Veil of Thorns

by Gwen Mitchell

  He formed hands of shadow to caress her neck and shoulders.

  Vika’s heartbeat sped up.

  “I want you to trust me again, darling,” he crooned.

  So you won’t see the blow coming.

  “I want us to be together again.”

  Truth.

  Though he could keep the hunger in check, it burned hotter the more time he spent in her presence. Especially like this. Her surrender to the shadows was so sweet. He remembered the taste of her dark, rich mana. Her bloodline was pure and ancient and steeped in magic. She came from an age when mages still held power, and families bred to consolidate that power.

  Desire twisted inside him.

  It would get worse with time, especially so close to the stone. But it was not his intention to deny himself for long. Fate would not allow him to take the coward’s way out. He could not sit back from afar while others did his dirty work. If he wanted her dead, he would have to use a double-edged blade to do it. Risk losing himself in her again.

  He felt her swallow against his dark caress, and he became more solid, sliding against her back.

  “What if I do not want it anymore?” she breathed the words, barely a whisper.

  “Oh, Blossom.” He nuzzled her nape and chuckled softly. “All those nights you whispered my name into the dark…did you think that because it was not my true name, I did not hear? I was always listening, my love. We both know the truth. Once you embrace the darkness, you hunger for it.”

  He enveloped her in his arms as coils of shadow wrapped around her legs, licked at her thighs.

  She trembled.

  He smiled to himself. “As I hunger for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bri woke up sweating under the thick pile of furs, her velvet gown twisted around her waist. She blinked her eyes open to golden sunbeams spearing through the gaps in the living curtain separating her room from the balcony. Vines coiled all around her face and tangled in her hair, even twisted around her ears. She flinched and tried to free herself, but the coils were wrapped tightly around her chest and legs too, strapping her to the bed. The more she struggled, the tighter they cinched.

  She stifled her shriek of panic—no one would hear her anyway—and forced herself to lie still think.

  The vines had let her out of the room before, surely they would let her out of bed? She thought of the climbing roses that used to cover Aunt Geri’s house. The same flowers had grown from the stone floor of Kean’s tower, covering his body like a shroud. She wasn’t afraid of those.

  She closed her eyes and imagined the way Kean’s rose vines slid gently over her hands and neck when she lay next to him. She let out a deep breath, and the vines loosened their hold enough to let her wiggle free from the covers. Though they seemed to regret letting go of her in a way that made Bri shudder. No doubt if anything living stayed still long enough, Vika’s vines would swallow it whole.

  She tossed off the gown and stepped under the trickle of water in the corner. The chilly mountain stream was refreshing on her overheated skin, but after standing there for a few seconds, she realized how wrong that was.

  Her room was warm.

  Not only that, but the vines had sprouted large black-green leaves with spiked edges. A few even had the beginnings of flower buds.

  How long did I sleep?

  Her stomach growled an answer, and she had a horrifying thought–what if she’d spent weeks, or even months, in an enchanted slumber? While Lucas was being tortured somewhere, and Astrid thought she’d lost Bri too, and Kean…

  She washed briskly, anxious to find Lucas and make sure she hadn’t pulled a Sleeping Beauty. She yanked on a slip and her boots and stepped out into the hall.

  Emil was waiting across from her door with her luggage stacked beside him.

  “Oh,” she said aloud, then caught herself. Thank you.

  He nodded and stooped to pick up her bags.

  Bri followed him back through the vines. Emil set her things by the foot of the bed and bowed, not meeting her eyes.

  Her smile faltered. Emil?

  …yes?

  Was Lu—the wolf here?

  He came at dawn.

  Oh good. At least she’d only been asleep one night.

  Did he ask about me?

  He said nothing.

  Bri frowned as the vines slithered closed. She dressed in a blouse, jeans, and flats, and finally emerged feeling more like herself. Ryder must have delivered her message to Lucas and voiced his concern over her wardrobe.

  What a pal.

  When she stood facing Emil again, the growl of her stomach echoed down the hall.

  You are hungry. Follow me.

  She was hungry, so she didn’t argue. He led her through a part of the palace’s second floor that she hadn’t seen yet. It had vaulted ceilings and high arches. Bubbles of light that had lost their way bobbed along the walls. The ice was gone. The smell of damp still clung to the air.

  They passed several sets of closed doors—real ones of ornately carved wood—and soon the rough stone gave way to white marble flecked with gold.

  Emil opened a set of double doors and Bri had to turn her face away from the light streaming through. When her eyes adjusted, she gasped.

  The chamber on the other side of the doors was three stories high, and both walls on either side were lined with bookcases. The far wall was a window of sorts. Thousands of shards of glass were held in place by a tapestry of vines, stretching between the gaps like the branches of a tree. The mountain peaks to the north were clearly visible beyond.

  I will be back with tea. Wait here.

  Emil closed the doors behind him and green, budding vines coiled over them.

  Bri walked to the center of the room, surrounded by an orgy of decadent velvet furniture as she stared at the chandelier. It appeared to be made of a single silver antler grown into a hundred prongs, a flame burning at the tip of each one.

  Bri turned in a slow circle, wondering where to begin. Hedvika’s library! It felt like Christmas. Every shelf was chock-full of magical tomes, scrolls, and ancient-looking artifacts.

  Was it even possible the book she needed was here? Could she get that lucky? Ryder said it was immensely powerful. Probably not the kind of thing Vika would leave lying around. But could she be confident enough in its safety to leave it hiding in plain sight?

  It was worth investigating.

  When she’d brought her family’s vault—and the relic within—home from the Arcanum, she had sensed its power long before she knew it existed. Geri had too. Now, she had another skill to assist her in searching.

  She blinked into her Second Sight and did a circuit of the shelves on the first floor, but everything was caked in magic, layers of it settled like dust. Some of the objects on display glowed faintly, but not the way the mirror had, and none of them were books.

  Bri sighed and returned to normal vision. Then she tried walking along one of the shelves with her eyes closed and hands hovering over the spines. When she felt any tiny brush of anything, she stopped to look. Most of the books were in languages she didn’t even recognize. There was one in English, but it had something to do with earth elementals.

  The doors flew open, making Bri jump. She tucked the book away and glanced up to find Vika sweeping into the room in a petal pink silk nightgown. Her hair fell in long loose curls around her shoulders, and it was at least three shades darker, sparkling with strands of white and yellow gold in the sunlight.

  Vika stepped close to kiss her on the cheek. Bri was momentarily startled, but quickly recovered to return the embrace and smile gracefully.

  “How are you this morning?” she asked her glowing hostess. Even her eyes seemed brighter, more honey-brown than umber.

  Vika giggled, and Bri’s eyebrows shot up, her fake smile softening to a real, somewhat bemused one.

  “I feel so alive, Bri!” Vika fluttered her bronze lashes.

  Bri blinked. “Oh?”

  Vika
took her by the wrist and led her to one of the round settees in the center of the room. She kept hold of Bri’s hand even after they settled. “I cannot explain it. He’s just so… so… je ne sais quoi!”

  Bri stiffened, wondering why she would be speaking French all of a sudden. It took an act of will not to yank her hand back as a hot poker of jealousy stabbed her in the chest. “Who?”

  Vika’s smile turned feline. “Kristjjan, of course. It is an intimacy unlike any other, to be cradled in the shadows, one with the darkness. Sometimes I feel as if I come apart at the seams and he is the only thing holding me together. Like being in the womb again, but full of so many other delights…”

  “Oh?” Bri asked automatically, internally cursing herself. Lucas wouldn’t sleep with Vika. And even if he did, she had no right to be jealous.

  I want your claim. I yearn for your claim.

  “…not to go into too much detail.” Vika laughed again, almost giddy.

  Bri thought the ice wasn’t the only thing that had thawed. “Actually, I was wondering—”

  “Well, if you insist.”

  “No, not about that.” Bri made a face. She didn’t need any dirty details about Ryder. What happened in the dark could stay in the dark. Plus, she knew he was faking it, and she couldn’t allow herself to get cornered into revealing that knowledge. Better to avoid the subject altogether.

  “Oh, don’t tell me you’re a prude, Bri. That would be horribly boring.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not that. I’m wondering how things went with Lucas. I haven’t seen him yet today.”

  “Ah.” Vika winked. “I see. Your wolf did well. He has potential. I’m going to train him up a bit for you. I gave him free rein of the woods and he was out all night. The wild calls to them, you know. I’m sure he’s just resting. Tea, finally!”

  Emil entered, rolling an antique tea cart filled with all sorts of sweets. Nuts, dried fruit, cakes soaked in honey, even fresh strawberries with cream.

  So, Lucas had been free to roam last night and had avoided her? Bri fixed a plate of sweet brown bread and jam and filled her tea halfway with cream. She sat back with the plate in her lap and the cup and saucer in her hands. “What do you mean train him up?”

  Vika licked some honey from her fingers. “Teach him how a Familiar should behave.”

  Though her scalp prickled with anger and she was probably turning red around the edges, Bri forced a tight smile. “I don’t know anything about what we are. How should a Familiar behave?”

  Presumably they shouldn’t tell you they love you and then run away.

  Vika gestured to Emil, silent as a statue against the wall.

  Bri gulped her hot tea, forced herself to swallow, and set the cup down. She neatly folded the napkin in her lap and pressed it flat, trying to look thoughtful and not horrified. “I don’t need a servant.”

  “No, sister,” Vika answered, “you need a guardian. That is their purpose. Their power makes us harder to damage, keeps us young, but it is their devotion, their vigilance, that ensures our immortality.”

  Bri looked away. Immortality. It was one of those abstract ideas she’d put in a drawer along with other planes and time travel. It should be impossible. But magic was the impossible made real, and she saw it every day now. She studied Emil, remembered the bear’s sad, black eyes.

  What could compel him to defend Hedvika with his life when she clearly had so little regard for him? Another side effect of the Familiar bond? Would Lucas have some irrefutable urge to serve her, no matter their personal feelings about each other?

  Her lip curled and she cleared her throat. “I thought magic couldn’t overrule free will.”

  Vika sipped her tea, oblivious to Bri’s moral struggle. “Ha. The Synod would have you believe that, but demon magic has no such qualms.”

  “Demon magic?” Those two words sizzled through her veins like lightning.

  Vika looked at her as if she was slow. “Yes, dear. Most Zyne magic was adopted from Khaos magic. Their spells are far older and far superior. Too bad they were constantly waging war. If they had placed more value on preserving knowledge, they could have conquered this world long before the witches were strong enough to fight back.”

  “The ritual to make a Skydancer…is Khaos magic?”

  “Of course. Most witches do not have the courage to meddle with souls, but for those who do, the rewards are great.”

  Why hadn’t she seen it before? Kean hadn’t been cursed by a witch. What if she couldn’t find the spell because it wasn’t one the Synod was even aware of? It was a demon who had banished Kean’s soul to another plane. With demon magic.

  “Do you have any Khaos spellbooks?” Maybe she didn’t even need the divan. She could ask Lucas to translate Khaos texts for her.

  Vika studied her through narrowed eyes as she sipped her tea. “Many. But they are too dangerous for novices. What is it you seek?”

  Bri held her tongue, debating how much to divulge. She decided it was time to play her trump card. “You asked me yesterday why I was seeking another Skydancer. I didn’t tell you everything.”

  Vika’s smile said she already knew that.

  “The whole truth is the man I love was cursed by a demon. A Soul Eater is what the Synod called it. It…he was my father once.” She swallowed down a lump of bitter ash.

  Vika leaned back, thoughtful. “Your lover faced this dark one with you?”

  Bri nodded. “Kean’s a Ward. His shields absorbed the curse, and he turned to stone.”

  A small crease of displeasure appeared on either side of Vika’s lush, pink lips. “Where was the wolf?”

  “He…” Bri’s chest constricted and her mouth went dry. “He saved us both.”

  “You wish to break this curse and free your mortal lover.”

  She nodded, trying not to seem too eager. “That was my hope, to find someone who could help me.”

  “It could be done,” Vika said with a casual wave. “But why bother? You have the wolf now.”

  Bri took a deep breath, digging deep for every ounce of patience and decorum she had. “Because I love him.”

  “That will fade. One mortal life is nothing to cry over. You will learn that.”

  “But I owe him my life. The least I can do is return his.”

  Vika set her tea down, an indulgent smile on her face. “And what happens after you set him free?”

  “My debt would be paid.”

  “And you would let him go?”

  No! “I…do you have a spell that could help me?”

  She pursed her lips. “Perhaps. Without examining the magic myself, it is hard to say.”

  Great. How was she supposed to convince Vika to travel halfway around the world and stroll right into the Arcanum?

  “Besides, it is unlikely there is anything left to save. You could have the body back. The soul was most likely destroyed.”

  “No, he’s not! I know he’s still there.”

  One blonde eyebrow rose in interest. “How would you know that?”

  “I can see him.”

  “His spirit?”

  “Sort of.” Bri swallowed. “He’s trapped on another plane, but I’ve been there, and if I can come back, so can he.”

  Vika stood, a magnanimous smile lighting her golden face. “Now, that is very interesting. Come, Bri.” She held out her hand. “It’s a fine day for a walk in my garden.”

  By garden, Vika meant her collection of statues, which extended from the mouth of the cavern all the way to the edge of the White Wood. The snow had melted. The frost butterflies were now a mix of purple, black, green, and gold wings alight above a spring meadow in full bloom. Sweet perfumes cloyed the air. The vines covering the statues had paled to a deep green and were sprouting white buds.

  Crows still perched in the naked tree branches, which burst into leaf as Vika neared. Some of the birds merely cawed as they passed, others hopped to Vika’s shoulder to peck at her hair before taking to the sky, li
ke supplicants touching a goddess’s feet before a day of prayer. Even the spiders, beetles, and snakes came out of their hidey holes as she passed, drawn to her.

  The butterflies still covered the ground like an iridescent carpet, fluttering up in a cloud at their feet to settle like a gossamer rainbow around the base or mantle of a statue, or to dangle like a sleeve from an outstretched arm.

  Bri stayed on Vika’s heels, trying not to step on the creepy crawlies, who paid her no mind at all except to skitter across her feet in their haste to reach their master.

  As they wound deeper into the garden, the black marble statues grew less lifelike and more grotesque—people half swallowed by trees, or perhaps trying to climb out. Or had they grown roots and bark right before they turned to stone? That would explain the horrified, miserable expressions on their faces.

  “Who are they?” Bri asked, suddenly chilled.

  “Ah, here we are.” Vika coaxed a black serpent to coil about her wrist as she stopped in front of a statue half covered in grey-green moss and crumbling with age. It was a man on his knees, his fingers laced together, his bald head bowed over them. A tree had sprouted out of his back, the gnarled trunk twisting up from between his winged shoulder blades. “My first.”

  “First?”

  Vika let the snake coil around the statue’s neck and slither down the base of the tree. “My first attempt at the soul-rending curse.”

  Soul-rending curse? The hairs on Bri’s forearms prickled.

  “You mean these are all…”

  What? Experiments gone wrong? People who had had their souls ripped from them by magic and sent…where? Bri forced herself to swallow, even though her breakfast wanted to go the other direction. Her skin broke out in goosebumps.

  Just like Kean.

  Ignoring her unease, Vika said, “Touch it.”

  “What?” Bri tucked her hands behind her back.

  “Touch it,” she repeated.

  “W-what will happen?”

  Nothing happened when she touched Kean’s statue. She looked at the man kneeling before her, the others all around, twisted in their eerie specters of half-death. It could be a trap. If she touched them, would she become part of the wood too?