She leaned down and brushed her lips against his, speaking the words of her heart, words she had feared to say for so long, “I love you, Brennon Roarke. You have taught me not to fear those who do not understand me, and you have given my light a reason to burn brightly.”
Brennon buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her down, completing the kiss she teased him with. When he broke away for breath, his voice was rough and brimming with emotion.
“Grandmother Peig gave me some advice as well,” he murmured.
Seren freed herself from his grip and smiled brightly. “Oh? I wondered about that.”
Brennon gave her a crooked smile, his eyes flashing pale grey and sparkling with mischief.
“She told me a man who hides his demons gives them strength, and although I tread through darkness, a beacon awaits on the horizon. When I’m with you Seren, I can no longer sense the demons that haunt me. The brilliance of your spirit shines into the cracks and crevasses of my soul, and there is no longer any room for the darkness.”
Seren smiled, laughing a little at the pure joy she felt. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to use her healing magic on him, after all. Maybe, now that the last thread of trust had been woven into the pattern between them, he would begin to heal on his own.
“That woman had us figured out from the beginning, didn’t she?” Seren asked, as she settled back down in Brennon’s arms.
“Yes, she did,” Brenn said gently, resting his cheek above her ear as his hands pressed flat against her stomach. “Did you know she was the one who sold me the statues I gifted to you and Rori on the Solstice?”
Seren arched her dark brows at him. He only nodded. “I wonder if the spirits of Eile placed her in our path.”
“Then I am grateful to those spirits,” Seren said. She yawned and then added, “I could stay here all day long, and even longer than that.”
“Unfortunately,” Brenn groaned, “we cannot. I left Rori alone at Ardun with the idea that you’d been kidnapped. It would be cruel to make him wait much longer.”
Seren turned wide eyes onto him. “You left Rori alone?”
“He’ll be fine, Seren. He stays home alone all the time. It’s just this time, he’s worrying after you.”
Seren settled back against Brennon after that, feeling a little more reassured. Brenn was right. He would be fine.
“Very well. We shall laze about a half hour more, but then we must really be heading back,” she conceded.
“Well then,” Brenn said, rolling over and taking her with him. Seren squeaked her surprise as he loomed over her, his eyes darkening with intent. “I think we’d better make good use of that half hour then, don’t you agree?”
Before she could respond, he leaned down, stealing her breath away with another fierce kiss, banishing any other thoughts from her mind.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gone
The morning was halfway over by the time Brennon and Seren, dressed in Brenn’s extra cloak, came strolling out of the woods behind Ardun. Still basking in the euphoria of the morning’s earlier activities, Seren paused to steal another kiss from Brenn. She loved how she could do that now, kiss him and know he would return the favor. Love him and realize he loved her back. It seemed like a dream to her, one she was afraid she’d wake from at any given moment. Don’t think that way, Seren, she chided herself. This is real. And the placement of Brenn’s hands on her hips and the way his breath warmed her skin was evidence enough she was not caught up in some imagined fantasy.
The farm house was quiet as they approached, the ground still coated with a thick blanket of snow. As they ascended the hill, Brennon considered what had happened in the past several hours. He’d gone from struggling against his faeduhn magic, to panic and terror upon discovering Seren had left, to utter and complete bliss at finding her and finally telling her how he felt. Smiling at his secret thoughts, Brenn glanced at Seren.
She was one step ahead of him, her arm trailing behind her, her fingers interlaced with his. Feeling a wave of mischief wash over him, Brenn tugged on Seren’s hand just hard enough to make her teeter backwards. The Fahndi woman gasped in surprise but Brenn was prepared, catching her up in his arms as he continued the climb up the hill.
Seren wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and didn’t resist as he leaned down to kiss her once again. Brenn liked kissing Seren and wondered if he’d ever grow tired of it.
The dogs greeted them as Brennon crested the top of the hill. They barked and whined as they circled around him. But he was far too distracted by Seren to give them much notice at first. He admired the color of her eyes, the flush to her copper skin, the silky fall of her hair against his shoulder. In that moment, everything was right in the world. And then, Seren gave a surprised gasp. Brenn immediately came out of his daze, taking in their surroundings for the first time. The great door to Roarke Manor was flung open, the corner hanging from one hinge. Papers and books were scattered from the opening like earth thrown from the entrance of a gopher hole. Several windows were broken, and the white ground was littered with indentations: footprints. More than one set of footprints. The blood froze in his veins.
“Brenn,” Seren said very quietly, her tone serious, “put me down.”
He did so without making a sound, setting her feet onto the cold ground but keeping his left arm tight around her waist.
“You can let me go,” she insisted, pressing her palms flat against his chest. Brenn blinked and looked down into her brown eyes. Their corners were tight with worry, but she remained as calm and serene as ever. “I am here with you. I am going nowhere.”
Somehow, her words cut through his numb shock and brought him back to life. So strange and miraculous, how this Fahndi woman of myth had done that to him; taught him how to trust and love again.
“I know,” he answered her, his voice gruff.
“We need to find Rori,” she said.
Brennon nodded. Seren pulled away from him and headed for the house, calling out Rori’s name. Brenn followed after her, his hand on the hilt of one of the daggers he’d brought with him the night before.
The scene inside was worse. The tables and chairs had been overturned, crockery had been broken and some of the food in the pantry had been spilled and scattered. It looked as if the house had been raided by faelah. The second story, Brenn soon discovered, was untouched. The beds were still made and nothing looked out of sorts. But Rori was nowhere to be found. Brennon stamped the impending anxiety down and headed back toward the yard, Seren close on his heels.
“Brenn, where are you going?” she called out, wrapping the cloak more tightly about her.
“I’m checking the barn, you stay here.”
He hadn’t meant to sound so terse, but Seren stopped following when he reached the edge of the yard. The wolfhounds went trailing after him, their ears alert as if sensing his mood. The longer he went without finding Rori, the more his agitation and terror grew. As he breezed down the hillside, he felt himself shift into the state of mind he’d often adopted when in the employ of the Morrigan. No longer was he a peaceful man basking in the afterglow of his night spent with Seren, but a predator on the hunt.
The expanse of the barnyard stretched out before him, the snow thinner here and scarred and pocked by more footprints and tracks of some sort. Brenn’s heart clenched when he noticed several patches of blood. Oh gods … he thought. He picked up his pace, running nearly full out until he reached the great barn door. The door gave way easily beneath his strength, gliding to the side to reveal the dark interior. The scent hit him before he registered the distressed sounds of the horses, sheep and goats. Brenn felt the bile in his stomach rise, and he had to turn away to keep from getting sick. Sharp and metallic, he knew that smell more than any other in this world. It brought back the terrible memories in waves of undulating darkness: small villages laid to ruin, the corpses of the Faelorehn men, women and children left to the elements; the Morrigan, in all her terrible beauty, slic
ing one throat after another and painting herself in her victims’ blood as she chanted and absorbed their fading glamour; her most decorated advisors and soldiers, bringing the lash down upon his back day after day for his disobedience.
Brenn clenched his eyes shut and shook his head against the horror. He had to go into the barn. He had to make sure Rori was okay. Pushing the nightmares aside, he straightened up and slipped into the building once again. A quick scan of the pens and stables told him the animals were unharmed, just frightened. The blood seemed more prevalent in here, and Brenn prayed to all the gods and goddesses he could think of that none of it belonged to Rori.
A soft whine coming from his right caught his attention. Fifteen feet above was the loft, the place where Rori usually sought refuge from the things that frightened him. It was in that very loft, hidden behind piles of hay, where Brennon had first discovered Rori three years ago. It would make sense for him to hide there now. Brenn moved forward when he heard the soft cry again, this time recognizing it. He stepped around the ladder and peered behind the tools and wooden crates stored against the southern end of the barn. What he saw in the dim light nearly brought him to his knees.
Brogan, his oldest wolfhound and the pack leader, lay battered and broken in a pool of blood. He was dead; Brenn had no doubt of it. His gray, grizzled fur was matted in blood and mud, and his throat had been slit so badly his head had nearly been taken off. The whimpering, he realized, had come from Brogan’s mate, Addie. She was lying not too far from Brogan, her stomach cut open, half of her intestines strewn onto the filthy barn floor. She was panting heavily, but her brown eyes were turned back so she could see Brenn. Despite the pain he knew she was in, the older dog wagged her tail feebly.
“Good girl,” Brennon rasped, kneeling down to run his hand over her head.
She whined softly and tried to move.
“No, don’t. It will only become worse.”
An ache had worked its way up into his throat. He should put her out of her misery; pull his dagger now and slit her throat like Brogan’s, but he just couldn’t.
“Let me check the loft for Rori, and then I’ll take you up to Seren.” Perhaps she could use her gift to heal her.
Brenn wasted no more time. If he wanted any chance of saving Addie, then he needed to find Rori and get back to the house as quickly as he could. He left the dogs where they were. The rest of the hounds hadn’t followed him inside the barn. Perhaps they knew what they would find and didn’t have the courage to face their dead father and dying mother. Brennon climbed the ladder, two rungs at a time. The loft was dusty and over-filled with cobwebby hay. He called out Rori’s name, over and over again, and tried to sift through as much of the straw as he could in case the boy was unconscious.
Only after he was certain Rori wasn’t there did he climb back down. As carefully as he could, he gathered up Addie, being very mindful of her wound in the process. Without a second glance, he burst out into the open, hissing against the icy air and the bright-whiteness of the snow-covered landscape. The rest of the pack of wolfhounds was spread out across the barnyard. As he moved toward the trail that would lead him back up to the house, he performed a quick head count. Five dogs watched him with frightened eyes. That meant only Brogan and Addie had been attacked.
Seren waited for Brenn in the doorway of the house. She had taken the time to get dressed, but his cloak once again fell loosely from her shoulders, her dark hair trailing away from her face as a cold breeze swept over the hilltop of Ardun. Brenn narrowed his eyes, then furrowed his brow in puzzlement at the piece of rolled parchment in her hands.
As he drew nearer, she seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in. She took one look at Addie in his arms and immediately came to life.
“What has happened? Where’s Rori?”
Brenn shook his head and gently pushed past her, carrying the dog inside.
“Rori wasn’t in the barn,” Brenn said over his shoulder. “Brogan is dead, and Addie is not far behind him.”
Brenn crossed the room, still littered with his and Rori’s belongings. Fortunately, the space before the fireplace was clear of clutter. As carefully as he could, he set the hound down onto the old blankets that made up the dogs’ bedding. She let out a weak yelp and Brenn cringed, feeling guilty for causing her pain. He stood up and glanced down at his shirt and pants. They were stained with blood.
A gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump. He turned to find Seren gazing at him, her eyes stern and her jaw set.
“I found this on the table in front of the book shelf. It didn’t match the rest of your papers, so I thought it might have been left for you.”
She thrust out her hand, the parchment Brenn had seen her holding clutched between her fingers. “Let me take care of Addie. You find out who came here and what they did with Rori.”
There was a fierce bite in her tone, and Brenn felt compelled to obey her. Taking the paper, he stood off to the side, doing everything in his power to calm his roiling emotions and focus his thoughts on reading the note.
The parchment was sealed with wax. He studied the symbol pressed into the red disk, his skin prickling. It was the crest of the House of Corcorain. Not that he was at all surprised. He should have known his threats to Uscias and his two lackeys had fallen on deaf ears. And now, they had Rori. Guilt stabbed at him, and he had a difficult time pushing it aside. If he had simply caught up with Seren and brought her back last night, none of this would have happened. Instead, he’d let temptation seduce him, selfishly taking advantage of the time alone with the young woman he’d come to love.
Breaking the wax seal with a spurt of aggression, he unrolled the letter and began to read. Several times, he passed over the words, the stark black lines branding themselves against his eyes. The faeduhn magic, rendered temporarily dormant from Seren’s ministrations the night before, scrabbled and gnawed at the edges of his mind, like rats trying to find a way into the pantry. Brenn let his own glamour boil up a bit, hoping it would keep the darkness at bay. He could not afford any distractions now.
Seren called his name.
Brenn tore his attention from the missive and quickly studied her, his mouth turning down in a frown at her appearance. Her face had paled, and she looked tired and weaker than before.
“Seren,” he rasped, reaching out to her and letting the paper fall to the floor.
His fingers skipped gently over her cheek, so they could sink into her hair. She closed her eyes, and smiled with a sigh, leaning into his touch.
“I am fine. Addie will also be fine.”
Brennon released a breath of air and pulled her close, silently encouraging her to lean her weight into him. He never realized how long or how badly he had wanted to hold her, to feel the warmth of her body, to breathe in the wild woodland scent of her skin, until last night. Brenn squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as nagging guilt threatened to take control once again. He could not let that happen.
As if plucking the thoughts from his mind, Seren said, her voice a soft murmur, “None of this is your fault, Brenn. If anything, it is my fault for running away. I should not have done so, or I should have kept going, so you would not find me. It’s because of me all of this has come about.”
While Seren spoke, Brenn shook his head slowly, quietly denying her words.
“No,” he said softy, carefully pushing her away so he might look at her face.
Instantly, he was cold, or perhaps the shiver that coursed over his skin was his body protesting its severed connection with Seren’s. Either way, he didn’t like putting even the smallest distance between them. Not anymore.
Before he could change his mind and draw her near again, he touched her chin, tilting her eyes up to meet his. Tears tracked down her cheeks, but she remained calm. She had meant everything she’d said. Gently, Brenn used his fingers to wipe away her tears.
“We could not know this would happen. It’s so easy to assume guilt. I am very much tempted to do so m
yself, but I must not. To do so is to succumb to the evil that has visited Ardun, yet again.”
Seren took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. She reached up her hands to grasp Brenn’s wrists. Reluctantly, he followed her lead as she lowered his hands from her face.
“What did the note say?”
Brenn stiffened. He did not want to tell her, but it couldn’t be avoided.
“They have taken Rori.”
Seren furrowed her brows. “Who? The men from yesterday?”
Brenn nodded. “Uscias, the Druid and Baird Corcorain. I suspect his sister is involved as well. Uscias wants power and the favor of the Morrigan. My guess is he originally hoped to frighten me and Rori from Ardun, so he could turn us over to the goddess and claim this land as his own. The fields of Ardun contain deep, ancient magic, and Uscias has always sought access to it. Baird wants revenge. He wanted my sister, but never got her. So now, he takes his frustration out on me and having Uscias back him up gives him more opportunities to attack Ardun. And Arlana, his sister, she wants,” Brenn paused, the disgust and anger churning in his stomach once again. His hands, which had been resting on Seren’s hips, tightened.
“Arlana wants you,” she finished for him, seemingly unperturbed by his sudden tension.
Brenn looked down at her and felt his grey eyes darken to slate. He nodded once and glanced to the side.
“And they have kidnapped Rori to force you to comply with their wishes, haven’t they?”
Seren’s mouth flattened into a thin line, and she felt her glamour roll through her like a heat wave. She was capable of performing great acts of healing, but that same power could take life as well. She had no desire to hurt anyone, but if it was her only option to see Rori safe again, then she’d do what she must.
“I will not let them do this,” Seren hissed, her own fingers tightening in the fabric covering Brenn’s shoulders. “They will not force you to do anything against your will. We will confront them and get Rori back.”
Faeborne: A Novel of the Otherworld Page 33