Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

WREN

They rose with the dawn and set out again. Finn said nothing of the night before. It was almost like he didn't remember. Which was probably best, Wren thought, as she washed herself in the nearby stream and then set about plaiting her hair to keep it back from her face.

She ought to cut it. She knew that. But she wasn't sure what was best. When her hair was wild, she could tap into the magic around them far more easily. After last night, she needed access to that power. If the shadow kin attacked again, she would have to fight them somehow. It was a risk. She knew that. What else could she do?

She almost lost him last night.

It shouldn't matter as much as it did. But he was all that she had right now. He'd stood up to help her, to defend her and rescue her. And it had already cost him so much.

With all the mysteries surrounding her past, surrounding Elodie, and with all his suspicion regarding that, she wouldn't blame him if he had just walked away. But she realised he couldn't. He needed to know the truth of it as much as she did.

Last night she had kissed him. She'd wanted to do so much more. Every nerve in her body had screamed at her to do more.

The fires of the Aurum blazing inside her, devouring her from within, had been an agony she couldn't have described. Elodie had never prepared her for anything like that. The shadows were soft and gentle, enticing, and of course a trap. The light, however… it hurt. It burned along her veins and, the moment she released it, that relief had made her delirious with need for him.

And he'd responded. She couldn't mistake that. He'd wanted her too.

But it wasn't natural. It wasn't normal. And she knew not to trust it.

If she reached for the light, the light burned her. The pain that had come with it had been the very reason Elodie had always warned her never to use any magic lightly. Because it was too easy to be lost in it and the agony of withstanding that need was almost too much for her. But the light of the Aurum didn't hurt Elodie, did it?

Wren wanted to weep with the injustice of it. She had promised so many times to only reach for the light, but every time, every single time, it was like pouring lightning through her veins. But if she reached for the shadows… well, that was another of Elodie's rules. Never do that. They'll devour you whole.

How did they do it, the witches of Pelias? They channelled the power of the Aurum, used it to perform miracles, even if the Aurum itself was silent. Elodie said all they felt was pleasure. Oh they didn't call themselves witches, the servants of the Aurum, the maidens, but Elodie had always said that all the fancy titles in the world didn't hide what they were. Witchkind were witchkind. They were meant to be free. But those women gave up their freedom for the kingdom, while the men either surrendered their magic entirely, or went into exile. Elodie had been scathing of their restraint and control, as if she didn't believe for a second that they really exercised anything of the kind. Wren had always thought she was being unkind, or maybe bitter that she wasn't part of such an illustrious company. She had clearly chosen exile herself.

Now she feared it was something else entirely.

Wren bit at her lower lip until the flash of pain brought her to ground again. No more magic. Not unless absolutely necessary. No light, no shadows. Nothing.

She had to stay in control.

But they were being hunted through the forest. By the Ilanthians, by the shadow kin, by who knew what else. She needed a way to defend them both, and last night had proved that more keenly than she could have guessed.

She could have lost him.

It shouldn't matter. Finn wasn't hers. He was sworn to the Knights of the Aurum. Elodie would order her as far away from him as possible.

Don't trust anyone.

But she did trust him. And she had a clawing feeling that she couldn't help herself when it came to him. Like they were somehow tied together. And whatever she had done last night to save him had only made it worse.

She longed to reach out and touch him, to entwine her fingers with his. To pull him close, body to body. To drag his mouth down to hers and kiss him until neither of them had breath left in them.

Elodie had always been clear. Magic – of any kind – was not to be conjured lightly. It had a cost, a price, and it took payment without warning or compunction. It changed things, people, emotions, needs. It was dangerous. The words of othertongue were only to be used when all else failed. They reached out to the powers beneath the surface of the world, the powers that resolved ultimately into the Aurum and the Nox. Both might be dormant now, as conscious things, but their echoes and memories lingered in the world. Fragments of the Nox still wandered the world, working ill. And in Pelias, the Aurum slept on. Magic had a way of making its own will known, dark or light. People thought witches manipulated magic either way, but it was often the other way around. And if a witch lost herself in such power… terrible things could happen.

Elodie had never elaborated on what those terrible things might be, but after last night Wren could guess. If Finn had not been there…

That power had filled her almost to breaking point. She'd felt herself teetering on the edge. Anything she wanted could be hers, if she listened to the song in the darkest places of the shadows, if she let it in. She could be strong, safe, loved… if she just gave in.

He could be hers.

Just like the voice in her dreams had promised.

And she almost had, she realised. For Finn. To save him. To make him hers. She couldn't say what had stopped her. Perhaps just Finn, the way he had looked at her.

She couldn't do that to him.

As they continued to walk in silence, Wren turned the events over and over, tried to examine the feelings running riot inside her. But she kept coming back to the feeling of his body against hers, his kiss, the blind and all-consuming need she had felt. And still felt.

It was not as strong, but each time she so much as glanced his way, she felt it. A hunger. A want.

It wasn't right. She shouldn't be feeling this. He'd been hurt and in danger, and she had taken advantage of that. But she'd felt him respond.

They ought to talk about it, but she was not brave enough to bring it up.

Sometime after midday Finnian called a stop. They ate meagre rations in silence.

‘I'll check out the path ahead,' he said abruptly. ‘We must be nearly at the southern road. I want to make sure there are no surprises awaiting us.'

Surprises, like witchhunters, Wren supposed.

Part of her wanted to argue that it was too dangerous to split up, that they ought to stay together, but she no longer had the energy. Everything hurt and the constant guilt inside her made her miserable. So she just nodded.

‘Stay here and stay hidden,' he told her. ‘I'll be back as soon as I can.' He made to leave but glanced back at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn't define. Like he didn't want to leave her here. Like it might be the last time he looked on her. The thought sent a pang of alarm through her.

‘Finnian,' she said. ‘Please, Finn… take care.'

He hesitated, and his lips parted in surprise. Perhaps he meant to say something in reply but then thought better of it. Instead, he offered her a bow and then he was gone.

Sitting alone in the clearing, Wren closed her eyes, listening to the forest around her. All was good. The birds sang, and the leaves whispered their own songs. No danger then. No threats. She was deep in the greenwood and nothing could harm her here. It would warn her, if danger threatened. She just had to wait.

But the moment she let her mind relax, she could feel the insidious touch of the man from her dreams. His voice whispered in her ear, the voice of the darkness, promising such things. Ghostly lips trailed down the side of her throat, teasing the sensitive skin there.

Let go, little one…

Wren's eyes shot open, but there was no one near her. The world around was still undisturbed. Shadow kin couldn't come at her in daylight, and the fragments tangled in the shadows beneath the trees were too weak to do any harm.

What had she just heard?

She had to do something, something to keep her mind occupied and her magic-hungry body under control. Then she remembered the diary. She dug it out of her pack and held it in her shaking hands. Were there answers in here? There had to be. Or could Elodie use it to make contact with her again? That was a hope, albeit a desperate one. She didn't want to share it with Finn, as the words inside belonged to Elodie and he had enough suspicions about her already. A queen. Really.

And yet, she could half believe it. Elodie had often acted as if everyone needed to jump at her command. Wren knew that better than anyone.

The lost queen of Asteroth was a legend. Queen Aeryn had died fighting the Nox and it suited the regents' council to pretend she still lived in order to maintain power. A romantic story that didn't hold up to reality.

Elodie didn't like to talk about history, but the story was well known. Wren had heard it many times in Thirbridge. They'd never linked it to the hedge witch, but that was hardly surprising.

Here, in her hands, there might be some answers. If not about the fate of the lost queen, then about where Elodie herself had come from. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but Wren didn't know what else to do. It wasn't like she could ask permission.

Opening the soft leather cover, she began to read.

Elodie's writing looped gently over the paper, and Wren was put in mind of her voice, of the way she told stories, especially when Wren had been small. When storms had raged outside and rain slammed against the shutters, when Elodie had snuggled her close and told her there was nothing to fear.

She could almost imagine she could feel Elodie's arms around her now.

Music came through the trees, the lullaby she had been hearing in the quiet moments, deep in the woods and their dark shadows. Such a soft and gentle sound. It lulled her to the edge of sleep. It seemed like so long since she had actually rested. If she just closed her eyes, and listened to that song, and let it take her?—

A branch broke in the thick undergrowth behind her. She stood to her feet, scanning the treeline, looking desperately for Finn, hoping it was just him. But Finn moved noiselessly, and whoever this was did not. They tried, but they were not as stealthy as he was. She could hear them, coming closer.

Heart thundering, she waited, trying to ascertain the threat. Then, in one horrible instant, she saw them through the trees. And they saw her.

With a shout, men in the garb of Ilanthian soldiers burst from the trees, coming towards her. Wren bolted in the other direction, heedless of where it might lead. She only had the book and the locket, all the packs abandoned at their makeshift camp. She only had an idea of which way Finn had headed, but she knew she was running in the opposite direction now. But all she could do was run, scrambling over fallen trees and moss-covered rocks, stumbling through a shallow stream then up into a gully. It angled down the hillside, sheer rock hemming her in on either side.

This was a disaster. What had she been thinking? She didn't even know where she was going and the sound of pursuit was close behind. She could hear men shouting to each other, as well as horses and dogs. They were close, too close, and she had no way out.

At the end of the gully, a sheer rock face rose before her.

She turned around, hoping, praying for the time to dart back out into the forest itself. But the way was blocked already by the Ilanthians. They advanced slowly, lazily, eyeing her like a pack of dogs with a fox at bay, and she backed up until the rock pressed hard against her back.

There had to be a way out. There had to be.

The insidious whisper that ran through the back of her mind was hardly a surprise. She reached out to it and it answered, the touch of magic dark and enticing. It wound its way through her and this time she welcomed it, clung to it like a lifeline in a storm. A song, a murmur, a promise. The music of the shadows called to her. This kind of magic didn't hurt her, would never hurt her…

She had no choice. She had to keep her wits about her. She wasn't trying to drive away shadow kin this time, or heal their poison. Her enemies now were just men. And she could use the shadows to deal with men.

The othertongue danced on the tip of her tongue and instead of light she found the deepest shadows of the gully and called to them. They stirred lazily at first, and then awakened, coiling up around her like serpents ready to strike.

The men stilled, their eagerness draining away to rising fear. She could smell it on them, putrid with sweat. Good, this was good. They wanted her to be small and afraid. And now their situations were reversed. Her hair rippled around her as if moved by a breeze and her strength grew like a wave.

All she had to do was reach out, seize the shades uncoiled and ready, and the shadow kin would come when she called them. They would tear this sorry pack of hunters to pieces and she would watch. She would revel in it. She would make them sorry. Every last one of them.

And when she was done… when she was…

She closed her eyes.

There was a voice behind the darkness calling to her. Endless and dark and pulling her in like a vortex, swallowing her down. She struggled against it, this new horror suddenly making her aware of how close to the edge she stood.

‘Don't fight it,' said a familiar voice. It shouldn't be familiar. She had heard it only in her dreams and it chilled her as much as it set a fire in her veins. But she knew it. Her whole body reacted to it instantly and her eyes snapped open, vision returning in a blinding flash of light. He stepped through the gap made by his men, tall and slender, dressed in a long surcoat of the finest leather tooled with patterns of silver. Beneath it, his mail shimmered like water in sunlight. His long, white-blond hair caught the last glimmering of sunlight in this dark place, illuminating him. And his face…

His face was beautiful. Not just handsome. So much more than that. It could have been carved from marble by the finest craftsman, high cheekbones, eyes the shape of almonds, a strong jaw and a mouth that twisted in a triumphant smile. His silvery grey gaze seemed to laugh at her and Wren felt the power in the shadows all around her purr at his approach. She released her hold, her rage draining out of her with the sight of him, leaving behind only the bitter aftertaste of fear.

Crown Prince Leander of Ilanthus – that was what Finn had called him. But she knew him. The scent of him, the feeling of his touch, his breath against her skin.

The man from her nightmares smiled wolfishly. ‘Well, little bird, that was quite the chase, wasn't it?'