by Mary Weber
Around us roars a blizzard of my creation. Lightning bolts splice the ground beside our bodies. Pine needles and branches whip above our heads. I try to stop. To tell my curse to listen to his fingertips and calm down. But I don’t know how to stop anymore. I can’t. I only know how to weep and crumble and break as the fissure in my chest opens wide to swallow us.
And then Eogan’s lips are on mine. Pressing. Calming. One hand slides to my waist while his other tangles its way through my hair, pulling me in, forcing his heated mouth harder to mine. The shock wave ripples down my back, and I respond to his touch, his taste, his heartbeat that’s pounding out of his chest. His fingers grip tighter and his mouth is thirst and need, and I’m a begging pile of bones, cracking open, liquefying to be absorbed into him.
Until the calmness comes and my body sags into his.
The storm inside and out stills.
“Stop and let us handle it,” Eogan whispers in my ear.
His gaze switches to Colin, who’s erecting blockade after blockade of mountainside with more power than I’ve ever seen him capable of in an effort to stop the avalanche. Eogan shoves me aside, and the next thing I know he’s rushing head on into the massive landslide. Which shouldn’t even be possible. Oh hulls. No.
He’s going to get himself killed. I start running, but it’s too late. The rocks and snow are bearing down on him, and then he’s gone.
Except the avalanche veers off to the side, and I catch glimpses of Eogan’s black body standing there. Blocking. His ability acts as an invisible shield, expanding to interrupt the surge, shifting it to Colin, who opens the earth in a crevice for the devastation to slide into, leading it away from the town.
Hours go by.
At least that’s what it seems like, although it’s only a matter of minutes before the rumbling stops and the danger is over. Colin collapses from the effort and Eogan sloshes over to pant with him and pat him on the back before checking the hillside to ensure the earth is sealed all the way.
When he returns, he strides directly through the snow to me.
Untouched.
Unharmed.
“Nym . . .”
I hit him.
For bringing me to this mountain. For endangering us and the town and the little boy by pressing me into something I cannot do. I will not do. For making me desire him. And then for scaring the litches out of me by making me think he was dead. It suddenly occurs to me that I might actually hate him more than anyone I’ve ever known.
Except, it also occurs to me that I’m in love with him.
CHAPTER 20
WE BREAK CAMP WITHIN THE HOUR. I PREPARE supplies while Eogan cleans a shallow gash on Colin’s arm and works to cool the boy’s suddenly spiking fever. His red-flushed skin is so hot, it’s thawing ice off the pine trees three paces away.
“His body overheated,” Eogan says, “from the stress of using his ability at that magnitude. It’s a Terrene thing—it’ll fade over the next few days.”
As our horses clip down the mountain pass, the snow on the trees continues to melt in a forest of raindrops around Colin. The bald boy is riding with Eogan, slumped against his back, with his mount roped behind. He doesn’t groan, but the pain and exhaustion written on his face are enough. I can barely look at him.
Clearing my throat, I open my mouth. Hesitate.
“Don’t,” Colin says. “You’ve already apologized like two ’undred times. I told you I’m fine. It’s not yer fault. You shoulda seen the trouble I caused in my first big disaster.”
“But your arm—”
“Will be ’ealed by tomorrow. Although”—a hint of slyness creeps into his tone—“if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll play sick longer so you can nurse me back to health. Because holy-mother-of-kracken, did you see how fantastic I was? The way I had yer avalanche in the palm of my hand—caressin’ her like a baby? Just think of what I coulda done to Bron’s armada!”
“More than fantastic,” I say for the eleventieth time.
“As if I wasn’t already irresistible enough.” He grins, then winces before leaning in to whisper loudly, “Just try to resist droolin’ over me in front of Eogan, yeah?”
I gulp. Clearly he’d not seen Eogan kiss me. “Right. Got it. Although I think my horse is drooling over you, too, so you might want to move your face back.”
He laughs and for a second it sounds so nice. Normal. Until it turns into a coughing spasm.
I flinch and whisper up a draft of air to ease his discomfort, while the awareness of Eogan listening to us makes my guilt spike higher. I can feel it—the still-liquefied part of my bones that echoes his kiss, blending with my craving and anger—even as I’m picturing Adora cutting out Colin’s tongue when she finds out about it. My aching hand flutters to my mouth, and I press Haven to hurry ahead.
We’ve ridden for four hours before my muddled head registers that we’re on a different path than the one we travelled up on. Eogan’s got us on a sideways route instead of straight down through the town of the little boy and his mum. I consider thanking him but that would require speaking to him.
At dinnertime, we stop and eat. Eogan releases the horses and tells us to sleep a few hours for Colin’s sake. I don’t though. I just stare at the fevered boy and wrestle with the knowledge that I hurt people. I hurt him. Because of me, Adora could hurt him more. Because of me, Lord Myles could hurt Eogan. And because of Eogan, I could hurt a whole host of others at his whim or because of my temper. I’m like a death knell for everyone who gets near me.
I slide my hand over my sleeve, feeling the memorial scars beneath as something twisted in me itches to create another. My fingers reach for the handle of my knife, its cold steel burning into my skin like the guilt smoldering over the well-worn scars in my soul.
Eogan shifts and my eyes connect with his. As if he knows precisely what I’m thinking.
He opens his mouth, but I turn over to stare at the firefly trees blazing off in the distance. After that it’s silent for a long while.
When his low voice comes, it’s controlled concern—but it rumbles all the way down to my bones. “You are not the things you’ve done, Nym.”
I shut my eyes.
“You’re worth more,” he adds, but by the time it registers, his murmur is already dissipating.
When the moon hits midnight, we get up and Eogan ties Colin on behind him. I hook the other mount’s reins to mine and am relieved to leave the mountain range behind.
“Nym.” Eogan’s rich voice carries through the dark.
“I don’t want to talk about it, please,” I whisper.
So we ride through the night in silence except for Eogan’s soft breathing beside me and Colin’s muttering hallucinations.
Eventually, morning light shivers and splashes like paint on a canvas over the landscape in front of us. Outlines of villages come into view, followed by farms and smokehouses with cocks crowing and dogs barking to the noisy cries of children.
Colin stirs and Eogan stretches in his seat. “We’ll stop on the outskirts of the next town and chain up the horses.” His gaze avoids mine. “Then find a common house to eat at.”
But at the next village, the outskirts have been taken over by a patchwork of blue and red tents and yellow-painted wagons with streamers flapping high above in the wind. For a moment I wonder if it’s already main market day, but then I catch sight of a ten-foot-tall man swallowing a sword as he dances.
Colin chuckles. “It’s a carnival.” And for the first time in two days, I feel a smile surface. Not just a carnival—it’s a traveller carnival.
Dogs race around the wagons, barking at panther-monkeys whose enormous bodies jump from roof to roof, dangling corkscrew tails to lure the hounds closer. Each time one’s within reach, long panther talons flash out and the dogs jump away, making a game of it. Grab and hiss, grab and hiss—the monkeys keep it up, hoping for their favorite meal of fresh canine brains.
A tiny girl dressed in a pinwheel of colors s
tands below, shaking her finger and lecturing the disgusting monkeys, although it’s hard to hear what she’s saying amid the racket of breakfast pots, stakes being hammered, and voices shouting in thick foreign accents. Somewhere an oliphant roars, sending vibrations through the ground just as two ferret-cats race by and duck beneath a cart covered in murals. When I look up, an old woman is watching us from inside. She glares and yanks the curtain shut.
“On second thought, we’ll break at the next town.” Eogan nudges his horse to keep moving.
But the ten-foot-tall man has already caught sight of us. He struts closer before bending down to unbuckle loops at his thighs. He jumps and launches himself, and suddenly he’s vaulting head over heels and leaving his lower legs behind. We rein in the horses as he lands in front of us, a third of the size he was before. It takes me a confused moment before identifying him as a rather tall dwarf who’s been using stilts.
Colin and I cheer politely as the man bows low, and when he raises his head, I recognize him from the common house.
“Well, if it isn’t my little fighting friend,” the dwarf hollers, peering past Eogan to Colin. “Come to see our show, ’ave you? Sorry to disappoint, but it won’t get on for another few hours.”
“Thanks, but we just came for food, friend,” Eogan says. “We’ll move on to the next village.”
“Move on, eh? Where you goin’? An’ where you comin’ from?” He rubs his chin with stubby fingers and eyes our trainer, as if gauging his character.
“From the southernmost point of the Hythra Crescent. We’re heading back to the High Court.”
The little man’s face perks up at the mention of the mountain range. “Got a look at the Sea of Elisedd an’ her warboats, did ya?”
“We did.”
The dwarf leans back on his heels and breaks into a grin. “Been meaning to get up that way myself.” He glances around. Chews his lip. “I’ll tell you what.” He waves a short arm to encompass the ground surrounding us. “If you don’t mind eating here outside camp, you can have the honor of breakfasting for a half hour with Allen the Fabler, Travelling Baronet.” He bows.
The curtain in the nearby cart jerks aside and the wrinkly old woman scowls down at him. He waves her away, muttering for her to mind her own evil business.
Eogan retreats his horse a few steps. “That’s kind of you, but—”
The dwarf jumps forward. “I won’t take no for an answer. I’m a bit starved for normal folk, if you know what I mean.” He juts a thumb over his shoulder at the cart. “The old woman’s paranoid, but don’t let ’er scare you.” He waves us down from the horses. “You’ll eat an’ tell me a bit of your travels and the war, and then be on your way.”
Without waiting for a reply, the dwarf trots off after our food with the old lady’s gaze following him. “Leave it alone, Mother!” he yells.
If Eogan cares that he’s just been bossed around by a dwarf, let alone one who recognizes Colin, he doesn’t mention it. Instead he gives us an unnecessary reminder to avoid offending Allen the Fabler, Travelling Baronet and his people. I peek at Colin. He’s busy giving a flirty wave with his injured arm to the old woman.
She slams the curtain shut again, and I smother a laugh.
When the dwarf returns, he brings bowls of who-knows-what drowned in spiced yellow gravy with blood-colored bread for sopping. We eat while the dwarf drills Eogan and Colin about the ships we saw and how soon we think Bron soldiers will breach the barren cliffs. I focus on my food.
“You seen the plagues yet?” the dwarf asks over the sounds of barking dogs and monkeys.
Eogan shakes his head. “Not up close.”
“Nor us. But we passed a traveller three days ago come down from the Fendres Mountains. Said he’d stumbled upon a tree village in Litchfell that ’ad black sheets hangin’ from every one of their doors. The stench was terrible. He gave it a wide berth and avoided hunting anythin’ in the forest just in case of contamination.”
I freeze. The plague is in Faelen? In Litchfell? Setting down my bowl, I discreetly edge away from the dwarf. “I didn’t know the plague had passed beyond the coast.”
He shrugs gravely. “It was on the western side of the forest, where most don’t dare roam. He suspected it either originated from there or else travelled down from the pass. Said the bodies were covered in boils and he found some animals like that too. Whatever the disease is, apparently even the bolcranes left the dead alone.”
Maybe that’s why the bolcrane and wolves were on the move. They’re being starved out.
“Folks say the Lady Isobel arrived yesterday,” the dwarf continues, “an’ there’s hope maybe she’s brought a cure.”
Eogan goes rigid across from me. “Doubtful.”
I raise an eyebrow, but he ignores me.
The dwarf studies him. “Why? You think it’s hogwash? Or you think she won’t ’elp even if she could?”
“Both.”
The little man rubs his jowls and nods. “I agree. It’s been so long since our elders have been in Drust. All we know is rumor these days. But I’ll tell you what—anyone comin’ outta that place can’t be trusted. Mark my words, that woman’s a Mortisfaire.”
He stands and takes our bowls. We scramble up and thank him.
“No need for that. It’s how I keep my ear to the ground.” He waves us off to our horses. He waits until we’re riding away into the morning sun before kicking his heels and traipsing back to his stilts.
Back on his own horse, Colin looks at Eogan as soon as the dwarf’s out of sight. “You gonna tell Adora that the plague’s in Faelen?”
“Of course.”
“You gonna tell her the Lady Isobel might have a cure?”
“I’m sure she’s heard it.”
Colin nods his head. “Right. Considerin’ Isobel’s probably already roomed up at the estate.”
I wrinkle my forehead in his direction. “What?”
“Isobel. She’s stayin’ at the estate while she’s in Faelen. Weren’t you listenin’ in the kitchen the other day?”
I look at Eogan. His expression is stone. “Apparently not.”
“Breck’s actin’ scared as a ghost about it,” Colin continues. “Afraid the lady’ll put a spell on ’er or some such nonsense.” He turns to Eogan. “What do you know about her? Is she really Draewulf’s daughter? Is she a true Mortisfaire?”
Eogan keeps his gaze on the horizon in front of us. “I know that she’s arrogant, powerful, and deadly when she feels like it. And yes, she’s his daughter.”
“But isn’t that dangerous?” I interrupt. “Having her here in Faelen? Having her near our king?”
“Yes. Although, what level of dangerous will depend on what she wants.”
“You ever met ’er?” Colin asks.
“I have.”
Colin cranes his neck to look Eogan full in the face. “Really? Did you get up close? Can she really change a man’s heart to stone just by her looks?”
“Not by her looks. But it doesn’t matter, mate, because you’re not to go near her. At all. Same goes for you, Nym.”
“What?” Colin narrows his gaze. “Why? She as gorgeous as they say?”
“Not in the least.”
His tone’s firm, but I look over. Because he’s just fibbed clearer than I’ve ever heard him. I stare until he glances up at me. Liar, I mouth.
He purses his lips and kicks his horse to move ahead.
And suddenly I’m sick of it. Sick of his secrecy while he has such reckless consideration for the rest of the world going to hulls.
“So how do you know her, Eogan?” I call after him.
“I met her as a child.”
“Was she a Mortisfaire then?” Colin asks, but Eogan’s only answer is to holler back that it’d be nice to get home before dark. He spurs his horse forward, leaving dust to settle over us.
CHAPTER 21
WHEN WE FINALLY MAKE OUR WAY ONTO Adora’s estate, it’s twilight and our horses and bodie
s are ready to give out from the day’s pace. Eogan sends Colin off to wash and rest. As soon as he’s gone, Eogan and I brush down the mounts and work to avoid each other’s eyes in the barn’s buttery lantern light.
Haven flicks her head, grunting for more as soon as I’ve finished. When I don’t give in, she catches her halter chain around her leg and winds herself up in protest. And glares at me.
“You’re such a baby,” I murmur, and bend to unwrap it, struggling when I realize my crooked fingers are stiff from riding.
Eogan is instantly behind me. “I’ll do it.”
“I’m fine. I’ve got it.”
“You’re not fine. You’re putting your face next to an exhausted, half-starved horse like a lunatic. Let me do it.”
I don’t move. Mainly because I’m so tired that if I stand, I’ll either dissolve in his closeness or lash out at his face. Either way, I’ll make a fool of myself, and I’m not in the mood to be mocked tonight. “Look, just go take care of whatever it is you have to take care of, okay?” I whisper.
He doesn’t argue, but he also doesn’t budge. Just stands there, leaning over me, being attractive and holding out his hand. Finally, he sighs and reaches around to grab her harness and hold her head while I struggle with the metal rope.
“Thank you,” I mutter when I’m done.
He unhooks her halter and pulls it over her head, then coos her into the stall. I walk away without looking back at him.
Adora’s voice carries across the yard and makes me jump. She’s yelling my name.
“Tomorrow we’ll be training up at a lake while Colin stays behind to rest,” Eogan says coolly just as I reach the barn door. “Bring a water satchel and cloak.”
I nod and rush off to the house.
When I reach my bedroom, the door is ajar and Adora’s shrill voice is emanating out along with the pungent smell of soap. I push it open to find Breck on hands and knees scrubbing the wood floor and Adora standing at the window.
She turns, and I swear the entire drapery moves with her, as if her pantsuit was made from it. She’s wearing the highest pointed heels I’ve ever seen. No wonder she yelled across the grass instead of stomping over to get me. “Ah, there’s the deaf girl. I was beginning to think you were being defiant.”
