by Krista Rose
“I’m trying to give you a gift, stupid girl.” He glared at me as if I were being dense on purpose. “Now give me your damn hand. I don’t have all day.”
“No.” I jutted out my chin, stubborn.
He sighed, obviously frustrated, and started muttering to himself, though the words sounded strangely foreign. He took a deep breath, and tried to force a smile, though it looked false and at odds with the irritation in his eyes. “Please.”
I smiled sweetly. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
He sighed in relief. “Thank Destiny.” He held out his hand.
I stared at him- obviously, my sarcasm had gone unnoticed. “Are you mad?”
He finally realized I hadn’t been serious, and the scowl returned. “I must be.” He massaged his temples. “Just give me your hand so we can be done with this. I’m trying to give you a gift.”
“I don’t want anything from you.” I shoved my hands behind my back. “Just leave me alone so I can fetch my horse.”
“I hate dealing with humans,” he muttered, and glared. “Fine. We’ll do this your way.”
I opened my mouth, confused, and suddenly collapsed, my mind stunned with the beauty of the world around me. I could sense the life in everything, see a thousand colors I had never seen. There was a glorious pattern of purpose in the trees, in the snow, in the pine needles beneath my knees. I was insignificant in the midst of so much magnificence, and I thought my heart would burst from the rapture of it. Even the air was beautiful, touching my soul in a way that made me want to weep.
And then it faded, and my mind was mine once more. I did weep then, to have lost something so precious and wonderful.
Nightking nudged me, his brown eyes soft and apologetic for leaving me behind, his head hanging low. I touched his soft nose, sniffling, then stared at my hand.
A small black chain encircled my wrist, and another connected the chain to the ring that wrapped around my middle finger. Tiny black stones were set in the ring and at the points where the chains connected to it; when I looked closer, I saw the stones were speckled with silver to look like stars.
My head jerked up as I at last remembered the man, but he was gone, vanished back into the woods as quietly as he’d arrived. I tried to rip the bracelet from hand, but it was impossible, and attempting to remove the ring was as painful as if I’d tried to pull off my own finger. Finally I gave up. I climbed back onto Nightking and slowly made my way back to the Camp.
The pigs were eyeing me greedily when I arrived, muttering of blood and horror. I shuddered as I put Nightking away, and reluctantly went to fetch the bucket to feed them. Distracted as I was, one of them nearly bit me; I yanked my hand back, gasping, my revulsion and hate for the creatures overwhelming my confusion.
The ring sparked, flashing, and lightning arced from my hand to strike the pig. He fell over, his eyes abruptly cold and lifeless as the other pigs squealed in terror. The scent of fried pork and smoky char filled the air.
The ring was not even warm. I stared at my hand, surprised to find it unburned.
Thellin came running out of his house, his eyes wild as he stared around. “Did ye see that, lass? Lightnin’, in snow! Quick, come inside, before it strikes ye!”
Too shocked to argue or explain, I allowed him to drag me into the cramped, clean interior of his house, where he fed me sweetened tea and honeyed scones as he stared through the window and remarked on the oddness of the weather.
That was the first time I used the lightning. I began to practice in the woods after my duties were done, burning holes through trees and leaving smoking craters in the ground beneath the snow as I learned to control it. I quickly discovered that there were limits: the longer I practiced, the more tired I felt, and a headache would build behind my eyes until it nearly blinded me. But the strange ring made me feel powerful, and safe, and I came to treasure it.
I didn’t tell my siblings about the man, or the ring, or the lightning. I was unsure what it meant, and wanted to keep it to myself. Thankfully, as bundled as we were against the weather, none of the others ever noticed the jewelry. And so the gift became my secret, and I wondered if I would ever see that odd, irritable man again so I could thank him.
LANYA
16 Zyten 578A.F.
Kryssa suffered a relapse in midwinter, collapsing in the Infirmary one evening, spouting darkness and depravity and death as she clawed at her skin. Thankfully, Bryonis was alone with her when it happened, and so no threat of murder hung over her when I arrived.
I rushed to her side, dipping into her mind to see the damage.
There is no simple remedy to the riddle of the broken mind, no cure to make someone whole again after pain, no spell to erase what someone knows. Only the mind can do these things, healing itself by forgetting the horrors it has seen. But it required time, too much of it for Kryssa’s sake, and it was the only thing I could not give her.
So I had found a way to lock up the memories, stripping the meaning and color from them, making them less awful so that she could learn to deal with them over time. It was more difficult that the memories weren’t her own, but still not impossible. Then I had sewn up the memories of the Crone, almost like stitches, into the corners of her mind. But now something had torn them free, some grief or nightmare that I couldn’t bring myself to face, and their ugliness seeped like blood from a wound.
I treated her gently, putting it all away again, until I was finally able to come back to myself. Kryssa was asleep, quiet now and at peace. I sighed as I stretched my sore muscles.
“Your devotion to your sister is admirable, Mistress Lanya.”
I started, and spun. The Darkling Prince stood at the end of Kryssa’s bed, and my skin crawled as he stared at me. His presence overwhelmed me, and I struggled to breathe around it. His eyes were dangerous as they looked me over, the sardonic tilt of his head belying the deadly force of him, and it was almost a physical relief when he turned his gaze to Kryssa. “I had heard she was recovering. It’s a pity she has fallen ill again.”
I swallowed and stood, forcing my numbed tongue to work. “It’s only a minor setback, my lord. She’ll be fine in the morning.”
He smiled at me, coming closer, and my skin prickled, warning of a lightning strike. “I am sure you are right. With someone as lovely as you to look after her, how could she be anything but safe?”
I was trembling, but I did my best to hide it from him. I would not let him see how much he terrified me. “Thank you, my lord.”
He reminded me of a wolf stalking its prey, and I stood frozen as he stepped behind me, leaning over my shoulder. His fingers burning like embers as they touched my icy cheek, and he stroked my hair away from my face, letting the strands of it tumble through his fingers. His breath was hot and horrifying as it pressed against my neck. “Perhaps one day you will tend to me with the same care you show for her.”
My mouth tasted of blood; I had bitten my cheek too hard in fear. “I pray my lord will never need healing from such suffering.”
His eyes were piercing me, and I stared fixedly at the wall, keeping my face as serene as I could manage. His voice, when he spoke, was barely a whisper, and I thought later that I might have imagined it. “Pray for me.”
Then he was gone, and there was suddenly air and light again. I gazed across the room at the helpless, lost face of Bryonis, who had hidden himself in a corner. His worry swamped me, and I suddenly retched, vomiting on the floor. I felt feverish, repulsed by the Prince’s dark desire that clung to me like the reek of smoke after a fire.
I wanted to strip out of my own skin so that I could feel clean again.
I had a nightmare that night of returning to the Crone’s house. The knife was in my hands, and I slit her throat to the sound of Kryssa’s screams, so that warm, wet blood poured over my fingers. But when she fell, her face was that of the Prince, staring up at me in vile want, the wound at his throat gaping like a vicious smile as he reached for me and pulled me into
the darkness with him.
KRYSSA
2 Capad 577A.F.
The day I was finally released from the Infirmary, the world was full of snowflakes. My brothers and sisters were all attending to their duties in the Camp, and so Bryonis walked with me to ensure I was safe, though I told him it was unnecessary. He insisted, stubborn, and so I gave in, unwilling to argue so that I could be alone.
The encampment was quiet, and I only saw one person, far across the strange rope-and-wooden bridges, hurrying along on some unknown errand. The Forest spread out below and around me, and I paused on a platform, staring out at the white and silver and evergreen expanse of it, watching it rise and fall toward the horizon like a motionless sea. The air was still except for the falling snow, and the frozen cold of it bit into my lungs with a touch of pain, invigorating after months of drowning in tea and dreaming of death.
The world felt clean, and I was cleaner for being near it.
“Thank you,” I murmured to Bryonis at last, though I continued to gaze out across the Forest.
“Why?” His voice was confused.
“Because you didn’t let them kill me. They wanted to, some of them still want to. Part of me even hoped they would. But you kept them from doing it.”
“That was more Lanya’s doing, and your brother.”
“Still. You didn’t have to treat me.”
“It’s my oath, Lady Kryssa.” He had called me that since I had awakened, and I had long since given up trying to stop him. “Do no harm.”
I frowned. “Maybe that’s what it is.”
“What is?”
“I’ve been trying to understand the evil I’ve seen, to resolve the pieces of it that still live in my head. The woman who died, I just can’t quite believe that she was truly evil.”
“The one who worshipped the Elder Gods and was planning to murder your brother and sister?” He blinked at me. “You can’t believe that she was evil?”
I shook my head. “She wasn’t always like that. She took the same oath you did, to do no harm. But somewhere along the way she became so obsessed with her fear of death that she forgot it. But how can anyone so full of regret and remorse, someone so afraid, be evil?”
He shrugged. “Evil is a choice, my lady, as it’s ever been. Even the Elder Gods had a choice. No one is truly evil, they just choose to be that way until there’s nothing left of them.”
I stared at him, wondering. “Do you think I’m evil?”
“No, Lady Kryssa.” His eyes were unguarded and filled with raw emotion, and I looked away from them, from the truth I didn’t want to understand. “You have the ability to be evil, as we all do, but you will always choose to be good. Your heart is too pure for you to do otherwise.”
I swallowed my tears for what he wanted to see, wishing I could be the ideal that he envisioned. But I was no longer innocent; I was not even the type of damaged thing he thought I was, to be healed into someone who could love him in return.
I was just broken, haunted by madness and memories and regret. I had been hated so much by my father that he had tried to kill me, and I had left him to die. I should have felt guilty when I thought of it, but I felt only relief. I had enslaved myself for years to the woman who had bought Alyxen and Kylee with darkness, thinking in my pride that I could free them from something I’d never even understood. I had abandoned the dream of a boy with sea-colored eyes, knowing in my heart that I would never be good enough for him, tainted and shattered as I was. I knew that it would hurt him, for he thought he loved me.
I knew the truth. Bryonis would only tell me what he wanted to see, but I had learned the secret.
We are all evil, and evil is easier than good.
BRANNYN
17 Alune 578A.F.
I stood at the window, watching as the winter snows were washed away by the endless spring rain. The Prince had summoned Marla for yet another mysterious meeting, and so I waited in her house, my stomach twisting with dread.
When had I figured out that I did not love her? I had thought I did, during those first, passionate months. I had craved her like the drowning yearn for air, my want burning like the fire in my blood. I had raced through my duties, watching the sun crawl across the sky, waiting for the moment when I could return to the haven of her embrace. She was beautiful and insatiable, filled with the knowledge of a woman several years my senior.
But desire was not love; passion was not intimacy. She wouldn’t tell me her secrets, wouldn’t tell me what she thought of when her eyes grew sad and distant. I resented it, and her. It frustrated me that she wouldn’t let me in; for all the time we spent together, we were still little better than strangers.
The ladder rattled, bringing me out of my thoughts, and I turned away from the window. Marla appeared over the edge of the platform, raindrops sparkling in her hair as she pulled the ladder up behind her. Her face was pale when she glanced at me; she attempted a smile, but it looked false and out of place as she walked inside.
“How was your meeting?” I asked politely, not expecting an answer. It was another point of contention between us, that she would respond day or night to the summons of the Prince. She never told me after what was said, and I wondered if I should have pushed her harder to tell me.
Her shoulders jerked in a shrug. “It was fine.”
I swallowed back my anger. I wanted to rip the truth from her, to shake her until she told me of whatever it was that had left dark circles beneath her eyes. My hands heated, and I curled them into fists at my sides.
“I, um, think you’re going to be going on a new mission in the morning.” Her gaze lingered just over my shoulder. Though she tried to hide it, I could see the guilt written on her face. “There’s rumors of a new settlement on the far side of the lumber yards. Should be good for restocking our supplies.”
I stared at her. I wanted to believe her, tried to deny what I knew. Desperately, I wished she could take back the words- but it was there, written in the guilt of her gaze.
She lied.
“I have to go.” I was careful not to touch her, to keep my anger contained. I avoided her grasp when she reached for me, and left her house without another word.
It was the first time in months that I slept in my hammock with the others. They said nothing about my return, perhaps sensing the turbulence of my emotions. Kryssa only looked at me from her pallet on the floor, and I saw in her the ache of understanding. I remembered the name Vitric, and wondered how anyone could survive such awful heartbreak.
We didn’t speak of it, and I fell asleep at last, and dreamed of emptiness.
18 Alune 578A.F.
In the morning, I arrived at the headquarters of the retrieval teams to find Rigger frowning. He spotted me as I entered, and motioned me over. I joined him, and found Tanner sitting on a crate nearby, his normal cheer muted as he stared at his feet.
“What is it?” I asked, concerned.
“The Prince has a personal mission for you.” Rigger scratched his mustache, and refused to meet my eyes. “They’ve established a town on the other side of the lumber yards. It’s about three days from here, but there’s supposedly a nearly unlimited supply of weapons and food, and only a very small guard.” His face wasn’t quite able to cover the lie. “You’re to take the men and supplies you’ll need, and head out at once. A wagon should be hitched and ready for you when you reach the ground.”
I bit back my anger at their cowardice, trying to keep my face calm, though I wanted nothing more than to lash out with fury and fire. “Of course.” I looked at Tanner, who carried his guilt like a heavy weight across his shoulders. “Will you come with me?”
He swallowed, and nodded. I glanced away, and saw Rigger kick him out of the corner of my eye. “Digger? Breaker?”
They stared at me from across the room, their faces unreadable, and nodded as well.
I pushed down my anger, and shrugged as casually as I could manage. “Well, I guess we should get started, then.”
Kylee’s eyes were large as she looked at me. She could feel something was wrong. Brannyn?
I’ll handle it. I was careful to keep the anger from my face. Get our things and pack a wagon. Be careful not to be seen doing it.
She nodded, and there was a flicker of something in her eyes like dark joy, chasing away the dull misery in them. I realized, belatedly, that I had ignored her for months. Impulsively, I hugged her, trying to express my shame for her neglect.
I was not meant for Kryssa’s place.
It’s alright. Tears sparkled on her lashes. Go.
I nodded and climbed into the wagon. Tanner had slouched, dejected, into the driver’s seat, and he clucked to the horses as we set off.
I waited until we were past the outer sentries of the Camp before I turned to him. “Stop the wagon.”
He blinked at the sudden coldness of my voice. The wagon drew to a halt. “What’s wrong, Farmboy?”
The false cheer in his voice enraged me, and I knew without looking that flames were licking along the sides of my fisted hands, dancing across my knuckles. “Don’t be an ass, Tanner.”
The color drained from his cheeks. “I- I-”
Strangling rage threatened to burst through my skin. “I’m going back to the Camp.”
He glanced back at Digger and Breaker. “And if we were ordered to stop you?”
I raised my hand and let the rage burst free. A nearby sapling exploded in a shower of burning embers, blue fire consuming it as waves of heat roiled around us. The horses reared, screaming in fear, fighting against Tanner’s tight grip on the reins as they tried to bolt.
