Fire and Bone

by Rachel A. Marks

  “A druid rarely does anything so huge—especially something like attacking a high-ranking demi—without backing. The Cast would make sure his head rolled without blinking. He probably wouldn’t even get a trial. Having the backing of a House covers his actions. The reality is, there are probably layers and layers of messengers involved. We may not find the killer before the Emergence. But we need to try.”

  We leave Malibu and drive through the Valley. Finally we’re pulling off the highway and heading down a frontage road. When we turn onto the next street, I have to do a double take to be sure I’m seeing right. “Are you taking me to a graveyard, Faelan?”

  “There’s a passage here and I know it works. I used it to take you to Lailoken the night Kieran killed you.”

  “It’s in a graveyard?”

  “Yes.” He gives me a tired look, apparently not up for all my newbie questions.

  I just shake my head.

  He parks on top of a rise, farther back in the cemetery, and gets out, pointing at a crypt in the distance. “It’s right there.”

  I follow him along the headstones toward an overgrown part of the graveyard. Large hydrangeas crowd around a fence with weeds poking through, and up ahead is an old stone structure with a broken metal gate.

  “So the demigods use cemeteries as public transportation. Huh.” This isn’t something I would’ve guessed in a million years.

  “A majority of the time we use average human transport, since gateway travel can be depleting, but . . . well, yeah.”

  “Did this dead person give you permission to use their resting place as a subway station?”

  “It’s an old gate, so the family’s—” He stops abruptly.

  “What’s wro—”

  He covers my mouth with his hand and puts a finger to his lips. He points at a dark spot a few yards ahead, just outside the crypt, like a puddle in the weeds. A black oily puddle.

  A wraith.

  I stumble back and turn to run.

  Faelan tries to grab me. “Wait. Don’t!”

  Black smoke fills the air three feet in front of me, shifting and forming into a man. Faelan yanks me back as Kieran takes shape.

  A hiss and a slurp come from the ground behind us, the wraith emerging, growing, its shadow falling over us as it rises from the ground, floating in a dripping mass.

  Hundreds of birds burst from the surrounding trees, taking flight in a cacophony of screeches. They swarm in a mass, swooping up, then turning. At first I think Kieran is sending them out, but then I remember the birds coming after me in Faelan’s cottage that first day. And when I glance at my protector, his features are pinched in focus.

  The birds come around in a dark cloud, heading straight for us. I duck as the shrieking mass dives in a sharp slice at the air.

  And cuts right through Kieran.

  He bursts into black smoke again, the birds flying out in a chaotic disarray.

  Kieran re-forms, a bored look on his face. “Let’s not play this game, bastard.”

  “What do you want?” Faelan growls. The birds turn in a wide swooping movement and splat right into the wraith. The oozing creature screeches in rage, breaking apart. Several birds flop to the ground, dead, but the wraith is gone. “Tell your creatures to stand down,” he says.

  I look around and see two more wraiths on either side of us, one on top of a swaying bush, the other hovering above the ground in a weird crouched position. Their sucking sound fills the air, and their hollow eyes are turned on me.

  “I heard from a little bird that you’re looking for answers,” Kieran says. “I’m seeking some as well, and I’d like to talk to our princess in private.” He bows his head to me. “With your permission, of course, my love.”

  “Feck off,” Faelan says.

  “Can’t she speak for herself?” he asks.

  I search his face for a clue, any clue, that might tell me what he’s up to. “Feck off,” I repeat, trying to sound sure. But as I study his familiar features, the assurance in his tall frame, the sly glint in his silver eyes, I can’t stop my legs from shaking. A part of me wants to walk toward him; it craves his touch. It wants . . . him.

  But it’s not him that the traitorous part of me wants. That man is gone. Lost.

  “You’re of one mind, I see,” Kieran says. “But I still need to speak with you, princess. One way or another. So you’ll come with me now.”

  “No way,” I say, stepping back. My pulse picks up. I’m suddenly very sure that if he touches me, I won’t be able to stop myself from surrendering.

  Kieran looks sideways at Faelan. “If you allow me to take her without trouble, hunter, I’ll make it worth your while. More riches, more power, than Marius could ever give you.”

  Faelan just glares.

  “No?” Kieran says. “I thought it was worth a try. If I have to rip off your head, our princess won’t be pleased with me. No one else will miss you, though.”

  At the vision of Faelan being torn in two, warmth rises into my skin, buzzing in my chest.

  I step in front of Kieran, blocking his path to Faelan. “What do you want?”

  His gaze moves to me. “You.”

  My heart stutters. I shake my head.

  “Come with me, little doe,” he says. “It’s urgent that we discuss what I’ve discovered. I’ll allow you to bring your protector if you wish. Or I can pull his entrails out here and now. And I think you know that I will. He doesn’t have to die; he can merely be quartered a bit.”

  “You’re a monster,” I say, meaning it.

  “Yes.” A smile fills his lips.

  “He can do whatever he bloody wants to do to me, Sage,” Faelan says. “I don’t give a shit. But if you give in to him, he won’t let you go in the end.” Faelan puts his hand on my arm protectively.

  Kieran’s muscles tense, readying to strike.

  “Don’t, Kieran,” I say. I know he’ll hurt Faelan. He’ll do worse. And he won’t stop until I give in. I can see it in the sharp set of his jaw, the slight rise of the shoulders as his muscles tense. He has the same look of deadly determination that my king wore. An unbreakable will. He’ll get what he wants.

  He’s suddenly as familiar to me as if I’ve known him my whole life. And it’s terrifying.

  “I’ll talk to you,” I say, my voice weak. Shame fills me, but I don’t see any other way. I can’t let him hurt Faelan to get to me. “I’ll go.”

  “No, Sage!” Faelan growls, grabbing me hard. “You can’t.”

  Kieran’s eyes lock on Faelan’s grip. And then he’s shifting, smoke, until he’s suddenly re-forming inches away.

  He takes Faelan’s head in his hands and turns it with a quick snap, breaking his neck.

  The sound jars through my bones. Faelan collapses to the ground, lifeless. But before I can scream, before I can move, Kieran’s got me by the throat.

  “Hush now,” he hisses, lips against my cheek.

  He turns to the wraiths and their shadows begin to move, darkness crowding around me. My vision clouds, dimming, my mind slipping. I squirm, trying to pull back, urgency screaming in my blood to get away. My power rises, glowing in my skin.

  But Kieran’s fingers around my neck are stone. He knows the torque will keep him safe from my fire.

  “You have chosen,” he whispers in my ear. “Let go now, my love.”

  The words slink over me, coiling around my heart as if they’re coming from the past, coming from my king . . .

  I try to find the truth, the light, but I can’t. I can only feel him.

  And so I obey. I let the darkness take me.

  “You should let go, my love,” the king says. “The wolf won’t relent, that is sure.”

  I yank harder on the velvet shawl, but the king’s wolf merely growls, setting its jaw, its teeth firmly gripping the fabric.

  The king opens his book again, saying dryly, “You shouldn’t have left it on the floor.” Then he returns to ignoring me as he always does now during his evening
read.

  “And a wolf shouldn’t be inside,” I snap back. “So the world is topsy-turvy.” I direct my next words to the beast. “Let go, you mongrel, or you’ll be fed to the crows.” The wolf’s brow moves as if it doubts my threat.

  So I tug again. The sound of rending fabric fills the air, a hole appearing in the weave. The garment is ruined.

  I growl in frustration and release my end. As soon as it falls to the floor, the king’s wolf drops it as well. The creature looks up at me, tongue lolling, mouth open in a toothy grin. Traitor.

  “Take it, then,” I say, collapsing back into the chair, too tired to fight any longer.

  The king looks up, catching my gaze with his. “And that is why the wolf will always win.”

  I give him a questioning tilt of my brow.

  He leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee. “Don’t you see? He’s willing to destroy everything you hold dear to claim what he wants.”

  The back of my neck prickles.

  He closes his book, setting it aside. “And the wolf is very patient.” He stands and walks across the floor to where I sit. He looms over me for a moment, watching, and then he leans forward, gripping the arms of the chair, caging me in. “Once the beast has tasted what he craves, he will hold on to it forever. He has no choice. He won’t let it go.”

  I don’t let myself look away or cower from him. I cannot give him any ground. “What do you want from me?”

  “You aren’t foolish,” he whispers. “You know.”

  I shake my head.

  “Oh, but I know you wish for it too, my love. I hear your quick breath in the night; I feel your need through the walls.”

  My heart falters.

  “Yes,” he says, moving closer. “But it isn’t only your body I crave. I need more, I need loyalty.” He studies me for a moment, his silver eyes softening. He kneels to my level and says gently, “I seek love, Lily.”

  A sharp pain hits the center of my chest. I search his face as disbelief trickles in. Surely he can’t mean it.

  “We are both alone,” he says. His fingers move to brush my knuckles. “Why do you resist the hand wishing to hold you?”

  My throat tightens. I have no answer.

  His touch grazes my cheek, coming away damp with tears that I hadn’t felt fall. He leans in and gently kisses my brow. His lips are chilled as he kisses a trail to my temple, the tip of my nose, my salty cheeks. “Let me hold you for a time, Lily,” he whispers into my skin. “Take what you wish from me, I won’t harm you. I could never harm my own heart—”

  I stop his words with my lips, reaching out to take his tunic in my fists and pull him closer. And as his arms wrap around me, his hands gripping me, his strength lifting me, I rise . . .

  Days and nights merge together . . . Time slips past.

  It holds. It builds. As the days weave minds together, a partnership in all things emerging, the nights weave spirits together into one.

  Death merged with flame.

  In the joining of my essence with his, I am blinded, thinking our growing power can allow for no enemies. That our secrets will never be known.

  But I am wrong . . . An enemy already lurks among us. She seeks me out to destroy me. To destroy my king. She despises us with an iron will. And she won’t be satiated until we are ripped from each other.

  She won’t relent until all the power is hers.

  FORTY-FIVE

  SAGE

  I open my eyes. The smell of smoke lingers in the air. The familiar dark canopy of my bed hangs above me, curtains a sheer red. I turn toward the king. But the bed is empty.

  He was just here. Wasn’t he? I sit up, disoriented.

  A trickle of unease fills my chest.

  Where is he?

  “Hello?” I ask the silence.

  But wait. When I fell asleep, I wasn’t here; I wasn’t in the keep. I was with the king in the wood, under the rowan tree. I was . . . why can’t I remember?

  Something was wrong before I closed my eyes. The king had called to me, drawing me into the wood, and I’d found him resting under the rowan tree. He said there was something we could do to hide ourselves, hide our secret. Something that would save us from her. We argued because his plan was terrible, it was horrifying what I would have to do . . . but . . .

  Confusion rolls over me again. Why can’t I remember?

  I rise from the bed, wandering over to the fire. The embers have faded to nearly nothing. I snap my fingers, sending out my spark into the dying blaze.

  The energy slinks over my skin but goes no further. The embers stay as they were. I blink at the coals and try again.

  Still nothing.

  Something is very wrong.

  I reach for my pouch of lavender, to call my mother—

  Where is it?

  I look down. What . . . what is this? Am I wearing trousers? I pat myself and realize how strange my clothing is. And I’m wearing my torque—why would that be? It was taken off me soon after the Bonding. Am I a prisoner?

  My heart begins to race as I look around again. And then I spot the painting over the hearth. It’s not the painting that was there before. It’s a portrait of me now. I stand on an icy bank, Fionn perched on my arm, ready for flight.

  Fionn.

  “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind me.

  I turn, nearly stumbling into the fireplace.

  The young man grabs me by the upper arm, tugging me away from the flames, closer to him. “Take care,” he says. “You could catch your clothes on fire, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  I gape at him, lost. “Who are you?”

  He smirks, his silver eyes full of mischief. “We’re not here to be coy, little doe.” He pulls me to the chair and releases me into it.

  As I watch him begin to pace, confusion fills me again. He’s familiar, he’s so like the king. But I don’t know him.

  Kieran whispers in my head. The name of my king’s brother . . . but he was just a boy the last time I saw him, fourteen winters old. This is a man.

  The ground tips. A memory of this young man’s face, how he broke someone’s neck. The violent moment flashes in my head, and I grip the arms of the chair, panic hitting.

  Faelan!

  No.

  Wait . . . who’s Faelan?

  Pain shoots through my head, and I groan, squeezing my eyes shut. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “Are you well?” the silver-eyed young man asks, urgency filling his voice.

  “Where is my king?” I mutter.

  “Sage?” Someone shakes my shoulders. “Sage, are you all right? Look at me!”

  Sage . . .

  No . . . it’s wrong. It’s all wrong . . . My stomach shivers, everything swirling inside of me, bones aching, chest tingling . . . What’s happening—

  My eyes fly open, and I gasp, my lungs stinging. I grip his arms as a lifeline. “Kieran!” I gulp in air like I was drowning a second ago. I was. Who was I? What just happened? “Oh my God, Kieran.”

  His face comes clear in front of me, fear in his eyes. “That was her, wasn’t it?” he asks.

  I nod my head, not even caring how he knows. It all totally took me over. I couldn’t even have my own thoughts. I was just . . . gone.

  His hand becomes a fist at his side as tension fills his body. “It’s too soon,” he whispers. “I was sure the torque would hold this in.”

  “You what?”

  “It was her torque—Queen Lily’s. It should have held her spirit down. That’s what the damn monk said.”

  I blink at him. He knows Lailoken? “You know what that was.” It’s not a question. I can see he’s fully aware.

  He nods, his eyes going distant.

  “How much do you know? About me.”

  “A lot more than I like.” He moves to the fire, staring into the embers.

  “Tell me. What just happened?” I look back to the bed, all the memories and emotions of Lily swirling in the background of
my mind like a mist trying to press in again.

  “She surfaced,” he says, his voice tense. “Her spirit took over your body.”

  Dread soaks into my bones. “How’s that even possible?” Her spirit? In me? My body begins to shake. This has gotten totally out of control. “Am I possessed or something?” I nearly choke on the words.

  “No,” he says, and then he adds, “And yes.” He releases a long breath as my lungs stop working. “The truth is,” he continues, “I’ve known for a long time that Queen Lily pulled all of her power—her spirit—from her blood, leaving her body an empty vessel, before the Cast came to drag her into the Pit. It was her way of escape. I kept her secret. Because all of this time I assumed she’d simply had her essence placed into her owl, that she’d remained in the wood. But when I went to the old monk, he said that the owl had died centuries ago.”

  The realization of what he’s implying begins to sink in. “She needed a vessel,” I say under my breath.

  “When I read your spirit that night in the alley, it didn’t make sense,” he says, still caught up in his thoughts. He starts to pace again. “Something was wrong. You were merely supposed to be a second daughter, lesser, not a being to be reckoned with, not carrying the power I felt inside you as I looked deeper. It was as if you were something . . . more. Extra. I assumed that I wasn’t sensing right, especially when you didn’t defend yourself, then bled out so swiftly. But . . .” He pauses, looking oddly unsure, not like himself at all. “Then I learned more of the truth of what Queen Lily did to my brother, what they had both done to force the hand of fate, and I knew with sudden clarity that it was Lily’s spirit hidden inside you that I was sensing.”

  The stone floor seems to shift under my feet. And the truth looms like a specter, clouding my vision. All I can see is the painting of her above the mantle. Of a woman dressed in pure white, cloaked in furs, wild copper hair a stark contrast to the icy surroundings.

  It’s nuts. It’s crazy. These visions, these dreams, they aren’t just memories. They’re actually her. Queen Lily.

  Her spirit is inside me.

  A shiver runs through me. That’s why it’s been so overwhelming, why I’ve felt like someone else at times. And just a minute ago she was able to take me over so completely.