Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

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I wanted to blame Romelda for my predicament, but I was equally at fault. Despite the plan going awry, the responsibility for the repercussions of my actions lay solely with me. I could have rejected Romelda's request, which would have been the honorable choice.

And now there was little reason for me to stay in the south. If I had any dignity, I would confess all to Tamas and Tressya, then face Romelda and admit my defeat, before explaining the reasons I believed she was wrong.

For two days, I'd patrolled what little wilderness surrounded the manor in beast form, ensuring neither the Salmun nor Tressya's Mother Divine surprised us, allowing nature to ease my conflicted heart. And for once, nature was not the answer. The only way to rid me of shame would be to return to the manor and reveal my soul. I had already left the forest and was on the trail that would lead me to the manor's door if I were to continue ahead.

Packed secure amongst the few things I'd brought was a large gem spelled with ethereal light to bear me through the Ashenlands. Once I had confessed, I would head north, using Romelda's gem, and return to my father's court. Few in the realm of the two-legged were honorable, and few deeds committed would I consider righteous. Nothing could entice me to venture south again.

About to transform back into my half-form, I detected a faint, unfamiliar odor—aromas that seemed out of place in the wilderness. I remained motionless, inhaling the fragrances carried by the wind: the rich, musty soil, the scent of decaying wood on damp, mossy ground, the resinous tree sap, and the delicate hints of various flowers.

The other aromas were distinct, hinting of human presence: the scent of clothes worn against warm skin, a tang of sweat, and the oiled leather of a horse's saddle.

For the last two days, I'd stayed out of sight from the few two-legged I'd heard passing on the few solitary paths through the wilderness that skirted close to the manor. I'd watched a shabbily dressed man walking beside his old horse and cart, a woman, bent and worn, carrying a load on her back while a young child skipped alongside her, and another youngling with long tangled hair, sitting upon a very large horse, so his feet barely straddled its girth. The horse, sensing my presence, had shied away from where I remained hidden, and the boy nearly tumbled from his seat.

As a beast, my size was difficult to conceal in this small patch of woodland, so I reverted to my half-form and concealed myself among the trees, anticipating the newcomer. I expected to encounter none other than local farm folk who worked the lands near the manor, so upon seeing the Mother astride a small black horse, my heart seemed to freeze in my chest. A sense of sickness spawned in my stomach, spreading like a blight infecting healthy leaves.

My only surprise was the time it had taken her to locate Tressya, as I was convinced she possessed some magical means of finding whatever she desired. The ways of the Nazeen had always been inscrutable to me, rendering the Mother an even darker mystery.

The poison Romelda expected me to use on Tressya remained magically smeared across the tip of the claw on my beast's side. I could afford her a few moments more to approach my hiding place, ensuring that my attack would come as a surprise. I'd pull her from the back of her horse before she could retaliate and swiftly slice my claw across her throat. She would be dead before she hit the ground—a merciful way to die.

It wasn't the Mother who caused Tamas to fall in love with Tressya; he did so of his own free will—a twist of fate not even Romelda foresaw. Therefore, it was unjust to blame the Mother for the wounds in my heart. I would blame her regardless. Because of the Mother, Tressya arrived in Tarragona. Because of the Mother, we failed in the Ashenlands, leaving half the northerners bereft of sons and daughters. Despite despising no one I had yet to know, I despised her.

My wounded heart felt she deserved no mercy. If I were utterly heartless, if I were fully human, the thought of her suffering a painful and slow demise would bring me pleasure. But it didn't, because that was not in my nature. Nevertheless, she had to die. The poisonous fate she'd created was already loose, but I would serve justice by ensuring she never lived to see the outcome.

Suddenly, her horse threw up its head, whining and side-stepping, likely sensing my presence. The Mother jerked on the reins, kicking its sides to encourage it forward, but the horse refused, prancing in place, a quiver of unease rippling down its flank.

The Mother cursed and stabbed her heels into its belly once more. Watching her cruelty toward the frightened animal, I ground my teeth and clenched my fists so tightly that my budding claws pierced my skin. Any minute, I was sure the horse would try to dislodge her from its back.

The urge to transform into my beast form sent prickling hairs spiking through the skin across my back, but now was not the time. As large as I was, I would expose myself too early, and the horse would likely attempt to flee. What I needed was for the animal to deliver her to where I wanted her, right in front of my path. At that precise moment, I would become my beast form and launch from the trees with blinding speed, catching her off guard.

My body twitched with the urge to transform, my muscles quivered with the desire to spring forth from my hiding place and onto the horse's back, but at the last moment, I heard humans approaching along the trail, but the conversation would be too faint for the Mother's ears.

I needed to act decisively, as my opportunity to deal with the Mother was quickly slipping away. Either I launched my attack now, cutting the Mother down and fleeing before the party arrived, or I waited until they had passed.

No, I couldn't wait. But I hesitated before releasing my half-form, realizing with growing horror that it was Tressya's voice I could hear approaching. I glanced toward the Mother, noting that she too had heard Tressya's approach.

This was Tressya's ninth pass on this trail. She was restless, eager to hunt the Etherweave, but stabbing Tamas had delayed their departure from the manor. Amusingly, the apostles had become her shadows, perhaps believing they could protect her from Tamas—no one would explain why Tressya had stabbed him, then fretted over him and insisted we give him time to heal properly before continuing our quest to track this power. I had returned to the small wilderness, determined I wouldn't get involved in whatever complications arose between Tressya and Tamas.

I cast another glance down the trail, spotting the party of five in the distance, and knew in that instant that I had lost my opportunity. As fast as I was, Tressya would still see me. Rather than assume the Mother fell victim to a wild animal, she would know it was my claw who severed her throat.

And what should I care if she knew what I'd done?

A slow rumble reverberated deep in my throat, my repressed frustration leaking through, because, for reasons I couldn't explain, I cared what Tressya thought; the woman I'd come to kill; the woman who stole Tamas from me, yet I wanted her respect, not her contempt.

Tressya had chosen Gusselan as a companion over her own Mother Divine when she fled. I'd heard the scorn in the words spoken between them, felt the tension, sensed the loathing, and questioned Tressya's loyalty to her order many times over. I understood one's loyalty to familial links. As an orphan, she would liken the Sistern to family. That I respected, but I have now come to realize she was looking for a way out, an escape.

And I could offer that to her as an apology for the wrongs I came here to commit.

Crouching low, hiding my large frame as best I could in the thicket, I waited while the Mother gazed along the path toward Tressya and her party. I observed her expression shift from the pinched ugliness of her frustration to the narrowed-eyed cunning of her black-hearted soul. The transformation in her features triggered a primal response within me, causing my claws to extend and my fangs to protrude through my gums.

The tension in my muscles turned to pain as I waited, judging my best time to strike, while listening to Tressya's approach. In her silence, I imagined the thoughts in her mind, wondered if her heart raced wild like an escaping deer in the presence of a wolf.

Strangely, in that moment, I felt the unbidden and sudden need to protect her. This went beyond merely correcting my mistakes; it was about ensuring her safety, for Tamas' sake, and for her own. I held Tamas in the highest regard, second only to my father, and so believed the woman he loved would embody his virtues, making her someone worthy of helping.

"Mother." Tressya's voice revealed none of her emotion.

"It seems I missed your message that you were traveling." The Mother stayed on her horse, giving her height over those present.

"I saw no need, as I knew you wouldn't have any problem finding me."

I caught the imperceptible tick on the Mother's jawline, the hard press of her lips. "Your traveling party is unknown to me."

At Emberfell, she'd struggled to portray herself as subservient to the queen. Out here, cracks emerged in the facade she had maintained, as her true nature gradually broke free.

"We are loyal apostles of Emberforge, servants to the Salmun." The one with the spikes of ginger hair spoke.

"Indeed." The Mother quirked a brow. "And what would the Salmun's loyal servants be doing so far from their temple?"

"We are the queen's guardians," said the stouter of the four. "And who may you be?"

If the change in her expression was a sign, she liked his audacity as much as his question. "It's curious their loyal servants seem privy to regarding the queen's whereabouts, when the Salmun has no clue."

The four exchanged a nervous glance.

"It's…a secret. Only few Salmun know…Orphus included," stammered the tallest apostle.

The Mother sneered, then sliced her gaze to Tressya. "You could at least have chosen a worthy guard to make your escape."

"We have our talents." The tall one stepped forward.

"Tortilus," Tressya warned .

"I'm sorry, My Queen, but she misjudges us because of our robes." The apostle was offended. As was typical with the offended, their outrage clouded their judgement. He turned back to the Mother. "We are not as we appear. Together, we possess a greater amount of magic than many assume. It would be unwise to underestimate us."

"The problem lies with underestimating me." A serpent's voice, smooth and slick, encircling your throat before you can utter a scream.

Then what came next surprised me. The Mother uttered an indescribable word, which made the one named Tortilus turn ridged. Soul voice. I'd heard the Sistern's weapon was their voice, but had never suspected it could be wielded with such efficiency and speed.

"You will bow?—"

"No." Tressya stepped forward, blocking the Mother's direct path to Tortilus. "It's me you want. Release him."

Soon, very soon, I would wipe the triumphant smile from the Mother's face. And yes, I would take great pleasure in seeing her fear when she realized her life's breath was fading.

"Come now, Tressya. I don't want to humiliate you in front of your friends, but the poor boy needs a lesson in respect."

"No. I forbid you."

The Mother laughed. "You. Forbid. Me."

"She is the queen," said the last apostle to speak. His voice was a little above a whisper.

"Queen by my endeavors. Perhaps I could be lenient. After all, you have no idea who I am. "

I could sense the rising fear in them. They exchanged nervous glances, shuffling uneasily on their feet.

"Shall I bend all four to my will? Or perhaps I shall just take you, Tressya dear, my most loyal disciple."

The air crackled with the sparks of power as they both shouted the same word. Tressya jerked backward, stumbling into the apostles standing behind her, while the Mother tumbled from her horse, kicking up a cloud of dust as she landed on her back. The horse's flight edged my urge to transform, forcing me to grit my teeth to maintain control over my half-form. I tasted the sweet tang of energy I often smelt when Romelda performed her magic enchantments. And for the first time, I realized the potential power words held, but lucky for me, the Mother's particular magic would hold no sway over my soul.

The Mother sprang to her feet with remarkable agility for someone her age—a trait I begrudgingly respected. Tressya remained undaunted. She positioned herself in front of the apostles as a protective barrier, her expression radiating open defiance.

"That is a surprise," the Mother said, though her disdain for Tressya seemed to falter. Behind the curl of her lip and the feigned confidence in her voice, I detected a hint of apprehension.

"I've kept many secrets. My loyalty toward the Sistern died long ago."

"You were never good at succeeding in anything. It takes years, child, to master your soul word as defense against another. Even if you have finally learned the truth of its power. "

The Mother repeated the same word the two had shouted in unison, but this time the wash of power sent hairs piercing through my skin along my back. I had to stifle a growl as a fang jutted below my gum.

The impact on Tressya was more profound. I could see her struggling to maintain her grip. Her face contorted as though in pain, her arms tensed, fingers curling inward as she struggled against the Mother's control.

"Always a failure," the Mother crooned, reveling in her triumph.

"Your Majesty," said the ginger haired apostle.

"No," Tressya said through gritted teeth.

She scrunched her eyes shut, ducking her head to hide her face. Within moments, her arms loosened, her fingers uncurled, and she straightened once more. Her eyes were now clear of the fog of concentration, and her shoulders relaxed their tension. Had she won over the Mother's vile influence?

"Maybe not always," she said.

I was engaged in my own battle. The strains of energy tensing in the air made it difficult for me to maintain my half-form. The Mother's rage was a beast of its own, invisibly prowling the space between them. My own inner beast struggled against the confines of my half-form, yearning to break free and driven by a hunger to confront her tyranny.

The Mother's lips quivered, the only visible sign of her fury. "Then I shall have to make my words count," she said, then repeated Tressya's soul word again.

Tressya staggered backward, and she threatened to topple from her feet. In her eyes I could see fury, but I also read fear. The Mother was winning.

The power in her voice reverberated through the trees, and I lost control of my beast. In less than a breath, I sprang from my hiding spot in the thicket and closed the distance to land upon the Mother. Mid-flight, I glimpsed Tressya falling to her knees, the terror on the apostles' faces, but I moved too swiftly for their cries to register. Best of all, I watched the shock on the Mother's face transform into utter horror. Not even she could muster a second's retaliation before my claw grazed her throat, opening it from one edge to the other.

Perhaps the slice of my claw would take her life before the poison did.