When Wishes Bleed

by Casey Bond

  If fire still existed, then Ethne still drew breath. I hoped I was right.

  Brecan sat down on the other side of Mira and the three of us discussed what to do. We had no idea how Cyril was holding the witches or how to break the spell she’d cast, but if we didn’t figure it out soon, more witches would die.

  But we couldn’t waltz back into The Gallows without knowing what we were up against, either.

  24

  We led Mira to her room. Part of her crumbled when Bay passed, and I wasn’t sure how to help ease her pain, other than to ensure Cyril hurt no one else.

  After checking my room for any unusual mail and deeming it safe, Brecan promised to find me after he changed clothes. All three of us were salty, sandy, and still damp.

  I heard his door close across the hall.

  As soon as his door clicked, the scent of smoke immediately filled my nose. I followed it out of my room, down the hallway and outside. After a thorough examination, I was relieved to find the palace wasn’t on fire, although I alerted the guards to make sure all the rooms were cleared. Word quickly spread, but the smoky scent’s origin couldn’t be traced.

  I found myself standing in the Night Garden. In the distance, Brecan called my name. Before I could answer him, the Son of Night’s billowing smoke appeared beside me. I raised my palms, ready to defend myself, and Arron’s slitted eyes narrowed on mine.

  “I take it you know about the Priest and Priestesses.”

  “Are you my mother’s pawn?” I asked pointedly.

  “I’m no one’s pawn.”

  I narrowed my eyes at his answer. “Are you bound to her?”

  “No,” he asserted. Arron sat on the swing, backing up a few feet and then soaring forward as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “But she believes I am.”

  “Why does she think that?”

  He blinked slowly, tilting his head to the side as if to size me up. “Because I didn’t correct her. I never, however, pledged myself to her. I’m always careful to avoid such unfortunate entanglements.”

  Enough semantics. “Why did you write to me? What did you want to discuss?”

  “She wanted me to bring another message. She wants to meet with you, and she also wanted to warn you never to trust Fate. She did, and ended up being bound because of it. She says that you can trust her, though. She is your mother and wants you to come home.”

  Did Fate help the Priestesses and Priest bind my mother in the soil? Had he somehow weakened her from within? Or was she bound after she cast him out of her – or so she claimed?

  “And if I can’t return home?”

  “Can’t, or won’t?” he asked curiously, abruptly stopping the swing and standing up, still clinging to the ropes.

  “Take your pick.”

  He stepped toward me, flicked his midnight-blue hair out of his face, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You must defy Fate or defy your mother. Either way, you will face consequences. The choice is yours.”

  “How is she holding the witches in the Center?”

  “An ancient spell. One that can be broken only by another Fate witch…” he offered. Which is why my mother wants me to visit so badly, I surmised. She wants to bind me so I can’t break the spell.

  “Are you saying I can break it?”

  “Easily.” He looked into my eyes, unblinking. If he was lying, I couldn’t tell. “With a brush of your hand, the spell would be extinguished.”

  “Can I kill her?” I boldly asked.

  Arron pursed his lips. “I’m not entirely sure you could, unless you used dark magic. That’s how she killed Bay, Ethne, and Wayra. But, if you choose not to go down that path, you may be able to bind her with your power.”

  I didn’t want to bind her; I needed Cyril dead. I wouldn’t unleash her on an unwitting generation once my power faded with my death unless it was the only way, and I could hold her in stasis until I figured out a way to end her for good.

  “There’s more to her message…” the Son of Night dangled, like a carrot.

  “What else is there?”

  “She plans to burn a witch every hour on the hour until you and your entourage return to Thirteen.”

  With his words, the smoky scent that hung in the air turned to ashes in my mouth.

  “What you’re smelling is the burning of the Priestesses and Priest right now. The stench will only become stronger, the smoke more invasive, as time passes. Ethne whispered some sort of protection spell before Cyril lit them on fire, so the flames haven’t consumed their bodies yet, but I suggest you hurry.”

  There was no hope. I felt the wind die and saw the stillness of the sea.

  The thought of the horrors they’d endured turned my stomach.

  “Tell me how to sneak back into the Sector. I have to enter without her knowing.”

  “Spirit yourself in. I think she believes you’ll arrive in a royal carriage. She’s hoping for cameras and fanfare. Spoil her plans.”

  “You could be lying,” I accused him.

  He gave a half-smile. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

  I swallowed. “Show me what?”

  “What’s happening in the Center.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it. Things might be as bad as I imagine them, or they might be worse.

  “What is happening in the Center?” Brecan asked as he appeared behind me, Mira standing opposite him, flanking me.

  Arron swiped his hand across the air, making dark clouds form. Within them, a murky scene emerged. Ethne, Bay, and Wayra were burning. Their arms were wrenched behind their backs and their chins drooped against their chests. More stakes were being erected surrounding the three to which they were tied.

  “They’re clearly dead – why keep the fire going?” Brecan fumed.

  “At first I thought Cyril was preserving them to inflict fear, or to manipulate and deter those who might challenge her authority,” Arron mused. “But, as I told Sable, Bay and Wayra were unable to fight back using their affinities once Cyril used fire and dark magic to nullify their gifts. However, she could not prevent Ethne from using hers, and Ethne whispered an incantation before the flame took hold of her. It was her last stand against Cyril.”

  Ethne’s incantation was a final stand, all they could do before she killed them. I could almost imagine Ethne trying to keep the flames away from Bay and Wayra. Used to the flame, she would’ve been the last to die. But the horror of being alive but powerless to stop someone from harming the people you loved, and the horror of knowing you would die by your own affinity, was too much.

  “Why are the witches huddled in the middle of the Center?” I asked.

  “Cyril won’t step near it. She hovers on the Circle’s borders, afraid to get too close to the spot of soil that bound her for so long. She literally shudders at the sight of it.”

  “We could use that fear to our advantage,” Mira suggested, iron resolve in her tone.

  Brecan shifted his weight. “We need the element of surprise. If we try to stroll into Thirteen, we’ll end up like the dove or the gull.”

  “I could get you in,” Arron offered casually.

  Brecan answered quickly and without hesitation. “No.”

  “Who are you to speak for the Daughter of Fate?” Arron inquired, as if he actually wanted to know. Brecan was my best friend in The Gallows, and here, he was more than an escort. He was the voice of reason.

  “You don’t know him any better than you do your mother, Sable,” Brecan proposed sagely. “This could be a trap. We’ll find another way in.”

  Could we find a better way, though?

  As I called on Fate to help me choose, I closed my eyes. Can I trust Arron, Son of Night?

  A warm feeling filled my belly.

  “Fate says I can trust him,” I confirmed. Brecan uttered a curse.
“Fate wouldn’t lead me into danger, Brecan. If he says Arron can be trusted, I believe him.” That much I was certain of.

  Mira’s attention was fixed on the image still projecting in the smoke cloud behind Arron. Tears welled in her eyes. Without warning, she let loose a guttural cry and stomped out of the garden, straight to the lake far across the lawn.

  We followed closely.

  She kicked her shoes off and removed her pants and shirt. Wearing only her bra and underwear, she stepped onto the water’s surface, chanting something I’d never heard before. She commanded the water, called it her own, and demanded that it obey.

  And suddenly, it did.

  It lifted her high into the evening sky and swirled around her, an inverse whirlpool encasing her body in a watery gown. It crowned her its own, and when she commanded, the water sat her gently down again. Arron grinned at my side, and then knelt and put his fist over his heart.

  “Priestess of the House of Water,” he said proudly.

  Mira strode from the lake, robed in a glittery, watery gown.

  “Brecan,” I muttered. “The position for the Priest of the House of Air is open.”

  “I don’t know how to claim it.”

  Mira’s eyes snapped to him. “You have to want it. You must make the wind understand that it needs you. And it does, Brecan. Right now, it really does. Don’t give it a choice to cast you aside and claim another. You are its choice. Its only choice.”

  Having claimed its new Priestess, the lake sprang to life. The water that had laid stagnant, coated with leaves and scum, cleared and became like a sheet of crystal glass. Frogs began to croak, and water spiders skidded across the calm surface. Even the vibrant backs of gliding goldfish were highlighted by the rising moon.

  Brecan wanted to claim his place, but was unsure of his right. I saw it in the lines that formed around his mouth. So, I decided he needed a little push.

  I called on the dark magic he hated so much, calling for storm clouds to race toward me, knowing they would drag the wind with them.

  “Sable, stop,” he gritted.

  My lips trembled from the energy I was pulling. “Claim it.”

  My eyes closed, and I felt the earth beneath my feet shift. I sensed the life force of every tree around me, where the roots plunged into the deep, loamy earth. I recognized the energy of the lake, the cloak of the midnight sky, and every star that twinkled overhead. I filled the air with turbulent clouds and drew them toward the opposite ends of the magnet I’d become.

  The turbulence from the clouds streaking across the sky created wind. It filled the valley and poured over the land like a whispering caress.

  Brecan sighed when the wall of air hit him, and like Mira, something in him shifted.

  “Remember what she did to Wayra,” Mira demanded.

  Brecan’s lavender eyes filled with rage, desiring revenge and the power to make Cyril pay for what she did to his Priestess. He spread his arms wide and called the wind to him. It poured around and through him, a violent tunnel that knocked me flat on my back. I had to shield my eyes to see him, but what a sight he was.

  Brecan’s wind pulled the night clouds from Arron and took them swirling to the sky, and then gentled and soared in wisps as delicate as thin, spun sugar.

  He took in the air, becoming it. And when he commanded it to calm, it listened.

  Arron again knelt and held his fist over his chest. “Priest of the House of Air.” He shifted his attention to me. “Guardian of the House of Fate.”

  “Why isn’t she considered a Priestess?” Mira asked, almost outraged at the title he’d spoken on my behalf.

  “The House of Fate belongs to Fate, and she is his daughter. She is charged with guarding it now that she is of age. And right now, she needs to be its defender and champion.” Arron extended his hand and I clasped it. “I pledge myself to your service, Daughter of Fate, Guardian of the House of Fate.” He squeezed my hand tightly. “You told me to make a decision, and I have. I know now it is the right one.”

  He hadn’t given my mother a vow, but offered it to me instead.

  “Why are you pledging yourself to me? I thought you avoided such unfortunate entanglements.”

  “Because you are the only one worthy, as well as the only one who can save our kind from your mother.”

  Brecan stood behind him, and Mira beside Brecan. Something had changed in them. There was a spark in their eyes that wasn’t there before; the magic that poured off them was visceral and potent.

  “Tell us what you need, Sable. Name it, and it will be done,” Arron promised.

  “Miss Sable?” a guard shouted across the Night Garden.

  The urgency of his voice told me the guard needed me. I ran toward him, leaving my friends behind.

  “Here!” I cried out.

  A look of relief slid over his face when he caught sight of me. “The King needs you.”

  “Is he okay?” I asked as I reached him.

  “Yes, Miss. He said he needed to speak with you about an urgent matter.”

  I followed the guard to the King’s bedroom. Four other guards stood outside, ensuring the safety of their king.

  Stepping into the room, I took him in. The effort of just walking to his study this morning had depleted his energy. He slumped in his bed, the pillows stuffed behind him unable to prop him up. “King Lucius,” I greeted.

  “You must go,” he rasped. “Tauren told me that the witches are in trouble. You have to go to them and help them.”

  “Who will protect Tauren if I leave?”

  “He agreed to double or triple his guard – whatever you think is best. Name it, and it will be done.”

  Those were the same words Arron had just spoken outside.

  Fate straightened my shoulders. It is almost time to defend my House.

  I blinked rapidly. “Quadruple his guard, but I’ll send someone to watch over the palace. And Tauren.”

  The King blinked tiredly, weakly gripping the edge of his blanket. “Thank you. For all you’ve done.”

  My muscles went rigid, fingernails biting half-moons into my palms. I shook my head in frustration. “I haven’t done enough. I wasn’t able to find the ones who tried to hurt him.”

  The King offered a weak smile. “You did something far more important, Sable. You kept him safe, and you showed him true love in the process.”

  A knot formed in the back of my throat.

  “I’ll always watch over him.”

  This was it. I knew when I left the palace, I wouldn’t return. Either Cyril would win, or I would take my rightful place among my people. But I couldn’t stay here.

  The King offered a sympathetic smile and reached for my hand. I placed it in his and he brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. “I know you will. Now, go. Save my people. Save your people.” His grip tightened with each word.

  I strode from the room and headed for mine. I shrugged on a pair of black-as-night pants, the white shirt and leather vest I’d worn during my archery lesson with Tauren, and filled my pockets with black salt.

  Walking back to the Night Garden, I was shocked to see Tauren there.

  “Where are Brecan, Mira, and Arron?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  “Were you going to leave without telling me?”

  “I have to go.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Brecan filled me in on what was happening in Thirteen. The smoke…”

  “That’s why I have to leave.”

  Fate was antsy. I could tell, because suddenly I couldn’t stop fidgeting. He hadn’t given me the order to leave yet; he’d said it was almost time. So why was he writhing beneath my skin?

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Fate. He’s uncomfortable.”

  “Do you trust him?” Tauren as
ked, watching me carefully.

  “Implicitly.”

  “Arron said something about your mother warning you not to give yourself over to him. That he longed to remain corporeal, and that you would be trapped within, unable to resurface.”

  “My mother is burning my brothers and sisters. Forgive me for not trusting her advice.”

  He steeled his shoulders. “I want to come with you.”

  “No.” He tilted his head and got that look like he might order me to do it anyway. “No, Tauren. I cannot keep you safe if she is near.”

  A throaty laugh came from behind me. “You’re right about that much,” a woman said, slipping out of the shadows.

  I looked so much like her it was frightening. From my long, dark hair and straight nose, to the almond shape of my eyes. We even had the same build and height. But there was something deranged about her. Her appearance was harried, the glimmer in her dark eyes wild.

  I put myself between her and Tauren.

  Slowly, she stalked toward me. With each step, I backed Tauren away. He pulled his dagger from its sheath, ready to battle her with me. But this was a battle he shouldn’t fight, and couldn’t win.

  It was mine. And Fate’s.

  Cyril never let me out of her sight, approaching carefully. Was she afraid of me?

  “I want you to come home, Sable. We have much to discuss.”

  Fate roared inside me, gnashing to be released.

  Cyril didn’t look at me as much as she looked through me, as if she could see Fate himself. She didn’t fear me. She feared him.

  Brecan, Mira, and Arron appeared behind my mother. Cyril’s eyes flashed with anger. She glanced from Tauren to me. “You will hear me out before choosing sides.”

  “I’ll never let you harm him,” I warned. Tauren is mine.

  Fast as a viper, she spirited to Tauren and grabbed his wrist. Then she grabbed mine, and together, we vanished. I barely registered Brecan’s anguished roar as we faded away.

  I stood alone in the House of Fate.

  Where was Tauren?

  I turned in a tight circle. My heart thundered, pounding as I searched for him in every direction. Cyril had hung an enormous mirror in front of the purple couch. The dappled, aged glass stretched from floor to ceiling, casting a hazy reflection back to me. Fate urged for me to watch.