Eventide (Meratis Trilogy Book 2)

by Krista Walsh

Jasmine moaned as well, but didn’t move, the sound seeming to be more of a response to Maggie than a release of pain.

  Cassie got to her feet and went around the table. “Maggie? Are you okay?”

  Another moan, this one louder. Her rosy cheeks paled, and the sudden lack of colour was alarming. “Oh, make it stop. They’re so loud.”

  Jayden and Jeff exchanged a glance.

  “Who’s loud, Maggie?” Cassie asked, voice soft. “There’s no one else here.”

  “They’re chanting. I feel it in my bones,” she said and then her mouth widened in a silent scream, and she fell into a dead faint.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cassie caught Maggie before the woman could fall off the bench and Jeff rose to help settle her flat on the seat.

  “Is it a full moon tonight?” Jeff asked, pushing out the words as he heaved the woman’s dead weight. They rested her hands over her stomach to stop her arms sliding down into the broken glass. “Or are we cursed?”

  “Does it have to be one or the other?” Jayden asked, eyelids weighed down. “I almost miss the days when you were controlling our lives, Author. At least then we would have someone who knew what was going on.”

  “Yeah, look how well that worked out last time.”

  Maggie sat up with a gasp, nearly smacked her head against Jeff’s chin. Her eyes were wide and breath fast, as if waking up from a nightmare.

  Jeff and Cassie gave her a moment to calm down, and then Cassie rested a hand on her knee. “Maggie? Are you all right?”

  “There’s someone in my head,” said the enchantress, words slurred and ragged. “They have words. Words I think I should know.”

  She pressed her hands to her temples again. Gradually her eyes focused, and she gave Cassie a reassuring smile. “Yes, dear, I’m all right now. I need a book.”

  She spun around on the seat and eased herself up, Cassie and Jeff at either elbow in case she fell. Picking up her skirts, she stepped carefully over the glass towards the bookcase.

  A sharp rap at the door, and two more physician’s aides came with another stretcher for Jasmine.

  “Do you need me, Maggie?” Jayden asked.

  “No, no, you go with Jax. I’m sure she’ll have all manner of questions when she wakes up.”

  Jayden looked to Jeff. “You watch her closely. Come and find me if something like that happens again.”

  Jeff nodded, and Maggie scowled at their concern, walking her fingers through the books. “Stop fretting. It’s distracting.” Jayden left, and Maggie looked over her shoulder at the remaining two as she grabbed a book off the shelf. “In fact, you two can head back to bed, too. I know what I’m looking for and you can’t help. Unless you can read my mind and translate an ancient language?”

  “Well, no,” said Jeff. “But—”

  “Then you’re no good to me,” she cut him off, the lightness of her tone countering the faintness of a moment ago.

  “Maggie,” Cassie said gently. “You just passed out, we can’t just—”

  “Yes, you can. Because I asked you to. Please?”

  Jeff raised his hands in submission. “Fine, but only because you scare me more than your husband does. Call if you need anything, all right?”

  Maggie set the books on the table and reached out to give his hand a squeeze. “I will. But really, don’t worry. I think I know what’s happening. If so, I can stop it.”

  Jeff left the Haunt with Cassie tagging along reluctantly.

  “I don’t think we should leave her,” she said as they reached the main level.

  “If we didn’t leave, she would have,” Jeff assured her. “I’ve learned from experience.”

  They went the rest of the way up without speaking, Jeff running through a million conversations in his head.

  Just as they reached the corridor to Jeff’s room, Cassie stopped and reached for his hand. “Jeff,” she started, and then stopped.

  He waited for her to continue, but her attention had been caught by something over his shoulder. He turned around and saw Venn lounging against the wall next to his door.

  Cassie let out a short discouraged laugh. “Have a good night.”

  She dropped his hand and walked off before Jeff could say anything to stop her.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said Venn.

  Jeff’s shoulders sagged. “I really don’t think you did.” He pushed open the door. “Not here to try and kill me again already, are you?”

  “I gave you my word,” Venn said, sounding offended.

  “Yes, you did. Sorry. So what? Is your room not to your liking?”

  Venn shrugged, craning her neck to look around, poking her fingers into the wood carving on the wardrobe. “I’m not used to soft beds.”

  Jeff soaked his hands in the cold water to wash off the blood, scrubbed at his face with a rough cloth, and then stoked up the fire, doing his best to ignore the young woman and give her space as she explored. The way she jumped at shadows and circled the sofa, Jeff was reminded of a wild cat checking its territory before settling down.

  When he felt as clean as he could be without a bath, he poured two cups of wine, leaving one on the table for her. With the other, he eased into the wingback chair, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. The warmth of the fire on his face cleared the cold shock of the last hour, and he felt himself slide closer to sleep.

  “I wasn’t honest with you earlier,” Venn said, her voice cutting through the haze of fatigue. The noise brought Jeff back around enough to open his eyes, although it took an effort to process what she was saying. “About Brindley. About why I wasn’t there.”

  He forced himself to sit up and give her his attention. “You don’t owe me your story, Venn. Whatever happened, happened. It doesn’t matter that you weren’t there.”

  She pulled her sleeves over her hands and pushed her fingers against the fabric, a mindless action that gave away her unease.

  “I should have told Siobhan,” she said. “I should have found a way to get a message to her after I left, but—well—now that I can’t. You took a big chance on me earlier, and although I don’t get why, I feel like I should tell you the truth. So at least someone knows. If that makes any sense.”

  Venn picked up her cup, but didn’t drink from it, just swirled the contents around and stared into the opaque redness. Jeff wondered how she could stand to do it after all the blood they’d seen that night. Apparently the same thoughts crossed her mind because her lip curled with disgust, and she set the cup back on the table, pushing it with the tip of her finger as far as she could get it.

  “The story Siobhan told you—about me trading places with her in the jail so she could get away—that part is true,” she said. “It took them less than a day to realise I wasn’t my sister. I was ten and she was nineteen, and Siobhan was never a tiny person. But they left me locked up for a week with the rats. The only thing that kept me going was knowing they never tracked her down. But I guess you know all about that.”

  Jeff picked at a loose thread on the arm of his chair. “Yes and no. I can empathise with the rats, but in my case it was my enemy, not my community.”

  Venn sniffed. “Don’t feel sorry for me about that. They proved their lack of community when they made Siobhan marry that sadistic sack of shit of a tenant lord. Gods, the things he did to her. He deserved her blade in his heart.”

  Her expression darkened. She pulled her tunic up to her eyes and slumped lower into the sofa. Jeff allowed her to stew until she was ready to expel more of her anger. He suspected his brief relationship with Siobhan had encouraged this moment of confidence, a final connection with her sister, and he didn’t want to scare her away.

  After a moment, she pulled her shirt down to her chin so it moved with her jaw, shifting the folds of all the layers of shirts as she spoke.

  “Even after they let me out, they didn’t really let me go. For a while my parents kept me locked in the house, sometimes even in the basement depending on how many
things I smashed during the day. I refused to sit there and take it. Finally, when they saw I wouldn’t give up, they did.” Her eyes glazed over as she stared into the fire. “My father pushed me out of the house while my mother threw my clothes after me. See this scar here?” She pointed to a shining circle on her cheek. “That was a boot. They barely even gave me a chance to grab everything before they started throwing rocks.”

  She laughed, a bitter chuckle Jeff had heard once before in the depths of the Treevale dungeons as Siobhan related her story.

  “Our neighbours helped, more of them joining in as we made our way through town. The local kids saw it as a game and picked up stones of their own. It became a test for them to see who could throw the biggest rocks farthest. They chased me right to the edge of town until I could disappear in the forest. Still ten years old, and I was exiled from my family and my home with only the clothes I had and one extra pair of boots. I layered on the clothes for warmth and traded my second best shoes for a dagger.”

  She stopped and allowed her gaze to leave the flames and meet Jeff’s. He stared at her, riveted, heartbroken that the Connell women had been dealt such a shitty hand.

  “Everything else I told you was true enough. I just thought …” she trailed off, repositioned her thoughts as she shrugged her shirt onto her shoulders. Sliding back on the sofa, she stretched out her legs and shifted the cushion behind her head. “I don’t know. I thought maybe it was important somehow. That someone know. In case the guy who killed Siobhan kills me before I get him, or something.”

  “Hey,” Jeff said. He leaned forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. “That’s not the way this is going to end. I can’t imagine the possible ways it might go, but my gut tells me you’ll get what you need. Things will turn out all right.”

  Venn’s lips twitched, her kohl-like lashes dropping down onto her cheeks. “I gave up expecting happy endings ages ago. Like you said, whatever happens, happens. It really doesn’t matter.”

  Jeff leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands over his stomach, watching until her breathing deepened and evened, her fingers and legs twitching with oncoming sleep.

  When his own eyes grew heavy again he stood up, taking the quilt from the bed and spreading it out over Venn. She murmured something and hunkered down beneath it, the tip of her nose sticking out over top, and her mop of black hair falling over her eyes as she rolled onto her side.

  Falling onto his mattress, Jeff pulled his pillow over his head and let sleep win at last.

  ***

  When Jeff awoke, he was greeted by a hangover, something that had passed him over during the attack. Probably because he’d still been drunk.

  He shivered, pulled the sheets up over his head, and wondered why they weren’t doing their usual job of keeping out the draft. With one hand out from under the covers, he blindly reached for the quilt, getting halfway down the bed before a faint memory popped into his head that he had given the blanket to someone else.

  Venn.

  Forgetting the pounding bass line going on inside his skull, he sat up to look across the room. The sofa was empty. Something for which he was grateful as a wave of nausea hit him and he fell back against the pillows, gone from too cold to too hot in a matter of seconds. He kicked off the sheets and pulled the pillow back over his head to block out the light.

  “There are easier ways to kill yourself than suffocation,” said a female voice by his side.

  The suddenness of her presence made Jeff jump out of his skin, his nerves rising to the surface to send tingles throughout his body. The fright was even greater because he didn’t recognise the voice.

  Very slowly, he raised the edge of the pillow just enough to peer out from beneath it. Then with a groan he let it fall back. Why in hell was Tanya standing next to his bed, all corsets and perfect-figured?

  Not good. Not good.

  Life was already too complicated.

  She giggled as if reading his thoughts. “I’m not here for that. This time.” Her voice now came from farther away, closer to the dresser. He heard the wardrobe doors open and close. “Jayden sent me to make sure you were still breathing since no one’s seen you all day. Here.”

  She was closer again. Once more he peeked out from under the pillow to see a cup held out towards him, the scent of wine tickling his nostrils with its tartness.

  “Too early.”

  “Almost noon,” Tanya corrected. “And you’ll be useless without it until you get some food in your belly. There’s a tray on the table”

  His stomach gurgled at the thought of a burger and fries, and he wondered if they made anything comparable in Andvell. Grease-fried rabbit strips?

  He freed his feet from the sheets to sit up and then reached for the cup, taking small sips to settle his stomach. The wine tasted sweet and cool, and not nearly as potent as last night’s fare.

  “Diluted,” Tanya explained with an amused smile. “Didn’t want you stumbling about and falling down the stairs.”

  “Thanks,” he croaked.

  “Always my pleasure.” Tanya winked, and Jeff’s throat tightened so he nearly choked. She made to leave and stopped on her way out. “There’s a change of clothes in the dresser. Unless you want to walk around covered in gore.”

  She closed the door behind her, and Jeff looked down at his shirt. He hadn’t noticed how much blood was on the rest of him when he fell into bed. At the sight of it, his stomach heaved and he took a few more sips of wine to stop himself from bringing up everything he’d imbibed the night before.

  The morning dampness convinced him to get out of bed and change into the same outfit he’d grown used to last time—black wool trousers, cream-coloured tunic, leather jerkin. He stopped at the table long enough to scarf down the bowl of porridge and fruit and then headed off to see if anything new had come up over the course of the morning.

  On his way to find Jayden, Jeff passed the library, which was still closed and locked. It occurred to him that if Brady hadn’t left his study last night, he might not know about Jasmine.

  He knocked. There was no reply. He knocked again harder. Still nothing. He pounded his fist against the door like Jayden had, and didn’t stop until Brady’s face peered out. Jeff stepped back, shocked by the change that had come over the scholar in less than a day. His grey eyes nearly popped out of his skull, wide against the dark circles. His pale-white skin looked shiny in the light of the corridor, as though with fever. Inside, the room was dark, only the faintest candlelight to make visible the book on the table.

  “What?” Brady demanded.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m busy. Really shouldn’t be interrupted.”

  Jeff scratched at his cheek. “I didn’t know if you heard. About Jasmine.”

  “What about her?” The question came out in a huff. No concern, just inconvenience. He hadn’t even opened the door more than a crack.

  Jeff’s patience ran out. “That she almost died. Harold stabbed her.”

  He hadn’t thought Brady could go paler, but the man blanched, bracing himself against the doorjamb.

  “But she’s all right now?” he asked.

  “She survived. As of last night, anyway. I was about to go and check on her. If you wanted to come with me.”

  Brady clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw shifting. “I can’t. Too much to do.”

  He shut the door without another word, and Jeff heard the lock slam home.

  Flabbergasted, he banged on the door again. “This is going too far, Brady. Whatever you’re working on in there, it’s not good for you. Take a break and talk to us.”

  Although he didn’t expect an answer, it still worried him when none came.

  But he had enough on his mind without adding concern over the voluntary research addiction of his friend. He would talk to Maggie, see if she could learn anything more about the dragon-talking ritual. After that, he would get everyone together and host an intervention.

  From the li
brary he found his way—with help from the servants—to what served as the Healing Ward. From what Jeff had written in early books, the place usually wasn’t very busy, the physicians within the Keep usually only serving those of the House, while country doctors helped the people outside of the walls. Today, following the eagle attack, the Ward bustled with activity and physician’s aides moved between screaming patients, offering sleep aids for any beyond help. In spite of the commotion, Jasmine was easy enough to find, having her own private room at the end of the hall. She was a tiny person in a large bed, her dark hair fanned out under her head and her hands crossed over her stomach. If not for the rise and fall of her chest, Jeff would have worried she hadn’t made it.

  Jayden sat next to her, hunched over, watching.

  “How is she?” Jeff asked, glad to interrupt his vigil. The man looked almost as out of it as Brady.

  “Physician says she’ll be all right. She’s almost healed. Maggie’s quick work saved the day again. He’s keeping her asleep for another day for the pain.”

  “That’s some good news then.” Jeff sank down into the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “What about the queen’s men? Did the doc have any news?” He couldn’t bring himself to ask how many of them had survived.

  Jayden’s lips pressed together. “They lost three of the twelve. Seems wrong to say those are good odds, but there you have it.”

  “What about the one who spoke?”

  Jeff didn’t need the words to understand Jayden’s expression. He wasn’t one of the lucky ones. Jeff cleared his throat and asked, “Have you spoken with any of them? Are they awake?”

  Jayden ran his hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. “Not yet. I’ve been here. But I guess we should.”

  He looked at Jasmine, and Jeff read his reluctance to leave her.

  “I could go myself if you wanted.”

  “No, I should go with you. We’ll just be a minute,” he added to Jasmine and stood up to follow Jeff out of the room.

  The rest of the Ward was set up with a row of beds along each wall and an aisle between, the beds separated with heavy white curtains. Moans carried on the air throughout the room, whimpers of pain, sobs of nightmares. Whatever these men saw had scarred their minds just as deeply as their bodies.