I let out a sigh of relief as the fire roared to life and engulfed me in its warmth. My eyes slipped closed, allowing me to feel a measure of peace for a time as my numb extremities came back to life, then I smelled cooking meat and came to a horrible realization. The only thing we had to eat was rabbit.
“I don't eat meat,” I commented weakly with my eyes still closed.
“Then you won't be eating,” James replied, like it didn't matter to him either way.
“Good luck finding the charm after I die then,” I replied just as casually.
“You already told me where it is,” he replied. “Your death wouldn't be much of an inconvenience.”
My heart climbed up into my throat for a moment, but I managed to force it back down.
“The charm is protected by death magic,” I explained. “You'll never be able to get to it even if you find it.”
“And when did you become so wise?” he asked sarcastically. “You only just found out what you were a few weeks ago.”
“The hearts told me,” I lied.
My theory was actually just an educated guess. The images the hearts had shown me had been muddled at best, but through them I could feel the mounds. I somehow knew that if I reached them, I would be able listen to them, just like I had with the hearts.
“If you won't eat the rabbit, then you'll just have to wait until morning,” he said finally.
“Fine,” I mumbled as I scooted closer to the fire. If I was going to starve, at least I'd be warm.
I thought about my situation as James ate the cooked rabbit meat. An entire clan, and the person I disliked the most was the one I ended up with. I was beginning to think my whole life was just a cruel joke. I'd had an ounce of happiness with Matthew, then I took his life away. After years of solitude, I'd had about two seconds of happiness with Alaric, then he betrayed me. I'd killed the man who was good to me, while the bad one was still alive and well.
“How long did you serve Estus?” I asked suddenly, wondering why James was so willing to betray him, while Alaric was not.
James turned thoughtful eyes to me. I almost thought he wouldn't answer, but then he said, “Thirty years, give or take.”
“So what?” I questioned skeptically. “You served him since you were a baby?”
James' eyes glittered with amusement. “For a know-it-all, you know very little.”
I frowned. “Enlighten me.”
“The Vaettir age slowly, some among us get to be very old indeed,” he explained.
I rolled my eyes. “I know Estus is like, really old, and Sivi too, but you can tell that they're older.”
“How could you tell that Sivi is old?” he asked, though I had a feeling he was trying to prove some sort of point to me.
Come to think of it, I wasn't sure. Maya had told me a bit of Sivi's history, but I'd sensed she was ancient upon first meeting her, even though she appeared around twenty-five.
“I could just sense it,” I replied, not sure of how else to explain it.
“The more powerful Vaettir can live for centuries,” James explained. “Some even longer. Sivi is nearly eight-hundred years old.”
The news was shocking, yet I wasn't terribly surprised. I sat up and gathered my legs to my chest. The last hints of cold had been chased from my bones, and I was feeling better despite the lack of food and water.
“Then Estus must be over a thousand,” I commented, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.
James shook his head. “Estus is younger than Sivi.”
I scrunched my face in confusion. “But he looks so much older than her.”
“It's a power thing,” James explained. “Most of us have become more and more human as we become disconnected from what we used to be. The change ages us. Sivi remained what she always has been, and so, has not aged.”
It all made sense in a theoretical kind of way, though my mind didn't quite want to embrace what James was telling me. I'd seen too many things over the past weeks to ever believe the Vaettir were similar to humans, but the idea of someone living eight-hundred years and not aging past twenty-five was difficult to stomach.
“So why is Sivi serving Estus, and not the other way around?” I questioned. “If she's powerful enough that she looks a good fifty years younger than Estus, why is she stuck scheming behind his back?”
James shrugged. “Estus is beloved. He is a seemingly human figurehead for a race that has become all too human. Our people would never follow a creature like Sivi.”
The woodsmoke was beginning to sting my eyes, but I still wasn't ready to lose the warmth of the fire. Instead, I rolled over so that my back was to James and the fire, and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Is Aislin a seemingly human figurehead as well?” I asked, suddenly wishing that I could still see James' expressions as he spoke.
“More or less,” James replied. “She's more powerful than Estus, but is struggling to gain control since many of our people were born during less enlightened times, and are unwilling to follow a woman.”
The statement had me rolling back over toward the fire so I could give James a look of disgust.
He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Hey, I follow her. Don't shoot the messenger.”
With an irritated sigh, I scooted away from the fire so I keep an eye on James. The silence stretched out, only to be broken by the hoots of a distant owl, and the chorus of crickets that surrounded us.
“So back to your time spent serving Estus,” I began again, still curious about the whole arrangement. “Thirty years seems like a big investment just to find a charm, especially when the charm wasn't even in the Salr to begin with.”
James stared into the woods distantly. “It wasn't always about the charm,” he admitted.
“What was it about then?” I pressed.
He'd lived with those people for such a long time. It was hard to imagine sacrificing thirty years just to be a spy.
“That's no longer relevant,” James answered quickly, almost as if he was nervous about the line of questioning.
He rose to throw a few more logs onto the fire with more force than was necessary. I had to scoot back to avoid the sparks he created with each new log.
I glared at him. “Suit yourself. Just trying to make conversation.”
“And why is that?” James replied as he returned to his original seat in the dirt. “I'm well aware of your . . . distaste for me. Why even attempt conversation at all?”
I shrugged, not entirely sure of my answer. “I'm not going to argue that I think you're a monster, but not everything is black and white. I could throw stones at you for enjoying your work, but . . . ” I trailed off, not wanting to complete my thought.
“You enjoy yours too,” James finished for me.
I stared into the fire, regretting starting the conversation to begin with, because he was right. I did enjoy my work. Not the threats or the killing, but the actual taking of life, the release, felt like nothing else. I'd been frightened when I'd accidentally killed one of my foster parents, and I'd been devastated when I'd accidentally killed Matthew, but since coming to the Salr, I'd gotten to release souls by choice. It was different somehow, and I liked it. I was pretty sure that it made me evil, or a sadist, or . . . something, but I couldn't help it.
I glanced back at James with his icy eyes that practically promised death all on their own and shook my head.
I could avoid thinking about the monster at the door as long as I wanted. The monster in the mirror was another story entirely.
Chapter Sixteen
I awoke to the sound of fighting. Not huge, battle-style fighting, but the distinct grunts and curses of a one-on-one fight. I opened my eyes to see that the fire had burned down to embers, but I didn't get to look at it long as I was pulled roughly to my feet.
Someone gripped my back tightly against their chest, with their arms wrapped around my shoulders protectively. I recognized Alaric's voice immediately beside my ear as h
e said, “She's coming with me. I don't know what lies you've been telling her, but she won't want to stay with you once things have been set straight.”
James came into view with blood dripping from his nose. “She's just about the only person who knows the truth, actually,” James replied. He looked at me when he said it, though he spoke to Alaric.
I shoved Alaric's arms off me, and took a few steps to give myself some space, putting us all into position for a three-way standoff.
Alaric turned his dark gaze to me. His black hair was tied back to leave his face bare, and he wore casual clothes perfectly suited to the woods.
He looked furious, but his voice was hurt when he asked, “How could you trust him, of all people? I would have gotten you out of the Salr, if you'd only given me time.”
I snorted. “I got tired of starving and getting stabbed while I waited.”
“But he stabbed you,” Alaric replied as he gestured toward James. “Surely my crimes are not worse than his?”
“He never pretended to be something he's not,” I countered, “and when he decided to help me escape, he actually followed through on it.”
Alaric's shoulders slumped in defeat. “I've only tried to ensure your survival, Maddy. You must believe me.”
“No, I mustn't,” I replied haughtily.
James watched our exchange with an annoyed expression on his face. When no one had spoken for a moment, he stepped forward.
“We need to get going. There's no telling who could have followed him here,” he said with an irritated nod toward Alaric.
“How did you find us so quickly?” I asked, ensuring my voice still conveyed anger.
“He's Bastet,” James answered before Alaric could say anything. “He sniffed us out.”
I had already known that Alaric and his sister, Sophie, were Bastet. They both had a tendency to go a bit . . . feline, when emotions ran high. I'd never considered that Alaric might have a heightened sense of smell too.
Alaric just stood there looking miserable while James snuffed out what remained of the fire. Once he was finished, he walked away through the trees wordlessly. I took one last look at Alaric, then began to follow.
“Maddy please,” Alaric begged.
I stopped, then turned to face him. “I've got things to do,” I said simply. “I'd appreciate it if you would keep this meeting to yourself, but I'm sure you'll run to Estus the moment my back is turned.”
I started walking again, hoping that Alaric would go back to where he came from, but he quickly caught up to my side. I was out of luck it seemed. Not that I had any to begin with.
I stopped walking and glared at him. “What are you doing?” I asked sharply.
“I'm coming with you,” he answered, looking forward at James' back in the distance instead of at me.
With a huff, I began walking again, and Alaric kept pace wordlessly beside me. As we made our way through the woods, Alaric unbuttoned his navy flannel, then took it off and held it out toward me. Although I was still quite cold in the lightweight dress I was wearing, I ignored the shirt and walked a little faster.
“I don't want you to come with,” I replied. “I think I've proven that I don't want, nor do I need, your help.”
Alaric snorted and let his hand with the shirt fall to his side as he trotted to keep up with me.
“Well if you've chosen to trust James, then you do need my help. It wouldn't surprise me if this was all some elaborate plan orchestrated by Estus to trick you into to finding the charm.”
That stopped me dead in my tracks. I'd trusted James because he was willing to risk his life to help me escape, but what if he wasn't risking his life at all? Estus could have easily assigned James the task of making me believe he was an ally, so that I'd be willing to find the charm. Then once James had the charm, he could just give it to Estus instead of Aislin.
“Didn't think about that, did you?” Alaric asked with a bitter smile.
I started walking again, trying to brush off my reaction. “Of course I thought of that,” I replied, “but he's helping me at the moment, and if he does turn on me, I'll be prepared.”
“Well since we're being so logical, I'm sure you can see that your best option lies in having me join you as well,” he stated conversationally.
“On the contrary,” I replied, “I'd rather only have to watch my back against one traitor, not two.”
Alaric laughed, delighting in our repartee. “If one of us is a traitor, then the other one can help you escape. You'll have the odds of two against one either way.”
I smiled ruefully. “Unless you're both on the same side, and Estus sent you both to trick me.”
Alaric shrugged. “Do you think I'd be his plan A, or plan B?” he joked.
“Plan B,” I replied somberly.
Alaric shifted his gaze quickly to me, then back to the woods ahead of us. “And why is that?”
“Because Estus would have to be an idiot to believe I'd ever trust you again,” I answered. “He wouldn't waste Plan A on the underdog.”
Alaric was silent after that, though he stayed by my side. When it became clear that I wasn't going to take his shirt, he put it back on. The moment he did, I wanted the shirt even more, but I refused to ask for it.
We followed James for several hours. The protests from my stomach grew louder as my feet began to drag, and I grudgingly accepted Alaric's help as I stumbled and almost fell several times.
Just when I thought I couldn't go on any further, James stopped. At first I was unsure of why we'd come to a halt, as all I saw were more trees ahead of us, then the air went all shimmery. As the shimmers dissipated, a small cottage came into view.
James walked confidently into the cottage without offering an explanation, shutting the door behind him against the chilly air. Not knowing what else to do, I approached the humble building and knocked on the door. No one answered.
Feeling irritated because Alaric was watching me with a raised eyebrow, I grabbed the doorknob and turned it, then pushed the door open and went inside. I scanned the interior for any sign of life, but it seemed abandoned. Where was James? Given his absence, I desperately hoped that who or what ever might live in the cottage wouldn't try to eat us, and would possibly offer us food instead.
Alaric followed me in and stood close by my side, appearing at ease, but I could feel tension radiating off him like tiny ants marching across my skin.
“This should not be possible,” he said quietly.
“What should not be possible?” I asked as I looked around the cottage's living room.
I had no idea where James had gone. From all I could tell, the cottage seemed empty. The rickety-looking furniture was covered in a thick layer of dust, and I had a strong suspicion that some mice had taken up residence in the couch cushions.
“The Vaettir are forbidden to live above-ground,” he explained while he crept around the room as if looking for a secret panel.
“I don't think anyone lives here,” I whispered as I followed his progress around the room.
Alaric went down a nearby hallway to explore the rest of the house, forcing me to either follow, or stay in the creepy, dusty room by myself. I followed.
“It's an illusion,” he explained, “a facade to turn away any who might discover the nature of whoever lives here.”
“Forgive me,” an elderly-sounding voice said from behind me.
I whipped around to find an old woman standing in the middle of the living room. The room she stood in was the same one we'd just left . . . only different. The dust had all been lifted to reveal spotless furniture, and a few candles were lit to make the place cozy.
“I needed a moment alone with James,” the woman explained. “It is not often I receive visitors, especially other Vaettir.”
The woman was dressed in a long, pale blue robe that obscured any other clothing she might be wearing underneath. The hood of the robe was pulled up to cover her short, curly, gray hair.
“And wher
e is James now?” I asked suspiciously.
“He's fixing you supper, little mouse,” the woman said with a smile. Her eyes were the vibrant green of fresh-leaves, and looked out of place in her pale, deeply lined face.
“I really wish people would stop calling me that,” I grumbled.
The woman chuckled to herself as she removed the hood from her head. “I am Diana,” she introduced, “and I offer you refuge for the evening.”
“Um, thanks,” I replied hesitantly. “I'm Madeline.”
James came into the room from the hallway opposite us. He was carrying a large tray with stacked sandwiches on one side, and several teacups on the other. James set the tray down on the low coffee-table that stood in between the couch and two comfy-looking chairs. He sat down in one of the chairs, followed by Diana, who sat in the other.
Alaric sauntered past me and took a seat on one side of the couch. The three of them watched me as I considered where to sit. With a final look at Alaric, I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. The position I'd chosen put me closer to Diana than I wanted to be, but it was the spot farthest from both James and Alaric.
“Sit by your man, child,” Diana scolded. “There's no need to sit on the floor.”
“He's not my man,” I replied politely. “I much prefer the floor.”
Diana huffed. “Just because you're mad at him, doesn't mean he isn't yours.”
The woman was obviously senile, but I humored her none-the-less. “I'm not just mad at him,” I explained. “He had me put in a cell, and then he watched while James stabbed me. Mad doesn't even begin to cover it.”
Diana simply smiled. “You will see things differently in time.”
Diana's words made James frown. “What else do you see?” he asked.
Diana turned toward him. “You know better than to ask,” she chided. With that, she took a cup of tea into her bony hand and began sipping daintily.
I turned my attention to the sandwiches lying only a few torturous inches away from me. They looked to be peanut butter and jelly. While it was a strange choice for supper, I was just glad there wasn't any meat in them. Noticing my gaze, Diana gestured toward the sandwiches with a smile.
Bitter Ashes (Bitter Ashes Book 1) Page 16
