eyes widened, and a small smile lifted his lips. “No, I won’t let Esme live that down. You have my word.”
“Good.” A shaky bit of joy found her mouth, but it never made it to her eyes as she reached for Mythalzen’s hand and squeezed. “Stay out of trouble.”
Leaving him, and continuing to ignore her parents’ bated breath, she glanced at me. Any joy Mythalzen incited faded away. “I suppose this is it.”
I didn’t reply.
“If I thank you, would you have my soul, or does that not apply for us?”
I fixed my gaze on her parents, watching color drain from her mother’s cheeks. “You could watch your words with me for their sake, but I wouldn’t use them against you, no.”
Eyes dull, she said, “It was beautiful. Snow. And the caves. The crystals and the parties and the people. I’ll miss it.”
I would miss her. I nodded.
Her brows lowered, but anything she would have said died when her mother grabbed her arm and pulled her away. I released a pent up breath, regarding the woman with boredom. “Don’t look so distressed,” I hissed. “You have your child in one piece, and you’ll be rid of me soon enough.”
“Yesterday wouldn’t have been soon enough,” she whispered.
“Yes, because if I had never bothered you, you would have fared so well.” My lips curled back in a sneer.
Mythalzen set a hand against my shoulder. “My lord…you needn’t provoke them.”
“You would be wise to listen to your ward,” Daryl growled. “Very little keeps me from killing you right here.”
“Oh?” I smirked. “Was that not already your plan? Pardon my confusion.”
“Stop!” Fury sparked in Mabilia’s eyes. “Just stop. Both of you.”
I clenched my shaking hands in my coat, meeting her gaze. She pulled it away in an instant.
“Let’s just go home. I’m tired. I want my bed. I don’t want…this, whatever this is.” She flailed a hand in our direction, then dropped it limp to her side. “Mythalzen also doesn’t deserve to see what could come of this. He’s an innocent in your feud.”
“None of them are innocent.” Daryl brandished his blade.
I snarled.
“Would you kill a father before his child?” Mabilia raised her head, narrowed her eyes on her father’s sword, then flicked her wrist. The weapon morphed back into what it had once been, a harmless stick.
“Lia!”
“I decided I didn’t want to know the answer.” She turned her back on me and pushed past her parents. “If you want to fight magic with a branch, be my guest. I’ll be in bed.” A waver of glamour settled in the air beside the scent of iron, and to everyone but me, she vanished, walking away.
“If we find out you’ve done something to her…” her father warned, tossing the harmless twig aside.
“I did nothing but show her the world past your cage, but I’m afraid you won’t have the luxury of revenge.” I angled my body to leave, catching Aurea’s eye before I did. “Your favorite nightmare is nearly upon us, child. Neither of you are to remove your armor today if you value your lives, and make sure Mabilia puts hers back on before she enters the forest. It’s imperative.”
“What are you talking about?” Aurea demanded, but I had already turned, clutched Mythalzen’s shoulders, and called a glamour around us both, pushing him forward. We faded from their view, entering the shadows from which we had come, and returned to await the storm.
IMAGES OF THE END danced before my eyes, and I stared drearily past them, wondering when exactly they would occur. I knew it was today. Ever since we dropped Mabilia off this morning, I knew it would happen sometime before the sun set.
But when.
“It’s today, isn’t it?”
I raised my head, blinking off the splatters of blood painting the snowy ground, and looked at Mythalzen. He sat against my desk, his legs pulled close to his chest. Any usual humor or sass had gone, leaving him almost empty.
“That’s why you sent Esme and everyone else deep in the tunnels.”
“Yes,” I confirmed, splaying my fingers. “You should follow them.”
His ears flattened against his head, and his hold around his legs tightened. “You’ve been there for me since the start. I’m not leaving you now.”
A heartless laugh escaped my nostrils. “If anything happens to you now, I’ve done all of this for naught.”
His gold eyes widened before his face crumpled with emotion. “Don’t make this my fault, my lord. Please.”
“I will.” Reclining, I peered at the ceiling. Each glowing speck of luminous crystal dust twinkled like a star. “When you reach the new world, spin stories of heroism. Let everyone who has ever thought less of you know they only continue to breathe because you were among them.”
He dragged his fingers back through his hair, gripping a fistful and taking a shaky breath. “I’d remain outcast forever if it meant you didn’t have to do this.”
Smirking, I glanced at him. “I’d let you, too.”
Water pooled in his eyes when he laughed, and his smile wobbled, falling with the first tear. “Please don’t do it. I can’t just…let you do this.”
I stood, stuffing my hands in my pockets. Walking around him, I approached the shelves of books and ran my gaze over the embossed spines. All the history and spells would likely find themselves lost to time. If fate chose, the humans would find them and create legends or fairytales, keeping our memory alive, longing for what they’d pushed away. “What’s a little half-breed mongrel going to do to stop me?”
His hooves clopped as he stood. “You don’t get to shut me out now.”
“I’m no good at it anyway,” I mumbled, facing him. “Take care of her. Promise me you’ll take care of her.”
Lips still trembling, he raised his chin. “And if I don’t?”
My eyes rolled. “You will. You’re attached to her.”
“I’m also attached to you.” His fists clenched, and he didn’t meet my eyes. “You’ve got it easy, Lord Rumpelstiltskin. You aren’t losing your best friend or the only person you could call family. You’re just leaving. You’re leaving all of us behind and calling the torture that follows our salvation.”
“New friends can be made, and families can be rebuilt. I never suggested it would be easy for any of us.”
He shook, rubbing his eyes and curling his arms around his lanky body. His brown nose quivered. For that instant, he was younger, smaller. He was the timid boy I had raised before he’d found weapons in sarcasm and pertness.
I wrapped my arms around him and sighed. My soul didn’t scream at the idea of leaving him, but it ached. I could only hope the world would be kinder to him than it was in his youth. “You remember what you must tell her?”
A noise halfway between a laugh and a scoff hit my chest, and he gripped my coat. “The King is dead. All hail the Queen.”
“Less monotone, if you can manage it.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to.”
I couldn’t afford tears, but my throat burned when I swallowed. My eyes closed, and the images I had shooed returned. Tears poured down Mabilia’s face. Her season globe rested clutched in her hands. A spark of anger ignited, and she exclaimed as she stood, smashing the glass on the edge of her dresser.
My eyes snapped open when the sound of glass shattering rattled the world. Mythalzen stopped breathing, and I clutched him, still save for my hands. “It’s time,” I whispered, stepping to action. I pulled away and gripped his shoulder, staring into his terror-filled gaze. “Go.”
“But—”
“You will be fine. You have always been fine. Even when the world was against you.”
“Because of you!” His breath stuttered, and I winced.
“Because of you. You’re strong. You’ve always been strong. It’s your strength that led me to spare you from the start. I knew you wouldn’t jus
t survive in this world; you would thrive.” I released him and stood tall. “In case I’ve never told you, I love you, Mythalzen. Mabilia may have my soul, but I leave my legacy with you. Now, protect it and go.”
Eyes watery, he nodded. I listened to his hooves clop away for the last time, took a deep breath, and whirled out the door, tracing a path in the opposite direction he had gone.
The glass kingdom of Dale had fallen; the time of Mab had begun.
BILLOWS OF SNOW whipped against my skin, midday covered with thick clouds that washed the world grey. I trudged through the drifts, listening to the sounds of battle as they brewed. Redcaps shrieked, no doubt charging for the warm meat they’d so long been refused. Metal clanged. Screams chorused on the shrill wind.
An invisible contract link drew me to an unspoken meeting place, but I wasn’t surprised when the singing caverns came into view. I had never been near them during a tempest like this one, though. The wailing cries pouring from the mouth of the caves nearly blanketed the distant anguish.
Nearly.
I stopped within the shelter of the first chamber and released a pent-up breath. This was it. The end I’d planned for. The end I’d wished so many times didn’t have to come.
A form sprinted through the brush, colliding with me. I braced Mabilia by the shoulders, and her gleaming blue eyes met mine a second before she wrenched herself away, tossing a look behind her. A blood-curdling battle cry sounded. I squinted, finding half a dozen redcaps with raised spears.
I cursed, throwing my gaze over her body. No iron. Torn flesh around her calf.
I’d given her parents a very simple and very specific task, but they couldn’t seem to manage anything, could they? Growling, I pushed her behind me and dared the cretins to continue their advance. Even they knew better. Their wrinkled noses scented the ancient power flooding my veins, and hesitation made them slow. Whatever grumbled protests they uttered found themselves lost in the chaos as they retreated.
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 34
