Veil of Thorns

by Gwen Mitchell

  “If you don’t think I stressed the difficulty of the task enough, you weren’t paying attention.”

  “I know. I knew it would be dangerous and that I would see all sorts of new magic. But I guess, in my mind, she was still just one super-powerful witch, and I had two immortals on my side. Lucas and Kean took down a Soul Eater. I didn’t imagine it could get much worse than that.”

  Ryder’s lip curled at her mention of the demon who had possessed her father. For years it had squatted—right under their very noses—inside Councilor Wright. Living in the Arcanum! A place that should be an incorruptible stronghold of cosmic magic. But corruption was a disease that knew no boundaries. It had taken root in the Synod long ago. Witches claimed to be a shield against the darkness, yet they invited it into their beds. They were only human in the end. Craven. Weak.

  You are no better.

  “Hedvika is more than just a powerful witch. When you are in her lands, she is the very earth you walk on, the air you breathe, the water you drink. She sees all and knows all, and anything that happens, it is because she wills it so. Her power has infused everything there, and if you did not believe me before, listen to me now, Briana—once you enter, you cannot trust anything.”

  Her eyes were wide and dark as she stared at him, her hands paperwhite and so tiny as they curled around the large mug. She looked so innocent as she said, “Except for you and Lucas.”

  He gave her an indulgent smile and waved his hand as if to say of course. But what he thought was, Oh no, you most certainly should not trust me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Late into the night, Bri woke to hear the blizzard whipping furiously against the tent. Branches creaked in the forest as the wind whistled and moaned along the mountainside.

  All was empty and still inside. And hot. The heater was still running full-blast. Lucas had tossed off his blanket and was sleeping on his stomach now, his head tucked into the crook of his arm.

  She turned the heater off and stripped out of her wet pants. There were deep shadows in the corners of the tent, but she sensed that Ryder had gone. She drank a full thermos of water and took another over to Lucas. He rolled onto his back but wouldn’t stir awake. Bri felt a pang of worry that would only ease once she’d looked into Lucas’s eyes again and knew that he’d fully returned.

  She set the water aside and stared at his profile, studying the contrast of his muscular jaw to the aquiline line of his nose and generous curve of his upper lip. Even relaxed in sleep, the faint wrinkle between his brows formed a narrow slash. Without thinking, her fingers swept over it, smoothing it out.

  His hand caught her wrist before she could pull away.

  Bri gasped, staring at his face, but his eyes were still closed.

  He wasn’t holding her in a firm grip, and though her heart was thudding painfully against her ribs, she didn’t pull back. He rolled onto his side, taking her hand with him and tucking it into his chest like a child would a favorite stuffed animal. Bri was forced to follow the motion and ended up sliding onto the cot beside him, her arm wrapped around his broad back. She stared at the Khaos markings etched into his skin. They weren’t a tattoo, more like an ornate birthmark. Eventually, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his warm skin, smelling of leather and spice.

  A faint shudder ran through his body. Hers answered in kind, igniting that connection between them that seemed to be strengthening by the day. She would normally shy back from the feeling, but this time, she squeezed him tighter. That faint hum of magic where they touched sank deeper than skin and made her feel protected. Insulated. Safe.

  Connected to something.

  She matched her breathing to his and, one by one, her muscles slowly relaxed until she gave in to sleep.

  ***

  Toulouse, France

  1593

  Market day was Vivianne’s favorite day of the week. The one day when she needn’t come up with an excuse to leave the house with only a maid in tow. Gillian was not loyal to her, but she was a rather simple girl. Vivianne would give her a list of goods to be found at the far end of the market and a little extra coin for sweets. They would meet at the tailor’s afterward. Meanwhile, Vivianne sought out the real reason she, a comptess, deigned to do her own shopping.

  His cart was always near the east end of the row. The last to arrive and first to leave, Lucas didn’t enjoy selling his wares. He would merely wind some twine between two posts and hang several dozen fur pelts, which he sold at such a steal he rarely had anything left to pack up.

  As Vivianne neared, she saw he only had a few remaining. The market wasn’t even bustling yet. His large muddy boots came into view first, propped on a low stool. Long, muscular legs were crossed at the ankle as he reclined in a chair with a book in his lap.

  Though Lucas had most likely scented her at a hundred paces and could now be listening to every beat of her heart, he continued to read his book, feigning ignorance of her approach. It was a game he played with her. The wolf loved to set his traps.

  In return, she tormented him in the only way she could—indifference. She petted the rabbit furs, ignoring him. Just a lady out doing some shopping.

  “Back again so soon?” he crooned, setting the book aside.

  She lifted a brow as she inspected the backside of the pelt in her hand. “This one was rather scrawny, wasn’t it? Have you any others in pure black?”

  Lucas stood and looked down his nose at her, a teasing smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You bought three black ones last week.”

  Vivianne glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was eavesdropping. When she spotted the crocker a few booths down taking an interest, she cast Lucas a haughty glare. “Are you trying to talk yourself out of my money? Not a very good salesman, are you?”

  He held up his hands in surrender, the other side curling to meet the first in a devilish grin as humor danced in his stone-grey eyes. “I’m only wondering what a lady needs with so many rabbit furs. Seems a bit greedy.”

  “I’m making a quilt,” she said, petting the one in her hands sensuously. “I love the feel of fur against my naked skin when I climb out of the bath.”

  His nostrils flared, and a flame jumped to life in his gaze. “I may have a few more in my cart, if you want to come look.”

  She nodded and gestured for him to lead the way, following a pace behind with her hands tucked into her cloak. Her pulse pounded in her veins and her breath quickened. He led her around a corner and under a bridge, where he twirled her against the wall and kissed her thoroughly before taking her hand and leading her on. His smile was now threatening all the wicked things he planned to do to her, lighting an answering fire in her blood.

  Lucas’s cart was parked at the end of a long row of empty ones. His was covered with a canvas sheet, and wasn’t empty at all, but it was warded and glamoured so that it appeared worthless to mundanes.

  He lowered the hinged gate at the bottom and lifted the canvas flap so she could crawl onto the bed of fur pelts inside. He slid gracefully beside her, pulling the gate closed behind him and sealing them in the dark. His body pressed next to hers and his arms encircled her as his lips sprinkled hot kisses along her jaw.

  She laughed and pecked him on the cheek, shoving at his shoulders until he rolled onto his side. “I want to see you.”

  He snapped his finger behind her head, and a floating orb of amber light appeared, casting their furry nest in a warm glow. All the humor had gone, replaced by predatory calculation as he tried to read her. He squeezed her hip. “Meet me in the woods tonight.”

  Vivianne’s face flushed. She felt those words like a physical brush across her body, evoking a flood of memories of all their secret moonlit trysts. Her voice came out husky. “Now who is being greedy?”

  He chuckled and kissed her cheek, trailing his lips to her ear, her neck.

  She shivered with want.

  He spoke in a low rumble against her skin. “We never have enough time.”
>
  She leaned back to search his eyes. “Would forever be enough?”

  Lucas squinted, a smile still playing at his mouth as he tried to guess her game. His gaze darkened, and the humor slipped away. “There is no forever for us. Only now.”

  She stared at her hand over his heart, as it had been in the vision. “There could be a forever, if I was made immortal.”

  He went absolutely still. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve seen it,” she whispered. “Did you not think I had already seen it? Did you think I would have done all this for a few stolen moments of pleasure? I have seen us in the future together. The far, far future. I have known since before I met you.” She stroked her finger down the crease that had appeared between his brows. “My wolf.”

  He tugged her against him and rolled underneath her, a mix of wonder and…something else shimmering in the depths of his grey eyes. Fear?

  Please do not fear me.

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  She relaxed against him, her muscles unfurling from the knot of a long-held secret. “In the future, you will ride a steed of black leather and shining metal. I saw us riding it together. You place your leather coat around me, and it smells of you. You still smell the same. I ride behind you, and we fly across the ground at an unbelievable speed! And I hold onto you tight.”

  “A steed of leather and metal?” There was more curiosity than doubt in his tone. Of course he would be more impressed with the idea of new gadgets than high magic.

  She nodded. “It’s name is Triumph. That’s emblazoned on the side. It is not a living thing–it has wheels, two of them–and the sound is horrendous! Like a captured storm. It must run on magic.”

  “Triumph,” he repeated. “What else?”

  “I saw…” she paused, not wanting to reveal too much. “I know of a ritual that will bind us together. It is a forbidden rite, long forgotten.”

  He was quite for several beats of his strong heart. “How did you come upon this forbidden knowledge?”

  Vivianne crawled up his chest, kissing his neck in the place that drove him mad. “Fate.”

  He turned his head to gaze into her eyes. He didn’t say anything, just looked straight through to her soul, as he always did.

  “I am yours and you are mine. Forever.” She twined their fingers together. “Believe me, my love, it is fated to be so.”

  ***

  In the morning, the blizzard had passed, and Bri awoke to an empty tent. The sun was bright and high in the chalky blue sky when she stepped outside. She felt surprisingly refreshed. Not as much as she had the morning after the full moon, but still much better than she should feel after so many grueling miles and a battle with a supernatural booby-trap.

  “Lucas?” she called out. Then again, louder, until her voice echoed off the cliffs.

  There was a set of paw-prints heading into the woods, but she had no idea how old they were or when he’d return. She stood in the clearing a few more minutes. There was still no sign of life coming from the forest. The silence raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

  That’s not right.

  Not only did the trees seem dead, but she felt eerily alone, and a knot of anxiety began to twist in her stomach. She tried to shake it off. She hopped up and down and stomped her boots as she rubbed her arms to warm herself, making more noise than was necessary. As if filling the silence with something silly and loud would somehow break the spell.

  She listened for a few more seconds and sighed. Her breath puffed out in a cloud of mist that shimmered faintly in the slanted morning light.

  When it cleared, she was no longer alone.

  The white bear stood at the edge of the clearing among the naked Birch trees. His dark, sad gaze bored into her until she felt it like a hollow ache in her chest.

  Bri blinked and shook her head, expecting the image to fade, but the bear was still there.

  “Are you real?” she whispered, her heartbeat kicking up.

  He didn’t move except for his long, yellow-tinged fur rustling in the wind.

  “What do you want?”

  In answer, the bear turned around—as it always did—and walked deeper into the trees. But he didn’t disappear. She could still see him lumbering between the skinny black and white trunks. He was right there, but soon he would be gone. What if this was the moment she kept foreseeing? What if it was significant somehow?

  It must be.

  She knew Lucas would not want her to leave camp. But then she was struck with a dreadful thought—what if Lucas was trapped or in danger again? It was so unlike him to be out of hearing range. He hadn’t woken her or left a note. What if the bear had come to warn her, or lead her to him? She’d seen this moment again and again, but never what came next.

  Why? What am I supposed to do?

  Her instincts told her the bear was not a threat. This might be her only chance to find an answer to the riddle of her visions. Before she could second-guess herself, she darted inside to grab her coat, and tromped after him, calling out, “Wait!”

  The bear didn’t slow, and she was forced to take long lunging steps and use his giant paw prints, rather than let the deepening snow hinder her progress.

  The ground slowly tilted downhill, and though that made it easier to keep up, every step was one more she would have to take back. In a dozen yards, the tent would be out of sight.

  Three more steps and she would stop.

  Two more.

  The bear suddenly disappeared.

  Bri halted and gasped, the cold air like needles in her lungs. Then, she saw him again. He’d gone over some small berm. She forged onward.

  Just to the top of the berm. No farther.

  “Wait, please!” she cried.

  Bri glanced over her shoulder. She could no longer see the tent, but she could see the outcropping of the cliff their camp was huddled beside. The trail of tracks behind her was still visible. She climbed to the top of the little berm.

  The bear was crossing a frozen stream. It was a solid, opaque white that matched the snow. She could hear his claws clicking on the ice. When he reached the raised bank on the other side, he turned to face her.

  They stared at each other across the small icy canyon, Bri’s teeth chattering.

  “You have something to show me,” she said, gazing into the bear’s glossy black eyes.

  He nodded.

  She shivered. “What is it?”

  He looked over his shoulder, back to her, then turned around and ploughed into the snow at a full run.

  No! She couldn’t lose him now! She plunged across the frozen stream on pure instinct and ran after him. When she was halfway across, she stopped.

  You can’t go any farther.

  She had to go back and wait for Lucas. Maybe it was time to tell him about the vision too, now that it was real.

  As if it heard her thoughts, the bear turned for a heartbeat, his eyes still steeped in that heavy sadness.

  The ice beneath her feet melted.

  Bri sucked in a panicked breath and fell into a yawning hole filled with churning black water.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucas had awoken right before dawn to find Bri wrapped in his arms. He had no clear memory of what had happened after the battle with the phantoms—only a hazy patchwork of moments he wasn’t sure were real and an echo of soul-deep cold.

  He would have thought he was dreaming now, except if this were a dream, they would be naked and in a huge bed with a fur coverlet. Instead, they were cramped on a narrow cot, sweaty and stuck together wherever Bri’s damp clothes weren’t bunched between them. His right arm had gone numb. Bri was lost to the world, softly snoring, a small puddle of drool gathering on his shoulder under her partially open mouth.

  He smiled and slowly extricated himself, not wanting to wake her. He needed answers.

  He remembered allowing Ryder to feed last night but suspected the Hohlwen would still be conserving energy in the daylight and hunkeri
ng in some deep shadows nearby.

  It took a few minutes to orient himself to where they were. He shifted into his wolf and did a circuit around their camp to investigate. There were no scent trails in the sparse trees, not even a hare or squirrel. He looped back and hugged the side of the mountain. The reek of the bog was coming from the south, so he went north.

  It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for—a cave that smelled deep and dank and old. He shifted back to human form, drew his sword, and paused at the mouth, allowing his sight to adjust to the dark.

  “Have you come to slay me at last, wolf?” a silky voice asked from the deepest shadows. They coalesced into an inky cloud and wisped away to reveal Ryder standing with his hands tucked in his pockets and a bemused look on his face.

  Lucas lowered his blade but did not sheathe it. “That depends on your answers.”

  “And after I dive into a horridly creepy bottomless pool to save your mangey hide. Your lack of faith in me is becoming rather vexing.”

  The wraith had a fair point. Perhaps the distrust between them hadn’t quite reached a homicidal pitch. Yet. Still, violence simmered just under the surface of his thoughts. It galled him that he had to ask, but he sheathed his blade and said, “Tell me what happened.”

  How had he been caught so off-guard? The idea that he might not be able to protect Briana through this ordeal had suddenly become very real, and it shook him to the core. They hadn’t even crossed the wards yet. He was all for playing the hero on a dangerous adventure, and Bri had her heart set on this, but he was not willing to truly risk her life.

  You should have completed the ritual already. Damn his human emotions.

  “I had no clue that thing would be there,” Ryder said, “I swear it.”