by Viviene Noel
The heir turned to face the other wall as her maid’s voice filled the room. A wave of calm brushed over her, releasing most of the tension in her body.
It was the song of spring, of renewed life. The song she requested every night when she was a child. Nepherym let the words sink in, let them imprint on every crack in her soul, let them go as far as to stir the demon sharing her heart—it growled at the soothing love in them.
When Layla left, dawn was still hiding behind the earth.
And in the still darkness of the night, in the safety and familiarity of her bedchambers, the young heir of the Scholar Kingdom let herself be the fourteen years old she really was, bringing her knees to her chest in a foetal position and weeping until the sun broke the horizon.
40
Kingdom of Hondora.
Emmerentia crossed her arms as they took a well deserved break in the middle of a meadow to stretch out their stiff muscles. Mahena disappeared in the distance and she instantly felt her brother’s presence next to her.
Fàaran unfolded his map and her eyes darted to the new annotations.
The path she had witnessed in the crone’s throw of dice.
‘It seems straightforward,’ she said, tracing it with her finger.
Fàaran looked up at her with furrowed brows. ‘We need to discuss it.’
Emmerentia stiffened at the tone. ‘We have.’ She pointed again at the route he had traced on the map. ‘Travel in a straight line to the port, get on a boat and sail as close to the capital as they’re willing to take us.’ She wiggled her eyebrows, a sly smile crooking her lips. ‘And deal with whatever comes our way as we usually do. There is nothing to discuss.’
Fàaran cracked his neck in two movements. ‘I meant The Rockery.’
Emmerentia’s nostrils flared as she flinched inwardly—she hadn’t digested the fact he had set her up to it yet, even if unwillingly, hadn’t wanted to even think about it.
‘She granted me with one question. I asked how to find a safe passage to the capital. She told me what to do.’
Fàaran clenched his fists. ‘Why did you not let me enter instead?’
She swallowed her resentment, because he would have gone if he had been allowed. She patted him on the shoulder, fighting through the resent. ‘For some reason, it had to be me.’
Her brother shook his head. They both knew it was true. ‘What was the cost?’
‘I don’t understand it, it makes no sense. She wants me to grant her an audience with the heir to her homeland’s power, once I find my true path.’ Emmerentia rubbed her face, fatigue settling in her body. ‘And yet another perfect example of why magic is a load of horse-shit.’ When her brother remained silent, she jerked her chin to where Mahena was undoubtedly relieving herself. ‘We’re to follow her instincts.’ The remnants of magic that seemed to be running through her veins. To his credit, Fàaran barely raised a brow. ‘Hopefully, it won’t get us killed.’
‘I guess it is good that we are both excellent fighters, then.’
But he grabbed her hand as she turned. He rarely showed emotions, even to her. But his eyes were lined with silver. ‘I am sorry.’
Her stomach clenched. She squeezed it back. ‘Thank you.’
Unless they found themselves on the brink of death, there was not a chance in all the hells she was asking him to summon Demeera.
B
Fàaran pointed to the delimitation of the town rising in the distance, remembering the vague description Lorna had given him when she’d confirmed they could pass through peacefully. ‘We will stop at the first Inn, through that town,’ he declared as the sun grazed the horizon, painting the sky in deep orange and purple.
They had been lucky so far, staying clear of patrols on the road as he had been warned. The lack of pain and damage had struck him hard when they’d come across travelers on the roads, and the villages they had restocked at seemed as though the worries and horrors of their neighbors didn’t matter. A part of him had been glad to see children playing around in the mud, to see adults dealing with the banalities of life—however poor they were. But most of it—it made him want to scream at them that there were people dying, and here they were discussing stews and whores and cards.
There had been a regiment of Shadows spotted days past, but it had been in the opposite direction of where they were heading. A part of his traitorous heart had wondered whether Demeera was tasked with such a mundane thing as border patrol.
The face of the red-headed demon flashed before his eyes—he blinked it away before he could think of it.
Mahena’s laugh burst near, dragging him out of his torpor. She laughed so loudly birds took to flight in the nearby trees. Her hands shot to her mouth at the exploding sound, perfectly aware of how loud she was. After a second, she winked to his sister, ‘You know, something you do with your paramour.’
Oh, gods be damned. The answering expression on Emmerentia’s face made the girl double up in the saddle.
‘Oh, dear. Do you even have dates over here?’
Emmerentia gave her a side look. ‘What?’
Surprisingly, something utterly human he thought he didn’t have anymore tugged at his core, and cocked his head to listen to their conversation.
Mahena went on. ‘Besides sex. Like, eating by the river, going for a trek, visiting another place? You know, activities to do together to get to know each other better.’ At their silence, she added, ‘Okay, so how do you get to know someone you might like? How do you discover their tastes and the things you have in common?’ Mahena chuckled. ‘People court each other, don’t they?’
Fàaran looked at his sister as she nodded and said dismissively, ‘Of course, but it is not as simple as that in most places.’
‘You don’t like courting?’
He was suddenly very glad not to be the target of those questions.
Emmerentia answered, frank as ever. ‘It is a mere illusion to get to what we all want. Why not cut to the chase directly?’
Mahena angled her head. ‘But you like flirting. You enjoy the chase.’
Fàaran bit down a bark. Neither of the girls noticed. He, on the other hand, saw the pointed stare they exchanged.
His sister lifted a brow. ‘The game is a way to pass the time—short, thrilling, fiery. Life shows you quickly whether you are meant to be together. There is no point in wasting it further than necessary. There is added complexity and rules for nobility, but normal folks don’t have that luxury.’
‘And what do they do that shows they’re courting?’
Emmerentia shrugged her shoulders. ‘Walks in the gardens, candlelit meals. I guess it depends on your infatuation and the urgency of the matter.’
They passed a couple of houses. The sun disappeared behind a cloud.
‘Mmmmh. I can imagine what a perfect date for you would be. A long ride to a secluded waterfall; training, with eventual argument; some jumping and swimming; and then lots of sex.’
That, he really didn’t want to hear.
‘Would you have wanted for that last part to happen?’ Emmerentia grinned wickedly.
But the horses stopped abruptly, and he was glad the Inn had appeared as they made their way into the village.
Mahena stuck her tongue out to the twin, who hissed a laugh.
Fàaran pointed to the establishment in front of them and said with more than a little relief, ‘The Old She-Wolf.’
B
The town centre, where the Inn-Keeper with a wolfish smile had sent them for dinner, was somewhat bigger than Fàaran had suggested. The streets were dimly lit by hanging torches, and seemed to disappear into the darkness, establishment signs loosely flapping in the wind. The noise protruding from the various houses spoke of evening meals being prepared and consumed.
Mahena’s eyes swept the square and landed on the fountain in t
he middle. It was unobtrusive, but…she found herself drawn to it, approaching and tilting her head up to examine the three wolf heads carved above the water spouts. As she gazed at the sculpted eyes, their color slowly changed into a swirl of green, and brown, and orange, boring into her own forest-colored gaze.
‘Mae,’ Emmerentia’s voice brushed against her ear, and she was too hypnotised to even jerk back.
She turned to her friend. ‘Sorry, I think hunger got to my head.’ Then she added, ‘What colour are the eyes of the wolves?’
‘Dark. What did you see?’
‘Green.’ Mahena blinked and shook her head.
The eyes were now of dark stone.
Emmerentia squeezed her arm gently in comfort. ‘You can talk to me about all of it. I want you to trust me with that.’
Something had changed in the twin since they had exited the tunnel a few days ago, a thread that had loosened, a door opening slightly. They’d almost kissed that night Mahena had wanted comfort and warmth, almost crossed the meaningless, entertaining flirting they tangled with for weeks now. They hadn’t talked about that moment. She doubted they ever would. But thinking about it sent a spear of fire through her body.
Mahena snorted, ‘You spit every time magic is mentioned.’
The twin chuckled. ‘Fair point. But it is a genuine offer.’
Two drunk men walked past, howling and laughing, glanced suggestively at them. The hair on her arms rose for a mere second. She must have had a spark of defiance in her eyes for they quieted and disappeared.
Emmerentia smiled and let go of her arm. She turned and pointed to a tavern, ‘Fàaran is getting us a table. If you’re lucky, food might already be served.’
Mahena had been in several Inns now—of all sorts, capacity, and atmosphere. But this...this one was different—something in the air differed from the others, a spark of...animosity, a musk of repressed aggression. A shiver spidered down her spine so violently she grabbed the twin’s arm when they passed the threshold.
A strange growl rumbled in her throat as they joined Fàaran, sitting in a corner booth.
‘Do we stick out so much?’ She almost felt like they’d been carefully sniffed at by all the tables they walked past.
‘We always do.’ Emmerentia winked at her and waved for two more pints at their table. Fàaran was already nursing one, his back slightly hunched, in a casual, laid back posture. Although, if she really analysed the man she’d come to know, she could have sworn he would pounce within the second if need be.
‘Since when do you like ale?!’ Mahena exclaimed. He’d never taken up their offer to partake in any sort of alcohol back at the cottage. ‘I swear you have drunk more in the past week than you have since we met.’
If he didn’t trust himself in a safe environment, then why here, where the atmosphere reeked of aggression?
‘It is the only drink on offer,’ he muttered, ‘and I am parched.’
Mahena sniffed at the air. A tangy, watery scent filled her nose gradually. The young woman stiffened as it hit her—wet, pungent, animalistic. She shook her head.
A woman waltzed from a near table over, her massive breasts on almost full display, her footing unsteady. Strangely, even in her sloppiness, Mahena found her graceful. Strands of brown hair, held in a bun on top of her head, framed her face, her eyes foggy. She eyed Fàaran up and down. Unfortunately for her, he paid her no heed. She moved on to the next table.
‘In no mood for a little fun?’ Mahena teased over the cacophony, the atmosphere of the taproom getting to her head. The band sat atop a three steps stage at the back of the space, away from the bar and the entrance. A violin, an accordion, and another instrument she deemed was a sort of flute. The tables were close to each other, leaving little space for movement, however, the waitresses, either by training or simply being that slim, floated around the room with feline grace.
Three men throwing insults during a rowdy game of cards ordered another round. In the far back, a small crowd stood in front of a wooden board, taking turns throwing daggers at it. From afar, it seemed the aim was to form a specific pattern.
Every table Mahena swept over rippled with aggression, the air seemingly drenched with it. Their faces, their hands and fists, the way feet tapped the floor, they all appeared ready to flip the tables and lunge forward. ‘Is it just me or do they all look like they are going to start a brawl imminently?’
Emmerentia nodded subtly, turning her attention to the waitress who was finally approaching. The young woman, about their age, dropped a hand on her waist and asked what she could get them. ‘Pitcher of wine, please,’ the twin answered, her mouth curling up flirtatiously.
She only nodded and turned around.
Emmerentia watched the girl as she walked back across the bar before shaking off the haze. Then her gaze slid back to Mahena as she replied once the girl was out of earshot, ‘I feel it too... ’ She glanced at her brother, and Mahena couldn’t decipher what went on in that silent exchange.
The pitcher landed in front of her, followed by three glasses. The girl barely looked at Mahena or Fàaran, her eyes resting steadily on Emmerentia. The twin only smiled in return, her blue eyes filling with those sparkles intended for her lovers.
Mahena left the twin to her intentions and, casually leaning back in the booth, looked around. One man caught her gaze. He sat a few tables back, a woman on his lap, but stared at their table.
Mahena stiffened. There were so many promises looming there, none of them pleasant.
The little voice stirred, barking in disgust.
The music intensified. The woman leaned into his neck, her hand sliding down to his trousers, yet his eyes remained unmoved. Her lips parted slightly—Mahena could have sworn her canines were elongated as she dragged her tongue lightly along his throat.
Mahena blinked, the world around her blurring. The little voice purred inside, a roar building up at the pure male brutality he promised, at the lack of respect. She was halfway up when a hand clasped her shoulders back down. She barked, ‘I’ll gouge his eyeballs out.’
Sharp and deadly.
Not her.
‘As much as I would love to see you do that,’ the twin replied in a pleasant tone, ‘if you have to take the eyes of all the pigs on this earth, you will need many lifetimes.’
Fàaran was attempting to look casual, but was clearly on edge.
‘That goes for you as well, brother.’
Mahena exhaled deeply and slowly.
‘If they challenge you, shut them up. If they only look, make the spectacle worth their while.’
They both whipped to Emmerentia.
‘So...encourage their filthy appetite?’
‘No, make them understand that they will never have what they are lusting after.’
Emmerentia sipped from her glass of wine, then held it up in the man’s direction.
Fàaran cut in, ‘We need to blend in, stop drawing attention to ourselves.’
But the twin only smiled back at the man, boring her eyes into his as though she was reading the disgusting thoughts running through his mind. As she kept her gaze on him, he finally slid his eyes away to follow the progress of the waitress across the room.
Beast. Show him he is nothing but a spineless, worthless worm.
It was hard, vicious and low, promises of endless pain, this time.
Mahena wiped at the sweat building on her forehead—humidity and body heat mixed with the stench of ale turned the place into a furnace. Her fists curled and uncurled without her noticing. She tapped her foot on the floor, her heartbeat rising. The voices melted together. One of the card players on the next table stood and swayed, steadying himself on theirs. He looked her up and down. He drooled, licking his mouth. ‘Fresh meat.’
Mahena slammed her hands on the tabletop and growled in his face. ‘You will be if yo
u don’t walk.’ Her fingers dug in the table.
He squared his shoulders, then blinked confusedly before walking off.
Fàaran slammed his hands on top of hers, snapping her back to clarity. ‘What is wrong with you?’
Mahena straightened, shaking her head. This place, this tension was getting inside her lungs, inside her blood, running through her head.
She snarled back at the twin. ‘I am no one’s meat.’
Mahena was going to peel the skin off their bodies one after the other, barbecue it and shove down their throat to show them what true pig tasted like.
She needed air. Fresh air. She needed to think.
‘I am going outside, I need to breathe.’
The eyes on her as she pushed upward and stalked out of the establishment did not escape her notice. But she reined in the burning need to rip out their throats and focused on the darkness of the night beyond the doors—the beastly man had vanished from his table.
Mahena stumbled outside and slammed her hands on the railing, forcing herself to inhale the biggest intake of air she had ever made pass through her lungs and focused her gaze forward, into the dark night sky where the stars shone bright. As the fog in her brain receded and her vision cleared, she sighed deeply.
‘It isn’t like you,’ Emmerentia spoke from behind before she moved to lean on the rail next to her—without touching her. A growl, deep beneath that wasn’t the little voice, got stuck in her throat. ‘I don’t blame you for wanting to teach them manners.’ The twin’s voice was calm, without a trace of judgement. She shifted her position, leaning onto her elbows. ‘I used to rise up to it all, you know. Once I learned how to fight I got into more brawls than memory serves, just to prove that I was more than just a walking cunt and that I deserved respect. And then I taught myself another way to win. At least until it got under their skin so much that they threw the first punch. In a way, my conscience remained clear, all I did was self-defence. But the satisfaction intensified, too.’
‘I don’t know what got into me. That place...’ Mahena bit her lower lip, quieting the fire in her veins, in her guts, below her skin. ‘Can you not feel it, the tension, that thing in the air? It’s like they’re all waiting for it to crawl out of their skins. And it’s making mine itch.’