The Castle of Earth and Embers

by Steffanie Holmes

  It was there now, creeping in at the edges, even as he kissed me. Of all of us, he had the most to lose if the coven failed, because it was his coven, rightfully. He may think that I was the High Priestess, but I knew the truth – I was just a science nerd from Arizona who had somehow walked into a fairy tale where nothing made sense, except for the fact there were four guys here who cared about me, who wanted me as much as I wanted them, and I’d be damned – I mean, buggered – if I was going to give up this opportunity.

  I’d decided, after I went back to my room and read my mother’s letter again, that I was wrong to expect everything at Briarwood to be explainable by science. I expected everything to be wrapped up in a nice little theory, but everything that happened over the last few weeks has taught me that life doesn’t work like that. Maybe I still didn’t quite believe all this stuff, but I did trust my gut, and my gut wanted to be here at Briarwood, helping my guys fight for everything this castle represented.

  All Corbin’s talk of orgies and orgasms. That image of the Priestess, so lost in her ecstasy, so different from the “purity pledge” lectures Mom had given Kelly and I. So free of guilt and shame, such a celebration of atoms colliding and electrons firing, of beautiful chemistry coming together and making sparks fly. Sex had never really appealed to me before, because I’d always framed it as a tool of the church used to control people, especially women. But not anymore.

  I’d come to Briarwood to push through the grief of losing my parents and find my way again. And if sex with hot English witches would help me find my way again, then damn, I was not going to question it.

  I pulled Corbin down and wrapped my body around him, giving in to my inner witch once more.

  I stood at the gate to the meadow, the barrier between the safety of Briarwood and the outside world. Moonlight lit the grasses, shimmering with a light dusting of dew. My foot kicked something hard. I bent down, and held up a scuffed boot. It was enormous – a man’s size.

  “Nice night for a walk, Princess.”

  I dropped the boot in surprise. Blake reclined against the gate, leaning over so his face was inside Briarwood’s territory, that self-satisfied smirk plastered across his pouty lips.

  “This is my dream. It can be whatever type of night I want it to be,” I said, staring over Blake’s shoulder at the red-tinged moon. After a moment, a huge cloud rolled across the sky, obscuring the moon behind a wall of grey fog.

  “Nice one,” Blake whistled. He held out his hand, and I took it, daring someone to come and stop me. It’s my dream, I can walk with Blake if I want to.

  I opened the gate and slipped out, joining Blake in the field, beyond the protection spells preventing the fae from hurting me. I should have been terrified, but instead, a sense of liberation surged through me. This is my dream. I control it. If the fae want to come get me here, I’d like to see them try.

  Blake and I walked in companionable silence down the path toward the village. I had so many questions I wanted to ask him – namely, how he came to be a human living in the realm of the fae – but as I studied his razor cheekbones and smooth porcelain skin, each one died on my lips. That smirk never left Blake’s face, and I hated to admit that the idea crossed my mind that if I kissed him, it might get a genuine reaction out of him. I hated the fact that my lips itched to try it.

  Blake stopped in his tracks, yanking my body around so I was facing the castle. Briarwood towered over the landscape, her turrets jutting out from the hillside, telling everyone for miles around who was in charge here. Blake tightened his fingers around mine. “I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “Your kingdom, Princess.”

  He raised his hand to the sky, and chanted something in a low-singsong voice. The world around us changed, swirling and shifting, everything wobbling like I was looking through warped glass. After a moment, the surface smoothed out again, everything solid once more. I stood in the same field, looking up at the castle, but everything was different.

  Instead of fresh, dewy grass beneath my feet, the earth was dry and parched. The neat hedgerows that circled the castle had grown into an imposing fortress of spiked bramble, so high that only the top of my bedroom tower was now visible. Dark clouds covered the sky, completely obscuring the moon and stars. These clouds hung low, and seemed heavier and denser, as though they didn’t hold water vapor, but something much more sinister. A sickly orange glow lit up the horizon and my throat burned as I breathed in the acrid, sooty air.

  “Welcome.” Blake swung his arm around the air, a sardonic smile crossing his lips. “Behold the future realm of the fae.”

  “But this is earth…. what did you do to it?” This had to be a trick, an Unseelie Court glamour. The fae realm was supposed to be bright and beautiful, full of luminous light and beautiful glades and never ending revels.

  But the fae shook his head. “Not me, Princess. You did this. You burned the skies and poisoned the air and turned the very earth itself to dust. You are responsible for this destruction.”

  29

  MAEVE

  Me?” My stomach churned. It can’t be true. I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t even know how to do this.

  “Oh, sorry – not you specifically. I mean the human race.” Blake tossed back his head and laughed, the sound hollow. “Although as High Priestess, you definitely contributed.” He pointed to the glow along the horizon. “I think that might’ve been your handiwork.”

  “What is it? Why does it grow like that?”

  “Duh, because it’s radioactive.” Blake grabbed my hand and yanked me forward. I let him drag me off in a different direction. In front of us, a towering hedge of briar and brambles jutted out of the field. “If you want to know why the Unseelie King is making his move now, it’s because he too has seen this vision. Although I saved this next bit just for you.”

  We pushed through an arch cut into the brambles. On the other side stood a sight so gruesome it sucked the air from my lungs.

  The smell hit me first. A familiar scent like BBQ pork invaded my nostrils, all the more horrifying because it reminded me of Arizona summers when my parents were alive and not the grisly sight before me.

  Set into the ground were six long, pointed wooden stakes, pointing up toward Briarwood and propped up with small frames. Skewered on four of the stakes were four charred, broken bodies, their limbs bent and twisted. One had its hands cut off and strung around its neck. Black patches on the earth beneath the stakes revealed they had been burned in situ, while still alive, their faces frozen in open-mouth, bug-eyed terror.

  I stood in front of the first, choking back bile as I searched his face for some sign that this was an illusion, that it was Blake’s idea of a twisted joke. What I found instead turned my heart to ice. The eyes that stared back at me – their lids burned away – were the same vibrant blue that had laughed at me from the other side of a croquet hoop. How those eyes survived what had been done to him, I could not guess. Probably it was for my benefit. A faint covering of fire-red hair still covered his burned and disfigured skull.

  Flynn.

  The other faces swirled around me and I recognized them all – Corbin, his beautiful vivid eyes poked out, Arthur, with his hands swinging from a rope in an invisible breeze. And Rowan, my beautiful Rowan, his ears lopped off, his body twisted where the stake pierced his chest.

  My boys. My precious guys.

  Bile rose in the back of my throat. I tried to turn away, but my body froze. Every grisly detail etched itself on my memory. My head throbbed, my chest tightened. I choked as the contents of my stomach sprayed themselves all over the dead ground.

  Blake pointed to two stakes at the end of the line. “I bet you can’t guess who they’re for?” He grinned.

  No. This is just a dream, just a…

  But it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt… important. Vital. It felt like some truth I already knew but didn’t want to see. And now I was being forced to see it in all its grisly glory
.

  I felt to my knees. Only instead of hitting the cold, charred earth, I fell through it, toppling into the darkness. The world spun around me, and though the stakes and their bodies disappeared from view, those tortured faces never left me.

  I woke with a start, sweat pouring down my body. A hand stretched across my stomach. Corbin. His body cupped mine, his soft lips grazing my shoulder, the sheets tangled around us, cool against our warm skin.

  He’s safe.

  I stroked his cheek, relishing the smoothness of his flesh, trying to unsee the horror of his ruined face under my eyelids, but knowing it was probably never going to happen. I took several deep breaths, trying to get my heart to return to normal.

  I stared at the ceiling for a time, wanting to wake Corbin up and tell him about the dream. But his face was so peaceful, I couldn’t bear it. There was not a trace of that dark pain in his expression. So rarely was Corbin granted quiet of mind in this house, I didn’t want to bring him back to reality.

  But that didn’t help me – the dream haunted me, and I knew I wouldn’t be going to go back to sleep any time soon.

  I slipped myself out from under Corbin’s arm, pulled on my silky robe, grabbed the empty water glass from my bedside table, and tiptoed down my spiral staircase and into the hall.

  Getting anywhere in this huge castle took time, and I was wide awake by the time I descended the secret staircase to the kitchen. I was surprised to see the lights on and Rowan hunched over the bench, shirtless, his muscles rippling as he worked an enormous ball of dough. Flour dusted the surface of his skin, the particles glimmering in the light like a fine layer of glitter.

  “Rowan.”

  He jumped when I spoke, but his face broke into a smile as he looked up and saw me.

  “I didn’t hear you come down. I hope I didn’t wake you up, with the lights and… and…” Rowan swiped a few of his dreadlocks over his shoulder, leaving a trail of white flour across his dark cheek.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I… I had another dream.” I paused.

  His face was impossible to read. “Like the others?”

  I shook my head. “No. This one was a nightmare. I’m still a little shaken up.”

  He patted the stool at the island beside him. I sank into it, watching as he continued to knead the bread with rhythmic thrusts. His lips moved as he counted each push and pull of the dough, the way he counted many things. I wondered if he always counted while kneading bread, or if it was something he was doing because I was here.

  I was just about to ask him about the counting when Rowan mumbled into his chest. “You were with Corbin?”

  “Yeah… I…” I couldn’t continue.

  Rowan’s face twisted, a weird mix of happiness and pain. “That’s fine. That’s okay.” He stopped kneading and pulled out a stool on the other side of the island. He sank into it, clasping his hands in front of him, still staring at his chest. Something twisted in my gut as I took in his hunched shoulders. I’ve hurt him.

  “Are you upset about me and Corbin?” I reached across the table to take his hand, but as soon as my skin touched his, Rowan drew away.

  He shook his head. “It’s as it should be. Corwin’s the leader here. He should be the magister. He’s the one people always fall for.”

  “People?”

  “Girls,” Rowan whispered, wrapping a floury arm around himself. With a sinking heart, I remembered the way Emily flirted with Corbin, and how he and Neale bantered back and forth. ”Corbin has a lot of girls because he can just talk to them. He wants to protect people, and girls love being protected.”

  “Not me.” I jabbed my chest. “I’m pretty good at protecting myself these days, as long as I have my trusty spade.”

  Rowan snorted. I hoped it was the start of a laugh, and not directed at me.

  “Corbin told me a lot of stuff tonight, about being the High Priestess, and how I gain my powers. I’m not saying I believe any of it, but… it fits, you know?” I reached for his hand again, and this time he didn’t pull away. My fingers stroked his knuckles, and even the light touch sent another tingle of desire through my body. “I’ve been feeling so weird since I arrived at Briarwood. I came because my life in Arizona was taken away from me, and I thought maybe going somewhere completely different would help me move on. But now… let’s just say Briarwood is starting to work its magic on me. I think you know a little about what that’s like.”

  “This castle is built on the embers of our pain,” Rowan said. “But when you mix those embers with fresh earth, seeds of new life can grow.”

  “That’s beautiful.” I turned Rowan’s hand over, slipping my fingers between his. Rowan’s arm jerked a little, but he still didn’t pull away. I stared at his face and for a moment he looked up, and his green eyes darted about in panic. I wanted so badly to peel away the layers of him, to see the person that lurked beneath the ticks and counting, the person who’d been so deeply scarred that Briarwood wasn’t even enough to heal him, that he had to withdraw within himself, to a world of his own order.

  “Maeve…” Rowan’s voice shook. He tugged on my hand. I tightened my grip, wanting to keep the mesmerizing connection of our bodies as long as possible.

  “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Rowan. I wouldn’t say no. You don’t think you’re worthy of me because you think I’m this High Priestess, but I’m telling you as Maeve Moore, fellow weirdo, that even without this coven magic acting on us, I would shag you in a heartbeat.”

  Rowan gulped. He yanked his hand away, his eyes wild with panic. “That’s not true. Don’t say things like that.”

  “Look into my eyes, Rowan.” He shook his head, staring at the lump of dough on the counter. “It is true. I didn’t choose Corbin. We slept together, but I didn’t choose him. There might be other options and right now… I’m not ready to choose anybody.”

  I reached for Rowan’s hand again, but he shoved both his hands into his lap. “Tell me about the dream,” he said, taking a shaking breath.

  “Blake was there, but it was just the two of us this time. He said it was his turn to show me something, so I think I might have been in his dream and he was controlling it. We were standing in the meadow, looking up at castle. Only, nothing was right. Everything was charred and burned and dead, Briarwood buried beneath walls of thorns. The ground was parched, the sky poisoned with radiation. Even the air tasted different, thick and gross.”

  Rowan didn’t say anything, but he did look up at me, his blue eyes flashing.

  I continued. “Blake said it was our fault – humans were responsible. He said the fae were coming for us because the king had seen this vision. Then he showed me these stakes in the ground and on them were—” I gulped as Rowan’s beautiful face was replaced by the charred image – his ears gone, his skin burned away, revealing bone and muscle. I gulped again, feeling the bile rise in my throat. “—you guys. The four of you. You had been pierced through the chest on stakes and burned alive.”

  “No, Maeve…” Rowan leaned across the table. He still didn’t touch me, but his eyes were wide with concern. “That must’ve been horrible. What do you need?”

  What do you need…

  If I’d been talking to Corbin or Arthur, they’d be flipping to solution-mode, trying to figure out what the dream meant. Flynn would be making some kind of joke to distract me from the memory. But Rowan knew that laughter couldn’t erase the horror. He only wanted to help me find a way to cope.

  Rowan had been through something so terrible, so utterly horrific, it had shaped him into a person who instantly recognized the slivers of that same pain in others, and he tried to give them what he’d never been given. But right now, I didn’t need anything… except Rowan. I wanted to give him a little of what he needed right back.

  I slid out of my chair and walked around the island. Rowan stared up at me, his eyes large, almost frightened, but desperate to help me take away the burden I carried.

  “I need you,” I said, and pressed my
lips to his.

  I expected Rowan to jerk away, but he didn’t. At first, he completely froze, his body stiffening as the warmth of his lips flowed into me. His fear made me bold. I wrapped my arms around his neck, sinking against him, parting his lips and sliding my tongue inside.

  He moaned against me as piece by piece the tension in his body unraveled, and he sank into the kiss. His own tongue wound around mine – tentatively at first, and then exploratory.

  So different from Corwin, so gentle and kind. I breathed in Rowan’s unique scent – fresh bread and bright herbs, smells of home and hearth, of earth and embers.

  I tangled my fingers in Rowan’s dreadlocks, fanning them out around us, letting them become a curtain that hid our pain. I watched his face as he deepened this kiss and his own eyes flickered open. They saw me watching and the panic leapt into his body, stiffening him, clamping his lips shut.

  But I wasn’t going to let Rowan off that easy. I kept kissing him, stroking his face, playing with his hair, pouring everything I had into convincing him that I did want to be with him.

  The tension eased from Rowan’s shoulders, and he shuddered against me as he raised a shaking hand to my cheek, his fingers lightly tracing my skin, filled with wonder and awe. Heat rose up in my body, responding to his tenderness, eager and waiting for Rowan to unwrap me like a birthday present he’d waited all year for.

  I shuffled forward, straddling Rowan’s chair, pinning him between the chair and the island. Panic flashed in Rowan’s eyes, but it turned to desire as I reached down and placed my hand over his crotch. Under his jeans he was hard, and even without seeing him I could tell that the naked dream I’d had about him was accurate.

  The ache crept across my stomach, pulsing between my legs, begging for release. I worked my fingers along Rowan’s belt, pulling out the loop, popping the button of his jeans, and tugging on the zipper.

  I want to feel him in my hand, stroke him until he loses control, until he stops believing that he isn’t worthy of this.