“Or it could kill him!” Baalor growled at her.
A hand pressed against her palm, smaller than she expected, and Wyll’s expression was pleading. “Please, Asha. It’s not your fault you couldn’t make me better.”
The blade stung against her skin, the hilt of Grolthox’s bejeweled dagger digging into her other hand. “How can I be what they say I am if I can’t heal you?”
Wyll hand tightened on hers and sounded far older than his years as he replied, “Maybe you were never meant to heal me. Maybe it was all a way to get us here so you could heal everyone else.”
“Let go, love.” Baalor spoke softly from her other side and then his hands were coming around to rest over hers too.
“It’s not fair,” she whispered. Baalor took the dagger from her hand and she leaned forward on her hands.
“I don’t care if I never get better, Aunty Asha. I’m glad we came here. Resha needed me and we found Uncle Ceddrych and I’m stronger than I was.”
“Your mother wanted me to take care of you.”
“You did. But I’m going to be okay. Uncle Ceddrych and Resha love me too.”
Vynasha lifted her head and lay down on the pallet next to Wyll the way they used to, needing to be close. She shivered as she thought of what she’d almost done out of desperation. Baalor was right. She could have killed them dabbling with blood bonds. Who knew what Grendall would do if she tried to bond with anyone else, or what Grendall’s imprint on her would do to Wyll?
“I don’t deserve you, you know,” she said once she had Wyll trapped in the crook of her shoulder.
“I know.” He leaned into her, despite what she’d almost done to him. He was always braver than her. But his voice sounded more true to his age as he asked, “When will I see you again?”
“Soon.” She shut her eyes and drank in the smell and feel of him in her arms. He was thin still but stronger. Rather than smelling of sickness, he now smelled of the evergreen and furs he had been sleeping in. Despite a lingering decay on his skin, he smelled free.
They lay together whispering to the rafters, sharing safe versions of their adventures while Baalor tended to the fire and other things.
Wyll seemed eager to tell her all the things he had learned. “Resha showed me how to make traps and skin animals, which was gross. But then Wolfsbane showed me how to make a sling shot. I’m not very good yet, but I’ve been practicing. He said if I can learn to hunt with that they’ll teach me how to make a bow.”
“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly. You always were smarter than me, you know.”
A breathless giggle escaped Wyll. “How can I be smarter than you, Asha? You’re a grown-up.”
“You’re a grown-up now, too, even if you aren’t fully grown.”
Wyll sighed. “You are strange sometimes, Aunty.”
Vynasha pinched his side where she knew he was most sensitive and smiled to hear more of his breathless laughter.
Ceddrych slipped through the door and looked first to them and then Baalor with a question in the lift of his brow.
Vynasha swallowed back the urge to cry as Wyll snuggled into her side.
“Tell me stories, Asha.”
“About the old legends?”
“No, we don’t need those anymore. Tell me about the lost city and the beast.”
Vynasha ignored Baalor and Ceddrych’s furtive whispers near the fireside. “I’m not sure this is the best bedtime story.”
“Please?”
“All right… the city was in ruins, but it didn’t seem empty. The street was made of silver cobblestones and the homes lining the path to the castle looked like they had once been white, like marble. But the castle was dark and so high I couldn’t see the top of the towers. I went inside and no one greeted me, but they left candles and a fire lit. Then the beast found me…”
Vynasha tried to keep her voice low and was surprised Wyll didn’t ask her questions. She had spent more time with Erythea lately, who never ran out of things to ask or say. Wyll was different, she recalled, quiet in a contemplative way. He listened and so she found she didn’t mind telling him this particular story, in spite of her guilt. She glossed over things, however, leaving her encounters with Grendall out and focusing on the beastly Prince. She tried to make it sound lighter, like one of the old tales in the books they’d left behind.
While Resha remained outside, Ceddrych and Baalor sat beside the fire and were suspiciously silent as she recounted meals with the Prince.
“He was kind to me, but also sad, and kept as much secret from me as I did him. And every night after we dined like royalty, we would talk, sometimes walk in the rose garden he gave me. Then he asked me the unthinkable question. ‘Beauty, will you marry me?’” Vynasha paused, glanced over to her nephew’s closed lids and pressed her windblown lips to his forehead. Only after he didn’t stir did Vynasha give into the despair she had been pushing back. She shut her eyes and wished she could forget this night too.
WHEN SLEEP REFUSED to come, Vynasha slipped from Wyll’s grasp, careful not to disturb him. Ceddrych had returned outside with Resha, muttering something about the stench of majik in retreat. Baalor was so silent she wondered if he too had slipped out of the room. Yet when she turned her head from Wyll to the fireside, he was still there, back to her, hunched over the hearth. For a moment she wondered why he stayed, until she noticed the absence of Grolthox’s dagger against her leg and what she’d threatened to do.
Vynasha suppressed a sigh as she pulled the forgotten furs beside her pallet up to Wyll’s chin. The unblemished half of his skin was handsome as Tamyra had been beautiful. His unruly black curls spilled over his forehead and dusted his closed lids. Burn scars warped half of his face and spread down his neck and she wished she had the power to remove them. But even after the curse had tried to transform her body into a beast, smoothing ruined skin, Grendall’s majik had burned her afresh.
Majik was a force she was barely beginning to comprehend, often cruel and unforgiving. Maybe it lashed out at her because what Grendall had done to her was wrong? Or maybe majik was only an illusion after all, a lie to give them hope when there was none.
I tried, Tamyra, she thought as she ran the back of her fingers against Wyll’s scarred cheek.
Reluctant as she was to leave his side, she knew they were running out of time and she needed to speak with Ceddrych.
First, she came to sit beside Baalor. The pack master didn’t turn his head as she sat. Still, she could feel his eye on her and caught a half smile turning up the corner of his mouth. Firelight gleamed in his silver beard and the ends of hairs loose from a hastily pulled-back tie.
“I would have done it.” It wasn’t how she’d imagined asking for her dagger, but now the words were laid bare as her guilt.
“Here.” He handed her one of Grandmother’s small biscuits. “You need to eat after using so much, unless you want to suffer as you did earlier.”
She accepted the sweet and after the first bite found she wasn’t just hungry, she was starving. Baalor let her eat the rest of the small bundle. She shivered as the food hit her empty belly and sighed when she finished the last. Using her sleeve to wipe the crumbs from her mouth, she froze and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Sorry, I hope we have more for the journey home.”
Home?
Baalor’s smirk turned up to a full predator’s smile then. “We can hunt if we need to.”
“We?” Since her transformation, Vynasha hadn’t pictured hunting, not in the way he thought of it, at least. She was still human enough to envision bows and snares when she pictured hunting. “But I’m not…”
“You have this, don’t you?” He pulled her dagger seemingly from thin air, pinched the blade between two fingers half as long as the blade. “I wasn’t expecting so rich a weapon. You do know what this is, don’t you?”
Vynasha started to take the offered hilt, but hesitated as she stared down at the archaic words engraved on either side of the blade. �
�It was a gift.”
“Whoever gave you this must have thought a great deal of you.”
Vynasha frowned at his cryptic words and took the dagger in hand, watched the play of light on the flowing script. “Do you know what this says? I know some of the old tongue, but I don’t recognize this at all.”
Baalor grunted and rolled a shoulder with a slightly animal tilt to his head. “No one uses mirror speech anymore, not even mirror folk, just as no one trusts majik after the Enchantress cursed us. So much has been lost from the time before, but things like your blade had meaning once. Majik wasn’t something to fear. Once, even blood majik was commonplace, though casters used it for healing or between family members.”
“But if it can be used between family members, why did you tell me not to try it with Wyll?” She already knew the answer. Still, she needed to hear it.
A flash of sadness crossed his face. “The curse twisted everything, brings out the worst kinds of evil in all of us. None of us are but shells of what we once were, or were meant to be.” He turned to face her and the longing in his face was unmistakable. “I wish you…”
Tension built in the space between her shoulders and she ducked her head, afraid to look at him, wondering if he thought of her as a monster in spite of all he said. It was easier to believe that than accept the way he was looking at her now. Yet when he spoke again, it wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.
“I am glad you think of our den as home. Thea—no, we both wanted to ask you to come and live with us.”
“What?” She stared in surprise but he wasn’t looking at her now, staring with determination at the dagger in her hands.
“Some will talk. If a female moves into a man’s household it means certain things, but you’re an outsider, so maybe they will overlook it for now. You are under no obligation, of course, if you would rather stay in Wanderer’s cottage. But I hoped…”
“Baalor.” Vynasha set her dagger aside and placed a hand on his leg, felt him flinch as she pushed up on her knees. Now level with his face, she pressed a hand on either bristly cheek and watched his pupils dilate, his lips part as he took in a shallow breath.
She shook her head in wonder at him. “You aren’t at all what I expected you to be when we first met.”
A dark look crossed his face. “If you only knew what I was before you came.”
“You have been true to yourself since I met you. That means more to me than whatever you think you were.”
“So are you saying yes?”
She leaned in closer, curiosity taking hold of her more than anything as she stole his next breath and whispered, “Yes,” and pressed her lips to his.
Baalor froze beneath her, jaw slack. She wondered if she’d misread the longing in his eyes. Until he came to life again, hands gripping her waist and back of her neck, pulling her impossibly close. His mouth slanted against hers, pushing fiercely at first, but then surprisingly gentle.
Vynasha threaded a hand through his hair and sighed into his mouth as she deepened their kiss. Nothing about Baalor or his family was something she’d expected, but considering their first encounter, this was more than shocking. Logical sense had nothing to do with her attraction. Something about the skin-changer resonated with her newfound primitive instincts. Still, it was more than that, inexplicable but filling her with relief.
Baalor kissed her like she was his first and last drink, yet like they had all the time in the world. Much as she felt his passion, she wanted to cry at his carefulness with her patched-up wounds. The world might not begin and end with this man, but she still wanted him.
Ceddrych cleared his throat, dispelling the moment.
Vynasha jerked back, might have fallen into the fire if not for Baalor’s steady grip on her waist.
“Sorry to interrupt this mistake,” her brother said, “but if you are finished I was hoping to speak with you a few moments outside.” Without waiting for her reply, he stepped back through the open door.
Vynasha stared after her brother in horror. She scrambled to her feet and glanced to Wyll’s pallet, sighing with relief to find him undisturbed. For Baalor she still offered a small, albeit embarrassed smile. “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have done that.”
Baalor bent his head and tossed another log into the fire, but his mouth quirked into a soft smile. “You needed comfort and I was happy to give it.”
“No—I didn’t mean…” She wrung her hands and sighed as she glanced from the open door back to him. “I just needed to know why I feel this way with you.”
His mouth quirked up, breaking his mask a bit further as he twisted to face her. “So do I.”
Vynasha smiled and bent to pick up her dagger, lifting her skirt to fasten it to the strap around her leggings. The movement helped distance the rapid pace of her heart and the fact she wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.
“Please let me know if he wakes up,” she said, gesturing to Wyll.
Baalor stared at her leg a moment too long before dragging his gaze up the curve of her hip and whatever he was thinking took shelter in the weary lines of his face. “Whatever you wish, Beauty.”
Never call me Beauty, her mind screamed, but Vynasha could scarcely draw in a ragged breath as she froze. To avoid pricking her palms and took another, steadier breath.
He’s only teasing because you told Wyll a pretty bedtime story version of the truth.
Vynasha pulled hard on the loose ends of her curls. But when she looked to see whether Baalor meant to tease her he had already turned his attention to the fire and she was too full of everything to say more.
Moonlight claimed a star-studded sky with wisps of trailing gray clouds all that remained of the storm. A muddled mess of snow, sleet and mud spilled over the steep rocky hillside, but the air was much clearer outside than within. She hadn’t known how clogged her senses had been by smoke and majik and Baalor until she took her first step through the threshold.
Ceddrych waited just outside the open door of the cabin and turned his head at her exit with a brief glance back inside before he shut the door behind her. His arm brushed hers as he pulled back.
Vynasha tried to keep her tone even as she took in the empty space around him. “Resha nearby?” A cold wind cut across her uncloaked back, making her cross her arms over her chest.
“She couldn’t handle the majik,” Ceddrych said. “I’ll send her inside when she gets back.”
“Baalor’s watching Wyll.”
Ceddrych scoffed. “Oh, is he, now? Glad to hear your new murdering mate is watching our nephew.”
Vynasha glared at him. “Like Baalor is any worse than her? She tried to kill him right in front of Wyll tonight.”
Ceddrych pointed a hard hand at the cabin. “And you used majik on her, Vynasha…”
She took a step in his space, clenching her fists then as her anger grew. “Oh, you’ve made it very clear how you feel about me and my dark majik. Like I said, she was trying to kill him!”
Ceddrych grabbed his head and turned to pace away from her. “You’re twisting my words.”
“Funny when you twist everything according to how you think the world should be,” she hissed.
“All I’ve ever done is try to protect my family.” Ceddrych’s voice broke and the fight left his words. “I fought in the war because I had no choice. I did my duty, but I thought of you and Tamyra and Wyll the whole time. I could have chosen to stay by the sea, where it’s bleeding warm most of the year, like Mychel did, but I came home for you.”
“What?” She clutched her throat. “Mychel went missing.”
Ceddrych flinched, mouth grim as he confessed, “He was taken prisoner, but not for long. I saw him once, just before I took my leave.” He took a breath, as though debating on how much more to say. He didn’t have to.
Vynasha could picture it, her sister’s husband and Wyll’s bleeding father, off living a new life with a new family in the wealthy southern city. She choked on her words. “I wro
te you both letters after the fire, just in case.”
Ceddrych shuddered. “I haven’t told Wyll. I’m so sorry, Ashes… that I wasn’t there. You have to know I’m not like him. Even after Father left and I became this thing, I was just biding my time until I could escape and go back to you. If I had known…”
Vynasha watched as he turned to the cabin, braced a hand against the old wood. Suddenly it was all she could do not to throw her arms around him like she once had. “You couldn’t have known. No matter what choices we made, we can’t change the past, Ceddrych. This is who we are now. Neither of us chose this life, but these people matter and what we do matters.”
Ceddrych rubbed a hand over his face and his moonlit face looked both old and young as he said, “I couldn’t protect you.”
Vynasha took a step closer. “But you can protect Wyll.”
Ceddrych blanched, glanced again to the cabin and then to her. “You tried to heal him. Did it work?”
She shook her head and trembled with another gust of mountain wind. “My majik can’t touch him for some reason. I tried too hard and whatever is keeping me from healing him almost killed me. If Baalor hadn’t brought me back…”
Her hands pressed tightly to Wyll’s skull, Baalor’s voice in her ear…
A sob broke past her control.
Ceddrych flinched and watched her cover her lips with clawed fingertips. “Don’t cry, Ashes.” His strong arms wrapped around her, pressing her to his chest. He ran his hand over her head and sighed heavily. “I have been such an unforgiveable monster to you, but none of this is your fault. I’m so sorry, little sparrow.”
Hearing their mother’s old name from her brother’s lips made her tears more desperate, though she held back the volume of her sobs. Ceddrych continued to whisper as he rocked her in his arms, the same way he had when she was little.
“I was afraid of the curse,” he continued, “but never you, not when I realized it was still you. The curse brings out the worst in me, but you are so strong. All you have done since I found you is try to save everyone you meet. Are you sure you don’t want to bring Wyll back with you?”
Scarred Beauty Page 20
