by Brindi Quinn
“You mean the broken crown?” Windley said. “I know that one. My keeper’s daughter told it to me when I was young. It’s a common bedtime story in the south.”
“Your keeper’s daughter? What’s a keeper?”
I saw a flush settle on his cheeks. It was rare that he was abashed. “Forget that. It isn’t important,” he said.
A keeper.
Scars.
An aversion to his past.
And an elixir that removed memories.
Windley wasn’t one to tread beneath the surface of conversation, and for the longest time, that didn’t bother me.
Since when did his withholding make my ribs ache? Since when did I feel like he owed it to me to let me in? Because we had grieved together? Because our monster had grown? Because I wanted him to trust me the way I trusted him?
I seized a gathering of his cloak and he looked down at it. “I hope someday you’ll confide in me, Windley. It seems I’m hungry for it.”
He studied me before asking: “Why?”
I wasn’t sure, so I offered him the best I could: “When you’re a royal, you don’t have many friends. I think of you as one of my closest. So I just… I’m a good keeper of secrets, okay?”
“Tch.” He showed his teeth and looked to the ground, visibly frustrated. But then he softened. “I know, Queen Merrin. Maybe someday.”
It was a strange reaction, and I didn’t quite understand it at the time.
But I would before the day was out.
He cleared his throat. “Are you ready to hear this bedtime story? I could put you to bed first if you’d like.”
“I’m good. But yes, story please.”
He threw an arm across the top of his head. “Long ago, when the moon ruled both night and day, the heavens dropped a crown to the world below. Falling on sharp rocks, the crown shattered into two halves. One was lost to the sea, the other to the forest. A simple girl picked up the forest crown and learned the language of the trees, but it was only half the words. She heard only half the truth and made a mistake, ordering hunters to burn the wood. As punishment, the heavens removed her crown.
“Eventually, the girl came upon the other half of crown, washed upon the shore. She took it and learned the other half of the words. She realized her mistake, for she was not to burn the forest but to protect it. She repented, and the heavens restored her crown. From that day on, she heard all the words and was a protector of the wood.” He shrugged. “I suppose the moral is not to make rash decisions or something of that nature.”
See? Even the south’s fables had morals.
Given his fractured memory, he remembered the story in surprising detail.
“That’s different than the one Poppy told me,” I said. “Hers wasn’t much of a story. More like a poem. In hers, there were two queens. Both lost the ability to hear the wood, and both found it again. There are similarities, though.” I raised brows at him. “You’re not half bad at telling stories, you know. Maybe you can become an archivist when you get old and fat and can no longer fight.”
He leered devilishly. “That will never happen.”
We kept on through the wood hours more but didn’t tire; Windley was fueled by the energy he had taken from me, and I backed by a swarm of raging darkness. Though this was the longest stretch I had ever walked, letting the echoes closer reinvigorated my tired muscles until they no longer ached. There was a delicate balance of keeping them close enough to offer strength without letting them near enough to pull me under.
“Do you need to rest?” Windley asked from time to time.
“Nope. I’m magical now, bitches!”
“There’s only one of me here.”
“I mean it to all of the bitches in the world, near and far,” I said.
“Naturally.”
Our monster thrived.
As eve started to fall, Windley broke out of the wood to get a better look at the golden meadow and our bearings. “We’re close,” he said. “There will be scouts. We’ll carry on through the forest, but we should be prepared to sneak. Hopefully we can get through before those feet of yours start to give us away.”
“Perfect,” I said, thinking of my evening trips through the castle to eat tartlets on the veranda. “I excel at sneaking.”
His mischief gleamed. “So do I.”
From there, we crept, sticking tight to the cover of large trees and shrubbery as we made our way through the idyllic wood coated in sinking light, and just when the trees began to cast wicked looking shadows, Windley took my sleeve and pulled me behind cover. Apparently, his pointed ears were picking up something my human ones couldn’t. He leaned around me, hand across my chest to hold me back, and searched the trees. I had a strong urge to blow on the tiny hairs of his neck—just to set him out of sorts.
I abstained.
Despite the race of my pulse filling my ears, I heard it a moment later—the sounds of two people talking and walking a small distance away.
Windley motioned for me to look. There were two cavalry members donned in scarlet garb, a tall girl and a light-haired guy, collecting mushrooms in a basket. Windley inspected the pair of them before bringing his mouth close to my ear so that it was touching.
“They’re just sort of lingering. Let’s wait it out a moment.”
That was fine by me because Windley was huddled around me, holding me close and still and breathing softly near my neck.
“Damn it.” Windley glanced to the sun beginning to touch the horizon. “We don’t have time for your fuckery, Phylo,” he muttered. “He’s got it out for her but he’s a terrible flirt. They could be there all night.” He eyed my wrist. “Care to spare a little of that magical vitality? You seem to have an abundance now.”
“What are you going to do?” I whispered.
He wiggled his fingers. “I’m going to muuurder them— Ow!” He rubbed his head where I had just flicked him. “What do you think I’m going to do?”
“Fine fine. I’ll abet your seduction.” I offered him my wrist.
Holding my wrist like a gentleman, he touched the tip of his nose to it and then lightly slid his face up my arm to my elbow, nuzzling. When he returned to my wrist, he kissed down softly. “Turquoise should do the trick.”
Flexing my clavicle and neck tendons to compose myself, I watched as his hair changed from peach to white and then as his eyes flickered from black to beautiful, swimming turquoise. They didn’t ensnare my blood the same way his emerald ones did, but they were alluring all the same.
“Be right back,” he said before sauntering up to the other two, hood drawn and gait bold.
“Who is that?” I heard Phylo ask.
“Halt!” said the girl with him. “Oh. Windley? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to escort Sir Albie and Queen Merrin back to the Crag?”
Really? I had assumed he would stay with Rafe to help rescue Beau. Beau was, after all, his queen. She was the reason he had come storming into my room that night asking for help. She was the reason he had been so depressed when we first set out. His primary goal was to rescue Beau, wasn’t it?
“Ready?”
The Spirite was already back, standing over me and offering his ringed hand, his eyes no longer turquoise. I peered beyond him to find Phylo and the tall girl with their arms around one another, lost to ecstasy.
“What did you do?” I said, taking his hand.
“Some say our power feels like falling in love. I just fed them a smidge, and it amplified what they were already feeling for each other. It should buy us some time. Come on.”
“So, you’re actually like a cupid?”
“A fat baby in a loincloth?” he said. “The similarity is uncanny.”
We turned up our hoods and continued through the woods a short way until Windley again pulled me down into the brush.
“Okay, we’re right beside the cavalry’s camp. When I tell you to, cross over to that tree and wait for me.” He stood out of his crouch, watching f
or the perfect moment. “Now.”
I shifted from our cover to the tree he had indicated and took a peek around the rough bark. Six scarlet-clad guards were milling about the tents, as a group of wind stags grazed nearby on grass lit violently by dying light. The six cavalrymen seemed to be constructing some sort of vessel out of wood from the forest.
It pained me to know that three dozen others should be with them.
Windley dashed over and took position behind me, holding my shoulders and setting his chin on the top of my head. “Ready? Once more. That tree over there… Now.”
I tucked low and shimmied over to the other tree. This time, when I dipped around the bark, what I saw made me hold my mouth to keep from gasping.
I had pictured in my head what Giant’s Necropolis might look like.
I had been wrong on all accounts.
I had pictured a mound, but it wasn’t a mound. I had pictured a hill, but it wasn’t a hill. It really was a mountain—one that would take days to climb—and, as promised, it was comprised completely of gigantic femurs and ribs and skulls, corroded from years of wind and more massive than any known beast.
I had pictured it in the middle of a wasteland, but I was wrong there, too. The pile of giant’s bones jutted from the middle of a vast lake, the glassy surface of which mirrored the sunset.
That was what Albie meant by it being harder to access than anticipated.
The thing the cavalry was constructing… was a boat.
“How are we supposed to get way out there?”
“I haven’t thought that far,” said Windley. “Come on. I scouted out a cave a ways down.” He pulled me to another tree. And then another and another until we were a safe distance from camp, where the forest met the shore. The lake was too far to swim across, the mountain too tall to climb. And even if we could climb it, I didn’t see any sort of structure at the top that might be used for housing a stolen queen.
“Isn’t there supposed to be an extra-large giant collapsed on top?” I said.
“The foot of it is there.” He pointed. “Apparently you can get a pretty good view from the other side of the lake.”
“So you guys did check the other side? There’s no bridge or anything?”
“The cavalry did a sweep all the way around before we even got here. According to them, there’s nothing. So they’re planning on rowing across.”
It was unrealistic to think that Windley and I could build a similar means on our own.
“Spirites don’t happen to have superhuman swimming abilities, do they?”
“…Like a merman?” he said, flat.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Unfortunately, it appeared the cavalry had the right idea. A boat may be the only option, but troops of the Clearing were not under my command, and Albie was well-respected amongst the guard. There was no partnering with them. We were on our own.
That rubbled pile of bones—was Beau really in there somewhere? I saw no other structures on the land where she may be kept.
Wouldn’t you love to see the southern mountain someday?
Yet everything pointed to her being here. She knew she was being taken to the southern mountain the day she went missing, and she left a trail for her guards to follow, even sending confirmation via widowbird once she arrived.
Glad to hear you’re wearing in your new shoes. The southern mountain is huger than I expected. Give Timber my regard.
Huger than expected? Did that mean anything? I held my hand to my heart and willed it to show me something. Where are you, Beau? Inside those bones? Atop those bones? Somewhere else? How do we reach you?
None of my questions were answered, for just then, there was a rustling behind us as a scathing voice cut through the forest:
“Windley.”
I turned to see a familiar wavy-haired magician, holding his chest.
“Oh yeah,” Windley said, offhand. “I gave him a significantly smaller dose than Sir Albie. I figured we could use his help.”
“You bastard. I have been following your trail for hours. You are going to be in such deep shit, and now they’re going to think I’m in on it!”
Wow, Rafe was actually riled? Just as Windley had the power to charm any person, it seemed he also had the power to vex even the least vexable. Bag-eyed and bristled, Rafe looked ready to pummel the white-haired devil. But Rafe wouldn’t get the chance.
With a sudden cry, he clutched his chest and rolled off his stag as his heart succumbed to frost.
After days of attempting to rub it away, his ailment had finally caught up with him.
Chapter 22
A Frozen Heart
“This is worse than it was last time! His chest is practically frozen! Feel it, Windley.” But he didn’t look keen. “Feel it.” At the edge of the forest, where the shores kissed the land, I took Windley’s hand and forced it against Rafe’s frostbitten chest.
He tipped his head in thought. “Interesting. That isn’t a disease at all.”
“It isn’t?”
“That feels like a hex to me,” he said. “A powerful one.”
“A hex? Those are real?”
“Real, yes, but rare and ancient, and incurable by medicinal standards. It takes magic to battle magic.”
That would explain why the symptoms matched none of the queendoms’ diseases. “Who would place a hex on Rafe?” I said.
“That’s something you’d have to ask him. But in my opinion, no one would give up this much magic unless they had a personal vendetta. It isn’t worth it.”
“Give it up?” I said.
“Yes, a hex isn’t like a spell. It continually plagues, so the one who casts it typically needs to give up that amount of magic permanently… or at least until the hex runs its course. Either through removal or death.”
Death. Was that the path Rafe was on?
“How strong of a hex do you think this is?” I said. “Can you tell?”
“More magic than I have in my body. Maybe not more than you, but… it’s up there. I can feel it, pricking up my hairs. Wield magic long enough and you should be able to discern it too.” Windley held his chin. “If I had to guess, chap’s done something to someone powerful. Something bad.”
There was a good reason for why Windley knew so much about hexes, but I wouldn’t figure that out until he finally told me about his keeper. By way of warning, we may not get to that part of the story for a while.
“Rafe?” I knelt over the magician and patted his cheek. “Can you hear me?” He didn’t respond, only groaned and balled his fists. I pushed the curl from his forehead to feel his skin. Temperate.
This situation wasn’t ideal. Around the bend of the lake, hidden by a loose veil of trees, were those remaining of the cavalry. Albie was sure to be awake by now and in pursuit of us. Beau was so near and yet so far, separated by an uncrossable lake.
And Rafe was at my feet, placid in the face and drawing shorter than average breaths.
“Windley?”
“I know. Do what you must. I’ll keep watch.”
With a nod, I stooped over Rafe and lifted his shirt. Like last time, I positioned my hand above his chest, careful not to caress his abdomen on the way up. Truthfully, I was glad he was nearly unconscious this time. Maybe the act wouldn’t be as amorous if he was incapacitated.
Before even making contact with his skin, I allowed the forest’s clamor to inch closer.
“MeRrin!”
They rallied with excitement over the thought of being put to use.
With my hand against Rafe’s chest, I drew from the power of the echoes until it almost felt as though a shadowed hand was over mine, seeping through my palm into his flesh and intermingling with his chilled heart.
Warmth pulsed forth through my skin, spreading outward like heat from a lashing fire. Still, Rafe didn’t move.
“Rafe?” I placed my other hand against him so that there were two separate conduits for the power. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Rafe?”
Nothing.
“RAFE!?”
Still not so much as a twitch. And the longer it went on, the more frantic I was becoming.
“Windley! I think something is really wrong with him this time. It isn’t working!”
In a flash, Windley was behind me, mouth to my ear. “Why are you worried? Rafe said your magic is more powerful than even the elders of his clan, yes? You are a queen, ruling over thousands, yes? You’ve healed him once before, yes?” Windley set his chin atop my hair and brushed my shoulders with his hands. “I have all the faith in the world that your power is great enough to fend off his hex’s advances. Calm your soul, take a breath, and try again, lion queen.”
I concentrated on the feel of him behind me, his hands on my shoulders, his faith in my ability.
Instead of merely letting the echoes creep closer, I closed my eyes and joined them in the other world.
“MErrin!”
“MeRrIn.”
“This one is well deserving of merit,” I told the darkness and it swelled. “He holds the heart of a queen and is a brave protector of the realm. Come closer, as close as you can without harming him.”
Amplified was the disembodied din of a thousand whispers.
My palm throbbed with otherworldly energy. Rafe’s throat made a small noise first, followed by a slightly louder one. His back arched, as he clutched his fingers over mine. “M-more,” he croaked, releasing a flurry of cold air from deep within his throat.
With a nod, I rubbed my hands over him in an effort to spread the heat, remembering how he had forced my hand up his neck the last time.
He was taking deeper breaths now, his eyes making effort to connect with mine. I put a hand to his cheek. “Rafe, you’re feeling warmer now. Is it working?”
He swallowed. “Please just a bit more.”
I fed him the power of the echoes, and he pushed himself up, using one hand to support himself with the other gripped over mine. He met my eyes, staring amber into me, and breathed in unison with me, jaw clenched. “The heat’s stronger than usual. You feel good… My Queen.”