He shook his head and brushed more of her unruly curls aside. “Ashes, you were a prisoner of dark majik in an evil beast’s den. I almost rescued you with my wolf pack. After all we’ve been through, I don’t believe either one of us is very sane.” He scratched his scalp just behind his ear in a nervous tic, but his infectious smile never faded.
“Would you show me if I asked,” she blurted, “if I wanted to see your monster?”
“Does it bother you that I can turn into a bloodthirsty beast now?”
She paused, unsure how he would take her answer. “As you said, you aren’t the first beast I’ve become acquainted with in these mountains.”
Ceddrych’s gaze turned calculating at her words. “Did you truly see it then, in the castle?”
“See what?” Vynasha dug her claws into her palms.
Ceddrych leaned closer and linked his hands together over her cot, his features almost foreign in the smoky shadows. “The people here speak of an evil that has been dormant for the past age. They say that a terrible lord rules over those lands and commands the beasts to follow his whims.”
Her heart fell before his hardened gaze, for she saw he believed she was a victim of the curse. How would he feel if he knew their bloodlines made them prime majik users? Instead, she tried to turn the conversation. “Ceddrych, those people looked like the ones from those old books you used to read to me.”
His mouth tilted, eyebrows arched. “It was a shock to me as well. I didn’t know what to think at first. From what the elders told me, they were spread through the mountains and this valley before the curse. The pack calls them mirror folk, but they have different names for themselves.”
“Mirror folk… So they came through then like Soraya.” She didn’t notice her slip until Ceddrych stilled.
“Right. Strange that you never saw their kind in the lost city.”
She shrugged and offered a weak smile, but did not wish to betray any more. Ceddrych watched her a moment longer before continuing his story.
“Sometime before the curse took effect, different surviving mirror folk gathered here and the Wolvs offered protection from both beast and human.”
“Human?” She couldn’t contain her shock, or the growing dread in her belly as she thought of Wolfsbane and his daughter, the last humans of these mountains, or so they claimed.
Ceddrych hummed his agreement. “The old king was a little mad, apparently. He ordered anyone who found mirror folk to be killed. But after the curse, everyone came together and joined forces, I guess you could say. Everyone except humans.”
Vynasha nodded, aware of how strange it was to hear her brother speak of humans as separate, when not long ago they would have been counted among them. “So when you say Wolvs, does that include you and your pack?”
“Suppose it does now. Not exactly certain how the pack fits into everything, and I’ve been here at least a year. I know the Wolvs have protected these lands far longer than the curse, but the curse didn’t change their purpose. Our village is on the border of the beast’s realm to keep travelers from entering. We don’t always succeed, but you are the first person anyone has known to come out.” He rubbed a hand over his beard and she sensed that he wanted to know the things she had seen. Yet for the first time she also wondered at his motivation.
“Ceddrych,” she began with a sigh. “What happened in the castle is as much a mystery to me as it is you. I lived there for nearly a season, and now that I’m here it seems like a dream…” Her words failed as she saw Odym’s sadness as he spoke of the enchantress Soraya. She saw Hvalla’s shy smile while they tended the roses together and she heard Myrel and Lyttia’s gossip while she pretended to sleep. And despite her conflicting emotions, she savored the memory of Grendall’s whispers as he cradled her bloody hands and still trembled to hear the Prince’s unspeakable question: “Beauty, will you marry me?”
“Ashes?” Ceddrych covered her fist with his warm hand.
With a single blink, the fog around her mind cleared to reveal the smoky darkness of the longhouse and her brother’s questioning eyes. “I—I don’t think I can tell you more.” She absently traced the claw mark scars on her arm.
“You don’t have to talk, Ashes, not until you’re ready.” Ceddrych’s grip tightened and she could sense his pity and the horrid questions waiting on the tip of his tongue.
Until, he said, implying that they would speak of this again. How could she explain what had happened without him seeing her as a victim, when so much of what had happened was her fault? What would she tell him when he asked her again?
She scooted away from his grip until her back hit the end of the bed. Talking had always come so easily to them before. Their letters had shown how easily their confessions came, letters she’d challenged a beast once in order to recover.
Ceddrych stood and lifted his coat of furs from the chair at the foot of the bed and shrugged it on. “I suppose sleep is out of the question, aye?” He smiled easily and pulled his hair back from his face. “How about I hunt down some breakfast for us?”
Vynasha pointed a claw to the low shelf of books behind him and said, “As long as you let me look at those.”
His lips pulled back as he smiled with his faintly pointed teeth, a Wolv trait, she supposed. “Agreed. I can show you the map I made of the valley as well, if you like. Maybe you can help me fill in some of the blank spaces now, little sister.” He winked at her and stirred up the hot coals of the fire.
Not even a moment after her brother left his hut, equipped with furs, bow and a quiver full of arrows, Vynasha sighed. Not only were her brother’s pitying eyes pressing her into the tight confines of madness, but Grendall’s amulet burned like a frozen stone on her hot chest. She ripped the offending jewel from her neck and dropped it onto the bedcovers like a burning ember. The amulet flashed with a bright purple light and her skin glowed in answer to it, harmless majik fleeing her fingertips. The oily substance left violet-shaded splotches on the floor and she rubbed at her arms, desperate to escape it. When she bled violet blood in the cave, it too had left trails. Perhaps this was how Grendall in his beast form had found her so quickly.
“No, oh, please, not again,” she hissed. Agitation only seemed to increase the luminescence of her skin and she pulled her curls over her shoulder as she paced the room. She glared at the amulet lying on the bed and it flashed again, as though winking back at her.
“I’m sure you find this amusing.” Wiping the substance on her clothes did not help either and she let her arms fall helpless to her sides, at a loss.
That was the first time her new, beastly senses allowed her to smell the sickly-sweet scent of majik. Though she had caught whiffs of it before, this was different, powerful and curling her toes with sensation. She closed her eyes and sniffed deeply, at once transported to Wynyth’s honey cakes, ginger-wood crackling in the hearth and the rich, heady fragrance of her roses. Majik was everything beautiful, wondrous and forbidden at once, and Vynasha feared losing herself much as she longed to bathe in it.
Let it soak me up, eat me and drown me forever, came the unbidden thought.
Fear made her open her eyes to stare at the silent knowing of Grendall’s glistening amulet. In a few precious moments of delirium, she had crossed the room to her bedside. Her hand hovered over the amethyst, fingers trembling with a remnant of want. Against her will, she lifted the gatekeeper’s gift and placed the chain over her neck. Stains of purple-shaded majik disappeared from the floor with a sudden blink of the eye and Vynasha wondered if it had been real.
“Ashes?” Ceddrych’s voice made her jump and then move to grab the amulet with her fist.
“Ceddrych!” she gasped and her voice sounded hoarse to her ears. She quickly took in his snow-drenched apparel and the freshly skinned hare hanging from his hand, then ducked to hide behind a curtain of curls.
How long was I enchanted?
Ceddrych shook off his layer of snow-laden furs and she stole the opportunity to sl
ip the amulet back inside her tunic. Somehow, Grendall’s gift meant more than a simple talisman or way to connect to his dreams.
Much, much more…
“Little beasty jumped right in front of me, not twenty steps in the forest, like it was waiting for me. This bleeding curse almost takes the fun out of hunting. Remember how much you used to love setting traps with me?”
“Yes.” Vynasha sank to the edge of her bed and did her best to push Grendall’s gift from her mind. She sniffed to find the scent of majik absent from the room and let loose a tense breath.
Ceddrych chuckled as he sat in a chair by the fire and prepared the rabbit on a metal spit for roasting. “You were never patient, always rushing out to check the traps the day we set them. And then you couldn’t bear to see the poor hares suffer.” He shook his head. “Old Ced thought something had poisoned the rabbit population that summer.”
Our father… Vynasha pressed the amulet to her chest and peeked through her curls. A shudder worked its way up her spine as she recalled the look in their father’s eyes. She opened her mouth to say the words, to tell him the truth.
Bang! Bang!
They jumped at the sound and froze when a harsh voice followed, “Come out, Wanderer!”
Vynasha crawled backwards on the bed until her back hit the cabin wall and wrapped her arms around her curled legs. Her awareness spiked as her new beastly senses took over. “Ceddrych?” she whispered, fearful to raise her voice any higher. She clenched her teeth to hide their chatter.
Ceddrych met her gaze with concern and held a hand out toward her, willing her to remain where she was.
The voices on the other side of the wall grew louder.
“—know she’s in there, Wanderer!” a woman shouted.
“Yes,” growled an older male, “why don’t you show us your dark majik user.”
“We know she came from the castle!”
“—not one of us!”
“She’ll murder our children!”
“Witch!”
Vynasha pressed her forehead to her knees and placed her hands against her ears. She did not want to hear any more.
Ceddrych glanced at her one last time, his eyes flashing wolfish green before he opened the door. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you come to my home like this! Are you so bloodthirsty you would kill me, too?”
“You have been with us a short time, Wanderer, you do not understand our ways,” an old male growled.
A younger girl shouted, “He is not one of us! He’s a lone wolf and has said he wants no place among our pack!”
“Onya is right,” an elderly woman agreed, “you agreed to live among us, but you refuse to help defend us!”
Baalor interrupted in his booming voice. “Enough! You have all said your piece. Wanderer, you know the rules of our pack. Such wild majik is forbidden in these lands. We cannot suffer the witch to live.”
“No! Listen to me,” Ceddrych protested. “Vynasha is my sister. She would no sooner harm a hare than one of your children.”
“You told us your family was dead, Wanderer!” the elderly woman from before cried. “He lied to us all! What more has he not told us? Perhaps you practice majik as well?”
“Never!” Ceddrych growled. “You must listen to me.” The voices rushed together, overlapping one another. Ceddrych attempted to calm them. Baalor was silent.
Vynasha pressed her hand and ear to the wall and tried to picture her brother, alone without family, and decided he would never know loneliness again. At least she had little Wyll.
“Enough!” The elder male who had spoken before let out a low shout that sounded half growl and half command. “Wanderer came to us three winters ago. We took him in as one of our own, because he is a protector, by blood right. That is enough claim for him to make his home among us. Therefore, he may plead his own case. But I warn you, boy, do not lie to us again unless you seek exile.”
The crowd hushed and panic crept up Vynasha’s bones like a phantom demanding possession.
“I cannot…” Ceddrych sighed, as though releasing a burden. “I can’t tell you who my sister is now. Until a few days ago, I believed her to be dead like the rest of my family. But I can tell you what I am certain of. She was a prisoner in that castle, a victim, and are we not sworn to protect the world from the evil that sleeps there? Can we turn our backs on her just because she is a stranger?”
“But she bears their scent! She will bring the Beast’s wrath on us all!” the elderly woman snarled and her words shredded with her voice into a wolf’s bark. The others continued to rave, their protests growing louder, closer.
Baalor broke his silence. “Wanderer confesses to harboring our enemy. Our pack trailed her scent to the Silver Falls, which you all know bleeds from the castle. We also know she was protected by the human hunters.”
Vynasha gripped the wood so hard her hands bled.
“Curse you and your bloody feud, Baalor! You want blood, you’ll have to go through me first!” Ceddrych snarled and pulled the door shut behind him. A moment after, a weight pushed him back against it. The wall rattled from the resulting impact and Vynasha jumped back.
Ceddrych grunted in pain and the sound touched the feral instinct bristling just beneath her skin. She moved before she had time to process. Ever since her transformation, so much of what she did was instinctual. And because she was almost certain blood would be shed, she pushed against the cabin door with all her strength. Whatever weight had fallen against the door had moved for it gave way easily.
She ignored the gasps and outcries as she ran into the ankle-deep snow. Torchlight blinded her sight at first, masking shady figures in heavy furs. Yet at the edge of her vision she could also see a woman with scales instead of skin and fire-red hair, three men half the size of the other villagers with beards trailing to their knees, and did she imagine a child with wings? The mirror folk clung to the outskirts, the shadows, watching with solemn faces. But the closest villagers’ eyes were gleaming luminous emerald like the Wolvs’, with the promise of a fight. Her sudden appearance effectively silenced the mob, who paused to watch her break through.
Vynasha followed the sounds of the scuffle, her blood racing as she ducked into the space between her brother and Baalor. Before her brother’s assailant had time to note her appearance, she pounced. She dug her claws into his chest and wrapped her legs about his, forcing him to the ground with the element of surprise.
A gust of breath escaped Baalor’s lips and his green eyes narrowed briefly at her before widening. She saw her reflection in the black of his pupils—the brilliant golden eyes of a beast, the sharp teeth behind her parted lips. Baalor looked at her with shock and then his expression clouded over, while his grip on her waist and shoulder tightened.
“Ashes.” Ceddrych grabbed at her elbow, beckoning her to his side. “Ashes, please.”
Baalor did not even wince as Vynasha pulled her claws from his chest. They watched one another warily as she allowed Ceddrych to draw her away. The predator in her could not back down completely, especially as she sniffed and caught a whiff of the skin-changer’s blood on her claws. It smelled almost familiar.
“That was a warning,” she said between stolen breaths.
“You should not interfere with pack matters, outsider.” Baalor seemed old and young at once as he rose to his feet, silver hair falling over his shoulders in wild waves. His beard was closely shorn, albeit uneven as his mismatched emerald eyes. The Wolv never left his face completely, she mused. A knife wound, drawn from the crown of his forehead to his chin, marred what might have otherwise been considered pleasing features. He maintained a clouded barrier from his emotions, but they practically screamed through his expressive eyes.
“Ashes, please,” Ceddrych whispered against her ear while grasping her shoulder. “Come inside. You shouldn’t be out here without any furs.”
“I’m fine.” She shrugged off his grip, but still threaded their fingers, keeping him close. She could no
t let him lead her away, couldn’t cower away like prey in a den of wolves any more than she could pull her gaze from their leader. A smirk pulled at the corner of Baalor’s mouth and he inclined his head ever so slightly to her.
“I don’t know you people.” She turned to the nameless faces in the strange and wondrous mob and found a blend of curiosity, fear and, in the case of one little golden-haired girl, pity. She frowned faintly as she continued, “I trust you about as much as you do me. I don’t know anything about majik, only what I have seen. I am no threat to you. But…” She fixed her gaze again on Baalor. “If any of you so much as lays claw or knife on my brother again, you will not live long enough to tell others what I am capable of.”
For a moment, Vynasha wasn’t sure if her bluff had paid off until Baalor grimaced, with ire or approval she could not tell. She stiffened and gripped her brother’s hand tighter. Those were not empty threats. Once, the idea of harming an innocent creature would have pained her heart. Now she was willing to kill for Ceddrych.
Keep him safe. Never alone again.
Baalor hardened his expression as he addressed the crowd. “You heard the witch. Go back to your homes. As for you”—he nodded to her—“we’ll be watching you closely. If we see so much as a spark of majik from those pretty fingertips, I shall find great pleasure in biting them off one by one.” His manic grin revealed faintly pointed white teeth as he turned with the crowd, placed a hand on the pitying golden-haired girl and dragged her back toward the village.
Vynasha lifted her free hand and touched her bloody claws to her tongue and released a troubled sigh.
CEDDRYCH CARRIED HER empty bowl over to join his beside the fire before returning to sit across from her at his table. Silence hung between them while the rising sun poked holes through the window.
Vynasha’s heart still raced, her senses peaked from her encounter with Baalor. It wasn’t simply the attack and defense of her brother that frightened her, but the things she now knew. She knew Baalor wasn’t just aggressive, but calculating and definitely approving of her feral nature. For the first time she saw her transformation not as empowering, but a curse.
Scarred Beauty Page 6
