“You’re wrong. I’m not her. I’m me. I’m Wynter Ashfall, and I want what I came for. I want Finn.”
The light in his eyes dimmed. “Wynter … please.”
“What? What do you want from me?” My voice rose in agitation, hands fisting with the need to pummel something. You want me to march into Faery, right up to this Oblivion monster, and rip out its heart? Is that what you want? You really think I can do that?”
“No, of course not. I know it won’t be that easy, of course, but Morrigan was a strategist, a—”
“I. Am. Not. Her! I’m me, a girl from a shitty little town with no skills aside from sewing a good seam.”
Dagda smiled. “And yet you climbed into the pit of hell and made your way past feral beasts, tamed Death, and found your way to my tower. Yes, I can see how worthless you are.”
All those things… I’d done all those things. Somewhere between then and now, somewhere between the metal ladder and the shimmer, everything had changed. I turned away in body, knowing deep down that there was no turning back in spirit, knowing that from the moment I’d set foot on the ladder to Nawia I’d started a journey, and knowing that if I ran now then I’d be running back to a dying world. There was a decision to be made, and this time only I could make it.
“Let Finn go home, and I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do.”
Dagda pressed his lips together. “Human souls power the shimmer. The riders, despite their best efforts, lost two in the black forest. If I let Finn go, then we risk the shimmer failing. Oblivion has gained much strength over the past few centuries; her army has grown, and she feeds off the discord sewn between the courts. She feeds on the prospect of war. If the shimmer fails, she will press through, not personally, but in the hearts of the fey she has claimed. But if that is your condition …”
Oh, God. I looked to Veles, whose face was etched in rage.
“You can’t put this on her.” He was positively seething. “She shouldn’t have to carry that burden.”
“It was always her burden to carry.”
The Raven was watching me with silent interest. Arms crossed, the hues from the window dancing across his pale skin and rippling like a rainbow over the sleek sweep of his hair.
Finn or the rest of the world?
His voice was in my head. I stared at him wide-eyed, and he gave me a small smile.
Choose wisely, Wynter.
Wise? I didn’t want to be wise, I wanted to be selfish. Needed to be, because if I didn’t, then there could only be one choice.
My shoulders slumped. “Can I see him. Can I speak with him? Please. One last time. He has a right to know what his fate is.”
“It doesn’t have to be his fate,” Dagda said. “If we succeed in killing Oblivion, the shimmer will no longer be needed.”
“Finn could be free?”
“Yes.”
Hope heated my chest, and purpose pushed me to my feet. “I’ll do what needs to be done. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Dagda smiled and pushed back his chair. “There was never a doubt in my mind.”
The Raven snorted, and Dagda shot him a sharp look.
“Wynter, wait.” Veles turned me to him. “This isn’t a game. You’re agreeing to go into another world, you’re agreeing to face a monster.”
I looked up into his beautiful face. “Been there, done that.”
His mouth parted and then a shocked laugh exploded from his lips. “Oh, Wynter …” He reached up to brush a tendril of hair off my face and then his expression hardened, and he looked over my head at Dagda. “I think it’s time you kept your end of the bargain.”
Finn … I was going to see Finn.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Finn
“The pot pie was delicious, Wynter.” I set my fork down. “Thank you.”
Maybe I will tell her tonight. Maybe I will finally screw up the courage and say the words that have been locked in my heart for too long.
Wynter smiles and takes a sip of her water. “How was work?”
“The same. Nothing exciting. How did you spend your day?”
“Oh, reading, sewing, and cooking, of course.” She smiles again. “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in for the night, unless … unless there’s something you want to say to me?”
This was my chance to tell her how I felt, but unease pricked my skin. “Where’s Dad?”
She frowned. “Dad?”
“Yes, Wynter. Where is he?”
She blinked and then smiled. “Asleep on the sofa, silly.”
I looked back at the sofa, and he was there. “Oh. I . .. I must have missed him.”
“You’re tired. You work too hard. You need to rest.”
All things Wynter would say, but there was something missing. Something …
“Did you enjoy the pot pie?”
The pie … Of course. I turned the fork over in my hand. “The pot pie was delicious, Wynter.” I set the fork down. “Thank you.”
Maybe I will tell her tonight. Maybe I will finally screw up the courage and say the words that have been locked in my heart for too long.
Wynter smiles and takes a sip of her water. “How was work?”
Déjà vu washes over me, gone in a blink. “The same. Nothing exciting. How did you spend your day?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dagda led us out of his study, into the foyer, and up the winding metal stairs. We climbed until we were parallel to the first-floor balcony. It wasn’t just the balcony that was rotating but the whole first floor, the walls, and the doors that lined it. The second floor was the same, but the third was stationary. Dagda led us off the stairs, across the platform, and to the only door on this level.
“Do not touch anything unless I say so,” he warned.
He pressed his palm to the door, and the dark wood beneath his fingers glowed a soft green before the door swung open. He stepped through, and I followed into a room that couldn’t be spatially possible. It stretched out in front of us, one long corridor as far as the eye could see. I’d seen the tower from outside—a tall, cylindrical shape—there was no way this could exist. But that wasn’t the only thing strange about this corridor. The walls were made of people trapped in glass. A row that extended out of sight. Human souls upright and asleep in glass coffins side by side. Their bodies glowed softly, and the whirr of machines filled the room.
Dagda had stopped at a podium jutting out of the floor and was tapping something into it.
“Strange, isn’t it?” the Raven said. “It still makes my head hurt thinking about it.”
A cranking sound was followed by a loud whirring, and the walls began to move, sliding as if on a conveyor belt. What the crud? The glass coffins to my left shot away down the corridor, and more emerged from the wall behind me. This defied the laws of physics and yet it was happening? How was it happening?
“Magic?” I looked to the Raven.
“Magic, such a Yav concept. “Magic is a word used by Yav-born to explain what they cannot comprehend. But in Faery, magic is our word for technology.”
But my eyes were on the wall, on the coffin that had come to a halt to my left. Finn stood inside, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted as if on a sigh. His face was serene in repose and bathed in amber light.
“Is he waking up?”
“No,” Dagda said. “He is connected to the shimmer now, a place woven with dreams and wishes. To pull him out would kill him. The only way to free him alive is to deactivate the shimmer.”
I turned on him. “You lied to me? Earlier you said I could take him if I wanted.”
“Yes. But I didn’t specify that he would be alive when you did.”
“Loophole language.” The Raven tutted. “You’ll need to watch out for that in Faery.”
I clenched my fists to rein in my anger. “You said I could speak to him.”
“And you can.” Dagda joined me by Finn. “He’s dreaming, but I can connect you to him. But remembe
r the dream is his comfort, it’s a haven to protect his mind, to make the process less painful. If he realizes it isn’t real, it will become a prison.”
I swallowed hard. So, there was no telling him the truth. “I understand.”
“A few minutes is all I can give you.”
I nodded. “Anything.”
His shadowed eyes filled with compassion. “Close your eyes, Wynter.”
I obliged, and cool fingers brushed my brow. The darkness behind my lids intensified and then I was slipping, falling, leaving my body behind.
I landed with a thud on a threadbare carpet, too thin and worn to actually be of any use aside from covering up the rough hardwood floor beneath.
My carpet.
My home.
My heart surged with joy.
I was home.
Only a few minutes, Wynter …
The bubble popped. Not home, just dreaming, and it wasn’t my dream, it was Finn’s. I needed to find him. Laughter drifted down the hallway from the lounge that also served as a dining room.
“Finn?” I picked myself up and wandered into the lounge.
I sat at the table, head thrown back in mirth, and with his back to me sat Finn. We were eating pot pie. Of all the things he could have dreamt, he was dreaming this? My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. This was his haven.
“I’ll get you some more.” The Wynter in the dream stood and picked up Finn’s plate before heading out the other door into the kitchen.
This was my chance. My chance to speak to him, to tell him how I felt. I walked into the room and took the dream Wynter’s place, hoping that the laws of this dream would keep the other version of me away while her role was occupied.
Finn looked up with a smile and then frowned. “What? No more pie?”
Oh, God. He looked so relaxed, so …him. “In a minute. There was something I wanted to say to you first.”
His expression sobered. “Wynter, is everything all right?”
“Yes, Finn. Yes, it is. But … it can be better. I want it to be better.”
“Wynter?”
“I don’t want you to marry Sarah.”
He sat back, blinking at me. “What?”
“You heard me. I don’t want you marrying anyone else.”
His throat bobbed. “What do you want, Wynter?”
I slipped from the seat, walked around the table, and held out my hand to him. He took it and stood. I stepped into the heat of his body and lifted my chin to look up into his face.
“Finn, I want you to stay with me, not as this façade of brother and sister, but as man and wife. I want you to marry me. I want you to—”
He kissed me, cutting off my words. First my top lip and then the bottom. He kissed me as if I were a delicate bloom and he was savoring my fragrance, as if he was afraid that if he pushed too hard I’d wilt. I slid my hand to the nape of his neck and pulled him closer, parting my lips to invite him in. Our tongues touched, and he groaned into my mouth. His fist tangled in my hair, his control snapped, and he claimed my mouth with unabridged passion. My eyes burned and pricked, and my lips trembled against his, because this … this could be the first and last. This may be my only. I wrapped myself around him, pressing into him, and giving him my everything.
He pulled back, chest heaving. “Wynter …”
“I love you, Finn. I love you so much.” I kissed him again, and again, ignoring the tears that leaked from my eyes, ignoring the pinch in my throat. “I love you …”
The world filled with light and I was staring into Dagda’s sympathetic face.
I was back.
I pressed my hand to the glass where Finn lay. “I’ll fix this. I promise you, I will see you again.”
Veles’s hand on the small of my back steered me away from the wall, and then the machinery was whirring, taking Finn away from me.
One moment to ache. One moment to gather my emotions and shove them into a box. Calm bled through me, and the pain of losing Finn became background hum.
“What now?” The world was suddenly too large and the responsibility too heavy. My shoulders curved, and I wrapped my arms around my waist. “What do I do now?”
The Raven and Dagda shared a glance but didn’t speak.
“I’m going with her,” Veles said.
“You can’t,” Dagda said. “Gods cannot pass through the shimmer into Faery. We made sure of it. Morrigan was a god, and she trapped Oblivion in a godly shell just so it wouldn’t be able to pass.”
It was a clever move. Morrigan had thought of everything, it seemed. Morrigan, whose soul was woven with mine.
“You can’t possibly expect her to do this alone,” Veles said.
“Oh, she won’t be alone,” the Raven said. “I’ll be going with her.”
“You?” Veles glared at the Raven, his jaw hardening. “I don’t trust you.”
The Raven smiled. “I don’t care about your feelings. I care only for Wynter’s. I cared only for my Morrigan.”
“The Raven was Morrigan’s most trusted advisor,” Dagda said. “He was her eyes and her ears in places she could not reach.”
I studied the Raven, taking in his sharp, inquisitive features and his quick mouth. “I suppose being able to fly helps.”
He smirked. “Oh, you have no idea.”
The simmering fear ebbed a fraction. Knowing I wouldn’t be alone helped. “I have no idea what I need to do.”
“But you will.” Dagda reached into his cloak and pulled out a box. He handed it to me. “This belongs to you, or at least it did once, a long time ago.”
I opened the black box and stared at the turquoise stone set in silver. “The amulet?”
“Yes. Put it on.”
I lifted the chain from its velvet bed and held up the necklace.
The Raven plucked it from my fingers. “May I?”
I nodded and gathered my hair, lifting it out of the way.
The amulet settled at my breastbone and then his cool fingers brushed the nape of my neck as he fastened the clasp.
“All done.”
The amulet flared bright for a moment and then dulled back to its normal hue.
Dagda pursed his lips. “Yes. This is how it was meant to be. You will enter via the winter realm. It’s the safest route and the winter king was a particular favorite of Morrigan’s.”
What did he mean particular favorite? “They were friends?”
The Raven coughed into his fist.
Veles’s brows snapped down. “There has to be more you can tell her? Allies you can point her to, maps you can give her.”
“You really don’t recall Faery, do you?” Dagda said to Veles. “If you did, then you’d know that Faery cannot be mapped. The terrain is a shifting, living being that the inhabitants navigate by landmark only. The seasons rotate, like this tower. But Wynter is not helpless, she has Morrigan’s soul, her destiny awaits, and once she is home, it will find her.”
So, there was my answer. To trust in destiny? I exhaled and lifted my chin. “I think I’ll make my own destiny, thank you very much.”
Dagda’s eyes slowly lit up, and his face cracked in a smile. “Yes. Yes, Wynter. I believe you will.”
The window was also a one-way door, a way for me to step into Faery, and it was time to go. Autumn filled the pane right now, but it would be winter soon. A heavy fur coat draped my shoulders, thick boots and chaps and leather gloves completed the ensemble, and my bone dagger was tucked into the weapons belt the Raven had equipped me with.
He crouched on the window seat, waiting for winter. My stomach quivered in anticipation, in fear, and …. Excitement? Yes. Excitement.
“Oh, God. What if I fail?”
The words hadn’t been meant for anyone in particular, but Veles pulled me round to face him and lifted my chin with the crook of his finger.
“I knew from the first moment I laid eyes on you that there was something different about you,” he said. “Looking into your eyes stilled the beast. Y
ou brought me back, Wynter, and you held me there. If anyone can stop Oblivion, it’s you, and not because of who you once were, but because of who you are now. Use your heart, your instincts, and your beautiful mind and you will prevail.”
I reached up to graze his cheek with my fingers. “Thank you, Veles. Thank you for keeping me alive long enough to get here.”
His mouth parted in surprise, and on impulse I pushed up on tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. I held myself there for a long second, breathing him in, memorizing the feeling, and then pulled back.
An icy wind blasted the side of my face. I offered him a lopsided smile. “I guess it’s winter.”
I turned away and walked toward the window. The Raven looked back and then launched himself into the air, shifting into a bird and rising above the blizzard that swept across the ground.
Tucking my hair into the hood of my coat, I climbed onto the sill and stepped into the storm.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Veles
My lips tingle from her kiss, my heart beats faster, harder as I look into her sapphire eyes. There is a glow in them, a distant light I see now that she has put the darkness to sleep. There is hope for us because she has hope in her heart. She is our strength, our resistance. I watch her walk into the whirling flakes of snow.
If she looks back …
If she looks back just once …
She trudges on, her tiny frame almost obscured by the blizzard, and my heart aches and begins to shatter. But wait … she pauses as if she has forgotten something, and then she glances back over her shoulder. A gust of wind clears a path between us for a split second. Our eyes meet for less than a heartbeat, and then she is swallowed by the elements.
But it is enough.
It is enough.
Captive of Darkness (Heart of Darkness Book 1) Page 14
