Veil of Thorns

by Gwen Mitchell

  He was in a cavern of ice. Jagged icicles clung to the ceiling.

  Hearing someone come up behind him, he growled.

  “Oh, Lucas.” Bri’s voice quaked.

  The pain did not register until she touched his shoulder. He winced and snarled.

  “Shhh.” She cupped her hand in front of his wet nose so that he was surrounded by the comforting scent of her skin. Her face came into focus, and he drank in the sight greedily. She looked miraculously unharmed. She smelled healthy and clean.

  He tried to move and whimpered, his broken body finally able to begin healing. How many miles of earth had the vines dragged him through? It had felt like hours, passing out again and again from lack of air or being concussed by large rocks, just to be revived by his healing abilities. Every bit of his strength reserves had been wrung out of him.

  Something in his spine snapped into place, and he let out another feeble whine.

  “I know, I know,” Bri said. Worry and exasperation warred on her face. But not fear. She turned to look over her shoulder. “Can’t you heal him? He’s suffering.”

  The pain was not the worst of it. He hated Bri seeing him brought so low. Seeing him too weak to protect and defend her. First, he had failed her in the tower. Then, in the ice bog. Now, this.

  You are not worthy of her, whispered the viper of doubt in the back of his mind. A swell of hot anger followed. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he shifted forms.

  The vines lost hold of him in the mist of his magic, but he was too weakened to do anything but collapse, and they quickly bound him again.

  “He will heal on his own,” replied a cold voice.

  Bri stared at his face eagerly as his wounds did indeed begin to close. Soon he was blinking chunks of pulpy flesh and dried blood from his eye as a stream of tears washed his vision clear.

  “You care for him,” said the enchantress, sounding surprised.

  “Of course.” Bri took his hand, threading her fingers through his.

  Lucas’s voice was gritty as he said, “You’ve made your point, highness. I acknowledge we are your prisoners.”

  Bri squeezed his hand in warning, but a low, sultry laugh echoed off the high ceiling of the cavern.

  “Oh, I see why you like him, Bri.”

  Bri? He looked askance at Briana, but his attention was soon drawn to the figure now looming above them. Her skin and hair and lips sparkled like ice, eyes dark and wild with the edge of madness he’d seen in many old immortals. Like his own father.

  She was assessing him as if he were a fur rug she was considering buying. “He is quite the specimen.”

  Bri cleared her throat. “Lucas, Hedvika has invited us to stay as her guests, if you’ll swear an oath not to harm her or lie to her. Those are the rules. I told her you’d have no objection to them.”

  Hedvika beamed at Bri, before she turned her cool, assessing gaze back on him.

  “Let me stand on my own two feet, and I will look you in the eye as I swear it.”

  Bri bit her lip, but Hedvika merely studied him for a beat.

  The vines loosened enough for him to sit up.

  He reached out to touch Bri’s cheek, but a coil yanked his hand back. He came to his knees. The vines pulled tight again, locking him in place, his arms tethered out to his sides.

  “You will kneel.”

  Bri’s eyes silently pleaded with him.

  Don’t fight… He could practically hear her unspoken plea.

  Though the words tasted bitter on his tongue, he bowed his head. “As my lady commands.”

  A clap echoed through the cavern. “And a quick learner too. You were right, Bri. I’m glad I listened. What fun we shall have. Now, your oath, wolf.”

  “I swear I will not harm you or—”

  Violin music filled the air, the notes raining down in sharp, startling phrases, making the icicles jingle above them.

  Bri whipped around, searching for the source.

  Hedvika went deathly still, her eyes widening in a look of panic for a brief instant before they closed—almost against her will—to listen.

  She stood there, swaying slightly, spellbound.

  The music grew louder, and through whatever bond of magic had been made between them, Lucas sensed that Ryder was now standing behind him. A minute ticked by as Ryder finished his song. When it was over, Hedvika stared at the Hohlwen, her expression icily blank.

  “I see you’re already playing with my gifts, sweet. You always were so eager.”

  Hedvika’s slitted gaze bounced from Lucas to Ryder, to Bri, and back. “This is your doing?”

  “I could not come home empty handed,” Ryder said smoothly, tucking his violin away. “The girl seeks her own kind. She was an easy mark. And I thought you would find her…entertaining.”

  Lucas stiffened.

  Home?

  This had not been part of their plan. Ryder was supposed to remain hidden until the opportune moment. What advantage they had in surprise was now lost. He racked his brain for a hidden untruth, a gap where the wraith could have misled him about his intentions to see Hedvika dead…but there had been none. Lucas had his name and his promises. Ryder was bound to protect them, to save them if need be.

  What game is he playing now?

  He flexed against the thorns, growling when they dug deeper into skin that had begun to heal closed.

  “Why now, after all this time?” Hedvika asked.

  Ryder swirled in and out of shadow, circling her, drawing her attention like a cat would watch a bird flitting from branch to branch.

  “Oh, didn’t you get the memo?” A self-righteous chuckle. “Humanity’s plague on this planet is almost at an end. They’re going to choke themselves out soon.”

  Hedvika gave an exasperated sigh and finally turned on her heel to address him where he appeared next. “Oracles have been saying that for centuries. The war to end all wars has never come.”

  Ryder stayed cloaked in half shadow, only a slit of white teeth and two sparkling holes for eyes. “This isn’t a war, love. They’ve overbred and used up all their resources. They’re heating the planet up. All the ice is melting. In a century or so it will be only fires and famines and floods. A genuine apocalypse.”

  Hedvika’s eyes glittered with emotion as a tendril of shadow swept up to brush her cheek, her neck.

  “Who else would I want to watch that show with? Hm? And after, the world will be ours to remake. As we always said.”

  “Ours?” Her voice was rough, lacking its earlier command.

  Ryder laughed and became solid, sliding his arms around her waist. “My sweet, sweet nectar blossom,” he purred, leaning in for a kiss. “Did you miss me? I missed you.”

  Hedvika seemed to jolt awake right before their lips met. She turned away from him, clutching the traveler’s stone that hung about her neck. “We shall discuss this in my chambers. Later. Not in front of our guests.”

  Ryder’s smile turned predatory as his eyes swept down the vee of her dress, lingered on the stone, flickering with popping stars. “As you wish, Blossom.”

  Nodding, Hedvika turned her attention back to them.

  Lucas lifted his chin, waiting to see if Ryder’s presence had made her mood better or worse.

  “The rest of your oath, wolf,” she snapped.

  “Oh, let the demon spawn keep his forked tongue, sweet. It will make the games much more fun,” Ryder whispered in her ear, knowing Lucas could hear him perfectly well.

  Hedvika stiffened as his arms slid around her, but a moment later surrendered and leaned in, batting her lashes once with an annoyed air. “What games?”

  “I would not bring you toys without a plan for how to use them.”

  She stared at Ryder for a long, drawn out moment. Puzzling out how that sentence could be interpreted? He could not tell an outright lie, but Ryder was a Ninja with words and a master of deflection. More could be determined from what he didn’t say.

  What he didn’t say—dir
ectly—was why he had brought them. To use. To play with. Lucas was not surprised both of those things were true. But that wasn’t the whole truth.

  “Very well.”

  The vines released Lucas in a single shudder. He shot to his feet and yanked Bri to his side, heart thundering with the battle he’d held at bay while restrained.

  Bri laid her palm over his bare chest.

  Easy, she said. In his mind.

  Hedvika and Ryder continued their dance of banter and seduction, speaking in an old Bulgarian dialect. Though Lucas should have been listening for clues to their history and revelations of Ryder’s hidden agenda, their voices faded to the background.

  All he saw and felt and sensed was Briana.

  Her skin was warm and dry on his cold, muddy chest. Her magic thrummed against him, the flame of it soaking straight into his core. He wrapped an arm around the small of her back and drew her closer, so that the lengths of their bodies were pressed together. It still didn’t feel close enough.

  Since when can you use telepathy? He asked.

  Since a few hours ago. But I can’t control the volume, so we have to be careful. Someone else might be listening.

  Her eyes—a bright and vivid emerald in the blue-white light of the cavern—cut to her left, where the bearkin watched them silently from his station against the wall.

  Lucas studied the bear’s markings and weapon. Both were ancient. He’d been a Raider, valued for strength and stamina, not necessarily battle skill. Still, he was older than Lucas and would not be an easy adversary.

  But where was Maxxim?

  How many others does she have? he asked Bri.

  There’s only him. I checked.

  That was good news. Perhaps his bargain with Ryder was already fulfilled.

  He smiled down at Bri, aching to caress her creamy soft cheek, but unwilling to let her go, even for that. Well done, my clever mate. I cannot wait to show you—

  Whoa! Can you not be so romantic in your thoughts while we are sharing them, please?

  I don’t think I can, no.

  You’re not even going to try, are you? She wriggled against him until he released her.

  He sighed, the exhaustion of his hours-long trek through the forest catching up with him. What is the point in hiding how I feel from you?

  It’s just… I’m trying to save the man I love, remember? I feel awful enough dragging you through all this without constant reminders of why you’re doing it. You mean to save the woman I love?

  Bri’s mouth fell open and her face drained of all color as if she’d been struck with a poison dart.

  He instantly regretted the words. He had not meant to utter them for the first time like that. He’d spoken without thinking. After fighting so hard to reach her. Not only today, but for centuries. He was so tired.

  Too tired to pretend to be anything other than what he was: her servant. Her slave. For whatever eternity remained. Bound by magic. Bound by destiny, and—he had realized with every stride through the snow, every splash of blood on his snout, every mile he was dragged through the frozen earth—bound by love.

  He would do it all a thousand times over to see her eyes in this light, to feel that bond thrumming and alive between them.

  Not alone anymore.

  That was what his heart sang when Briana was near.

  Hedvika saved Bri from having to respond. She sidled between the two of them, lacing her arm through his and directing him toward a large tree with glowing leaves at the center of a round fountain.

  She gestured for him to sit, so he did.

  “I would like to speak to our new guest alone.”

  At her command, the bearkin strode toward Bri.

  Lucas leapt to his feet—he was not letting Bri out of his sight.

  “You don’t mind if we have a little talk, do you Bri?” Hedvika simpered.

  “No, of course. You two should get acquainted.”

  “I’m sure you’re tired, dear.”

  “Yes,” Bri said hoarsely. Their eyes met briefly before she turned and strode down one of the connecting tunnels, the bearkin guard following close behind.

  Lucas watched her disappear and then forced his attention back to his hosts.

  “Don’t keep me waiting long, sweet,” Ryder said with a bow before swirling into shadow.

  Ignoring him, Hedvika sat down.

  Lucas had no choice but to resume his seat beside her on the edge of the fountain. Her gaze flicked across his bare arms and chest. “A Wielder demon.”

  Lucas stared at his feet, his brain slow to translate the ancient Greek she addressed him in. “In another life.”

  “And how many of my brothers and sisters did you kill, maim, and torture in that other life?”

  With that simple question, she told him so much. She was older than Ryder’s estimation by at least a thousand years if she had lived in a time where Zyne still feared the demon hoards. By the time Lucas was born, three thousand years ago, the raids had ceased and even the Wielder armies were in retreat. Five centuries later, the Sealing forced the last of his demon brethren to return to Khaos, while most of the half-bloods chose to remain on Gaia.

  Still, he had slaughtered many witches and torn through their armies in those first few centuries. He could not deny it. “Wielders don’t maim or torture.”

  “Ah, that’s right. They just eradicate,” she answered with bite.

  Lucas sighed. “Demons wage war. War is ugly. I did not ask to be born, and my mother did not choose to have me. But I cannot be other than what I am. I will not apologize for it.”

  A wry twist of her lips was the first genuine reaction he’d seen on her face. She nodded, as if he’d passed some test. “It’s good that you are a warrior. Our Bri will need a fierce protector.”

  He studied the whimsical tree behind them, watched as seedlings of light detached and drifted away on an invisible wind. Had she kept herself isolated all these centuries for fear of a war that was long over?

  “Times have changed, my lady. The world is not such a brutal place anymore.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed into catlike slits. “You have no idea what she is, do you?”

  He knew better than to argue, so he tilted his head to her in deference. “I know what she is to me.”

  “And that is?”

  “Everything.”

  “Good. She will need a fierce and loyal protector.” Another unguarded smile. “Because Bri is a herald. A sign that we will soon take our rightful place among the gods again. The world is about to be remade.”

  Lucas had met several beings in his travels who’d decided to claim the title of divinity. None of them had proven truly unkillable, though. He gave her an indulgent smile. “We are all the pawns of the Fates.”

  Hedvika laughed. “She is not. A tool, perhaps, but not a pawn.”

  “How so?”

  “One cannot be both sacrifice and blade.”

  Briana—a blade?

  “And who will be the sacrifice?”

  But he already knew the answer. Him. He would rather give his life for hers than risk another eternity of searching. His heart was already skewered on a spear and on display in Bri’s front yard.

  And she looked like she would be sick.

  Too fast. He’d made a fatal error.

  You don’t deserve her.

  One little slip, and he was back to square one. Only, now she would be even more guarded. The edge of the bench began to crumble in his grip.

  Hedvika watched him carefully as he reined himself back in. He knew his face betrayed nothing but wondered what other tools of perception she had at her disposal, given her age.

  The feline curl of her lip made his hackles rise.

  “You heard Ryder—they are all going to die anyway.”

  They?

  “You mean mortals?”

  Bri was the blade and… humanity was the sacrifice?

  Hedvika shrugged.

  She is utterly mad. She was not t
he first ancient he’d met to display a macabre fascination with the end of days. To some, living to see the end of the world was the only worthwhile payoff for a toilsome, overlong life.

  “Why haven’t you completed the ritual?” she asked, her stare boring into him.

  Lucas cleared his throat, feeling as if it was still clogged with chunks of earth. He had no idea what to say. He did not want to reveal the personal details of his relationship with Bri—he didn’t even know where they stood at the moment.

  “Still so cautious, wolf. You could lie.”

  “You could ask Ryder.”

  “You mean Kristjjan? He has so many names, I cannot keep track.”

  He shrugged. “Yes, Kristjjan.”

  “I could ask him.” Her smile twisted into a bitter sneer. “But you cannot trust a word he says.”

  “You could force me to answer.”

  She chuckled. “Yes, and my roses would thank me for the generous offering of your blood, but this is more fun. Now I get to make guesses and try to discern the answer based on your reactions.” She angled herself toward him, her expression one of mock seriousness as she turned him by the shoulders and leveled their gazes.

  “I must warn my lady, I have never lost at this game.”

  “Neither have I.” Her smile reached her eyes for once. He saw a spark of something—delight? It softened the lethal edge in her features in a way that was quite becoming. “En guarde, wolf.”

  “As my lady commands,” he answered, unblinking.

  “It’s clear she cares for you.”

  He stared back at her, not directly into her eyes, but at the sweeping arch of her nearly invisible brows. If he focused enough, he could count the tiny white hairs.

  “Do you love her?”

  He didn’t move a muscle, kept his breath steady and even.

  “But you have not fully claimed her.”

  Steady, heart. Breathe in, breathe out. Count. Repeat.

  “Your wolf must be going mad.”

  Steady, in, out, count, repeat.

  “Yet you are so respectful and well-trained. So in control.”