by Brindi Quinn
As a child, I played often on the throne room rug while my knight debriefed the rest of the guard, droning on about things I didn’t understand. While everyone else listened attentively, Albie’s grizzled words skated amongst sounds of scribbled notes, rustling paper and popping fire, making me tire and dream.
When that same well-aged voice spoke now, though, it didn’t bring any comfort:
“My Queen, a word?”
My stomach dropped, but not in the melty, gooey, wanting way it had just earlier. That tone was one I had heard many times growing up, after doing something naughty I didn’t think Albie would find out.
He always found out.
“I will ask again, why did you insist on coming with to retrieve Queen Beau?” he said once out of earshot of the others.
“For the widowbirds,” I said, truthfully.
Truthful or not, I saw the lining of his eyes wrinkle in suspicion. “Is that all?” When I nodded, his voice shifted softer as if to ease a blow: “You know queens may not… take lovers.”
It was as I expected. Windley and I had been too close in the flowers.
On many levels, this was not something I want to discuss with my chaperone. I nodded to keep from having to give a proper answer.
Albie continued, staring deeply and unabashedly into me with prudent resolve. “Queens may only court those of the other bloodlines. Even now, there are arrangements in the works for you to meet with the kin of the Cacti. You know this, My Queen.”
I hugged my cloak to myself. “What are you implying?”
Albie shook his head. “You can make your own decisions now, but I would be remiss if I didn’t warn you, My Queen.” He frowned. “That boy has been in love with you, I’d reckon, for the last eight years. Be careful.”
Chapter 18
Forgotten Scars
After Albie issued his warning, I shooed him away with a laugh and returned to the others. It might be wicked of me to admit, but the best way to dissuade a person who knows too much is to make them think they’re being irrational. This was easier to do because Albie really was being irrational.
Yes, I may have finally come to terms with the potential of a slight crush, but the thought of Windley being in love with me was preposterous. There were many reasons I felt this way, but most of all, Windley wasn’t the type who would allow himself at the mercy of a captor like love.
Not to mention, eight years was a long time. Surely, I would have seen signs of it by now.
‘I did a good job with the dress.’
‘I’ve wondered what you taste like for so damn long.’
‘Beautiful and terrifying.’
‘It feels good to hold you at last… my queen.’
Damn it, all. Albie was in my head.
I finished the salve and set it aside with some freshly prepared bandages for Rafe and Windley. Dirtied from days of camp and travel, we would bathe in the forest pools before retiring for the night.
Of all the nights so far, it was imperative we sleep well this night, for we would likely reach the far edge of the Emerald Wood tomorrow, and Delagos had little guidance for what lay beyond.
As I soaked in the privacy of the upper pool shrouded in fragrant wildflowers and cattails, I gave dutiful blows on the widowbird whistle, hoping that if any were in the area, they would come to me. Too, I hoped that Ruckus, stubborn as he was, would hear it and wander back to us.
Below, the guards were bathing and laughing over things Albie wouldn’t say in front of me for fear of tainting my queenly sensibilities. More stories about men playing mandolins with their netherparts? No thanks. The moment of solitude gave me a chance to calm the fury of voices raging in the distance.
I tipped my head back into the pool, submerging my lion’s mane below the breach, and closed my eyes.
“merrin?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the mantle of hands swarmed around me, squeezing and probing. I didn’t mind so much anymore. As my physical body listed in the chilled water, my spiritual body floated in the darkness. I pulled the taste of it into my lungs.
“MErrIn.”
“MeRRIN!”
“Hi guys,” I emoted, though it was unclear if the hands and voices were one entity or many.
“We killed them! We killed them both! They had no merit. We will kill more. All of it. We will tear it apart. We will rip it asunder. Purify the earth!”
As I feared, the darkness was riled from the taste of blood. “Shhh,” I shushed it and pressed the calm feelings of the bath against it to form a barricade of my own intentions. “No need for that,” I said. “We’ve already expelled those without merit. The rest can live.”
“MerrIn.”
“MErrin.”
“How about I let you know if we encounter any others deserving of death?” I offered. “We’ll work together again, I promise.”
“Let them live for now. We will work together to kill again.”
Not exactly what I had in mind, but that would do.
But just when I thought I had won the echoes over, one voice rang out, clearer than all the others but in a tone that was neither male nor female nor warbled like the rest:
“You want us to destroy. You liked it, Merrin. You’ll see. Together, we’ll kill everything.”
At the same time, one hand, feeling more solid than the rest, slithered up my breasts and to my neck, where it took a firm hold on my throat. I threw myself out of the dark realm, and thus out of the water. Hair dripping, I held to the side of the pool. Had I done that? I had admitted to myself that destruction felt good, but had I influenced the darkness that way, or was that its own sentient opinion?
I strained my ears. Despite that last disconcerting bit, the waves of fury had ebbed. There were whispers about letting the world live and a few excited ones about getting to kill later. I would have to go back in and calm those ones down, but not now. Not tonight.
With the forest quickly turning dusk, I finished my bath and dressed. “I’m coming down!” I called. “Make yourselves decent!”
I said it as a joke, for I had heard them get out of the water minutes ago while I was ringing out my hair. But it seemed Windley had dallied in getting dressed. As I stood at the hill’s overlook, I caught a glimpse of him pulling down his shirt, and though it was dim, the fire’s light clearly showed deep lacerations branded in the flesh of his back. At first, I thought these might be from the blood stag battle, but they were long scabbed over, scars from years past.
But we still had more to go through before he would open up about that chapter of his life.
Though Windley saw me, he didn’t remark, simply shook out his hair that was beginning to darken. I continued down the hill to the campsite, bare feet sinking into the moist floor of emerald peat. I figured I had better find a moss-less patch before the moon rose too high, lest Albie see my enchanted footsteps.
“Did you two bandage up properly? Get an even coat of the salve on your wounds?” I said.
“Yes, mom,” Windley defaulted to sarcasm, but as he turned, his demeanor changed. “Merrin? Is that you?”
From the fire, Albie cleared his throat disapprovingly.
Windley bowed low for show. “Apologies, Queen Merrin.” He rose quickly to inspect me. “I was surprised. Your mane is gone.”
Yes, when my hair was wet, the curl drained from it. It would begin to rebound as it dried, but for now, it was long over my shoulders. I couldn’t tell by his face whether or not he preferred it that way. “But I’m still a lion and don’t you forget it,” I said, showing my teeth.
“I’ll brush it for you, My Queen,” said Albie.
I wasted no time settling at his feet with the fire to my front, warming my cheeks. Beau was the best when it came to brushing hair—better than Chrysanthemum or any other handmaid—but really, I wasn’t picky. Albie’s wrinkled hands were overly careful and a little clumsy, and he handled the strands as though they were made of delicate silk when in reality, they were thick a
nd coarse, but I loved him for his tenderness. He had been doing it this way forever.
We ate together as the moon rose, and I tried to push what Albie had said from my mind. Flirting was one thing, but Windley wasn’t the sort to fall in love, and he wouldn’t be dumb enough to fall in love with me. There was something between us, true, but it was a crush, a flirtation. The more I intended not to think about it, the more I did, and all the while the devilish guard kept watching Albie brush out my hair, making small talk with Rafe but catching my eye. Every time he pursed his lips, I remembered them kissing my fingertips. The higher the milky moon rose, the more beguiling the details from last night felt.
I needed to tame this monster before it grew out of hand.
Did you know? Monsters have a way of turning on you.
When the moon was at peak, bright and chaste, Rafe stood at the side of the tranquil pond to charge his blade. Paying no mind to the rest of us voyeurs, he lifted the flickering steel against the ink of night and closed his eyes to infuse himself with moonglow. Then, with pale light escaping his throat, he whispered the same unenthused string of incantations he had at the tree fortress and ended by gracing the center of the sword with his sorcerer’s kiss.
It was at that moment that a shuffling in the trees alerted us to a creature approaching. Rafe and his newly enchanted weapon were already lunged in preparation, with Windley close behind, hatchets thirsty for a brawl.
“MerrIN?”
The echoes sensed danger. I held them at bay, unsure whether to suppress or summon.
Windley lit a stick from the fire and edged toward the trees, pointed ears listening hard. “Oh,” he said, dull.
“What is it?” said Rafe.
He moved to the side and held up the torch, illuminating the antlered creature meandering toward our campsite. “Look who’s finally decided to grace us with an appearance.” If wind stags could look ashamed, this one certainly did.
“Ruck!” I would have run to him but feared showing Albie my enchanted footsteps. Instead, Windley herded the wayward stag toward me so that I could wrap my arms around his neck. “Did you have an adventure?”
He responded with a nuzzle. Whatever he had been up to, it had worn him out. He took a long drink from the pool that was now tainted with the taste of Windley, Rafe and Albie, before collapsing beside his brethren.
“Get some rest, you birdbrain,” Albie said. “We’ve got a lot of riding to do tomorrow.”
“Albie!” I feigned offense. “That’s a noble steed you’re talking about. He isn’t a birdbrain.”
“Like rider, like stag, I always say,” Windley crooned.
To the Spirite’s delight, it was Albie’s turn to take first watch, meaning that we would get to fall asleep without the usual racket of gasps and snorts. I turned in first with Windley close behind and Rafe shortly after, for Albie had taken the magician aside to issue him an order first.
“What was that about?” Windley asked.
“You must have done something,” Rafe said. “He told me to keep an eye on you.”
“On me?” Windley put a hand to his chest as if appalled. His hair didn’t help. It was now completely black and made him look even more devious than usual.
“Both of you,” said Rafe. “So get over there. I’m sleeping in the middle until my patrol.”
“I intended to sleep on the side anyway,” Windley said. “Dear goddess, the man thinks me a miscreant.” So he said, but it wasn’t long before he was pestering Rafe. “Psst. Switch places with me. Just for a while. I need to talk to the Queen.”
I could hear them over there, whispering, but barely, because my heart was beating at an abnormal pace, and the more I tried to stifle it, the louder it became until I was sure both of them could hear it too.
Eventually, Windley convinced Rafe by promising him something in exchange. There was a rustle, followed by the sounds of a predator crawling closer. I pretended to be asleep.
“You aren’t sleeping already. Stop faking it.”
Busted.
I rolled to face him and saw that he was crouched beside me, eyes agleam. “Well, I was nearly asleep, thank you. And what are you doing over here anyway? I thought you said you weren’t a bounder.”
“Oh, is that what you want?” he purred, a bit sinister.
Yeah, those kinds of things were impacting me more than they used to.
“Is that what you want?” I said to deflect.
But it seemed those kinds of things were impacting him more nowadays too. His expression fell into a serious one and he swallowed, but the longer we looked at each other through the near darkness, the more ticked up the corner of his mouth became.
“W-who ever thought it a good idea to make you a guard?” I said.
“Your knight, as it turns out. An excellent judge of character.” He smiled sardonically.
Annoyed, Rafe shuffled and slammed a pillow over his head.
“Sorry Rafe,” I whispered. Then to Windley, “What do you really want?”
He shook his head and mouthed the word, “Wait,” implying that he didn’t want Rafe to hear whatever it was. He slid himself into a lying position beside me, propping his cheek up with his knuckle. We stayed that way several more minutes, facing each other in silence, until Rafe’s breathing turned heavy.
First giving a look over his shoulder at the sleeping magician, and then a second at Albie’s fire-lit silhouette through the tent’s canvas, Windley deemed it safe to scooch closer.
I stiffened, aware of how loudly I was breathing, how quickly I was breathing, how deeply I was breathing.
“I’ve been thinking…” he whispered, barely audible, mouth nearly to my ear. “What if the echoes left Queen Beau of their own volition?”
“What do you mean?” I mirrored his volume.
He exhaled, his breath warming my neck. “She’s never done anything like what you did,” he said. “It isn’t in her nature. What if the echoes left to find someone that could put them to better use—a more worthy host?”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I took the diplomatic approach. “Beau is your queen, Windley, and the echoes are her ancestral right. You can’t say things like that.” Beau was my dearest friend, and I would never undermine her in front of one of her guards.
“It’s just that the south’s version of the nemophilist is different from the north’s. She’s supposed to be a freaking badass, an ender of wars, a wielder of great and terrible power. That’s not Queen Beau. That’s you.”
Flattering, but blasphemous. Again, I didn’t know how to respond. This time, he offered me an out.
“I know you can’t condone it,” he said. “But now you know my thoughts on the matter.”
That was dangerous.
He was dangerous. The way I felt wielding the echoes was dangerous. It was as though I was being tested on all fronts.
“So, what’s your plan here?” I said, to change the subject. “You’re going to wake poor Rafe to make him switch places with you?”
“Psh, no,” he responded in an offhand manner. “I’ll just go cuddle up next to him. Sir Albie won’t be worried if he comes in to see two guards spooning each other. It may even lay his fears to rest for the remainder of the trip.”
I snorted loud enough to risk waking Rafe. I went to cup my mouth, but Windley beat me to it. An impulse, for he quickly apologized and withdrew, but as he pulled his fingers away, I had a strong urge to bite one. A lion’s tendencies, I supposed.
Our monster was being rather unruly, ramming against my ribcage in an attempt to escape. The best way to contain it would have been to roll over and go to sleep.
But that isn’t what I did, because as it turns out, I’m lacking in self-control.
“Windley?” I said instead. “What happened to your back?” The deep lacerations, as though he’d been whipped or scratched over a long period of time.
“How shocking.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Was the virtuous queen spying on her gu
ard while we bathed?”
“Ew, no. That means I would have seen Albie too,” I said.
“You have a point.” He rolled onto his back with a sigh. “Yeah, I thought I caught you looking. Grotesque, isn’t it? Don’t worry yourself, lion queen. Those memories aren’t clear, and I don’t care to relive the parts of them I can conjure.”
“I understand.” I pulled up my covers. “And I don’t find it grotesque. I was just wondering.”
Wondering who or what could have done that to him. They had no merit.
Windley was quiet a moment and then: “About last night—”
My heart stopped.
I knew I should have rolled over when I had the chance. We kept putting ourselves in these compromising situations. Here we were again, in the dark, in the night, bodies closer than they should be, the air alive with unspoken words.
“I almost showed you when we were kids—the first time we met, actually—to impress you, but Sir Albie said you would be afraid. For a while today, I thought he was right. I’m glad you recovered.”
Had I really recovered, though? That fluttering was moving around my body, settling on all of the most sensitive parts—neck, lower back, chest, abdomen.
“I wonder if that’s why Albie brought you back to the Clearing instead of the Crag,” I said quietly. “Because he thought I was the riskier option. If he hadn’t, you would be my guard instead of Beau’s.”
“You would have grown sick of me if we lived together,” Windley said. “I was an insufferable little shit, or so I’m told.”
“Really? I always thought you were fun to be around. You always said the things I wanted to say. I think I learned to be a troublemaker from you.”
“My legacy was to corrupt a queen. Delightful.” Windley rolled to face me again. “Don’t kid yourself,” he said. “You were always a troublemaker. That’s why Sir Albie is so withered.”