by Shona Husk
“Branna and Gwynedd,” Dai said without hesitation.
“And my son?”
“I was there when you farewelled your stillborn son. You named him Cathal and gave him your sword.”
Meryn’s chest tightened for a moment as he remembered the pain that day had brought. Even the small sword had been bigger than the baby that had been born too soon. “Which sword?”
“The one I first used, the one you first used,” Dai said softly.
Meryn took a step forward but didn’t rush to greet him. The silence swelled like a feasting leech. There might as well have been the whole expanse of the Shadowlands between them.
“It is you then.” Meryn tucked the knife away.
“It is. I never intended to keep you locked in my apartment. I just needed to buy some time. I wanted a chance to show you how the world has changed and to help you. I saw you sleeping in the hospital, but when I went back you’d left. Since then you’ve avoided me quite well.” Dai almost smiled. “Why tonight?”
Why not? As much as it rankled, he couldn’t adapt on his own. He wasn’t going to admit that though. “I thought it time to find out who was hunting me.”
“I’ve been making sure you are okay. There have been many changes.”
“I understand that. Why bring me to this land?”
“Our lands are gone, forgotten. The battles, the death—no one remembers. No one remembers Roan standing up to Claudius, the failed rebellion, or any of it. A few remembered the tale of the Goblin King because we made them remember, we kept it alive in the hope of finding a way to break the curse.” Dai held out his hand. “Come, I’ll show you that our lands are now no different from this place.”
Meryn drew back. How could it all be gone when they’d told stories and sung of heroes who’d fought the gods? He looked at his cousin, the offered hand, and knew that Dai would use magic to take him and show him, or it was a trick and Dai would take him back to the tower and make him face Roan.
“What do you want from me?” Meryn crossed his arms. He would not go and bow before his king while he lived like a beggar. If he was going to face Roan, it would be as a man with a measure of pride. Right now he didn’t even have that. He disgusted even himself.
Dai lowered his hand. “You can’t do this on your own. I want to help you.”
“There is no help for me unless you can silence the screaming in my mind. Remove the ache lodged in my heart. Give me back the life I once had.” His rank, his wealth, his family. The things that had made him a man to be respected.
“I can’t undo the past, and only you can accept this chance the gods have granted us. It’s a second chance at life, Meryn.”
A second chance? Did the gods know what he’d done? That he’d watched the murder of his tribe, his wife and children, and then given into the curse without pausing? Was he really worth that trouble? His thoughts turned to Nadine; she thought he was worth the trouble. She made an effort when it would have been easier for her to walk away.
But he wasn’t ready to put his hand out and accept help from the man he’d once trained to use a sword. He’d do it himself, if only to prove he could and that he was still man enough to make a life.
“Go back to yours and let me be.” In his rough campsite, eating bloody reptiles while he tried to work out what he was going to do, he wasn’t living; he was barely surviving.
Dai shook his head. “You can’t stay here.”
While what he had was luxury when compared to the Shadowlands, it wasn’t how people lived now.
“What are you going to do? Drag me back to where you live? Force me to face our king?”
Dai opened his mouth, but no words came out. Meryn realized that was exactly what Dai had planned to do. That he couldn’t trust his cousin hurt. Once, trust wouldn’t have even been a question. What had happened to Dai while Meryn was a goblin? What had happened to Roan? How much had the man he’d once called king changed?
“I don’t need charity.” But Meryn missed Roan’s company. They’d spent so much time together plotting and scheming. Whatever their relationship had been before, it wasn’t the same now. While he remembered the past like it was yesterday, for Dai and Roan it had happened a long time ago. He tried to imagine a city like this one standing where the Decangli had lived and fought and died, and failed.
“Would you have done less for me? You are family.”
“My family is dead,” Meryn snarled. “I should’ve died with them.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I became goblin.” And that was worse. He lowered his gaze. He wasn’t the man he had been. But he did have a second chance to be someone. He just had to work out who that was.
“Come with me, I can tell you everything you need to know and get you set up for this life.”
“I’m not a child in need of teaching. I need…” He pressed his teeth together and frowned. What did he need? He was managing, but barely. He’d like a more comfortable life, but what would be the price? He looked at his cousin; it was true he’d be helping in every way if their roles were reversed. However, talking to Dai was one thing, talking to Roan was another. He wasn’t ready to explain to his king what had gone wrong.
“I’m not ready to see Roan. I’m still sorting through memories.” Plus, if he left with Dai, there was a good chance he’d never see Nadine again. He wanted to be waiting for her at the bench in the morning. There was something in her smile that made adapting to the world a little easier.
Dai regarded him. “Okay,” he said slowly.
“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me why I should leave with you?” Once Dai would’ve argued for the fun of it.
“You’re an adult, you know how to survive in worse places than this.” He slid a bag off his shoulder and placed it on the ground. “Food, extra clothes, and a few bits you might like.” Dai looked around the campsite. “You are sure you’d rather be here than in a proper bed?”
“The last bed I shared was with my wife. I’m not ready to sleep alone.” He’d never lived in a house alone. He took a breath as the memories of his home flooded back.
“You aren’t alone, Meryn.”
“I am, for the first time in my life.” As he said it, he realized what a weight that was to cast off. No battles to plan, no one to train. No responsibilities. No one to run from. No one to kill. No need to do anything. And while he’d struggled with that at first, it was a gift. He didn’t want the responsibility of that again.
Dai smiled. “The Meryn I knew would have found a way to fill that time with something productive and of benefit to the tribe.”
“That man is gone.” Maybe some of the selfish goblin remained in him, because he saw no need to take up the yoke again. He’d be his own man, in every sense of the word.
“I’d like the chance to know this new man.”
Meryn looked at his cousin and couldn’t deny that he’d like to know more about what had happened. He wanted to hear Decangli spoken again and find out how many years had passed. He wanted to know how the others were living, but tonight wasn’t the night. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll visit again.”
Dai stepped back, and then he was gone, vanished as if taken by the shadows clinging to the trees. Meryn walked around the fire to where Dai had stood. Faint impressions remained in the dirt but they, and the bag, were the only signs that his cousin had even visited.
Around him, the forest was silent except for the sounds of animals waking. For a man used to the weighty silence of the Shadowlands, each noise made him jump like a nervous colt. Yet it was reassuring. He was surrounded by life. Even the sky was full. Stars dotted the darkness—the first he’d seen in many years and not one constellation he recognized. He was so far from home in every aspect.
Meryn placed some extra wood on the small fire and held his fingers toward the warmth. The pack Dai had left lay on the ground, waiting to be examined. After a moment’s hesitation, he gave into curiosity and pul
led the contents out. Clothes and soap and other bits…and food in neat little packages. Hunger won and he ate, careful to ration what was there for a couple of days. It was so good to be eating something different, he almost wished he’d gone with his cousin, but he couldn’t let his belly do his thinking for him.
When he was done, he took a drink from the bottle of water Dai had included in the pack, then lay down. The ground was cold, but unlike the Shadowlands, it didn’t suck the heat from his body. Here he was able to relax. He closed his eyes, knowing that when sleep came his dreams wouldn’t be peaceful. The cut on his hand was a reminder that they were more than dreams and he had to be careful.
He listened to the popping of the wood as it burned, the smell so different from what he’d grown up with, and the rustling of the trees around him. The movements of small animals in the night was more familiar than the eerie silence of the Shadowlands, even though he had spent many years there as a goblin. Just being back in the Fixed Realm was bringing back the memories of his life as a man. He ignored the ones that hurt and dragged up the happy ones. He could almost imagine himself home—back in the forests of his youth and the easy summers before the Romans had come and the battles had begun. But even before the Romans had reached the lands of the Decangli, refugees from other tribes had swelled their numbers. The Silures’ Princess, Idella, amongst them.
“Come on, Meryn. I won’t tell. No one will know.” Idella tugged on his hand, leading him farther away from the fires and the watching eyes of the tribe.
“I will know. One more day, Idella. Then we will have a lifetime.”
She grinned, her teeth white in the moonlight. One of her fingers traced the swell and curve of her breast. His eyes followed as if spellbound. He couldn’t resist her. His fingers curled but didn’t move from his side. He had asked for this marriage and had sworn not to dishonor her—or his family—before it was formalized. They’d had to wait to see if her father could be reached. Her brother, the new King of the Silures, had sent message that he welcomed an alliance with the Decangli. Some suspected he’d sent his sister away for more than her own safety and Meryn had fallen into the very beautiful trap. He was glad his cousin Roan and future king was only eleven and not yet a man, or he might have lost Idella to a better alliance.
She took his hand and used it to cover her breast. “Can you wait one more night?”
Meryn swallowed; he wanted her now, and he’d wanted her yesterday and every night when he went to sleep. He smoothed his thumb over her pale skin.
She sighed and pressed closer. “One night doesn’t matter. We will be married tomorrow.”
“Don’t tempt me into breaking my promise. I don’t want a war with your brother.” Yet he couldn’t pull his hand away. “Once we are married you won’t be able to get rid of me.”
He swept her up into his arms and kissed her until neither of them could breathe.
He set her down and drew away before the warmth of her body could tempt him further. “One more night.”
She cupped his cheek and turned his words on him. “One more night and then I’m yours.”
Idella stepped back as if to rejoin the celebration, one hand going to her stomach as it swelled. She glanced down, then back at him, years adding weight to her stare. “What have you done?”
A wound opened on her neck, blood poured out, and stained her clothes. This wasn’t what had happened. They’d gone back to the feast. Their first child hadn’t arrived for another two years. Then he realized his dream had skipped ahead. This was the night she’d died.
He tried to reach for her but couldn’t move. “Idella!”
Meryn jerked awake. His hand rested on the stolen knife, ready for an attack that didn’t come. Instead, Idella stood by the fire, arms wrapped around her stomach, lips moving without sound.
“No.” He threw off the clothing acting as a blanket and dropped the knife in the dirt; he would save her this time. He caught her as she collapsed. But as he touched her, she disintegrated, her body becoming dust in his hands. The fine, gray dust of the Shadowlands coated his hands. The dust nightmares were made of. His memories were coming to life to haunt him and remind him of what he’d lost.
He remained kneeling, staring at his gray-coated hands. Idella hadn’t been real, just a memory given life by the Shadowlands. The beating of his heart drowned out all other noise. This time it didn’t break at the sight of her dying. Grief didn’t rip him apart. It should; the devastation should still burn, but what felt like yesterday had happened years ago. The screaming in his head was silent, as if the ghosts of his family had finally abandoned him and left him to his fate. He released a slow breath, grounding himself in the present.
There was no blood on his clothes or skin, only gray dust. Meryn rubbed his fingers together, feeling the fine, cold particles. It was definitely Shadowlands dust, but it shouldn’t be here and his dreams shouldn’t be forming in the Fixed Realm.
He lifted his gaze and looked around his small clearing, but no other nightmares from his past had joined him. He’d tried to forget her and his children once. Not even being goblin had erased the horror. It had lurked, waiting for him in the shadows, ready to drag him down and punish him for forgetting. Forgetting wasn’t the answer. Remembering was. He was happy to dream of Idella, but not like that. He would not remember her by her death, but by her life.
He wiped the dust from his hands on his trousers and stood. Slowly he picked up the knife and returned to his bed, sitting so sleep didn’t follow him. The gray dust on the ground shimmered in the moonlight. What new horror would it breed when he slept? Would everything he feared be given fresh life, only to fall apart at first touch and deny him a chance to change the past?
Chapter 8
Nadine jogged slowly along Fraser Avenue. When she saw Meryn on a park bench, a smile broke across her face.
She made her way over and sat next to him. “You look happy this morning.”
“You came back.” He returned her smile, a dimple forming.
“I was hoping to see you.” That was the truth even though she’d tried to convince herself she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again.
He looked at her as if trying to determine if she meant it or was just being nice. A bit of both. She was curious, plus she wanted to know if the spark was still there. It was. When she looked at him, there was a flutter of something that shouldn’t exist for a man she barely knew. Barely knew now, but that could be fixed.
“Why don’t you join me for a muffin and a coffee?” She tilted her head at the café.
He glanced over at the building and for a second she thought he was going to say no. She was too forward; she’d been told that before. Maybe he was just being polite in speaking to her; after all, she’d seen him while he as in a pretty bad place, but then again, he’d been here waiting. She held her breath for a heartbeat.
Then he shook his head. “I’ve no money on me.”
Ah, so either he didn’t want to talk to her or he really had no money. She glanced over his clothes again. He wasn’t dressed for running and he wasn’t dressed for an office job either. But he was clean and neat, in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, but he could be one of those people who refused to let others see the real mess and who carried on as if everything was fine regardless of the cracks. And something had cracked for him to come into the hospital—but back then he’d actually look disheveled.
Now he looked like everyone else until she looked in his eyes. There was an edge and a hurt she should be wary of, but there were people in the café, and it wasn’t like she was going anywhere alone with him. Besides, if he’d meant her harm, he wouldn’t have helped her twice.
She stood and held her hand out to him, offering him the assistance this time. “My treat.”
He paused for a moment as if reluctant. She could almost see him battling with his pride. This was a man not used to needing help and almost resenting it. Who was he and what had happened?
His fing
ers closed around hers and a jolt of electricity ran under her skin. There was something there—enough for her to continue believing that she was right: the spark couldn’t be grown over time. It was there or not. But just because it was there didn’t mean it had to be acted on. Meryn was a handsome stranger. His dark hair was pushed back of his face, the ends brushing his shoulders. Beneath the fabric of the long-sleeved T-shirt, she could see the curve of muscle. She was willing to bet that if he stripped off the shirt, he’d be lean and fit. She suppressed the smile that wanted to form at the idea. She shouldn’t be imagining him without his shirt on. Maybe once her curiosity had worn away there’d be nothing left. Yeah, professional interest. She didn’t believe it, but she refused to let herself think it could be anything else. Anything else was dangerous.
“Thank you,” he said simply as he stood. He didn’t release her hand as they walked to the short distance to the café.
While she could’ve pulled her hand free, she didn’t. She didn’t want to. She liked the touch of his rough palm against hers and the light pressure of his fingers. She couldn’t remember the last man she’d let hold her hand. They tended to lead her around like they were showing off what was on their arm. But Meryn wasn’t like any other man she’d known.
“Can I ask a question?” She glanced at him, aware of the heat seeping from his palm and into hers.
“You don’t need permission.”
Maybe not, but there was an air about him like he wasn’t used to being questioned about anything. “Why do you speak Latin?”
A frown crossed his face for a half second before he answered. “I had to learn.”
She waited for more but he didn’t give her anything else. Where did he go to school to learn Latin? Or what had he done that made it a requirement? She tried to study him without staring. He waited for her to ask another question or continue the conversation. How much could she ask before he would think her rude? She took the gamble and asked the question she needed answered.
