by Jessi Gage
He nodded. “Yes.” The word was half growl. Something had happened to Seona this morning, and he had a terrible feeling it was not the miracle he had assumed it to be. More like a curse. “I hope I am wrong.”
Crossing the terrace at Anya’s pace slowed him, but he didn’t mind. Anya’s sharp mind would be an asset, especially where Seona was concerned.
“Where is Travis?” he asked to make conversation as they walked. The pup was tasked with seeing to Anya’s needs, a role he had taken even more seriously since Anya announced her pregnancy. It was rare to see her without her little shadow at her heels.
Anya wore special shoes to compensate for her severe limp, but long bouts of walking seemed to pain her nonetheless. Between labored breaths, she said, “I havena seen him since this morn, but I suspect he went with Riggs to search for that gemstone.”
Yes. Magnus had instructed Riggs to take some pups to help in the search. He paused to finger a winter-bare rosebush, giving Anya a moment to rest. When they finally reached the temple, he guided Anya into Assaph’s study, leaving his guard in the sanctuary. This time, she accepted the seat he provided her, a wooden chair across the slanted desk used for reading and writing. Scrolls and loose sheets of parchment covered the surface. The parchment on top held hastily-scrawled words in drying ink.
Assaph hurried to find a second chair for Magnus, but he was too busy pacing to use it.
“Tell me you have found something useful about Hyrk,” he demanded. While Assaph rifled through sheets of parchment, Magnus paused in his pacing long enough to study the man. The collar of his robe listed to one side, as if he’d hastily loosened it with a finger. His spectacles sat crookedly on his nose, and ink stained his fingertips. Scarcely an hour had passed since the meeting, giving Assaph precious little time to scour the library. “If you please, Assaph,” he amended.
A quick smile gave him a glimpse of the highly educated friend with whom he’d studied and spent untold hours discussing the marvels of their goddess. “You know most everything I do, Your Majesty.” Assaph remained standing, as did Magnus. For once Anya remained quiet. She leaned forward in her chair, eyes boring into poor Assaph as if she could discern the answers before he spoke them aloud. “Last moon, we learned that Hyrk is a god. At least, that is the term Ari used when calling upon him. As you know, I found no mention of this name in the Temple Archives. But I had been looking for a deity.”
Magnus nodded. Impatience vibrated through him, but he forced himself not to show it. Assaph had experienced quite enough strain today without him adding to it. “Go on,” he encouraged.
“This afternoon in your solar, Lady Seona suggested Hyrk is not a god but a demi-god.” He emphasized the demi. “I had never heard the term in relation to deities, but Lady Seona’s words reminded me of a poem from Abiding in Her Grace.” He reached beneath his desk and lifted out a heavy tome. As he opened it to a marked page, his eyes glowed with excitement. “Wouldn’t you know, Sire, the poem mentions a being I believe to be Hyrk. Here.” Finding a sheet of parchment with writing on it, he said, “I took the liberty of transcribing the passage if you wish to take it with you.”
Magnus took the parchment and followed along as the priest read aloud from the tome.
Her people are her first love.
She holds them closer to her heart than a lover.
Her creation is her lifemate.
Nothing created or eternal,
Mortal or immortal,
Not the most transcendent of the Fae,
Not even the raven-haired courtier to the queen herself,
The one known as Darkness,
Not the most magnificent of the lower gods,
Not even her spurned suitor spawned from the goddess Rachelle,
The one known as Viehyrken the Red
Nothing and no one,
Not even godhood itself
Shall separate her from her lifemate.
Magnus closed his eyes and let his awareness expand with love for his goddess. “I treasure this passage,” he told Assaph. It was one of the pieces that had shored him up when he had lost his father at the age of twelve. Nothing filled him with peace like dwelling on the love of Danu for her creation. “Her lifemate is her people. All of us. The poem claims no power in heaven or on Earth can keep her from us.” Sorrow filled him. “But Tanisten is wrong. She has not been with us in a long time.”
“’Tis lovely,” Anya said. “Even if it is wrong.”
“Wrong is rather harsh,” Assaph said to Magnus. “Perhaps her blessing is not with us now, but I take heart in the words of this passage. In the end, Danu will be one with her lifemate.” He turned to Anya. “These are the words of the poet Tanisten, scribed over six hundred years ago. I find it remarkable that they describe a ‘lower god’ with a name remarkably similar to Hyrk’s. And ‘the Red’ may refer to his gemstone. I believe we can learn from this passage that Danu will be victorious in the end, that Hyrk will be defeated.”
“But not before he’s worked plenty of mischief, I’d wager,” Anya said. “The poem said he was a spurned suitor.” Anya leveled a serious look at Magnus. “I have been spurned in love before, and ’tis no’ a nice feeling. I doona consider myself wicked, but I have done some wicked things believing them justified by my pain. If a human with respect for her Lord and God can sink to such depths, what might a spurned demigod do?”
“The prospects are dire, indeed,” Assaph said.
“Perhaps,” Magnus said. “But Tanisten was a poet, not a priest. We should take care when interpreting writings that are not part of the Archives.”
“I agree,” Assaph said.
“Care to enlighten me, o’ learned ones? What does it matter if the passage isna ‘of the Archives?’” She intoned the phrase in a passable imitation of Magnus’s voice.
Assaph straightened his spectacles. “Every word in the Temple Archives, from the story of how Danu created the world to the records of visits she would pay to the rulers of Eire in times of old, has been verified by high priests of the temple as originating with Danu, herself. Though written by the hands of men, they are her words, and they are utterly without fault. This—” Assaph laid a reverent hand on the tome. “Is Abiding in Her Grace, the collected works of the great poets, twenty-one monks spanning the last thousand years.” Assaph gazed lovingly at the volume before a wistful sigh escaped his lips.
At Anya’s raised eyebrow, Magnus explained, “Abiding is the closest thing we of this century have to recent revelation from Danu.”
“Don’t forget the vision the goddess gave you,” Assaph said.
“And the vision,” Magnus agreed with a warm feeling of pride. “But in the last two thousand years, there have been no additions to the Temple Archives.”
“Every word we have from Danu herself is two millennia old,” Assaph said. “Preserved faithfully by temple priests and monks. But no revelations have been verified since ancient times.”
“Why?” Anya asked. Her simple question made Magnus wish there were a simple answer.
“Some think Danu has revoked her blessing,” Assaph said. “Others—”
“Since the time of Jilken,” Anya interrupted, bouncing in her chair like a student with an answer. “The Larnian king used dark magic to breed his warriors with wolves, aye?”
Magnus nodded, surprised she knew this dark chapter of their history.
“Riggs told me,” she said, and her eyes reflected pride in her lifemate. “He told me bairns who werena fierce enough were discarded like refuse, and that some believe Jilken’s acts caused Danu to cease her blessing of wolfkind.”
“Yes,” said Magnus. “The birth rate of females began decreasing around Jilken and Lachlan’s time. That is also when our priests stopped receiving revelations from Danu.”
Anya peered thoughtfully at Assaph. “Ye said ‘some think.’ That means no’ everyone believes in the curse.”
Assaph held up a finger. “Ah-ha. Yes. You are absolutely correct,
Lady Anya. Some believe we are under a curse. Others, like me, wonder if perhaps something happened to separate Danu from her creation.”
“But the poem,” Anya said.
“Is not of the Temple Archives,” Magnus said, and Assaph nodded his agreement, though with some hesitation.
Anya’s brow furrowed. “What could possibly happen to a goddess to keep her from her creation?”
“Nothing,” Magnus said. “It is merely a poem.”
Assaph spread his hands. “We do not know, my lady. But my whole ministry, I’ve believed that Danu did not choose to curse us, that something or someone caused her to be separated from us against her will.”
Magnus quelled an impulse to shake his head. This was an argument he and Assaph had long debated. He must not have succeeded in disguising what he thought of Assaph’s theory, because the priest smiled ruefully at him.
“I know, I know, Sire. We have always disagreed on this. I have no proof or revelation to support my assumption. It is more of a gut feeling.”
“A wise Scotswoman trusts her gut,” Anya said with a decisive nod.
Magnus said, “If Danu has been forcibly separated from us, then how could I have received a verified prophecy from her? How is it we have the Translation Stone? How is it we have Anya and the babe growing inside her? These are clearly blessings from Danu.” He motioned to Anya and did not miss how she sat taller in her chair. “Besides, we need more than ‘gut feelings’ to fight Hyrk. He has made us a target, and I have no doubt he will strike again. We must be prepared.”
Assaph sighed. “On this, we most definitely agree. Unfortunately, we have little more to guide us than this single poem written six-hundred years ago.” Assaph had done precisely what Magnus had asked of him. He ought to be grateful. Instead, he had even more questions.
“It’s not good enough.” Magnus pounded his fist on the writing table. How he wished there were more information on Hyrk. On his motives, his tactics. “Wait.” Memory lit like a flame. Hyrk’s words filled his mind, accompanied by the sight of that eerie light burning from Bilkes’s eyes and the gemstone clutched in a dirt-streaked hand.
“How quaint that you think your goddess has any power to aid you. It is I you ought pray to. It is I who shall soon rule your entire world. And your precious Danu shall be my servant for all time.”
“I remember.” He wheeled to face Assaph. “This morning, when I encountered Hyrk, he was clearly possessing the prisoner. He held the gemstone, and his eyes glowed red.” Magnus had been so furious at Hyrk’s manhandling of Seona he had barely paid heed to the words falling from Bilkes’s lips. It was a miracle he remembered them at all. He relayed them to Assaph with urgency. “He spoke about ruling us. He said Danu would be his servant for all time.” All day, he’d been seeking knowledge about Hyrk, and as it happened, he held it within himself.
“Good. Good.” Excitement came over Assaph, his fingers drummed at the air as he talked. “So we know what he wants. To rule us. To make Danu his servant. And he must need the gemstone to accomplish these things, or else why would he have stolen it? This helps, Sire. Do you recall anything more?”
Magnus let himself fall into the memory. He relived the terror he’d felt for Seona, the fear at realizing he faced a wicked immortal, the sharp wound to his pride when Seona had wished for death over being returned into his care. “He mentioned Ari and Bantus. It seems he is furious with me for his loss of those two men.”
“He was using them,” Assaph said. “And now he doesn’t have them anymore.”
“He said he wanted me to suffer, and that’s when—” Magnus broke off, remembering the woman sitting close by.
“The stone went over the cliff,” Assaph finished for him, tactful as always.
“And my sister,” Anya said. “Dinnae censure your words wi’ me. I ken she isna right. ’Tis why I’m here, no?”
“Yes,” Magnus confirmed. “In fact, that is why I am here, as well, Assaph. I suspect there may be more to Lady Seona’s state than mere loss of memory.”
He’d been over every interaction he’d had with her since her fall—nay, even before her fall. In the split second it took Hyrk to toss her over the cliff, she had managed to grab the jagged gemstone from his hand, but when he’d gotten to her down in the canyon bed, the stone had been missing, perhaps hidden on her person. No doubt, the stone’s power was to thank for the miraculous healing of her broken and bloodied body.
Then, during the ride back to Glendall, her first words to him had been, “What have you done, you sly mongrel?” She had also demanded, “Tell me what you know of Hyrk, mortal—Magnus.” He had pretended not to notice the slip, but notice he had.
Then there was her wonder at every aspect of life in Glendall, exaggerated, no doubt, as part of an act. And, of course, her blurted declaration during the meeting, revealing knowledge of Hyrk’s status as a demigod.
The facts all pointed to a single, dreadful conclusion.
“’Tis no’ memory she’s lacking,” Anya said. “That woman isna my sister.”
Assaph’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. He looked from Anya to Magnus.
“I agree with Lady Anya’s assessment,” Magnus said. “I need you to tell me how to test whether Hyrk might have taken up possession of Lady Seona.”
Chapter 12
“Danu, love. Wakie, wakie.” A familiar voice tugged at her ears. She longed to respond, but her body felt heavy. Her eyes were hot and swollen. They refused to open.
“Go away.” All she wanted was to sink deeper into the embrace of mortal slumber.
“Ah, love. Don’t be like that. Come. Join me.” Duff. The voice belonged to Duff. She liked Duff, but she did not feel like waking.
“Too tired.”
“I have information for you.” The sing-songy voice encouraged her to blink a few times. She had been wanting to speak with Duff, she remembered. “Information about Hyrk.”
That did it. She forced her eyes open. They wanted to close again, but she dug her knuckles into them until the sensation passed. Was it always so difficult for mortals to rouse from slumber? How awful for them.
She expected to see the inside of what Magnus had called the Orange Blossom chamber. Enameled walls lined with tapestries should have welcomed her along with gilt furniture, the sweet scents of citrus and flowers, and guards protecting her in her sleep. Instead, she opened her eyes to a field of magenta and periwinkle wildflowers. On the horizon, the sun cast a golden light over the landscape. It hung like an ornament, too large and almost too beautiful to behold. A gentle, perfumed breeze tickled the flowers, sending waves through them, like an ocean tide.
“There she is.” Affection sweetened Duff’s voice like honey through tea. He sat beside her amidst the flowers wearing the traditional silvery robes of the Fae court. He was resplendent with his shining black hair, skin of smoothest ivory, and lips that beckoned endless nipping and nuzzling. Not that she desired those things from Duff any longer. It was Magnus who stirred her longing now. And his kingdom was in danger from Hyrk. “I was worried about you,” Duff said. “Are you well, love?”
She thought about the question and answered with some surprise, “I am.” Despite the many questions plaguing her as she’d fallen asleep, a strange peace had settled over her. Her limbs were languid, her mood happy. It was this place doing it to her. “Where are we? How did you take me away from Glendall? Magnus had guards watching me.”
“Do not fear, love. You are still there, sound asleep. This is the realm of dreams.”
“I’m dreaming?” Heavens. She had walked through the dreams of mortals countless times, but since she required no sleep as a goddess, she had never dreamt. “How strange.”
“It feels much like waking, no?” Duff watched the brilliant orb. It had moved not a single inch since she’d opened her eyes.
“Yes. Only different. I feel...at peace.”
His eyebrows lifted, and he studied her. “Interesting.”
A lau
gh bubbled from her. “You sound surprised. Should I not enjoy a few moments’ peace?”
“No one deserves peace more than you.” He gazed at her with sober intent. “It is interesting because your mood in this realm reflects what is in your heart.” He brushed his hand over the tops of nearby flowers. Against his skin, the petals whispered and danced. “In dreams, mortals’ hearts are set free.”
“But I am not mortal.” She said it without ire. It was simply truth, and she was sharing it with Duff.
“Ah, but you are. And guess who is now a goddess?”
“Seona,” she said without hesitation.
Duff nodded, confirming her suspicion. She now knew for sure where Seona had gone.
“So, she is in Hyrk’s dungeon.”
“Unfortunately.”
“No. Not unfortunately. If we had not traded places, she would be dead. At least she lives.”
Duff grasped her hand. “And you? How is it you are not dead? You took the fall for her, yes?”
She shuddered at the memory. “I did. But I was healed. By whose power, I do not know, but I am grateful for it.” She laced their fingers together. “It is good to see you as yourself, friend. I have missed you.”
Duff smiled warmly at her. His eyes twinkled with affection. Not lust. Only affection. “I have missed you, as well.” His lips quirked playfully. “How is Magnus?”
Her cheeks warmed. She remained silent.
“I see he is well,” Duff said on a quiet laugh. Sighing, he became serious. “I should not tarry. Seona was loath to see me go. She is very afraid. I came to tell you what I’ve learned from her.”
She sat up straighter. “Tell me.” She craved knowledge of how Seona had ended up in Hyrk’s clutches. Knowledge of how to rescue the human. And how to put herself back in her true form.
“It started with a boy,” he began. He reclined on an elbow with one knee bent. Between his finger and thumb, he twirled the stem of a plucked flower. “A blond-haired pup. Seona felt alone in the king’s home. She had her sister, but even Anya kept trying to convince her to love the very beings she hated—and with good reason after what that filth, Bantus, did to her.” Rage flashed like lightning in Duff’s eyes. He cared for the mortal.