15. LONNIE

15

LONNIE

CHEAPSIDE, EVERLAST CITY

" W hat book?" I demanded.

Ciara scowled at me and slammed a steaming kettle down on the table, making the liquid inside slosh over onto the worn wood. "We'll get to that, but first drink this."

I returned her scowl, leaning forward to assess the tea pooling on the table in front of me. "What is it?"

"Don't worry about that. You all look like you're going to drop dead at any moment, and this will help."

The three Everlasts and I were gathered around the ancient round table that stood at the center of Ciara's cottage. The room was dimly lit, with only flickering candles and a single small window allowing for a sliver of moonlight to cross the floor. Every inch of the tight space was utilized, with shelves of herbs and bottles stacked floor to ceiling.

Ciara herself was bustling around the tiny room, muttering to herself under her breath. As the local cunning woman, she was as close to a healer as existed in Cheapside, and the first person I'd thought of when Ambrose brought us to the very road I'd once walked nearly every day, traveling back and forth between the castle and the human settlement. In fact, it was Ciara who I'd originally gone to see on the very morning I found myself in the woods where I met Bael and Scion for the first time.

Ciara was human–at least as far as I knew–but possessed a strong knowledge of magic. For years, she'd always known exactly when I was coming to see her, and unlike everyone else in the village, she never struggled to tell my sister and I apart. Still, just because I knew the healer in my former life and I'd come here for help didn't mean I was going to drop my guard so quickly.

I glanced across the table, searching out Ambrose's gaze as I reached for the dripping kettle. His eyes were closed, but as if he felt my questioning stare he opened one eye and nodded once. "It's just nettle root, love."

Ciara humphed loudly, placing her hands on her bony hips. "You don't trust me not to poison you?"

I smiled at her, showing a flash of teeth. "It's not personal. I hardly trust anyone anymore."

She humphed again, but looked slightly mollified. "I suppose that's not the worst way to stay alive. I have no reason to hurt you, though. I didn't help your mother escape all those years ago just to ruin everything now."

"That's true," Ambrose added.

Ciara turned and refocused her death stare on him instead. "I don't care for seers," she grumbled. "You're always blurting out things that no one needs or wants to know."

Ambrose raised a skeptical eyebrow at the old woman. "Do you have much to hide?"

"Of course. Don't go sharing all my secrets now, or I'll make you sit in the alley out back."

I cracked a small smile. Part of me wanted to see tiny old Ciara try to force the huge, muscular rebel leader to wait outside like a servant, but perhaps this wasn't the time.

Finally convinced it wasn't poisoned, I poured the steaming tea into four mugs and slid them across the table toward the men before turning back to Ciara. "Now what's this about a book?"

"Impatient, aren't you?"

I pressed my lips into a flat line, staring her down with every ounce of disdain I'd ever learned by watching the fae court. It wasn't difficult. If Ciara realized what we'd been through tonight, surely she wouldn't have been so willing to make me wait.

"Fine," Ciara griped, eying my stoney expression. "Drink your tea while I go find it. I've had the damn thing so long I don't know where I put it."

"Is this really safe?" I asked Ambrose the moment that Ciara was out of the room.

He nodded. "She's a bit brusque, but the tea really is just nettle root. She's trying to help."

I waved him off. "That's not what I meant."

I'd meant, was it safe for us to be here at all? And more importantly, what were we meant to do here? Of course I'd been the one to suggest we go to Ciara, but now that we were here I wasn't sure I'd made the right decision.

Once again, I found myself turning to Ambrose. He was the one who had clearly realized something was about to happen before I even set foot on the stage. And he was the one who had insisted we needed to find a healer. He'd also just promised to explain himself when we got inside. It was time to make good on that vow.

"Did you see what was about to happen before I went up on that stage?" I asked.

Ambrose grimaced. "To an extent. Visions are always malleable. There were dozens of ways it could have happened."

"But did you know this before you suggested the coronation?"

"No," he said sharply. "I really thought a coronation might work. I suppose now we'll never know."

I grimaced. At least we'd been able to hold on to the crown. I was quite sure that Idris had intended to take it from us during the ceremony, and perhaps it was only the unexpected death of the priest that had prevented him from doing so. That felt like little consolation now, though. What use was the crown when the court had forsaken us.

As if reading my mind, Bael leaned forward putting his elbows on the table. "Why did the court turn on us so quickly? Not that I'd expect their loyalty, but neither have I ever known them to risk their necks. They certainly took to Idris quickly."

"It was like Penvalle," Scion growled under his breath.

I startled, looking over at him, my mouth parting.

Bael had once explained to me that the Everlast family had spent generations refining their powers and marrying to produce the most powerful possible offspring. As they didn't typically claim their mates due to the curse, they instead focused on building their powerbase generation to generation.

There were three primary abilities that manifested in their bloodline. There were illusionists, like Scion. Seers, like Ambrose. And third, there was persuasion.

The former king, Penvalle, had used his persuasive magic to hypnotize the servants into enacting all his perverse fantasies. Bael's sister Aine had the gift as well, but rarely used it for fear of being turned into a frontline soldier as Scion had been.

"Is it possible that Idris could have that ability?" I asked the room at large.

It was Ambrose who answered. "It's not only possible, love, I'd put money on it. After all, he's our ancestor."

Scion sat up straighter, turning to look at Ambrose. "You believe he's really Aisling's son, then?"

Ambrose nodded. "Don't you?"

"I should have tried harder to talk to him," I complained. "We guessed this days ago but he kept talking in circles. I knew something was off. Why didn't I try harder?"

"I understand," Ambrose muttered, with a commiserating glance in my direction. "I want to know why I didn't see this coming,"

"Perhaps that's part of his ability," Bael mused. "Didn't you say that you only trusted Idris because you spoke to him when he first boarded the ship? Well fuck, what if that was because he wanted to persuade you to ignore any visions you might have about him."

Ambrose's face contorted into a grimace, and he remained silent. His eyes were unfocused, but there was a haunted look in them. It was as if he was physically present, but his mind was somewhere else.

"Perhaps he has persuasion abilities," I interjected. "But that can't be his only power. He called back the afflicted and put out all the flames."

"I still think we should have killed him right then and there," Scion growled.

"But could you?" Ambrose asked.

"Yes!" Scion and Bael said at the same time, both glaring angrily.

Before either Ambrose or I could reply to that, the sound of footsteps and creaking wooden stairs interrupted our conversation and Ciara bustled back into the room.

She paused in the doorway, an enormous leather bound book held in both hands. "Well don't stop talking on my account." She glanced around at the table where we'd all fallen silent. "This house has thin walls. You're not hiding anything."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Good to know."

She slammed the large book down on the table in front of me, narrowly avoiding the puddle of tea that still pooled on the surface. Upclose, I realized the book wasn't all that much larger than a normal tome. It was simply that Ciara was so small, it looked enormous by comparison.

Ambrose's hand shot out and he grabbed the book, his eyes flashing with interest. "Where did you get this?"

"Years ago, a servant from the castle left this item behind. It was on the same day that Rhiannon was taken away and her children were brought back to the palace. As such, I was skeptical of anything related to the royal family--" she glanced around the table, seeming to remember whom she was talking to "--no offense meant, I assure you."

"Oh, of course not," Scion muttered sardonically. "Why would we take offense?"

Ambrose ignored him and leaned forward toward Ciara, evidently fascinated. "Did the servant say anything about the book?"

"As it happens, she did. I wouldn't have taken it otherwise. She said to hold on to it and give it to the queen if she ever came looking. Of course, at the time I thought she meant Queen Celia. I wondered why the servant wouldn't give it to the queen directly, since she was coming from the palace, but she wouldn't tell me."

"And you kept it all this time?" I asked, suspicion heavy in my voice.

"Well, why not?" Ciara asked maddeningly. "It doesn't seem to be worth enough to sell, and what else could I do with it?"

"Did you read it?"

"I can't. It's all written in the old tongue."

Ambrose looked far happier than I'd possibly ever seen him. "Well, of course it is."

"Is this one of your grandmother's journals then?"

He nodded. "I should have guessed she'd do something like this. It's elegant, really."

I waited, expecting him to continue but he didn't. Instead, he pulled the book toward him and started flipping through the pages.

"Well, don't leave us in suspense," Scion barked. "What's so fucking elegant?"

Ambrose didn't look up from the book as he answered. "Clearly Grandmother left this here knowing we'd be here to find it, which means she was having visions beyond her own death. I didn't think it was possible, but it's the only explanation. We've been through every other journal in her office and the one we needed was being kept by the only person in this city you would go to for help? It's beyond coincidence."

I stifled a yawn. "I hope you're right."

I knew I should be more excited about the book. It was impressive if Celia had managed to leave it here for us years before she died. And more importantly. I was sure that Ambrose was right and the journal would hold some information about the curse or Aisling's heir–possibly both.

There was absolutely no reason why I shouldn't be leaping at the chance to pour over the book, yet for some reason I couldn't find the energy. Since the moment we'd arrived–the moment we escaped the mob–I'd felt like I was walking in a fog. Like I was so tired, that everything happening was barely penetrating my mind.

"Have more tea," Ciara barked, eying me warily. "You still look like death."

I stifled another yawn and reached for the half empty kettle. That small movement alone made the muscles in my arms scream, and I gritted my teeth. "Perhaps we should go find an inn or something and discuss this more in the morning. I don't know why, but I can barely seem to focus. I can't recall feeling this drained since the first hunt. I can barely lift my arms."

"I'm sorry," Scion said dully.

I glanced over at him, and found that he looked nearly as exhausted as I felt. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and head tipped back. His eyes were closed and if I hadn't just heard him speak I would have thought he was sleeping.

"Why are you sorry?" I asked.

Scion cracked one silver eye open. "It's my fault you're so tired."

I looked around the table blankly, feeling like I was missing something. "I don't understand."

Without warning, Ciara stepped up behind me and cracked a wooden spoon across the back of my skull. "Wake up, girl. You're smarter than this."

I lurched forward, yelping in surprise and pain. In the same instant, all three of the Everlasts had leapt up from their chairs, and were glaring at Ciara with murder in their eyes.

"Wait!" I put both hands up, trying to halt the impending violence even as my eyes watered. "I'm fine. Don't hurt her."

"Of course you're fine," Ciara griped, not seeming the least bit concerned over the three enormous fae males, poised to rip her head from her body.

"Don't touch her again," Bael snapped, sitting back down with a threatening glare.

"Yes, yes," Ciara said with a roll of her eyes. "I understand. Any harm comes to your precious queen and I'll die a painful death."

I turned my entire body around in my chair to look at Ciara, rubbing the back of my head. "Yes, you will, but they won't have to do anything. Do that again and I'll kill you myself."

The old woman just shrugged. "Don't be so dramatic. Sometimes children forget to use their brains and they need the smarts beat back into them."

I scowled harder. I was starting to wonder if we'd made a mistake in coming here.

I glanced across the table at Ambrose again to find him already looking at me, his black eyes full of meaning. I bit back a sigh. Evidently we had a larger reason for being here and my skull would simply have to pay the price.

"Would you care to explain what you're talking about?" I ground out. "What's so obvious that I need to have the knowledge beat back into me."

"That one is your mate, is he not?" Ciara jerked her head at Scion.

My eyes widened slightly. "What makes you think that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm old but I'm not blind."

My eyes darted around the table, wondering what Ciara would say if I told her that Scion wasn't my only mate. Then again, maybe she wouldn't care. She didn't sound unsure, or even bothered by my having a mate–let alone that he was the queen's former executioner.

"He is," I finally admitted.

Ciara looked down her long nose at me. "Then you don't need to wonder why you're so depleted. He clearly used enough magic to halt an entire army's worth of people. In short, he overextended, so now your power is working twice as hard to keep you both alive."

I narrowed my eyes. Ciara had always known things without anyone having bothered to tell her, so I wasn't exactly surprised that she seemed to already know what had happened before anyone had the chance to explain it to her. Still, my knowledge of magic was much stronger now than it once was and I could no longer pretend to believe Ciara's foresight was simply intuition.

"You certainly seem to know a lot about this," I muttered, unable to keep the note of accusation from my voice.

Ciara chuckled. "Don't look so suspicious. Seer magic is the most common ability to manifest in humans with some distant Fae blood in their ancestry." She jerked her head toward Ambrose. "Ask him if you don't believe me."

I grimaced. I didn't need to ask, I already knew she was right. My sister had been one of those part fae seers. Yet, my understanding was that there was a vast difference between the occasional prophetic dream and the sort of magic Ambrose had.

"You seem unusually well informed is all," I said carefully. I didn't want to offend the woman, not if we needed to be here.

Fortunately, Ciara didn't seem to take offense. "Years ago when your mother was escaping the palace she needed somewhere to hide. I helped her find a house in Cheapside, but in exchange I wanted to know why she was running. She told me about your magic and tried to get me to give you a potion to suppress it. I told her such a thing didn't exist."

"Yes it–"

Ambrose cleared his throat, cutting me off before I could mention the potion he'd invented to do exactly what Ciara was describing. When diluted with other herbs, Gancanagh's dust could be used to suppress magic, yet for some reason he clearly didn't want me to talk about it.

"Right." I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "So you're yet another person who's known my secrets for years and never felt the need to tell me."

She looked entirely unabashed. "It would have done you no good to know sooner, but now you'd better learn fast or you'll do something stupid and end up drained–like today."

"I hate to agree but she's right, little monster," Bael said, still eyeing Ciara and her wooden spoon with obvious contempt. "Don't you remember what happened when I nearly drained you to get us out of Inbetwixt?"

I frowned and took a sip of my tea to give myself a moment to think.

In truth, I didn't remember the incident Bael was referring to because I'd been unconscious. Still, I understood what he was getting at. After the second hunt, our party had been attacked by the afflicted. Bael used a great deal of magic to hold them off, and then nearly drained himself to shadow walk both of us the long way back to the capital. Magical drain—or using too much power at one time—was the most common cause of death for Fae. I hadn't understood it at the time, but if Bael and I hadn't been mates and regularly sharing blood, we both would have died.

"This doesn't feel like a very good system," I said peevishly. "If every time one of you over extends yourself we could all die, then what's the point?"

"It's not supposed to be like this," Ambrose said gently, leaning forward across the table toward me. "True mates always have comparable powers, or the stronger partner would drain the weaker one by mistake. Because of your connection to the Source, you have so much power that you'd be in danger of draining even the strongest Fae in Elsewhere."

"That's the first smart thing any one of you has said," Ciara snapped. "Someone with power like yours would always have to have more than one mate, but I take it you haven't sealed all your bonds."

My eyes darted furtively around the table, and I shook my head. "No. Not yet."

"Well, if all your bonds were sealed correctly, sharing magic would be a benefit rather than a potential danger, but until you seal them you'll always be in danger of overextending."

I sighed loudly, and slumped my head forward against the table. "That's just perfect."

Bael reached over and ran his long fingers up and down my back. "It'll be fine, little monster."

I wanted to argue with him—no it actually would not be fine. That was the entire point, wasn't it? If we completed the bonds, they would all die, but unless we completed them we might die anyway. "I just don't know why nothing can ever be easy."

Scion laughed hollowly. "I stopped asking myself that a long time ago, rebel. I'm starting to think no one alive is ever truly happy."

Ciara bustled around the table and began throwing more handfuls of mysterious herbs into a second pot of tea. "So." she craned her head over her shoulder. "Explain to me why you haven't completed your bonds."

I glanced sideways at Ambrose, a question in my gaze. He shook his head once, which I took to mean that we were not about to start sharing the details of the Everlast family's curse.

"Er…it's complicated," I said awkwardly.

"Most things are, but as I see it, you don't have much choice. You'll have to seal things with these two eventually, better do it soon." She used her wooden spoon to point between me, Bael and Ambrose, a stern look on her face.

I cleared my throat, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "Er, no. Not both of them, just him." I pointed to Bael.

Ciara frowned, looking confused, then shrugged. "Whomever it is. Don't waste any more time. A war is obviously brewing and you'll need all your magic to take back the kingdom. Unless, I suppose you want to give up the crown all together."

"No!" Ambrose and Bael said loudly, at the same time as Scion said, "There's an idea…"

I glanced at Scion, surprised. "I thought you of all people would want to fight for the crown. What happened to all that stuff you told me in Inbetwixt about being raised to rule?"

He sat up, looking slightly embarrassed. "Things are different now."

I opened my mouth to ask what Scion meant by that, but Ambrose spoke over me. "Giving up is not an option."

"Are you certain?" I asked, glancing around the table. "Maybe Scion is right."

"No," Ambrose said through gritted teeth. "He's not."

"I never wanted any part of this anyway," I said, following my own train of thought. "No one has ever pretended that I would make a great queen."

"Not yet, perhaps," Ambrose argued, "but you don't understand?—"

I wasn't listening to him. "Maybe we're fighting a losing battle. Idris is technically the heir to Aisling. If things had turned out differently, he would have been the king anyway centuries ago."

"Exactly," Scion said, seeming to gain more energy with every word. "Maybe he's the worthy one, did you ever think of that? We're not even supposed to be a part of this."

Ambrose gritted his teeth, anger flashing behind his dark eyes. "Of course I fucking thought of that, but I'm telling you it's not the solution. We are not giving up."

"We don't have to do anything," Scion shot back. "There hasn't been a ‘we' in decades. You can do whatever you like, but we don't need to be a part of it."

"You know why that's no longer an option," Ambrose growled.

"What would happen if we did stop fighting?" I asked, following my own train of thought.

Ambrose looked slightly haunted for a moment, then he shook his head. "It doesn't matter because it will never happen. I've given up everything for this."

"Well I haven't," Scion snapped, giving his brother a dark look. "You might have nothing left to lose, but I do."

"Yeah, you do because you've already completed your mate bond," Bael said, speaking for the first time in a while. "But what happens when you wake up one day and realize you're happy?"

I glanced at Scion, and held my breath, desperately wanting to hear his answer. Unfortunately, I never got the chance.

Ambrose stood abruptly, his chair clattering backwards against the stone floor. He slammed both hands down on the table, and I jumped startled by his sudden movement.

"Stop this," he growled. "We are not running away. I spent thirty fucking years making sure we'd all get here so there might be a better future for Elsewhere, and I'm not going to let anyone get in the way." He glared at me. "Not even you."