The Crown of Bones (The Fae War Chronicles Book 2)

by Jocelyn Fox

  Luca chuckled and gave the huge wolf an affectionate slap with his good hand. “He is just showing off, I think you call it.”

  “Is he normally this big?”

  Luca simply replied, “He is happy right now.”

  As if that explained everything. “Right,” I said. “So…how am I supposed to introduce myself? They didn’t cover Northwolf introductions in my Fae etiquette class.”

  “It all depends,” Luca said.

  “Well. That really doesn’t help me much.” I raised my eyebrows pointedly.

  Luca grinned again. Kianryk continued to regard me with his blue eyes. His nose was brown and wet and I saw it scenting the air, reminding me of Lila. Except Lila hadn’t been the size of a sabretooth tiger with teeth to match.

  “You must understand, Tess, that in a wolf pack there is a….a sort of ladder,” Luca explained, his Northern accent more pronounced as he struggled to find words.

  “If it works the same as it does in the mortal world, I know what you’re talking about. Social status. There’s the leader of the pack, and then his second, and all the other wolves know their place.”

  “You know more than I thought,” Luca said.

  “Gee, thanks,” I returned dryly. “So an introduction is about knowing the other wolf’s status? Like what rank they are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why is it called an introduction if you already know that about each other? What if you don’t know?” I tried not to look hopelessly confused.

  “If you don’t know, then you will find out very shortly.” Luca grinned a wolf-like grin that I recognized from watching Vell.

  “Right. Well, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t win in a fight against Kianryk, so…”

  “It is not necessarily about who would win in a physical fight,” Luca said, shaking his head. The sunlight gleamed on his golden hair. “It is about…cunning, and toughness, and intelligence…”

  “And that’s all supposed to be figured out in an instant?”

  “For the time being. It is a fluid thing, the order of the pack—it can change, but only through challenge.”

  “You still haven’t explained how exactly I’m supposed to introduce myself. Kianryk’s going to think I’m rude.”

  “He would think no such thing. Come, I will show you.” Luca stepped in front of the huge wolf. I stepped up next to him, keeping my chin high and my chest up. Kianryk stood, massive muscles rippling beneath his tawny coat. His eyes were almost level with my own. I felt a prickle in my war-markings, and when I looked down found them shining through the thin fabric of my white sleeve. Luca began to say something to me, but his words were lost in a whispering rush of power. The edges of my vision bled into gleaming white as I raised my arms. My hands moved without conscious thought, pressing palm down over the massive wolf’s nose, one on either side, my fingers overlapping in the center. I stared into Kianryk’s eyes and pressed firmly on his nose, my shoulders thrown back and my chin held high. A strange sort of coldness seeped into the air around us, counterpoint to the massive warmth of the wolf beneath my hands. Kianryk stared into my eyes for a moment more. I clamped down on his nose harder, and he dropped his gaze. The Sword stirred and a strange thought flashed through my mind: I could make him show me his belly. The part of my mind that was still me and not overtaken by the strange cold power rushing through my war-markings realized that a wolf showing his belly meant total submission. And I didn’t need that from Kianryk. It was enough that he’d looked down, and I released my grip on his nose.

  “And you said you needed to be taught how to introduce yourself,” Luca said, an edge of wonder and suspicion to his voice.

  “Sorry,” I rasped, my voice feeling as though I hadn’t used it in a week. “The Sword and the pendant and my war-markings…they all kind of do their own thing, sometimes.” I looked down and found my arm still glowing with whorls of emerald. I rubbed my hand, trying to make it stop tingling.

  “Does it hurt?” Luca asked. He caught my hand in his own, pushing up my sleeve slightly to better see the intricate design. His touch raised goosebumps on my skin. I resisted the urge to pull my hand out of his grip.

  “Not really,” I said, my voice slightly higher than it should have been.

  “So you are dominant to Kianryk,” Luca said.

  Something about the way he said it sent shivers down my spine. God damn it, what was with this world and its abnormally attractive male inhabitants that made me go all weak at the knees? I’d just finished a whirlwind of a conversation with Finnead, and now touching Luca was like sticking my finger into a light socket. What was wrong with me?

  The Sword stretched like a cat in the sun, the edges of its power brushing against the insides of my ribs.

  I swear, I thought at it, if you’re making me feel like this…

  You are powerful. You are a woman. You will be attracted to powerful men, the Caedbranr replied. Do not be a child about it.

  “I’m not being a child about it,” I muttered.

  “What?” Luca’s brows creased.

  “I’m…not wild about it. The whole feeling of the power taking over sometimes,” I explained lamely.

  Luca didn’t reply, his hand disappearing in Kianryk’s ruff.

  I cleared my throat. “Kianryk looks good.”

  “We heal fast,” he said. “And with a herravaldyr here, we heal even faster.”

  “With Vell and Beryk here?”

  “Yes,” Luca replied simply, regarding me with those wondrous blue eyes. His eyes were like the sky—I wanted to float into them. Finnead’s eyes were like the stormy depths of the ocean, waiting to pull me into their turbulent depths.

  “Is it like with the Sidhe and their monarchs?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “It is a much more…” He spread his hands and paused as he searched for the word. “It is a give-and-take. Our herravaldyr gives us much, but the pack gives back.”

  “Symbiotic,” I said thoughtfully. A smile crossed my lips when Luca repeated the word, tasting the new syllables on his tongue.

  With his hand still resting on Kianryk’s neck, Luca moved back toward where the ulfdrengr had made their camp. I took two steps after him but then stopped. Would they want me intruding on their privacy? Then Luca glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, and tilted his head in clear invitation. I followed him through the sun-dappled little clearing.

  The part of the Sword that was Northwolf stirred and stretched in my mind’s-eye as I walked after Luca. Despite his size, he moved through the underbrush with almost complete silence, a raw grace to his movements that echoed the huge wolf by his side. Every so often I saw his huge hand reach out and brush Kianryk’s ruff, running the fur over his battle-scarred knuckles, as if to reassure himself that his wolf was still indeed pacing next to him. The painfully gentle gesture squeezed at my heart.

  We approached a small hollow with two trees growing close on either side. Pine boughs and sleeping skins had been used to create a neat little shelter over the hollow. It was clear that the Northerners were adept at life on the move. I eyed the complex interlace of the pine boughs and the taut sleeping skins lashed to the supporting branched, doubting that I could create such a shelter if I was given a whole day to do it.

  Luca said something in the Northern tongue. A shadow behind the shelter stirred and separated itself from among the tree trunks and Kianryk gave a little bark of excitement. Beryk—horse-sized Beryk—leapt over the shelter and barreled into Kianryk. The two wolves rolled off into the underbrush, jaws snapping and playful growls emanating from the whirlwind of black and gray fur. Luca watched them for a moment with a spark of happiness in his blue eyes.

  “He just jumped over that,” I said, turning back to survey the shelter. It was still at least eye-level. “Do your wolves’ physical abilities increase when they’re all together or something?”

  “What is the point of the pack if not to give each other strength?” Luca answered enigmatically.


  “What’s the point of answering questions with questions?” I fired back, crossing my arms.

  Luca glanced at me as if unsure whether I was truly annoyed. When he saw the half-smile playing on my lips, an answering grin lit up his face. My breath caught in my throat. He was truly one of the most handsome men I’d ever laid eyes on—and in a magical world where every man seemed to be carved of marble from a live model of Adonis, that was saying something. The Northwolf pacing in my head paused and flicked an ear and continued its walk through my mind with an air of smugness.

  Hush, you, I thought at it. It switched its brindled tail jauntily at me and yawned, tongue lolling over gleaming teeth.

  Vell pulled aside the sleeping-skin covering the entrance to the little shelter, unfolding herself and standing before us, dusting off her hands. Luca inclined his head slightly. She acknowledged him with a little nod. “You are here to meet Chael?” she asked me.

  “He will be ready to travel soon so I assume he is ready to meet me,” I replied with an air of firm authority. The words spilled from my lips without quite making it into my mind’s filter. I decided I was past being surprised at the things I said without quite knowing I would say them; it was exhausting to constantly startle myself. There was a part of me beyond my conscious recognition now, the part that stretched back hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, through Gwyneth and all the Bearers before her, the priestesses and mages and holy women who had wielded the Sword’s power and the power of their own souls against the darkness in this world and the mortal world alike. Whether it was their voices using my lips, or a portion of my mind that merely existed outside my normal boundaries of thought, I didn’t quite know, but I accepted whatever it was, and the words that came along with it. It was a part of me now.

  I blinked and realized Vell had said something. She recognized the question in my eyes and repeated, “I request a moment to prepare him.”

  I gave the same sort of little nod that Vell had given to Luca. As Vell disappeared, I reached back and brushed the hilt of the Sword with my fingertips, the worn leather of the grip smooth against my skin.

  “Your sword is a beautiful weapon,” Luca said beside me. I’d almost forgotten he was standing there—though how I could forget considering the magnetic attraction between us, I wasn’t entirely sure.

  The emerald wolf in my head paused and flicked an ear, as if deciding whether to accept Luca’s praise.

  “The balance is superb,” Luca continued.

  “You can tell that just by looking at it in the sheath?” I raised my eyebrows slightly.

  “I have handled many weapons in my training,” the Northman replied. A mischievious spark lit his eyes. “Most that require two hands.”

  I felt my lips curve in an answering smile. “So it’s safe to say that most Northmen’s weapons require a firm grip?” It was hard to believe that hours ago we’d been racing for our lives, climbing precariously up a rugged cliff to escape the furious sirens. The Sword-as-wolf bared its teeth in a huge yawn, telling me what it—he? She? I wasn’t sure—thought about the peril that we’d escaped. The primeval wolf grinned at my ribald comment. And again, I wasn’t exactly certain whether it approved, or was just amused for amusement’s sake, like a benevolent elder watching pups play.

  Kianryk made a sound halfway between a bark and a yip that I took as a laugh, while Luca raised one eyebrow consideringly. “It depends on the preference of the wielder of said weapon, of course.”

  I laughed. “Oh, of course.”

  Luca grinned. “It is good to hear you laugh, Tess.”

  The sound of my name on his lips sent a delicious shiver across my skin. We locked gazes, but just as I felt myself start falling into those blue eyes, Vell drew back the entrance-flap and said, “He is ready.”

  It took an almost physical effort to look away from Luca, but I turned and hoped my face wasn’t too flaming red as I followed Vell into the shelter. A small traveling lantern hung suspended from the center of the shelter, casting a soft flickering glow over Chael and Rialla. To my shock, Chael was standing, albeit with one hand buried in his wolf’s neck-fur. My instincts told me that to act concerned or to ask him to sit would be an insult, so I tried to mask my surprise.

  As I looked at Chael, attempting to adopt a nonchalant expression, I was struck yet again by the ethereal beauty of all the inhabitants of Faeortalam, Sidhe or otherwise. Yet Chael’s was a ravaged beauty: his silver hair clung sparsely to his scalp, and one of his amethyst eyes, mirrors of Rialla’s wolf-eyes, was covered by a clean bandage wrapped diagonally around his head. Scars, some silvery and old, some livid and raw, crossed his cheeks and jaw. His face was nothing short of skeletal, but there was a fierce spark in his remaining eye as he looked me in the face.

  “My lady Bearer, it is an honor to have lived to see your return to Faeortalam,” Chael said, traces of gravel still scratching through his voice. He placed the hand not buried in Rialla’s ruff over his heart. I saw with a jolt that another swathe of bandages covered the space where his index and middle fingers should have been.

  I forced my mind into action. It wouldn’t do to just stare at him, not after everything he’d been through. “And it is my honor to have added more Northmen to my small group of travelers.”

  Chael smiled, keeping his lips tightly closed. “Your small group of travelers?”

  “I’m keeping her humble,” Vell informed him.

  “Of course you are,” Chael replied with another close-lipped smile that nonetheless brightened his face and allowed me to see the shadow of the wild beauty beneath his scars. There was something in the gaze between Chael and Vell…I posed a wordless question to the Sword-as-wolf in my head. But the emerald wolf scented something in the wilds of my unconscious and bounded off into the darkness, leaving me to analyze the look by myself. I slid my thoughts to one side, for further inspection later.

  “Well,” I said, breaking the silence, “I trust you are well enough to travel. We need to be moving toward the Seelie Court.” I paused. “If you choose to travel with us, understand that you are committing yourself to our cause, and pledging yourself to me.” A hint of the many-voiced priestess line of former Bearers touched my words.

  “From what Vell has told me, you are our weapon against the Darkness. I gladly pledge my loyalty to you, and ask only one thing in return.” Chael stepped forward, his lone eye blazing passionately.

  “And what is it you ask of me?” I replied quietly, watching him intently.

  “Allow me to slay as many of those foul creatures as I am able, and if I am still alive, allow me to journey with you on the final quest to destroy Malravenar.”

  I heard Vell’s breath hitch as Chael uttered the name of our enemy. Rialla’s teeth drew back and her low, throaty growl rolled through the air. The lantern flickered overhead, casting Chael’s face in stark shadows. Chael’s one eye bored into me. I could taste the heaviness of his pain and hatred for the Dark creatures in the back of my throat, thick and coppery like blood. Without looking away from Chael, I felt Vell glance at me.

  “If that is your wish,” I said, “I will not deny a warrior such as you. But—“ I put up a hand as fierce joy lit his eye—“you must swear to me that you will not throw your life away for revenge.”

  Chael clenched his jaw. “My life was hard-won. Yet now I am not a living being, but merely an instrument of destruction, to be wielded as you see fit against the Darkness.”

  I took half a step toward him. I could have reached out and touched him. I felt the line of power frothing up through me, and when I spoke it was with the thousand voices of the women who had borne the weapon upon my back before me. “I am a living weapon. I understand what it is. But you too are living. You have endured much at the hands of evil, and your soul is blinded to your deliverance.”

  The priestess’ voices rose in volume. The ground began to shake. My war markings blazed. The small, small part of me that realized what was happening groaned
something like Not again, but I was already reaching for Chael and the Sword’s power roiled up through me like a flash flood and I pressed both my palms against Chael’s eyes, his cry of anguish barely reaching my ears through the rushing sound of wind and water and power rising over me. The lantern crashed to the ground and vaguely I saw Vell stamping out the flames, golden eyes wild as she grabbed for Rialla and drew the wolf away from us. The power rose up, up like a tide, like a tidal wave, and when it crashed down over us, I saw everything. Darkness and blood and screams of agony, the smell of flesh burning and the sadistic inhuman laughter of the creatures as they tortured Chael, howls of pain from wolf and mens’ throats blending into one sound of absolute despair. The sight of heads impaled on upright stakes—man, wolf, man, wolf, some women, some children, all bloodstained, expressions of suffering frozen on their greenish faces, sightless eyes staring at the survivors, chained to posts in the center of the circle.

  I heard someone sobbing breathlessly. The images continued to wash over me, horrifically bright, so real I felt I could touch them. The image blurred slightly and then I saw Luca on his knees, absolute hatred in his eyes as he watched them bring out Kianryk and Rialla, bound in collars attached to long black poles so the creatures could keep their snapping jaws at bay. Some of the creatures used crude wicked pitchforks to jab at them, screeching with manic glee. The wolves, though they were gaunt and their fur blood-matted, laid their ears back and snarled and fought, and Luca lunged for a creature, snapping its neck in his bare hands, and Chael hurtled into his captor, and they all fought with teeth and claws and fangs, ripping and shredding, but there were more and more and more creatures, piling onto them, grabbing limbs with misshapen hands….until something flashed darkly near my eye—near Chael’s eye—and there was a flood of red all-encompassing pain. I gasped and choked as the agony flared over my face. There were hands—some small and child-sized, some more like paws, some with long black nails, some soft and webbed—hands all over him, holding him down, no matter how he tried to struggle. When he blinked away the blood enough to see again, the two wolves crouched, still snarling, but not attacking; and Luca was on his knees again, this time letting a slobbering creature brutally bind his hands behind his back. Chael shouted hoarsely at him, words in the North-tongue, but I could feel his desperation—better that they let him be killed and keep fighting than give in to those foul creatures. He stayed conscious long enough to watch them collar Kianryk and shoot him with a black-feathered dart. The huge wolf fell to his side and they bound his paws and slung him onto a pole, holding a dagger to his neck so that Luca would not try to fight. Rialla, collared but still snarling, stayed close to Chael, her amethyst eyes seeking him among the crush of twisted bodies. He reached out, and she strained toward him, and he managed to brush her nose with his fingertips before something hit him from behind and all went black.