Veil of Thorns

by Gwen Mitchell

  Vika was straddling a tall, pale man with severe cheekbones and a black goatee. His arms and legs were bound to the ground with vines. His eyes were rolled back into his head, his jaw slack. Tears streamed silently down Vika’s face and dripped off her chin. The man’s white, ruffled shirt was torn open and gathered like the petals of a rose, white at the edges, red at the center. Vika lifted her hands from his chest, and between them she held a glistening, still beating heart.

  One stiff sob burst out of her as she lifted the heart into the air and began to chant. Red lightning swirled around her wrists, encasing the organ and her hands in a miniature storm of sparking magic.

  She rose to her feet and walked across a familiar clearing, to a familiar obsidian altar, where a familiar warrior was waiting.

  Vika carved out Emil’s heart as he lay there, his eyes open and his body perfectly still, staring up at the frostbitten sky.

  Now she had two hearts, and she held them up in the full moonlight, one in each hand, and continued chanting.

  The palm that held the first heart swirled with red lightning, while the palm that held Emil’s swirled with black. Then, Emil’s heart shriveled and shrank to the size of a small plum. Vika closed her fingers around out, and when she opened her hand, black dust flew from her palm in a swirling cloud.

  Vika lifted the still red, still large, still beating heart over her head in both hands and leaned her head to her chest, chanting under her breath.

  She lowered it into the gaping cavern of Emil’s chest. Her hands glowed white as she healed the wound closed, until his chest was whole and perfect again.

  Emil blinked, gasped a deep breath, and reached up to tenderly caress Vika’s tear-stained cheek, a heartbreaking smile on his face.

  Bri had never seen Emil smile. It was radiant.

  Vika bent and kissed him, her hands smearing his face and both their mouths with blood.

  Bri came back to herself. She closed her eyes, but kept her hand on the statue, buying time. She called into the ether, Emil, why? Why would you let her take your heart?

  His answer was a long time coming, the words heavy and tired. It already belonged to her.

  Bri gnashed her teeth, wanting to scream at him that it was not love, what he had with Vika. She was an enchantress and he was a slave. But what good would that do now?

  And…

  And?

  And he was so cruel to her.

  Who?

  Maxxim. I thought, if I could only show her enough kindness…

  Tears built in her eyes. His kindness was wasted on such a monster. But she finally grasped what Vika had done.

  She had said there was a way, if Lucas didn’t suit her, that Bri could be rid of him. She’d threatened that she would kill him and find Bri a new guardian. As she had replaced Maxxim with Emil. The ritual Bri had seen was how she did it.

  The thought of Vika forcing her to carve into Lucas’s chest–the image from the mirror of her own hands bloody to the elbow and holding a still-beating heart—lit a fire in her belly.

  No. She would not let that future come to pass.

  Hot bile rose up her throat, and a different kind of fire, one that had been banked since the moment she’d knelt beside her wolf on the ice and seen him broken and bloody and wrapped in thorns, smoldered.

  Bri prodded at one of the girl’s other hovering memories.

  They were high above the treetops, moving impossibly fast, but smooth as a blade on ice. Clouds zoomed by, and when she held out her arms, some clung to her like gossamer wings. She laughed and turned in the solid arms banded around her, smiling at her lover, his black eyes reflecting the stars.

  Bri gasped and dropped her hand, looking to Ryder questioningly.

  Vika flinched, and for a brief moment before she shuttered it away, anguish twisted her features.

  “Tell me,” she said to Bri, barely above a whisper.

  Bri shook her head. “I can’t make sense of it yet.”

  She caressed the girl’s cheek and sifted through the memories again, until she found the one she was searching for. The few moments before the girl’s death.

  “Insolent girl! What did you see?” Vika screeched, throwing her against the fountain so hard her ribs cracked and she bit her tongue.

  Blood filled her mouth, and she spit it on the ground, shaking her head.

  “You think to keep us apart? Why would he want you and your puny magic? He’s just using you! You mean nothing to him. Nothing!”

  It wasn’t true, Irhina knew. He loved her. He loved her.

  You are my salvation, Irhina, Kristjjan had said. And he’d told her a secret that he’d never shared with Vika, sealing her to him forever. He would come back for her. He would come back.

  “Stupid cow,” Vika sneered. “He knows what comes next. He would not stay to watch.” She sat down on the fountain beside Irhina, her voice and features softening, as if she had one face in the light and one in the shadows. “But he will come back. He will always come back to me now.”

  Vika lifted her hand to reveal a ball of black smoke and white lightning swirling in her palm. She thrust her hand into Irina’s chest and grinned so wide her back teeth showed.

  Irhina stared into Vika’s wild eyes and grinned back, showing her own bloody teeth. “I saw… that he will be the death of you.”

  Vika froze. “What?”

  “Didn’t your baba ever tell you not to love anything too much? It always kills you in the end.”

  A sharp-taloned grip bit into her arm. “Tell me what you saw!”

  Cold spread through Irhina’s chest, but she felt no pain. The edges of her vision filled with shadows. Sweet, sweet shadows. She could never be afraid of them.

  He’s come for me, she thought.

  “Tell me,” Vika snapped, shaking her.

  “The one you give your heart to… he will be the death of you,” Irhina said in a rusty whisper.

  Vika tore her hand back, and Irhina looked down to see her own heart in Vika’s palm, still beating. It shriveled and shrank, hardening into a black stone. Then, the black sloughed away like coal dust, revealing a small crystal, clear as a diamond but for a trace of black in the center.

  Her blood slowed, and a heavy stillness fell over her.

  And finally, Irhina realized. He had not come.

  You are a sacrifice after all.

  She gazed into the pool, seeking some vision, some comfort.

  She froze in place as the icy feeling in her chest spread, and her skin turned brittle and numb and drained of color. Drained of life.

  A single tear slipped from her eye as she stared into the endless depths of the black water. The closest she would come to seeing his glittering dark eyes again.

  He had not come.

  He would not come.

  And in that moment, she pitied the woman beside her, who would spend an eternity waiting for him. Alone. Whispering into the dark, never to be answered.

  Bri stepped back as the girl’s statue crumbled to dust. She turned on Vika, her eyes swirling white, glowing with a hint of glamour. She let her vision swirl slowly back to normal as she regarded her captive audience, her face a blank mask.

  Lucas studied her, brows furrowed in puzzlement, nostrils flaring.

  Ryder’s face showed no emotion now, but when she had first looked at him, there had been a miniscule flinch, like her gaze had burned. She couldn’t tell if it was remorse or shame that made his shoulders slope even more than usual. As if holding a human shape was hard enough and holding it upright was too much effort.

  Vika looked Bri right in the eyes, daring her to look away again. “Tell me what you saw.”

  Bri shuddered, reminded of the cold filling Irhina’s limbs as Vika shouted those words in her face. She took her time considering, knowing she must tell the truth, but also wanting to use the moment to its best advantage. Her entire journey was riding on this. The spell to free Kean was hers. All she had to do was give the right answer.
r />   The one you give your heart to will be the death of you, Irhina had said. Love always kills you in the end.

  Naturally, Vika thought that meant her lover would be the one to kill her. Which explained her paranoia, especially now that Ryder had returned with two strangers in tow.

  But Irhina hadn’t seen Vika’s death—she’d seen Maxxim’s.

  The one you give your heart to.

  Which could have meant not her heart, but the heart that held her life. The heart that gave her immortality. Maxxim’s heart, which she’d pulled from his chest with her own hands. And she gave it to… Emil. Emil would be the death of her? Had Irhina seen that? Or had the girl been taking one last swing? But most importantly, which would Vika want to be true?

  “I saw that you were betrayed.” Bri frowned at Ryder. He’d said Vika had stolen his heart. Had he meant Irhina?

  Vika stiffened, her face steeling over.

  Bri stepped toward her, took her hands. “And I saw what that betrayal has cost you. I saw how a selfish girl played a cruel trick on you. Without using any magic, she cursed you to never trust your own heart. To never love again, for fear that anyone you loved might be your end.”

  Tears glassed over Vika’s copper eyes and dotted her long, sable lashes. A tension in the back of Bri’s jaw loosened, and she made her tears of relief look like those of sympathy.

  But she saw the quiver in Vika’s body, not one of joy or sadness, but the tension of a violin string right before it snaps. She had made a grave miscalculation, missed something important. Her hands went cold, her stomach leaden with dread.

  “That cannot be,” Vika muttered under her breath. Then, stronger. “That cannot be.”

  Bri spoke calmly, maintaining the ruse. “She did not see your death, Vika.”

  “But I…” Vika turned her back on Bri, gazing to where Irhina’s statue had been, like she was reliving the moment again herself. “She… That cannot be.” She rounded on Bri, her eyes blazing with black fire. “You’re lying.”

  Bri gave her a look of pity and held her hands out in front of her, wrists bared, inviting thorn manacles that never came.

  Vika shook her head, turning to Ryder. “You’re all liars.”

  His normally stoic face was twisted in anguish. He shook his head. “No, Vika. Blossom, please.”

  “I will have my favor now, wolf,” Vika barked at Lucas. Her voice echoed through the cavern, and the thorns climbing the walls shivered.

  “Vika, don’t,” Ryder said. “Listen to Bri. You don’t have to do this.”

  She stepped up to him, and Ryder fell to his knees before her, his arms banded around her waist as he burrowed his head against. It was so intimate, so vulnerable and raw, so…human, Bri felt like she should look away.

  A lump of bitter fear and sour guilt formed in her throat.

  Vika’s clawed fingers combed through Ryder’s silky dark hair. “Oh, but I must, my love. I’m sorry, but without it, I can never be sure.”

  He squeezed her tighter, tilting his face up. Twin tracks of black tears cut down his chiseled cheeks as he whispered, “My sweet nectar blossom. Sweet ruination. Please.”

  Vika’s lashes fluttered and she softened for a moment but yanked herself out of his grip and whirled on Lucas. “Wolf! The favor I ask is that you give me Kristjjan’s true name.”

  Lucas straightened and looked down his nose at her. “How would I know his true name? I did not even know he was called Kristjjan.”

  “Lies! I know that you have it—your eye twitched! He covered your lies, convinced me not to take your oath. You came here planning to kill me. Do not try to deny it!”

  Bri had no idea what they were talking about, but Ryder was still on his knees, and the terror on his face was so wrong on him. He was the terror in the night. What could have him so desperately afraid? He looked on the verge of tearing off into the shadows, as if his oaths to Bri and Lucas were the only thing stopping him.

  “No one came here to kill you, sister. We promised you that, remember?” She held out her wrists again.

  Vika sneered at her. “I believe you did not. But we cannot trust either one of them. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

  Two giant, spiky vines tore from the earth and whipped around Lucas’s arms, yanking him to his knees. “Give me his name, wolf, or my roses will extract a blood price for breaking your word.”

  An even larger vine coiled around his body in a corkscrew, wrapping tightly around his neck until blood dripped down his chest. The sight of Lucas’s blood was like a bellows to that smoldering fire within Bri. The coals flashed hot, ignited, and her voice was like the snap of rain on hot iron. “Vika! Release. My. Wolf.”

  “I will not!” Vika said, though she loosened the thorns around his throat. “We made a bargain before you claimed him, and he is honor-bound to fulfill it.”

  “I would rather you kill me, Blossom, than throw our love away like this.” Ryder was standing directly behind her now, his face recomposed into a cold mask as the black tears dried from his cheeks and turned to smoke. His tone was somber, hollow. “Didn’t I come back to you? I always come back to you. I want to come back to you.”

  He faded away and reappeared in front of her. “If you do this, you will never know again if I come of my own free will.”

  He drifted closer, his hand gripping her neck. “This is our last chance. I told you it could be different this time. I meant it.”

  She sighed as she gazed up at him, forlorn. She kissed his chin. He stood stock still as she kissed one corner of his mouth, the other. “But I am making it different, my love. You will see. This is the only way.”

  She raised her hand to stroke his cheek, and Ryder grabbed her by the wrist, his features suddenly severe, sharp to the point that he was no longer beautiful. “I will never hold you in the darkness again. You cannot compel me to do that.”

  Bri shook her head, already seeing that Ryder’s ploy would not work. Vika’s mind was made up. She would torture Lucas until she got what she wanted.

  Lucas was watching her as she contemplated this, and anger twisted his features as he guessed her conclusion. His eyes flashed with warning.

  With the fire blazing high and hot inside her, Bri had no intention of heeding it.

  He had not seen her visions. He did not know what Vika had done, what she would make Bri do. He had not seen her hands soaked in blood, holding a still-beating heart and the dagger he had gifted her.

  You cannot let that future come to pass.

  If she had the ability to take Fate by the reins, now was the time to do so. She could see that Vika had once been, if not a good person, at least not a horrible one. She saw glimpses of that person every day, and it would be easy to convince herself that it was a sign she could be saved. But she was thousands of years old. If she was going to find inner peace, she would have done so by now. Ascended to some wise sage who spoke in tongues and talked to plants. But she hadn’t. She had become hateful, and ugly, and small.

  “Sister,” Bri said, her voice wispy and amused. “You asked, and I answered, but you did not ask the right question.”

  Vika’s head turned very slowly, eyelids narrowed to slits.

  Bri smirked, feeling the flames of that internal fire in her cheeks, imagining they were filling her gaze.

  Vika’s fist tightened at her side, and Lucas made a choking noise.

  Bri didn’t look at him but shook her head minutely.

  Vika’s nostrils flared like a cornered animal, but she released her fist, and Lucas gasped for air.

  “If you wanted a death omen, you could have asked me any time. They are my special gift.”

  “Is that so?” She spat the words out like a challenge.

  Bri nodded. “I have known which one of us would kill you since shortly after we arrived.”

  Vika’s eyes went dead and still, treacherous as black ice.

  There you are, monster, Bri thought.

  She smiled a teasing I-know-somethi
ng-you-don’t-know smile. “Oh, yes. I have seen it in my dreams. Because it’s me.”

  Come pick on someone your own size.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Vines sprang out of the earth, arcing toward Bri, but she conjured a circle of blue fire around her, and the vines turned to ash on contact. Bri volleyed a blindness spell at Vika, which she batted away with one of the giant vines.

  Lucas fought and hacked his way free in those few heartbeats and leapt at Vika. More giant thorns sprang from the earth and caught him in mid-air and whipped him into a cocoon of knives, squeezing him so hard, his face turned bright red.

  Bri was about to drop her fire ward when Ryder appeared at Lucas’s side and picked up his sword. With one swift stroke, he sliced through the coils of vine.

  Lucas rolled away and climbed to his feet. He took the sword from Ryder’s hand, but no more vines attacked them.

  Vika stood as frozen as one of her statues, her eyes quivering with unshed tears as she stared at Ryder. “So. It has come to this again.”

  He stared back, drawing himself up. He seemed to grow taller, his features leaner and less human. Tiny galaxies swirled in the black depths of his eyes.

  Vika turned away in disgust, her gaze slowly travelling across the leaf-littered ground and landing on Bri. Ice seemed to crawl over her features, freezing them in a rictus of rage.

  “It’s her.” Venom laced her voice. “You plan to replace me!”

  “No,” Ryder said. The emptiness of his words echoed in Bri’s chest. “Only to be free of you.”

  Vika’s face split into an expression torn between a grimace of agony and a maniacal smile as she stared at Bri through the wall of blue fire.

  Then, it was just the smile. She reached above her head and tore at the air with her fists.

  The ground shook, and Bri staggered, stepping into her circle and neutralizing it.

  A rock the size of a bowling ball crashed to the ground mere inches from her.

  Ryder appeared at her side swept her into his arms, driving her through the air with the force of a rocket. He set her on her feet at the other end of the cavern.