Chapter 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

TRESSYA

"Stars, where are they?" I said, buttoning my shirt, having already donned my pants.

"We'll talk downstairs," Osmud replied and pushed off the doorjamb, unexpectedly throwing the dagger as he half-turned to leave. Tamas deftly caught it mid-air before I uttered a cry and mumbled a word of thanks as he sheathed it at his hip.

I was at the door about to head out when Tamas caught my hand, spun me into him and kissed me, a furious kiss for the unspent passion. Our bodies pressed together, my heart pounded against its confines as if reaching to merge with his, my body still pulsed with my inflamed yearning. Being this close to him was infectious to my sanity. Pleasure was the last thing I should think of when we were far from safe, and the treacherous path ahead was more dangerous than the one we'd left behind.

"It won't end like this next time."

"Perhaps our heads will be on spikes next time."

"Have a little faith, my queen," he whispered against my lips, his voice a soft caress as he traced the side of my cheek with his now clawed fingertip. "This," he murmured, "is for the first Salmun I encounter."

"Well, Your Majesty, I'm?—"

"Maybe I'll sharpen it on our little friend here first," Tamas growled, revealing his lethal looking claw to Tortilus, who appeared to have been lurking close by waiting for us to make an appearance, and sending him stumbling back into the wall.

"He's simply ensuring I'm recovered." I pulled Tamas hand down to his side. "Play nice," I admonished him under my breath.

Tamas paused beside Tortilus and leaned in, his clawed finger pressing ominously against Tortilus' neck. "Continue to encroach onto my territory, and this claw will embed itself somewhere fatal within your body."

Perhaps it was the intrusion into our private moment, my pulse still racing, my body still vibrating with my unmet needs, that contributed to my reaction, because Tamas' possessive warning sent a little anticipatory shiver through all the best places inside of me. I couldn't resist the addictive thrill of being desired, even if it carried a hint of possessiveness.

"We're all on edge," I said to Tortilus as a way of an excuse as I followed Tamas down the stairs .

"Of course, Your majesty, I under?—"

I turned on him at the top of the stairs. "Let's drop the formalities, shall we? No offense, but I'll strangle you if you utter that title once more." Then I hurried down, chasing Tamas, who'd already disappeared into the grand reception room.

Tortilus did his best to keep pace with me. "You look well rested…er…"

"I am."

"With no lingering effects?"

"I haven't felt this good in a while."

He skipped two steps to come beside me. "If at any time you feel a reoccurrence of the bizarre happenings—coldness, fever, dizziness, an inability to think clearly—don't hesitate to let me know."

I tried not to smirk. "So you're a healer as well?"

"Not as such. But if it's magical healing you require?—"

"I'll come straight to you, Tortilus."

"Yes, good, good."

By now we'd reached the bottom of the staircase and Tortilus hurried to slip in front of me, blocking my way. "Your Maj—Tressya, are you sure you can trust these people? Northerners in the south are only after one thing."

"Tamas and I are after the same thing. Besides, we'll get nowhere without their help."

"The woman… She's?—"

"Of great value to us. Without her, I wouldn't be here."

"Oh, right. If you're sure. It's just…you have the four of us now. Between us?— "

"I'll turn away none who want to help if their hearts are genuine."

"Absolutely, Your—" He caught himself. "We're prepared to serve you until the end. You are the rightful heir and most deserving to sit upon the throne."

I sighed, then mumbled under my breath. "I hope it never gets that far."

Everyone except Bryra was present when Tortilus and I entered the room. The other three apostles sat clustered together on a long seat, engrossed in the book open on Selisimus' lap. Tortilus excused himself and quickly joined them, leaving me to endure the scrutiny of the others. Meanwhile, Tamas, who'd had the foresight to bring the parchment pages, had spread them out on the round wooden table in the corner.

"Tressya," he motioned with a jerk of his head for me to join him.

Osmud's face remained a mask of composure, his gray eyes shimmering like moonlight on water, casting a captivating glow. Yet beneath that serene surface, one could easily find oneself drowning. They tracked my movements across the room without giving away any hint of his thoughts. I was certain Bryra had shared everything she knew about the incident on the path, so I wouldn't blame him for his suspicions.

Despite everything I'd said to Tamas upstairs only moments ago, I wasn't entirely confident about the Mother's possession. I heard no inner voice. My thoughts were clear, and my mind felt free. What did it even mean to be possessed? It was a question I would have to ask Tamas when we were alone .

As I neared her, Gusselan rose and took my hand. She said nothing; her question silent as she stared into my eyes. I gave her a weak smile, feeling as though her eyes had the power to penetrate deep inside my mind to where the Mother hid.

"You're warm at least," she finally said.

"The worst has passed."

She raised a brow, seemingly questioning my assertion. If by removing Andriet from his death place I risked destroying the divide, which diabolical consequence would spirit possession cost me? I didn't have the courage to ask.

"Place your hands on the parchment," Tamas instructed me once I was beside him.

I did as I was told. "Shouldn't we talk about our plans to escape the Salmun?"

"We already know the Salmun are on our trail, so it's imperative we find our way to the Etherweave. We must get there before the Salmun."

"Where's Bryra?" I said.

It was clear in the past the two had meant more to each other, as evidenced by Bryra's reaction upon seeing him ill. Tamas was a superb performer, or he'd genuinely let go of any intimate feelings toward her, and I would guess Bryra had yet to do the same. Perhaps it was Tamas she avoided—and any show of affection between us.

Osmud rose. "Keeping watch on the Salmun. I'm off to join her." Tamas glanced his way, gave one nod of acknowledgment, then returned his attention to the parchment.

At some point, Wellard and Plesy joined us at the table, leaving Selisimus and Tortilus engrossed in the book .

"Little of what is here makes sense." Wellard finally drew my attention to the map, preoccupied as I was with the more pressing matter of the Salmun's possible arrival.

"What if they come before we've even left the manor?" I said.

"They won't," Tamas murmured, appearing unconcerned by the threat of the Salmun. "That's what Bryra and Osmud are for. No one's surprising us tonight."

"In case it slipped your notice, the Salmun have magic. Osmud and Bryra don't."

With both our palms on the map, I leaned against Tamas. In the sudden lull between chatter, I realized I could hear his heartbeat, a heavy thudding rhythm in tune with my own. Looking up at him, I noticed the dark shadow of his early beard, and for one fleeting moment, I toyed with the idea of running the back of my hand across his jawline because it seemed not even a life and death moment would completely erase my desire for him.

As if sensing my thoughts, Tamas slowly turned his head, bringing us intimately close. "You don't need to worry about Bryra and Osmud."

"I can't be that confident."

"Because you want to protect everyone close to you."

"Is that a fault?"

"It's admirable until the point it gets you killed."

"Are you suggesting we should only think of ourselves?"

The hint of a twitch at the corners of his lips made me want to smack him. It seemed my beast-man loved provoking me.

"Nothing will happen to you. Trust me. "

"I'm flattered that's your only thought, but I can't dismiss everyone else in this room."

Tamas flicked his eyes to Plesy and Wellard standing beside me. "The apostles have their magic. And Gusselan poses no threat to the Salmun. They are solely after you. If things turn bad, Osmud and Bryra will head north. That was my instruction. Leaving you, Tressya, as my only concern."

"I'm not the only one to wield the Etherweave in case you've forgotten."

He arched his head back and laughed. "You honestly think they're a threat to me?"

Hearing his heartfelt laughter was like the gentle embrace of a mother soothing her crying infant, yet not even the tranquility that such a feeling ensured quelled my frustration. It seemed he was determined to continue being an arrogantly heroic fool.

"It seems the Eon—You were always an arrogant fool."

"There's not much the Salmun can do against their rogue pet," he remarked, referring to the nightmare.

"They nearly killed you last time?"

Leaning in close, he brought our lips dangerously close. "That was before…" He hardened his dark eyes on mine, a predator ready to strike. Enticing, but right now a blaze was burning in my gut, steeling me against his enigmatic allure.

He was referring to the Eone. "Heroes still die."

"And make the best legends."

"If I put a stake through your heart, you won't be doing anything heroic."

"You already tried that, my queen. It didn't work."

I clenched my teeth, knowing I was getting nowhere .

"Perhaps you both can lay your argument to rest for now," Gusselan said, reminding the both of us we were not alone, something I readily forgot when around him.

I glanced around me, seeing Tortilus and Selisimus had lost interest in their book, while Wellard and Plesy had distanced themselves from the table.

"This is not over," I snapped at Tamas and slammed my hands down on the parchment, breathing furiously through my nose while I waited for him to do the same.

When he did, he'd positioned himself behind me, coming down over the top of me, caging me within his arms, between his body and the table. It was a definite show of dominance and possession—and I tried my damndest to ignore the tingling flutter between my legs, even if I wanted to jerk my head back and head-butt him in the nose for his obstinance.

The black ink, as if guided by an unseen hand, sketched itself with meticulous detail across the parchment. Each stroke breathed life into the map, the lines forming a twisted swirl of contours, tracing the high mountainous regions and the sinuous paths of rivers winding through deep valleys. This was not a mysterious adventure, so my tremor of anticipation seemed misplaced. Yet, I held my breath, awaiting the revelation of a momentous secret, while the map gradually came into view.

I scrutinized every corner, every contour, every fold and line, but there was nothing that appeared significant, nothing that was in any way marked to show our destination.

"What do you think we're looking for?" I said .

Peering over my shoulder, Tamas remained silent. I could feel his breath, and in the unsettling quiet, I could hear his heartbeat once more. It was in tune with mine, a phenomenon that only occurred during the rare instances when I delved into another's mind to seek their elusive soul word.

The sketch drew everyone present to the table, causing a crowd to form on the side opposite to us, and I suspected it was Tamas's snarling attitude that kept the others at bay.

"I've never left Tolum, so I can't say I know any of this forest," Plesy said.

"This map is depicting what once existed before the Levenian came," Tamas said. There was a hardness with a hint of a snarl in his voice. He was fighting the Eone. They didn't want him revealing any of this to us. "One thousand years ago, Tarragona was a vast forested land. Now, when you head north, all you see is a stretch of wasteland, as the Salmun has hidden what once existed behind a veil now known as the Ashenlands. Even these mountains are invisible."

"Like Plesy, I have never set foot outside Tolum. Though I know of the Ashenlands," Selisimus said.

"That's a lot of power magic," Wellard uttered.

"Dangerous lands," Tortilus mused. "We'll need our wits. And a few more of these." He waved the book he and the other three had been poring over.

"You're not coming," Tamas growled, swiping the parchment out from under my hands as he straightened. I saw the tip of a claw puncturing through the pages .

"With all respect…" Tortilus appeared lost for an appropriate title.

"Once we leave this manor, Tressya and I go alone." I was sure any minute he would grow fangs. It was a barely concealed struggled, but so far, he was winning.

"But we have magic," Tortilus countered. "You'll need magic to help you through the Ashenlands."

"Perhaps Tamas has a point," Wellard intervened.

But Tortilus seemed deaf to Wellard's plea. "Between the four of us?—"

"You know nothing of what you'll face in the Ashenlands," Tamas barked, before closing his eyes and inhaling as he stuffed the parchment back inside his pocket.

"Excuse me, but can I make a suggestion?"

Everyone looked to Plesy.

"I was…" Plesy shrunk under Tamas' glare. "Going to ask which way you were planning on heading?"

"North, of course," Tamas all but yelled. "How else do you suppose we'll get there?" His mood was deteriorating. Perhaps we should cut this meeting short and get on our way before the Eone seized hold of his beast again.

"Yes, you see…" Plesy glanced at Tamas' pocket. "If you would just let me see the map again."

"What?" Tamas growled, slamming his hands down on the table.

Seeing Tamas hunched forward with his dark eyes blazing a glare capable of scorching anyone on the spot, I couldn't blame the apostles for taking a step back from the table. He looked every bit the beast-man struggling to stay human while his beast side prowled to break free .

When I noticed the protrusion of his claws along the tips of his fingers, I slipped my hand into his pocket and retrieved the parchment. I didn't need him to tell me he was struggling. They were unhappy about how many he'd exposed to the Etherweave's whereabouts.

"Stay with me," I whispered, as I gently ran my finger along his jaw.

His attention snapped to me, his eyes narrowed. Pressure creases formed at the corners of his mouth, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. I swear I saw a flicker of some untamed and vicious consciousness wavering in the depths of his dark eyes. It seemed the Eone didn't like me, which was hardly surprising given I was their direct rival for the Etherweave.

I leaned in and whispered in his ear. "You're in control, remember?"

Tamas let out a hard exhale, dragging his now fully extended claws down the table with a loud scrape before throwing up his hands, then folding them behind his head as if seeking a safe place to anchor them away from causing harm.

"It's not going to hurt, and we've got nothing to lose," I told him.

After I'd freed the parchment, he attempted to back away, but I grabbed his arm. "No, you don't. It takes both of us." I gave him little time to recover, knowing the Eone would rally and try again to win control over his beast, so pulled him toward the table and pressed his palm onto the pages once I had spread them out before us.

With one arm flat on the parchment, Tamas gave in, coming up behind me, sagging into me and resting his lips on the back of my neck. His heavy breaths were warm on my skin, and his heartbeat was no longer in rhythm with mine. It pounded against my back as if wanting to burst free from his chest. His other hand, he snaked around my waist, flushing me firm against him, and I knew this was his way of reminding himself what was important and fighting back control from the Eone. And I secretly loved that I was his anchor while he fought against their influence.

I placed my hand over his, as a silent acknowledgement for what he was going through, and waited, breath hitched, as the sketches reformed across the blank pages.

"What did you want to show us, Plesy?" I wasn't sure how long Tamas could keep up the fight.

"I think there's a better way than heading north."

"But the Ashenlands are north," I argued.

"And the Salmun will believe that's the way you've headed," Plesy continued.

"Because they'll suspect that's where the Etherweave is hidden," Wellard added.

"That's why they created the Ashenlands in the first place," Tortilus announced, as though discovering the final clue. "They long suspected it was there."

"So to prevent anyone from finding it—" Selisimus said.

"The northerners, in particular," Wellard interrupted.

"They cursed the land, preventing anyone but themselves from entering," finished Plesy.

"Good job, brethren," Tortilus said, looking extremely pleased.

"That sounds plausible. But which way do we go?" I said .

Tamas lifted his head and peered over my shoulder, seeming to find interest in what the apostles had said.

"I think you should head this way." Plesy pointed to Tolum, sketched in the bottom far left corner of the map. In particular, his finger rested on Emberforge.

"Ah, yes, I see what you mean," Tortilus said. "And we can retrieve a good deal more help." He patted the book still in his hands.

Feeling his inhale, as if he was about to speak, I squeezed Tamas' hand before he could grouch again that the apostles weren't welcome on our hunt for the Etherweave.

"Are you suggesting we return to the tunnel under the Bone Throne?" I said.

"Look," Plesy said, drawing a circle around Tolum. That's when I noticed what I'd missed before, too focused on the north and the Ashenlands. Tolum was poorly sketched, unlike every other place on the map. Emberforge was distinct, but beyond the temple, the rest of Tolum was nothing more than a dirty smudge, blending into the vast expanse of the Ashenlands. I realized then that not even the farming lands between Tolum and the Ashenlands were defined, nor were any of the counties labeled.

"By some magical means, the tunnel ends at the Ashenlands, and I'll bet my life it's not going to take us miles to get there," Tortilus murmured, unconsciously revealing his intent to join us once again.

Tamas rested his lips against the skin at the back of my neck once more, and I was certain that, unlike me, he had noticed these details himself. Perhaps his plan had always been to return to Emberforge, but he was reluctant to disclose it in front of our current companions, or perhaps the Eone had forced his silence.

I swiped the parchment from the table, folding it as I spoke. "We'll leave tonight."

"I'm packed," Tortilus chimed in.

I turned to Gusselan. "What's your choice?"

"You know my choice."

Before I could reply, Tamas took the parchment from my hand and held it close to the candle flame.

"What're you doing?" I cried as the apostles gasped in horror.

"We know our path."

"Not once we reach the Ashenlands."

"I do."

I stared at the parchment igniting into flames, then at his face, his uncompromising features, their harshness exaggerated in the candle flame and wasn't sure who was in charge right now; Tamas or the Eone.