“This is the Dance of the Waking Beast?” she asked the mage, tilting her head right so he could hear her over the rising drums that led their fluid movements across the open space.
“It is,” he nodded concession, but did not meet her eyes when he spoke.
Brendolowyn had been quiet much of the night, solemn and thoughtful and so far away that whenever someone spoke to him it was as if they had to cast him a line from a distant shore and draw him back in. She wished there was something she could say to him to bring the smile back to his lips, but she could not have guessed how close he’d been with Yovenna. Was it her absence alone that burdened his spirit, or was the weight of their journey also a tribute? She wished she could ask him, but it didn’t feel right prying into his private thoughts when they were still little more than acquaintances.
“Do not linger on the sorrows of her passing, my brother.” Logren patted his shoulder as he swept in behind them. It had been the first chance all night he’d had to grace them with his company. Between chasing Roggi and helping Hodon make sure the celebration ran smoothly, her brother had barely time to take a drink, much less make casual conversation. “Yovenna would want us to celebrate, for all she prophesied came to pass before she left us.”
She swore she heard Bren mumble, “Not all,” under his breath, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he reached for his cup and hid behind it, swallowing several gulps of wine before grabbing the pitcher and filling it again.
Logren didn’t seem to hear, but Lorelei had.
“The most important of her visions being you, little sister.” Her brother lowered his hands onto her shoulders from behind and leaned in to rest the scruff of his bearded cheek against hers. One of his hands was closed, the other open, fingers curling into the muscle above her collarbone as he squeezed. “Your coming here has been a great blessing. Tomorrow it will be hard to see you leave, but you will come back to us and when you do you will bring that which will awaken our very souls.”
“And what if I don’t return?” Would all their hopes be lost, the very foundation they had built their community around shattered by her failure?
“Fear not, you will return,” he laughed. “It has been seen.”
How could he be so certain? Just because the seer told them all that this was what she was meant to do… but they had no idea what else was expected of her. What other plans the gods designed for her to carry out. They did not know that one simple misstep, one short deviation from the path she’d walked again and again could change everything.
“I have a gift for you,” he started, sliding his arm further over her shoulder and holding his closed fist in front of her. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow before you left, but it feels right that I should give it to you now.”
“You have already given me so much, Logren.”
“Bah,” he grumbled and then laughed. “What I have given you does not even begin to equal all that you have given me. You gave life, little sister, when Foreln would have seen me dead. Go on,” he urged, “open your hand.”
Lorelei lifted her hand, fingers uncurling until her flat palm cupped beneath his. He opened his hand, dropped something heavy and metal into hers, then closed her fingers around it before she could inspect the token. He held his hand fast over hers, his fingers twitching until she could feel the worn callouses that spanned the top of his palm, the tips of his fingers.
“This amulet belonged to our father,” he said quietly. “The day he left my mother and me, he fastened it around my neck and told me that so long as I wore it, he would always be with me, always watch over me. It is enchanted with protection, and I cannot tell you how many times I’m sure it saved my life, nor how many times I’ve thought that if he’d never laid it around my neck he would still be with us this day.”
“Logren, I can’t take this,” she started to protest, but his hand tightened on hers, his other arm coming in across her chest and drawing her back against him.
He brought their closed fists up to his face and gently kissed her knuckles. “You have to.” He leaned out to grin at her, but she could see the emotion in his eyes, the threat of unshed tears pooling against his lashes. “In my heart I know that you will need our father’s protection much more than I. He would want me to give it to you.”
He finally let go of her hand and allowed her to open her fingers, though he still kept his other arm snugly hugged across her chest. She could feel his eager breath on her cheek, smell the mead on his breath. With his gaze he gestured for her to inspect the priceless treasure he had bestowed upon her.
Uncurling her fingers, she glanced down at the amulet nestled in the center of her palm. It fit almost perfectly there, and the moment her eyes fell upon it she endured a heavy surge of emotion unlike anything she’d ever felt. Her father’s… Her real father, not the man who had raised her and tried to marry her off to a murderer. It felt a strange thing in that moment to hold something that once belonged to Rognar, something he once wore close to his heart.
Woven bronze wound and knotted into the shape of a wolf’s head, sharp but smooth and glinting beautifully in the flame of the smoking sconces protruding from the thick wooden pillars that flanked the table and the wall at her back. Two tiny amber stones stared out from above its nose and a crescent of moonstone crowned its head. She had never seen anything so primal, yet so beautiful, containing the delicate grace of Madra and the wild essence every one of Llorveth’s children had been born from.
“Our father.” Her voice was soft, reflective and only Logren heard her say those words as she reached in and stroked the tip of her finger across the upraised bronze of the wolf’s carved fur.
He repeated her words, “Our father,” with a curt nod, and then he brushed his lips across her cheek. “Wear it with pride, little sister, and know that though he never got to hold you in his arms, he loved you well and he watches over you from the Hunt.”
Had he loved her, she wondered? Had he even known she had taken root in her mother’s womb before Aelfric had him executed? So many questions that would never be answered, that seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet burned in her like oil being fed into a fire.
Logren reached in and unraveled the chain, drawing it up to dangle it in front of her and then drawing it across her head to lower it against her neck. The metal was still warm from their body heat, and she could feel the tingle of its magical enchantment intertwining with her essence. “I will cherish this always, brother,” she whispered, leaning her back against her brother’s chest and resting that way with him for a long time.
Brother; not a word she had ever thought she would say with much meaning, and though she knew she would never stop missing her sister until the gods saw them together again, she was glad to have learned of her brother. Grateful to have him at her back.
The remainder of the evening seemed to both drag on, while also going by so fast it terrified her when she realized in just a few hours she would be leaving, embarking on some quest she’d never asked for to retrieve the severed horns of a god that would somehow awaken a wolf in her she hadn’t even know was there. A wolf like Finn’s, she thought, turning her head to look at him just as he was tilting his head back to laugh at some witty comment his brother muttered to him. No, she shook her head, not like Finn, but more like Brendolowyn.
He was staring at her. She could feel the warmth of his gaze before she even looked in his direction, the intense emotion in him that made it hard for her to breathe.
We were made for each other, two halves of the same whole. We could be soul mates, Lorelei.
The tone of the music shifted and several couples rose to dance merrily. She watched the men spiral their ladies, flaring skirts billowing out in ripples before clinging close to their bodies as they were drawn back in.
“Finn,” she reached for his hand. “Would you dance with me?”
“Dance with you?” He drew his head back, a disgruntled furrow marr
ing his brow. “I don’t…” She saw Vilnjar’s elbow jerk into his brother’s ribs, pushing him out of his chair with a snarling grunt. “I would be happy to dance with you, Princess.”
She tried to avoid Brendolowyn’s eyes as Finn held out his hand to her and drew her to her feet, but once more she could feel them, the power of his disheartened stare following them onto the floor.
“I don’t usually dance,” Finn told her as he held both hands out to her, “unless it’s with a blade in my hand, but that’s not the kind of dance you want, I’m sure.”
Her own hands looked so small inside his, but the spark of his nervous touch made guilty feelings disappear. He was nervous, more so than he’d been while they were sitting together in the temple of Llorveth the day they’d been exiled from Drekne. His palms were sweaty, and it was the first time she’d ever touched him and felt his skin cold against hers.
Tilting her head to look up into his eyes, she swallowed her own nervousness and said, “Just follow my lead.”
What began as a clumsy step that nearly saw her feet trampled beneath his more times than she could count, brought their bodies together in laughter, her heart feeling lighter and the guilt melting thoughts of Brendolowyn away when Finn drew her back against his chest to end the final step in the dance.
By the time they returned to the table, Brendolowyn was gone. She scanned the crowded hall for him only to glimpse him moving through the gathered bodies and making his way toward the doors at the other end of the hall.
“You’ll turn my savage brother into a civilized being yet, my lady.” Vilnjar raised his cup to her as they resumed their seats, and though she smiled, she couldn’t stop her gaze from returning to the hooded figure slipping through the opened doors and into the night.
She knew she wasn’t imagining things; there was something between them. Her dream may have been an imagination-fueled glimpse and nothing more, but Brendolowyn’s feelings were made clear by his quiet escape into the night.
It was hours before the last story was told and the families began to leave the hall and Lorelei felt like she would fall asleep in her chair. She was so overwhelmed and exhausted that she gratefully followed her brother’s lead when he scooped up Roggi, who had fallen asleep in his mother’s lap, and invited them all to go home.
The kiss of the cool night air on her skin was refreshing, but as she fell into step behind her brother and sister-in-law, she found herself scanning the shadows of the street for the mage. He had been acting so strangely all night. Silent to the point of moody, introspective as if something more than just Yovenna’s death and the impending journey weighed heavily on his mind. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that she’d done something to upset him, but it lingered even after the cool night air refreshed her.
She only half-listened to Finn and Vilnjar talking behind her as they walked, instead focusing on her own troubled thoughts and the notion that leaving the hall for bed only brought her closer to the inevitable.
In just a few hours she would leave Dunvarak, the safety of her brother’s protection, on a quest to awaken her soul and the souls of everyone in the city. The very thought made every other reflection seem trivial.
Once behind the door of the small, private room she shared with Finn, she shrugged off the heavy fur cloak from her shoulders and dropped it onto the chair in the corner of the room. She bent and began unbuttoning her boots, loosening them just enough to slip them off her feet and lay them under the chair so they were out of the way. Her father’s amulet slipped out of her dress, dangling in front of her as she leaned forward, the amber eyes catching the dim light of the lantern on the table near the bed.
Finn cleared his throat behind her, and when she rose to turn and look back at him, he refused to meet her eyes. “Princess,” he started, folding his hands together in front of him. “I don’t think I should sleep in here with you tonight.”
“Why not?” she laughed, a nervous flutter in her chest as she rose and took a step toward him. She could feel him, the quickening pace of his heart, an immense tension that tightened every part of him until he was stiff and achy from the inside out. “Is something wrong?”
He started to open his mouth in reply, lips lingering open wordlessly before he closed it again and shook his head. “No, I mean… maybe. I’m just not so sure it’s a good idea.”
“Finn, look, I should have said it before now, but Yovenna and then…”
“Don’t,” he shook his head.
“No, I’m really sorry about this afternoon,” she went on. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell that I went to meet with Brendolowyn last night. I really thought he might be able to help me, and he did a little. I know you don’t like him though, that it bothers you the way he looks at me, and I don’t know, maybe it should. I won’t deny that I have thought about him in that way, but I think about you too.”
He lowered his eyes to hide the hurt that confession brought him, but then said, “That is not the reason.”
“No?” she took another step toward him. “Then why?”
“Because there is an animal inside me,” he growled those words, the sound both terrifying and exciting. It stirred something in her, something primal, something more than just a little curious. “I don’t think I can control it. Being so close to you… Not being able to…” he started, turning his head down in shame. “This morning while you slept… tonight while I was holding you in my arms…”
Reaching for his hands, she held them inside her own and tilted her head to look up at him. “What is it, Finn?” Touching him sent little flashes of energy shuddering through her, red and hot as fire, terrifying and primitive, like the beast in the corner of her dream. Something inside him wanted to hurt her, no, not hurt her, show her. Show her that though the beast was wild, she could tame him.
He withdrew his hands quickly, wrenching them from hers and taking a step back.
“Being so near you drives me to the brink of madness,” he said, his teeth clenched so tight together his words came out strained and forced. “Every part of you wakes me. The way you smell, the way your skin feels against mine, the feel of your heartbeat in my blood… And kissing you last night… I don’t know, it brought it all to the surface.”
“Finn,” his name was little more than a whisper on her tongue.
“Lorelei, this morning when I woke up and found you in my arms I had to fight that animal to keep from… And this afternoon just the thought of you even talking to that elf… It pushes me over the edge, knowing that being with you in that way would be enough for you to understand the bond we could share. You are mine.”
There was an edge on those words, possessive, dominating, dangerous, but enticing.
Shame colored his face, his cheeks reddening as he diverted his eyes to the floor between them. He swallowed hard and took another step backward toward the door. Lorelei’s body tingled, tightened at her core as she remembered how close she’d come to touching him that way while he slept, how long she’d lingered on thoughts of waking him with a kiss and spurring on the beast until he lost control in the way he now feared.
His hand was shaking when he lifted it across the space he’d put between them to touch her face. “I would not hurt you that way just to show you that I love you. That is not love.”
His hand slipped away and he took another step toward the door. His confession touched her, made her heart ache, but even more than that it made her body feel warm and feverish beneath the skin. One day she would answer the call of his touch, but it would not be that day. She wasn’t ready, and while she couldn’t deny there was a part of her that deeply longed to connect with him, the very thought of giving in terrified her.
“Finn, wait.”
She grabbed his wrist and held him there, a desperation in her voice that even she didn’t understand. She didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to sleep without him near her. She’d grown so accustomed to his nearness, to the familiarity of his natural scent, the warmt
h of his body and the strength of it against her while she slept. She knew it should have startled her that the very thought of losing his self-control made him not want to be near her, but it only endeared her to him all the more.
“What you’ve just shown me, that is love. That you would never want to hurt me, that is love.”
There was frustration in his eyes, a tension about him that barely dissolved when he softened upon hearing her words. “But it is not enough,” he lamented. Not enough for her to love him back, not yet.
“One day it will be enough,” she said. “It has been seen, and in my heart I know it is so. I just… I need more time.”
For a brief moment she felt his conflict, a tangled web of fear mingled with unquenched desire. He started to say something, but then stopped himself, shaking his head as if to clear away the thought before it ruined him.
“I would wait forever if you asked me to.”
Her hand lifted to rest against his cheek, and he tilted his face deeper into her palm as he closed his eyes. It was as if some force beyond her own conscious awareness compelled her, and she stretched up onto the tips of her toes to brush her soft mouth across his. “I would not ask you to wait forever,” she whispered against his quivering lips. “Just give me time, please.”
He stiffened, pulling back and away from the gentleness of her gesture as if she had bitten him. “We leave early,” he said stiffly, “and we both need sleep.”
“Then you take the bed,” she insisted. “I will sleep on the floor.”
“No, I would never allow you to sleep on the floor while I slept in comfort. Besides, I think tonight I will sleep more peacefully at a distance. Good night, Lorelei.”
Before she could say another word, he slipped through the door and closed it quietly behind him. She glimpsed her brother’s back at the end of the hallway, he and Vilnjar still at the table, most likely arguing over cups.
She took a step toward the door and gripped the handle in her hand, and then she leaned her forehead against the wood. He stood on the other side, lingering there as if questioning his own decision. She could see the shadow of his boots beneath the crack, and then he slowly moved away, not toward the main room, but to the right, further down the hall toward the room Vilnjar had been sleeping in.
Edgelanders (Serpent of Time) Page 57