by Skye Horn
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything,” Kieran spoke with hesitation, his eyes watching his feet as they walked.
“I’m not angry with you.” Thea squeezed his hand.
No one spoke for the last few minutes of the journey to the pyre, but when they arrived, Thea nearly stopped walking. She didn’t know if she could make her feet move any closer as she looked at the enormous structure of logs and branches that had been carefully positioned. It was nearly as tall as herself, and on top of it lay Marcus, or at least, she assumed it was Marcus. They had wrapped his body in white, shielding him from the freshly fallen snow. Kieran’s wings fluttered nervously behind him, waking Thea up. She realized she’d stopped mid-step and took a deep breath. Ethel looked at her and her anger disappeared, replaced by sadness.
“When you are ready,” Kieran said and handed her the torch he’d been carrying.
“I should say something first.” Thea thought her voice sounded like someone else’s. They all gathered around the pyre, Thea finally releasing Kieran’s hand and clutching the torch as if it were her lifeline. She walked toward the pile of wood that Marcus lay on top of, and although she could not see him, she imagined his blue eyes closed forever beneath the sheet.
She recalled each unspoken word between them with a dreadful understanding that she could never tell him the truth. He had died thinking that she’d abandoned him—for what reason? She’d never know.
Thea felt her suffocating guilt returning, threatening to tighten her throat until she could no longer take in the breath she needed. Everyone else gathered around the pyre, but kept their distance from her. They observed her, like the darkness she’d shown she was capable of wielding might return at any second, and although the anger in her soul felt untamed, she no longer felt consumed by it. She had compartmentalized that hatred, giving equal parts to Morrigan and her father, while also keeping a portion bottled for Amara.
The memories that those she loved had shared with her about those they’d lost became her driving force. She thought of Cora, whom they’d punished for loving the wrong person. She thought of Kieran, who’d grown up without parents because of a war he wasn’t even old enough to be a part of. She thought of her own mother, who had sacrificed everything to protect her.
Thea owed them her life. She owed Marcus her life.
“Marcus… I promise you that this will not have been for nothing,” she whispered. Thea knew that Marcus’ soul no longer lived within his body, but she hoped that he heard her somewhere. Slowly, her arm lowered the torch, and the flames licked the dried brush at the bottom of the wood hungrily. Within seconds a ring of fire danced along the forest floor, its heat warming Thea’s face. She took a step back to find Kieran standing behind her and did not resist sinking against him for comfort.
The fire was beautiful. Blue, red, and orange flames swallowed up the wood of the pyre like a starving wolf devouring its prey. A knot formed in Thea’s chest, burning up into her throat, but she refused to cry. She sent a silent prayer to anyone who was listening, begging them to take care of Marcus in the afterlife. She wasn’t sure if she’d believed in an afterlife before, but as flames engulfed the white sheet, she hoped with all her heart that there was one. Otherwise, what point was there to Marcus’ existence if they could snuff it out in the blink of an eye?
Thea turned and buried her head against Kieran’s chest when the sheet burned away from Marcus’ body. The smoke stung against her nostrils, and she finally let out a pitiful sob. Her chest felt like something had snapped it in half, bared for everyone to see, and as if reading her mind, Kieran wrapped his wings around her to shield her from their gazes. The fire did not smell like a normal fire. It had a stench to it that made Thea gag. She didn’t want to think about the cause of that smell, but how could she not? She knew Marcus’ body was melting away. She knew he no longer would laugh at her stupidest jokes, or give her the cute disbelieving smile when she told him interesting facts she’d learned. She would never have the chance to explain to him why she’d disappeared or why she’d broke his heart. She drowned in the unspoken guilt, suffocating in it with her broken sobs.
Kieran rubbed her back gently.
I’m so sorry, Marcus, she thought in desperate repetition, praying it would reach him.
He is at peace now, Thea. Ainé’s voice startled Thea enough to make her jump. Kieran looked down at her questioningly, and she frowned, seeing his red-rimmed eyes. He didn’t know Marcus, but he mourned him still. He mourned another lost soul in this tragic war. He mourned her loss but differently than she did.
Kieran feels your pain as deeply as you do, Ainé’s voice returned, this time softer.
Why didn’t you save him? Thea asked, trying to diffuse the anger that she knew lived behind her thoughts. Why did he have to die?
Everyone dies someday, Thea.
Thea didn’t like this answer and refused to make herself feel any crazier than she already did because of hearing voices in her head. Instead, she convinced herself that the voice was just her subconscious trying to help her understand the traumatic experience she’d suffered. She glanced through the small gap in Kieran’s wings and sniffled as she watched the flames once more. It was no longer possible to see Marcus’ body, thankfully, and although she knew it would be hours before the flames finally died out, she didn’t think she could stay here any longer.
Ethel and Mica were speaking in hushed voices a few feet away. They stared at the fire, and Thea realized they had far more experience with death, despite being so much younger than her. Grief shadowed each of their faces. They’d each lost someone in this war, as Iris had said. Mirielle stood near Iris, wiping her own eyes with a handkerchief. She looked as pale as the snow under the firelight.
“I need to speak with her,” Thea mumbled to Kieran, wiggling out of his arms. She was not sure exactly what she wanted to say, but Kieran didn’t stop her.
She walked over to Mirielle as Iris, seeming to understand Thea without any words needing to be spoken, dismissed herself to stand beside Kieran.
Tired shadows had formed beneath Mirielle’s puffy eyes. She blew her nose loudly into the handkerchief and motioned toward a fallen tree that lay a scant distance from the pyre. Thea followed the older woman to the tree, where they both sat and watched the flames in silence.
Thea figured that Mirielle was waiting for her to speak, but when she was about to say something, Mirielle spoke in a croaking voice.
“You must hate me,” she said, catching Thea off guard. She looked at Thea from the corner of her eyes, watching her reaction. Thea opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again, thinking better of it.
She didn’t hate Mirielle, but she couldn’t deny her anger. If Mirielle hadn’t insisted on her hiding, maybe she could have gotten to him sooner. If Mirielle’s vision had been clearer, maybe Thea could have saved Marcus. If Mirielle—
She stopped her thoughts and looked at her companion, her friend.
“People keep telling me that I must hate them today, but I don’t hate anyone. I don’t even think I hate Amara anymore.” This last sentence was hard for Thea to say, but it was the truth. She didn’t feel hate toward her sister; she felt pity. She thought about what it might have been like to grow up with her father, and if she were being honest, she couldn’t convince herself that she would’ve been any different from Amara if their roles had been reversed. How could she know, after all? “Morrigan is behind these deaths. She’ll use my father and sister until they’re unnecessary for whatever she has planned, and the only hate I feel is toward her.”
Mirielle exhaled and placed her hands on Thea’s.
“You can’t blame yourself for your visions, as they come from Ainé herself, don’t they?”
Mirielle’s nod confirmed what Thea thought. She felt as if she were a pawn in a chess game and wondered if she would be the next sacrifice in Ainé’s fight against Morrigan. Her father obviously had fallen prey to the Goddesses’ game, but c
ould she actually escape it? Was she not already on the board? She wasn’t convinced.
“Don’t be angry with Ainé for the death of your friend. It’s Morrigan who brings death.”
“Couldn’t she have helped us avoid it, though?” Thea asked.
“I suppose she could have, but if she helped us there, wouldn’t we expect her to help in every death? Would there then be no death at all?”
“Doesn’t sound like such an awful prospect.”
A sad smile spread across the older woman’s face and she patted Thea’s hand gently.
“You’re very young,” she said. “Death is a part of life that we all must accept, and although it pains us, we must realize that it can take us away at any time. That is what makes life so precious.”
Thea knew Mirielle was right, but the idea that Marcus’ death was unavoidable or written in the stars made her want to cry all over again. Her parents’ death had been difficult for her to understand, but in a way, it had been easier because they’d lived longer lives. Marcus was the same age as Thea, and it was possible that what scared her more than him being gone was the fact that she too could so easily disappear.
If she did, who would remember her? What had she done to deserve remembrance?
The fire crackled, sounding like thunder without the echoes of their voices in the forest. No bird’s songs could be heard, as if they too acknowledged Marcus’ death with their silence. When a fresh flurry of snow fell, Mirielle released Thea’s hand, allowing her to pull her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Snowflakes landed on Thea’s cheeks, melting away immediately from their warmth, and she raised her head to the darkening sky where a storm brewed.
“It’s time to go,” Kieran said, approaching them with an apologetic bow. “There is a blizzard coming.”
Thea bit her lip and looked toward the pyre one last time. The flames were no longer as large as they had been. They had dulled from the new wetness in the air, and the shape of Marcus’ body was no longer discernible on top of the wood. She stood straightening her cloak and pulled its hood over her head to protect herself from the cold snow.
They’d been here long enough already and Thea knew Marcus’ soul had moved on, but she still found it difficult to walk away, regardless of how much she knew she needed to. She needed to do something, anything, to make sense of his death at this point—but that something couldn’t just be watching the fire become extinguished by snow.
“Goodbye, Marcus.” Thea looked away from the pyre to Kieran. He came to her immediately, and Thea recognized that she no longer needed to wonder if or when he would be there. Kieran always seemed to know exactly what she needed, when she needed it.
He offered his arm, which she accepted gratefully.
Exhaustion threatened her sanity as they walked back down the path toward the cottage. The sun had long since set beneath the tree line, leaving them to walk through the forest in the dark.
Mica asked Ethel if something was going on between Kieran and Thea, and although he whispered the question, Ethel shushed him loudly. The boy’s steps faltered slightly, and then he seemed to speed up to catch up with Ethel once more. Mirielle tsk’d her son, advising him to mind his own business, and Thea could almost feel Iris rolling her eyes, even though she never saw it.
These people who had been strangers to her only two weeks ago now felt like a family. Even Mica and Mirielle held a special place in Thea’s heart now, and despite the fact that they were all whispering about her, she smiled knowing that they would have her back no matter what she did. Marcus had been her family once, but she still had never quite felt as at home with him as she did among this group of individuals. She wanted to do nothing more than to protect them and make them proud, but she hadn’t quite figured out how to do that yet.
“I like this look better on you,” Kieran said. Thea jumped at the sound of his voice. She’d fallen into a natural step with Kieran, almost like he was an extension of her own body, so his sudden change in that momentum caught her by surprise. She glanced to her left, looking up at him.
He watched her with a shy smile, crooked as it always was. The gold specks in his eyes sparkled slightly, and the red rim she’d seen earlier was nearly non-existent now. Guilt ate at parts of Thea, reminding her that she’d literally left Marcus’ funeral only minutes earlier, but she didn’t let that guilt consume her. Part of her had died with Marcus, but it was the human part. She realized that she’d been holding onto that sliver of her old life, trying to capture and keep whatever was left locked in a secure box. She knew now that holding onto her humanity was a mistake.
“I guess I wasn’t made for dresses,” Thea said quietly to Kieran, but her lips also pulled up into a smile. He chuckled, his wings ruffling with the movement, and the voices behind them faded slightly. Everyone watched their interaction closely.
“You look exquisite in anything you wear,” Kieran said. Thea swore she heard someone make a gagging noise behind them and assumed it was Ethel. “But you look happier in this outfit.”
Thea lifted an eyebrow at him. He thought she looked happy on her way back from a funeral? The guilt returned.
“Happy is the wrong word,” he blurted. “The new clothes just fit your personality better.”
Thea nodded, as if to tell him that she wasn’t about to break down crying again, and then glanced down at her outfit. The cloak hid a lot, but she could still see the lace-up leather boots as she walked and feel the corset-style waistcoat pressing against her abdomen. She even admitted to herself that she felt better in this clothing. The dresses she’d been wearing made her feel as if she was trying to be someone she was not, whereas the black leather told the world she wouldn’t fit the mold created by other queens.
“So, this new outfit is because I will be training? Like actual magical training?” She couldn’t stand the thought of being left defenseless again. People had died because she hadn’t been prepared—both strangers and friends—how could she just sit back idly to watch something like that happen again?
Kieran nodded, looking ahead again as they neared the opening that would lead to Iris’ cottage.
“Do you smell that?” Mica sprinted to stand beside Thea, his shoulder blades pulled close together beneath his shirt. Mica was young, and nowhere near as fit as Kieran, but he obviously trained to be one day. Thea sniffed the air and frowned—all she smelled was smoke.
“It’s just the pyre...” she started to say, but the looks on Kieran and Mica’s faces made her stop uneasily. Iris had run to catch up with them, and Ethel had fallen back to stand beside Mirielle, looking slightly frightened.
“The pyre is too far away to give that strong a smell,” Iris said. She ran past them and into the clearing. Thea, Kieran, and Mica ran after her, quickly followed by Ethel and Mirielle. As they exited the tree line, the smell of smoke materialized into a pillar of darkness rising into the sky. The freshly falling snow mixed with thick ash and embers, and Iris stood with her hand plastered across her mouth.
Flames far larger and far less controlled than the pyre’s engulfed the stable in front of them.
Chapter 12
Thea and Iris screamed for their familiars at the same time, both of their faces stricken with horror. The animals could be heard inside the burning building even from their current distance. Ethel stood horror-struck and speechless in Mirielle’s arms, while the older woman stared at the burning building, the flames dancing in her gaze. Kieran felt Thea rip herself from his side and tried to grab her before she could run toward the stables. She glared at him, causing him to drop his hands just as quickly.
“This had to have been my father,” Thea said. “He knows where I am.” Her eyes darted around, as if searching for any lurking danger. Kieran did the same, immediately shifting into soldier mode. He looked back at Ethel and Mirielle. Iris was already running toward the stables.
“Get them out of here,” Kieran told Mica, who didn’t question the order. Kieran then turned to Thea, wh
o looked at him squarely. He knew what she would do without a word. He merely nodded at her, fighting the urge to stop her as she ran after Iris toward the stables. Meanwhile, he needed to make sure the arsonist who had created this catastrophe was no longer here. His wings stretched behind him, and he launched himself into the sky, circling just high enough to make sure no unwanted guests were waiting for them.
Iris had used earth magic, her specialty, to break through the wooden stable doors, and to his horror, she and Thea ran headfirst into the flame-engulfed structure. He fought the urge to go after her, reminding himself that he needed to trust her judgment and her decisions, no matter how reckless they felt to him. One by one, Kieran watched as horses ran from the stables, obviously having been set free inside, but he did not see Gwendolyn or Faylon.
Faylon’s stall is at the farthest end of the stable, he reminded himself.
He circled the perimeter once more from the sky, determining no threat remained, and then landed near the crumbled entrance. Kieran knew there was no world in which he could go inside that building. His wings were far too large and would easily catch fire. He could do nothing but pace, waiting for them to come out.
Kieran reminded himself that hardly any time had actually passed since they’d entered—it just felt like an eternity. Mica had returned, informing him that Mirielle and Ethel were safe inside the cottage. Kieran was questioning him about whether he’d checked the cottage for intruders before leaving them there when a loud crack sounded from the stable.
They both spun toward the thunderous noise and Kieran groaned as he saw the cause. A piece of the roof had caved in. Kieran’s concern reflected on Mica’s horror-stricken face.
“What do we do?” Mica gasped, looking ready to rush into the flames himself.
Just before Kieran could answer, an ashen shape rose into the sky. Gwendolyn was covered in soot and debris, but appeared uninjured. She soared high into the pillar of smoke with Iris upon her back. Kieran watched her only for a moment before his eyes returned to the door of the stable. He’d counted the horses that had been set free; the only one missing was Faylon.
