The Bone Carver

by Monique Snyman

  He gently sets the chair on its feet and follows her direction.

  Nova’s quicksilver gaze meets hers. “So, you traveled all the way to Amaris in the hopes of retrieving my brother?”

  Rachel purses her lips together, looks beneath the armchair, and shakes her head.

  Moving the wooden bookcase, he says, “Humor me.” Nova strains to push the large piece of furniture away from the wall. He scans the area, before shifting the bookcase back into place.

  “Yes,” Rachel relents.

  Nova turns his attention back to her. “And?”

  “Well, I didn’t really have time to talk to him, seeing as I unintentionally led a horde of Sluaghs into his camp.” She crosses her arms and breaks eye contact.

  “Ah, that explains it then.”

  Rachel glimpses his way. “Explains what?”

  “Rumor has it the Halfling army, or rather what’s left of it, is moving to join their forces in the northern parts of Amaris.” He opens a drawer and rummages around inside. “Swaying my brother won’t be easy when he’s waging a war. He’s rather single-minded that way.” Nova closes the drawer and heads for the writing desk. “I suppose he brought you here during the fray with the Sluaghs?” He crouches and peers beneath the desk.

  “Yes. Do you know what they are? The Sluaghs, I mean.”

  “Nasty creatures,” he mumbles.

  She waits for more of an explanation, but when Nova doesn’t continue, she says, “Care to elaborate?”

  He stands again, scratching his chin. “We believe Sluagh are unrestful souls, specifically of people—Human, Halfling, Fae, it doesn’t matter—who were exceptionally evil and cruel during their lives. They exist and gain power from souls, especially the souls of the dying.” Nova shrugs. “From what I can remember of my studies about them, they group together, and are mostly active during the night. During daylight hours, Sluagh usually hide in dark, forgotten places.”

  “And they’re just found in the Fae Realm?” Rachel asks.

  “No. The Wild Hunt—that’s what we call a horde of Sluagh, by the way—is found in every known realm. Sometimes there are stragglers from the horde, though, and the lone wolf abides by a different set of rules. For example, a Sluagh that’s struck out on its own doesn’t mind the sunlight,” he says. “The bottom line is that all Sluagh sow chaos and feed off destruction.” Nova looks around the room. “Where could I have put it?”

  “Did you check the palace?” Rachel asks.

  “Of course I checked the palace.”

  And he calls Orion single-minded.

  Rachel walks up to the bookcase and scans the leather-bound volumes housed on the shelves.

  “Finding you here has placed me in a somewhat difficult position. If I take you as my prisoner, Orion may reconsider this pointless campaign against me. On the other hand, he may not feel anything for you, which makes it an utterly impractical strategy,” Nova says as he scours the desk.

  She spots the leather folder in the bottom shelf of the bookcase, placed on top of a stack of books. Rachel picks it up, and says, “May I add another point for you to consider?”

  Nova signals for her to continue with a curt nod.

  “Imprisoning me would be both incredibly rude and an unjust reward, especially seeing as I found your folder.”

  With only the illumination of the lamp and the moonlight coming in through the cabin windows, he seems almost normal. Nova spins around, eyes sparkling as Rachel hands over the leather folder.

  “Where did you find it?” Nova asks, unwinding the leather thong keeping the contents within safely together.

  “In the bookcase.”

  “Thank you.”

  Rachel leans her shoulder against the shelves, watching as he closes the folder and smooths his face into a neutral expression.

  “Coming back to our previous conversation,” he says, moving the leather folder behind his back. “There is a possibility that you will become a bigger threat to me. Thus, if I imprison you now, I could save myself from future problems.”

  Rachel gives him a half-smile. “If you use that particular argument, your subjects may wonder why their great and powerful king fears a human. Logic suggests it will cause you much bigger issues in the long run.”

  Nova eyes her from afar. “Well, you’ve just confirmed you’re not stupid.” He inclines his head her way before she can respond. “I apologize for my unannounced intrusion and bid you farewell.”

  Rachel shrugs off his apology. “Goodnight.

  Their gazes meet again briefly, curiosity flashing in his eyes, before the King of Amaris vanishes into thin air.

  Twelve

  Blood of my Blood

  On the fifth morning of Rachel’s visit to the Fae Realm, she awakens to the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread wafting throughout the cabin.

  Half-crazed with hunger and willing to eat pretty much anything, she follows the delectable smell into the kitchen, where a picnic basket waits on the counter. Beside the basket, sits a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Rachel dives into the basket, her craving for anything substantial too great to be ignored. Inside of it, she finds fresh bread accompanied by jams, sweetmeats, and cheese. She breaks off a doughy morsel and places it in her mouth, savoring the yeasty goodness. Another controlled bite, before she breaks off a piece of cheese and stuffs it into her mouth.

  She closes her eyes and chews the cheese slowly, moaning, “So good.”

  Rachel unpacks the much-needed groceries, adding milk, honey, fruit tarts, and even a smoked salmon onto the counter. And there, hidden at the bottom of the basket is a written note.

  She picks up the white card and studies the cursive letters, written with such painstaking precision.

  I was born into the Court of Light, but;

  My world is cast in perpetual gray.

  Shadows are my friends, and;

  Darkness will be my legacy.

  —Nova

  Staring at the note, she rereads the poem until she can recite the words by heart. Those four lines resonate deep within her, speaking to the loneliness and defeat she battles every day. Beautiful, albeit heartbreaking, Rachel can’t help but wonder if this is a premature admission of guilt. The poem may be relatable, but it is not hers.

  “What are you up to?” she whispers. Gently, Rachel places the note on the counter as if it might explode if she isn’t careful, and goes to work on fixing herself breakfast. The heavy, sinking feeling persists long after she’s satiated her hunger, though. She eyes the note when she finally musters up the courage to open the package. Inside, Rachel finds a sea-green cotton muslin dress with a high empire waist. Her fingertips run across the bust, tracing the delicate golden embroidery on the organza. Curious as to how transparent the bust’s fabric is, she sticks her hand into the neckline and coughs a laugh.

  She pulls the almost Regency-styled dress from the package and spies the carefully folded knee-high stockings and beige leather walking boots beneath it. The shoes will undoubtedly fit, and the dress—

  “What? No nipple rouge?” Rachel shakes out the dress and holds it high enough so it doesn’t touch the floor. It’s not horrendous, but the low-cut and see-through bust is worrisome, and it’s not really her style. There is no note explaining the new attire, which is cause for concern, too. But yes, the dress will definitely fit her.

  “When in Rome,” she trails off with a sigh.

  Rachel grabs the note off the counter as she heads back to the bedroom she occupies and places the dress on the unmade bed, careful not to crease the fabric. She returns to the kitchen for the boots, before setting off for a bath in the rock pool. The water is, as she’s come to expect, always comfortably warm. Whether this is due to a hot spring somewhere or because magic is employed, Rachel doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. Simply having a bath, something she has taken for granted before this trip, is a blessing in itself.

  After the bath, she braids her long, thick hair into a loose style,
then puts on the stockings and shoes. She slips on the dress next, snorting in amusement when she notices the only thing keeping her modest is a few golden threads. As revealing as the dress may be, she doesn’t dislike it completely.

  It’s kind of empowering. Rachel turns sideways to appreciate how the dress fits her body. Mrs. Crenshaw will approve of the draping. She turns to the other side, studying the impeccable sewing.

  “I’m told it’s the latest fashion where you’re from,” Nova says from the doorway, startling Rachel out of her thoughts.

  She quickly covers the gauzy bust with her hands, effectively hiding her chest from his appreciative gaze.

  “Showing off one’s”—she clears her throat—“assets is not popular where I live.”

  “Assets?” Nova raises an eyebrow.

  “Boobs,” Rachel clarifies.

  Nova tilts his head, a deep crease forming on his forehead. The cog turns, but there’s no sign of understanding.

  “Breasts,” she finally says in an exasperated tone. “We don’t show off our breasts all willy-nilly like this.”

  “Why?” There’s genuine curiosity in his voice, even a hint of naïveté.

  “Well, some people find women’s exposed breasts offensive. Others deem it indecent.”

  “I repeat, why?”

  “Don’t you have laws prohibiting public indecency?” Rachel asks.

  “There are many subspecies of Fae who prefer not to wear clothes. It is their right. Therefore, there are no laws prohibiting exposure to any of my subjects.”

  “Oh.” Rachel doesn’t lower her hands. “As much as I like the dress, I think it’s best if I don’t wear it. I had a rather unpleasant run-in with a Halfling who would’ve had his way with me if I didn’t fight back, so ...”

  The muscles in Nova’s forehead twitch before he seems to force a neutral expression. “Did you kill him?”

  “Unfortunately not, but I think the Sluaghs may have gotten him.”

  “Good,” Nova says. “Shall I wait in the parlor for you to dress in something more comfortable?”

  “Yes,” she exhales the word in relief.

  A ghost of a smile plays on his lips as he turns and makes his way down the hallway. Swiftly, Rachel closes the door behind him and undresses before pulling on her wrinkled black T-shirt. The boots are troublesome to get off, but soon enough she’s free of them, and shimmies on her pair of black jeggings. She slips the note into her back pocket, not knowing why she doesn’t want to part with it yet, and ventures out of the bedroom and toward the living room—or parlor, as Nova calls it.

  Eyeing her from across the room, Nova asks, “Do authorities deem your current ensemble appropriate attire in your realm?”

  “Appropriate, yes, but not quite fashionable,” she says. “I didn’t expect to be in the presence of a king, so I left my evening gown at home.”

  “Are you mocking me?” Nova perches on the ledge of the open window, crossing his arms.

  Rachel gestures with her index finger and thumb set slightly apart. “Just a bit.”

  His silvery eyes twinkle with amusement, but his face remains unreadable.

  She pushes her hands into the back pockets of her jeggings. “Thank you for the food, by the way.”

  Nova inclines his head, but doesn’t speak.

  An awkward silence stretches on between them, before Rachel says, “So, what’s it like to be a king?”

  “Exhausting,” he answers without missing a beat. A smile tickles the corners of his lips again, as if that single word has lifted a burden off his shoulders.

  “Take a vacation for a couple of weeks? Go lie on some exotic beach and order cocktails the whole day.”

  His smile breaks its hold, a longing glimmers in his silvery eyes. “That’s a grand notion.”

  He’s about to speak, probably to elaborate on being a king, when his body language changes. Every muscle seems to tense, his quicksilver eyes widen, and then he’s gone from the window ledge.

  Suddenly, there’s an arm around her waist, pulling her back against a taut, muscular body. A hand wraps around her throat, gentle but unyielding.

  Orion appears in the center of the living room, looking worse for wear.

  Rachel elbows back, the powerful slam hitting Nova straight in his upper abdominal muscles. He exhales a whoosh of air, but isn’t deterred. “Get off me, you oversized firefly. Zig—” Her shout is cut short as the hand around her neck tightens.

  Freaking sibling squabbles.

  “Brother,” Nova’s voice is amicable as he greets Orion, but there’s an underlying threat there, too. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  Orion’s gaze moves over her, evaluating every inch of her body. His jaw tenses, hands ball into fists by his sides. His nostrils flare as his golden flames trickle up his hands. “Let go of her. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Oh, I know,” Nova answers. The arm around her waist disappears.

  Orion’s hands move to his head, where he presses against his temples, his eyes shut. “Get out of my head,” he hisses. “Get out!”

  In her peripheral vision, Rachel spies blue flame rippling over Nova’s arm. The air grows thick with electricity as the tension between the brothers becomes palpable.

  “So melodramatic,” Nova says. Breathy chuckles accompany the words. “Do I have your attention?” He brings his blazing arm closer to her shoulder, singeing the fibers of her shirt and flyaway hairs in her braid. Sulfur stinks up the room.

  Orion extinguishes his flame, pursing his lips together to keep his rage from getting the best of him. “What do you want?” he bites the words out through gritted teeth.

  “I will meet you at the Harrowsgate in five minutes, where we will discuss the terms of Rachel Cleary’s release,” Nova says. “If you do anything stupid, the girl will suffer the consequences. Are we understood?”

  Orion sneers, but says, “Yes.”

  “Good. Now go.”

  Orion glissers away from the cabin.

  Nova loosens the hand around her neck, the blue flame winks out.

  “Ziggy,” Rachel finally screams, and her Fae light zigzags out of its hiding place. “Attack.” The golden sphere hesitates, his light dimming slightly.

  “You have a Fae light?” Nova asks, not in the least bit concerned over Ziggy’s presence. “Interesting.”

  She turns her head sideways as much as she can, looking away from him, but opens her arms for Ziggy to come closer. The sphere rushes forward and she wraps her arms around him, holding on tightly.

  “I can’t believe you did that after I told you about the Halfling,” Rachel says.

  “It was the only way for him to listen. At least we’re both getting what we want now,” Nova says. “Orion will be safely away from my kingdom and you’ll have your champion back where he belongs. It’s a—what is it humans call it? Ah, yes, it’s a win-win.”

  “Your tactics leave much to be desired,” she mumbles.

  He snickers behind her. “Manipulation is the crowning jewel in any monarch’s arsenal. My tactics may have been questionable to you, no doubt, but everything I do is done to keep my kingdom safe. Think about that on your way home.”

  Before Rachel can respond, the world sinks away beneath her feet. Overcome with sickening vertigo, she squeezes her eyes shut. She resists the urge to scream as her weightless body is shredded apart in the void, the unseen pressure that comes along with glissering ebbs and flows around her, inside her. A flip is succeeded by a tilt, and then gravity takes hold. She releases a gasp as her feet touch down on solid ground. Her hold on Ziggy loosens and the Fae light moves out of her arms.

  She opens her eyes and finds herself staring at Orion, standing in front of a birch gate nearly identical to the one on her side of the forest. It’s larger, though, and there are colorful gemstones imbedded into the twisted branches. Instead of a mushroom circle, stones surround the green space in front of the Harrowsgate.

  There are several
armed Fae soldiers standing far enough away from them to give them privacy, but close enough to attack if something goes awry.

  It’s like Nova knew what would happen and planned ahead.

  Ziggy flies around Orion, before moving through the Harrowsgate.

  “The terms are simple, Orion.” Nova holds her upright, blue flame once again enveloping his free arm. “Leave this realm and I’ll send her to you.

  “It’s never that simple with you,” Orion retorts.

  Rachel feels him shrug behind her. “Oh, but it is,” Nova says. “But if you have the silly notion to return, and if I should find out, Rachel here will atone for your sins. And you know I will make her pay threefold.” The hand around her neck loosens enough for a fingertip to trace her necklace, before moving to the soft skin located right beneath her décolletage. “The Ronamy Stone protects her mind from me, but her body ...” Nova buries his face into her braid, his nose touching her cheek. He makes a sound in the back of his throat as he inhales deeply. A shudder runs down Rachel’s spine, but she remains perfectly still at his supposed threat. “I will break her in ways you never thought possible,” Nova’s whisper is almost gleeful.

  Orion bares his teeth like a feral beast, the flames returning to his hands.

  In a display of power, Nova runs his tongue up her cheek. This time, Rachel flinches and recoils as he licks her. She’s not actually scared, though. For some reason, she doesn’t fear Nova the way she knows she should. He’s, as Mrs. Crenshaw would say, more bark than bite.

  “I haven’t had a virgin for so long—”

  Threat or no, Rachel can’t help herself from bursting out in laughter, which catches both brothers off-guard. Nova jerks away from her and she’s almost certain Orion’s flames dim.

  “I’m sorry,” she says through her breathy giggles. Rachel rights herself and forces her face into a more serious expression, swallowing her amusement. “Okay, I’m good. Continue.” Her laughter begins anew before Nova can get back into delivering his evil monologue.