“Whatever.” Mariana waved a hand awkwardly as they left.
The door closed, leaving Celia with Oswald in the room where they’d first met weeks ago. He crossed to the windows, pressing his hand against a pane.
She sidled up to him, feeling a thrill when his skin brushed hers. “What are you looking for?”
“I can’t see it from here,” he said.
“Can’t see what?”
“The House of the Swan Ladies.”
Gross. “The brothel? Why are you looking for that?”
“My mother lived there.”
A lump rose in her throat, and she slipped her arm around Oswald’s back. “What happened to her?”
“She died. Plague and something that made sores on her skin. Tobias doesn’t remember her. It’s what would have happened to Eden, if she’d lived.”
“What makes you so sure Eden would have ended up there? Don’t you think she would’ve married Tobias if Rawhed had never come here?”
“I don’t think Tobias would’ve stayed with her. He loved her, but not enough. Not like he loves Fiona.” He pulled her closer, his skin warm beneath his thin shirt. “Girls like her had no other options. That’s why we need to change the whole kingdom.”
There was plenty to talk about, but she wanted to know more about Oswald—this strange and beautiful man who’d showed up broken on her doorstep not that long ago. “What about your dad?”
“Dead. Drank himself to death.” He cocked his head. “I’m not sorry about that one.”
She understood now why he’d kept the scar on his chest. “The Ragmen are your family.”
He shot her a faint smile. “We may let you join us. I wouldn’t mind having a princess in our ranks.”
Oddly, she felt honored. “But who would we fight against? The King is defeated.”
“Maybe we don’t need to fight. Maybe we could just… learn magic to the Tatters. Like Tobias’s father does.”
“We should build schools.”
“I’m hoping that can also wait until tomorrow.”
But her mind swirled with possibilities. “We need to make a new Maremount, with a new government, and public schools.”
“Like pennyworts have.”
“Right. How hard can it be?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Do you have experience with that sort of thing?”
“I was head of the prom committee.”
He ran his fingers through her hair. “We might need a little help from Thomas and the Ragmen.”
“I can help them choose some nobles to work with the Tatters. They’re not all bad. No one person should rule. Think of how crazy each one of us is. Even Thomas. You put one person in power, and all of their crazy explodes over the whole kingdom. We need a whole group to keep each other in check. And we should build a new center for government. Like, one that doesn’t have torture chambers.”
His thumb stroked her cheek. “And how will Tatters be included in your vision?”
She edged closer, sliding her arms around his neck. “I have some pretty vivid ideas about one of them, but if he wants representation, he’ll have to keep me satisfied.”
A flicker of a smile crossed his lips as he leaned down and kissed her slowly, pulling her against him. She had the strongest desire to spend the rest of her life learning everything she could about him. But mostly, she wanted to know exactly what made him happy.
She glanced at the bed. “This is where we first met.”
“I knew then you wanted me.”
“That is so romantic. Are you always going to be this cocky?”
“Your beauty struck me as well.”
She grinned. “A compliment! I’ll have to kiss you more often.”
He lifted her, carrying her to the bed. “You’ll get no complaints from me.”
56
Fiona
On the shore of Athanor Pond, Fiona leaned into Tobias’s shoulder, watching the morning sun stain the sky from lavender to a pale shade of nectarine. When she was little, she and her mom would sometimes get up early to catch the sunrise on Carson Beach in the summer. She felt a sharp pang of homesickness. She could never go back.
It wasn’t until after she’d seen Lir’s father, dead on the beach, that the water had begun to scare her. But she’d met Dagon and lived. And she’d seen the ocean now, the way Lir saw it, and it was hard to think of it any other way. She was grateful for everything he’d done for her.
She nestled closer into Tobias’s neck. “We have the powers of gods now. What are we going to do with ourselves?”
“I can think of a few things,” he said in a low voice.
She eyed the swooping curve of his collarbone, and his smooth, tan skin. She could think of a few things she’d like to do with him, too. She’d seen him without a shirt more than once, and couldn’t get the image out of her head. “Oh really,” she said, arching an eyebrow.
He smiled. “There are the things I’d need to take you home for. But other things as well.”
“Like what?”
“We can drink ale on the beach at night, or I can take you to the moon-viewing garden. I could show you how to make corncakes, or we could sit by the fire learning spells. I’ll take you to the Mayflower Festival.”
“And what happens there?”
His dark eyes met hers, and she saw a spark of red. “We slip into the shadows, and I kiss your throat softly until you demand more.” His hot lips touched her neck.
Her thoughts whirled, and she tilted back her head. “You know, I think we missed the festival.”
He kissed her on the mouth, his arms enveloping her. His beauty was almost shocking. But more than that, she couldn’t imagine herself living without his stunning kindness, the way he always thought of what she needed and made sure she felt safe. She wanted to lie next to him, night after night, his warm arms wrapped around her, and listen to him breathe.
She laced her fingers into his, their cool and warm skin intertwined. She’d found her way home after all. Her home was with Tobias.
* * *
If you want to read more about the The Memento Mori Trilogy, you might also enjoy Magic Hunter. It follows the story of a member of the Purgators, forced to live among the demons she once hunted.
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Acknowledgments
A huge thanks to the amazing John Hart for his fantastic work on this trilogy. Thanks to Carlos Quevedo for the gorgeous covers (seriously—aren’t they the best covers ever?) And as always—thanks to Michael Omer for his genius feedback.
About the Author
C.N. Crawford is not one person but two. We write our novels collaboratively, passing our laptops back and forth to edit each other's words.
Christine (C) grew up in New England and has a lifelong interest in local folklore - with a particular fondness for creepy old cemeteries. Nick (N) spent his childhood reading fantasy and science fiction during Vermont's long winters.
Our first book, The Witching Elm, was published in 2014.
In addition to writing fiction, we love to hear from our readers and can be reached at any of the following links. We always reply to our readers.
@cn_crawford
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[email protected]
For my parents, Peggy and Paul.
ori Witch Trilogy Book 3)
Witches of the Deep (The Memento Mori Witch Trilogy Book 3) Page 26