11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I groan as the room around me slowly comes into focus. I quickly scan my surroundings in this very unfamiliar cottage. The hearth is ablaze, and Eoin sleeps in the chair next to me. I sit up carefully, letting the blanket fall to the ground as I stand. I study my hands, turning them over and wiggling my fingers. Everything seems to be normal except for the bandage around my left wrist. It's sore, and a sharp pain in my head flares as I try to heal it. My well is too low.

The floor creaks as I walk across the wide planks to the window by the hearth. It's dark out, but the sizable sand-colored castle looming in the distance stands out, adorned with countless lanterns and torches.

We made it!

I rush to peer out another window, eager to take in more of the surroundings. Several tiny cottages surround us, and they all look about the same. A common area near the center has a well, a large covered outdoor kitchen, and a dining area.

"You're up," Eoin calls behind me. I whip around, and we lock eyes.

"What happened?" My voice is croaky, and my mouth is dry. "Are you okay?"

Eoin pours water from a pitcher, handing the glass to me. I gulp it down and hand it back for a refill.

"I'm fine," he says and hands me another glass. I drink this one more slowly, savoring it. He takes the glass from me and sets it down. "Are you okay?" He places his hand against my forehead, then lifts my chin, studying me with furrowed brows.

I swat his hand. "I'm fine. You're not fine; you almost died!" I grab his shirt, and he pivots, slipping out of my grasp. I huff as frustration builds in my chest. Why won't he show me he's okay?

I grab at him again, anticipating his pivot, and throw my foot back just in time. He trips back onto the couch and pulls me with him as he falls. I climb onto his lap, and in one swift motion, I yank his shirt up above his rib cage. A small silver scar remains where the deep gash once was. He stops squirming and resisting me, and I run my fingers lightly over it. It is completely healed.

"I'm fine," he repeats gently. "You healed me." I run my fingers lightly along the scar again, watching his muscular chest rise and fall. He gingerly grabs my left wrist and turns it palm up. "You need to finish healing."

"I can't. What happened?"

Eoin's abs flex as he starts to sit up, and I climb off his lap. "After the attack, you passed out." He moves to the small kitchen and retrieves two glasses and a pint of mead from under the cabinet. "Your arm was still bleeding. I'm guessing you started to heal yourself but passed out before you could finish." He sits down beside me once more and pours us each a glass of the honey mead. "I wrapped the wound the best I could. About that time, another carriage came down the trail and picked us up." He takes a sip of mead. "I'm grateful for them. I showed them our papers, and they were kind enough to bring us here and help me get you settled. This is where we are staying until the wedding." He gestures around the tiny home. "All of these little houses around us are for the temporary staff coming in for the wedding."

"I see." A grin spreads across my face. "We really made it." I can't help but laugh.

"That's not all," he says and takes a shot of the warm amber liquid. I take mine as well, sensing his tone shift to a more serious nature. "The girl in the woods; when we found her, she said, ‘She had black eyes'."

A mixture of guilt and embarrassment grips me. I abandoned that girl. I left her to the monster and hadn't given her a second thought. What does that make me?

"What do you mean black eyes?"

He drinks his second shot and leans back into the couch letting out a long exhale. "At first, I thought she was just scared, or maybe even talking about what had attacked them, but then when the bear attacked, and you charged it, I saw it. It was you. You had black eyes; solid black, no pupils or anything."

The room seems to drop out from under me. I'm still unsure whether to tell Eoin about my experiences with the entity inside me. I don't understand it, and I'm unsure how he will react. I drink my second shot, and Eoin leans forward to refill our glasses. I settle on a half-truth.

"I don't know what's happening to me."

"That's just it," he says. "I think your magic is still developing. Your book says fae magic is fully developed within two years of your first awakening, but I don't know how much we should trust that. How much more is going to change?" He runs a hand over his face. "Are you going to be able to handle the next few months? We don't know what more might be coming down the mountain for you, and quite frankly, what I saw in the woods was already borderline frightening."

"I'm scared, too." I tuck my ankle under me and fold my hands. I'm not ready to have this conversation. "I don't know what is in store for me now, but we never have. I don't know who my parents were, so we never knew how powerful I might be. I still don't have a good gauge of how full my well is, and I'm still learning. These are all things we knew before we even accepted the mission." My eyes catch on a small dagger lying on the table beside the couch. Did Eoin place that there for a reason? "It's still me," I say more gently.

His face softens. "You're right. I think I'm just tired." He drinks his mead slower this time, and his eyes trace my lips before bouncing back to the flickering fire. "There's only one bed here. I'll take the couch tonight. We can take turns."

A pounding at the door startles us both, and I reflexively lean toward Eoin. "Are we expecting someone?"

Eoin purses his lips and shakes his head. He signals for me to be quiet and slowly stands. The hem of a white cloak blows outside the window and my body tenses.

"Remember," he whispers, "we are supposed to be here. We have valid paperwork." He nods toward the dagger on the end table. "Hide it."

I grab it and slide it under the couch pillow as he strides toward the door, head held high.

Eoin opens the door, revealing two armed Crusaders in long white cloaks. "We're investigating a report of an abomination attack." The first Crusader steps forward, forcing Eoin to rotate out of his way. "We have word you may be involved."

They enter our home with an easy gait and promptly stop when they spot me. Both Crusaders slowly gaze down my torso, and it's then that I realize I'm covered in dried blood. "Miss, I know you've been through a lot, but we have a few questions for you and your. . ."

"Friend." Eoin extends his hand to the Crusaders, and they shake it. He raises an eyebrow and tips his head ever so slightly as he pulls our work papers out of his hanging cloak. I scoot in the indicated direction, and Eoin sits by me, becoming a barricade between myself and the two towering fae males.

Images of the old man's head tumbling into the white sand replay over and over in my mind. They're talking, but I can't bring my focus back to them. I'm on the beach in Ravton Bay as the Crusader steps over the headless body and points at me. My hands tremble on my lap, and Eoin slides his hand into mine, squeezing it gently.

Silence. They've stopped talking.

My focus returns, and all six eyes bore into me. Did someone ask me a question?

"She's lost a lot of blood and needs rest." Eoin strokes my knuckle with his thumb.

"I understand. We'll make this brief. Eoin Sorensen and Bronwyn. . ." The Crusader looks to me expectantly.

"Just Bronwyn." I find my voice as my moment of hysteria passes.

"Ah, one of those," he mumbles, folding the papers and returning them to Eoin.

"What's that sup—"

Eoin elbows me hard in the side but continues to hold my hand. The Crusader looks up with an arched brow, and the surge of blood to my head dampens my hearing.

"Yes, one of those." He crosses his arms, looking down at us. The second Crusader strides around the room, peeking into the bathing chamber and the bedroom. "You're probably some lord's bastard or a whore's daughter. I really don't care." He gestures to his companion, and they retreat to the door. "Everything seems to be in order. If you encounter any more abominations, promptly report them to the authorities so we can deal with them appropriately."

Eoin closes the door behind the Crusaders and turns to me with an exaggerated expression. "Do I need to draw you a map of where it's wise to argue with Crusaders—the very men hunting us? Because that's going to be a very small—"

"A map!" I run to the bedroom and dump my rucksack onto the bed. Eoin follows me and leans on the door frame. "I forgot about this." I pull out the map I bought from the small boy. "Where's ours? I bought this one because something looked strange. Look." I point to a large section of map in the northwest corner.

Eoin retrieves our map, neatly tucked into the side of his bag, and lays it on the bed next to mine. "Well, isn't that interesting?"

The markings designating vampires are not on the new map. However, this map does seem to indicate which areas are aligned with the Prophet, and there's a distinct correlation.

"It looks like even the Prophet might be afraid of the vampires. I don't see any sign of them in these regions." I point to the tombstones on the old map and then the blank space on Eoin's.

"And what in the four hells is this?" Eoin points to the largest discrepancy between the two maps: an entire court on the coast that isn't present on our original map. "The Forgotten Court."