The woman moved forward on swift, silent feet, lifting her arm far above her head. Her pale grey robes fluttered around her as if churned by an undetectable wind, and her skin, nearly as white as bone, reminded Seren of hard marble. Besides the angry stain of scarlet on her cheeks and the pale, golden red banner of her hair, the woman was cold and colorless, a beautiful figure seemingly pulled and formed directly from their winter surroundings. Something pointed and metallic protruded from her hand, and Seren realized it was one of the knives the Druid had dropped earlier. This woman had to be Arlana, Baird’s sister, and she was using the struggle between her brother and Seren to hide her movements. Seren wanted to send a warning to Brennon, wherever he was, to let him know about this new danger. But there was no time, and Seren couldn’t quite catch a glimpse of him.
Arlana stepped right behind Baird, lifting her arm even higher above them. A scream tore from Seren’s throat just as the knife plunged down. She heard a guttural, masculine growl, but she was so disoriented, she couldn’t tell from where it had come. Had it been Brenn? Had Baird somehow gotten in the way and taken the brunt of the attack? Her heart was in her throat, and she fought desperately to break free. To her great relief, Baird’s fingers loosened their grip, and she jerked away, falling back into the snow in an undignified heap. When she managed to sit up and push the hair from her face, Seren expected to see Brenn fighting for his life against the siblings. What she saw instead shocked her.
Baird was no longer facing her, and the knife he’d held to her throat was now brandished in front of him. Protruding from his back was the hilt of the dagger the woman had been holding, the blade sunk deep. And standing there in front of him with a blank expression on her face was Arlana. She had meant to stab Baird.
The horrible man struggled to move forward as blood poured from the wound.
“Traitorous witch!” he spat at her, his speech slurred. “I would have given him to you! How could you turn on me? My own sister?!”
Baird twitched in pain as he shuffled forward, lifting his knife once again. Seren could tell by the way he moved and breathed, by the amount of blood streaming from the wound, that he was dying. But his eyes were wild, and his teeth bared. No doubt he was more hurt by his sister’s betrayal than anything.
“Answer me!” he bellowed. “How could you deceive me!?”
Arlana didn’t say a word. She simply stood there, staring at him like a figure constructed of fog. Small flecks of snow were swirling around them again, and if not for the violence that had taken place here and the bloodshed all around her, Seren would have found the setting serene and beautiful, despite the cold.
Baird took two more shuffling steps, and with a cry that was both rage and sorrow, he drove the knife into his sister’s heart. Arlana gasped, her blue-green eyes going wide. And it was in that moment, the split second before death, that Seren understood what was going on. Baird drew in one more rattling breath as the lifeless body of his sister fell against him. He wasn’t far behind her, the two of them leaning together as they dropped to the ground.
Seren could not tear her eyes from the macabre scene, no matter how hard she tried. Only when the soft crunch of fresh snow underfoot met her ears did she suck in a deep breath and turn to glance up. Brenn stood several feet away, his eyes haunted, and his face drawn back in pain.
Seren took a careful breath, noting the ache in her ribs and neck. Calling upon a tiny speck of her glamour, she healed her small hurts and turned her head back toward the dead siblings. They appeared to be asleep, like wayward travelers who had lost their way and only wished to rest beneath the great oak tree. Seren did not turn back around to look at Brennon when she finally spoke.
“You took control of her mind,” she said simply, no judgment or condemnation in her voice. She was simply stating a fact.
He moved in closer to her, careful to keep a short distance. Seren turned to look at him then, almost smiling in spite of herself. This was the Brennon Roarke who had first hunted her down in the forest, only to discover she wasn’t the young, lost doe he thought she was. Here was the cautious, careful man who had only wanted to help her after discovering what she was. She had been terrified of him then, afraid of what he might do to her should he find out her secrets; at least, the secrets beyond the most obvious. She was not afraid of him now.
Suddenly, the emotion she’d been holding back since they returned to Ardun and found Rori gone burst forth like a swollen river breaking a dam.
“Brenn,” she rasped, reaching out for him.
Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them and reached down, lifting her into his arms. She hugged him tightly to her, crying and clinging to him, checking with her fingers and her glamour for injuries she could fix. The cut across his chest was shallow but still seeping blood. Her magic attended to that first, knitting the skin back together again. Then, she tried to heal the bruises and the pain that hadn’t left a mark; the emotional turmoil tightening around his heart and fogging his mind. That awful faeduhn magic he had told her about. It was pouring in thicker now, darker and murkier than before.
“No,” he whispered against her lips, as she reached up for a kiss. “Save your glamour for Rori.”
Her magic had been clawing at her to set it free; let it bathe that darkness in its brilliant light. At the mention of Rori’s name, however, she broke free of the strong compulsion to heal the closest wounds and gasped in horror.
“Rori!” she cried out, pulling away from Brenn and glancing up into the tree.
“I’ll get him down,” Brenn said, his voice distant.
Brenn circled the tree, finding a couple of handholds he made quick use of. As he hoisted himself onto the lowest limb and started climbing his way upward, Seren watched carefully from below. Worry gnawed at her stomach and shredded the edges of her nerves. What if they had been too late for Rori? The fight had been miraculously short, and both she and Brenn had come out of it in one piece. But if Rori ...
She bit her cheek, hard. No thinking that way, Seren! she told herself. He cannot be gone. I won’t allow it!
Seren glanced back up at the tree just as Brenn pulled himself onto the limb beneath Rori. With his spare dagger, he sliced at the layers of rope. One coil snapped and fell away, then another. Seren couldn’t bear to watch, but it was either that or study the bodies of the archers and the Corcorain siblings, scattered about the ground like the carcasses of felled prey. Already, the light snow was shrouding them in white, the pools of red surrounding them slowly disappearing beneath a thin layer of frost.
Seren jerked her head away from the battlefield and peered up through the snowflakes once again. Brenn was on the last bit of rope and after one more agonizing minute, the final cord gave and Rori slumped forward. Seren gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, but Brenn was quick to catch the boy in his arms. His descent was slower, but that was understandable given he was carrying his nephew’s unconscious form. Nevertheless, Seren paced a small circle, her glamour rising and simmering just beneath her skin.
By the time Brennon made it back down to earth with Rori draped carefully over his shoulder, Seren was practically bursting with anxiety. As soon as Brenn’s boots touched ground, she rushed forward, her fingers outstretched.
“Let me see him,” she insisted, pressing her hands against his cheeks.
She hissed, but didn’t pull back. His skin was like ice.
“He breathes, but his heartbeat is very weak,” Brenn said in a tight, weary voice.
“Lay him against the tree trunk,” Seren directed, kneeling down in front of him as Brenn obeyed her.
After that, the man stepped away and became one with the silent gray landscape once again. Seren pulled open Rori’s shirt and nearly cried out. Welts covered his chest and neck, some broken open and bloody.
White-hot rage boiled up in her throat and burned away the tears forming in her eyes. She almost wished that Baird, his sister and the Druid were still alive, so that she might bu
rn out their hearts with her glamour. The very thought shocked her. Of all her people, she was the most peaceful and nonviolent. Yet, here she was, wishing to commit murder. Life had certainly changed her. The world was full of lessons to be learned, big and small, every single one of them important. Because they were the threads that wove character, and to think one tiny filament did not contain the power to make a difference was just plain foolish. Seren knew that now. She had experienced it in her time at Ardun. In her time running from her peers. In the precious few hours she had spent alone with Brennon and in every moment she spent with Rori. Seren smiled, despite her worry and sorrow. Rori was no simple thread. Far from it. He was a collection of brilliant fibers, a remarkable pattern woven into the fabric of her life. To have him ripped from her now would destroy her.
“I am here, Rori,” she soothed, letting her magic pour freely from her skin in long, soft waves. “I’m not letting go. I’ll never let go.”
She drove her glamour deep into his heart and blood, not violently like she had done with Baird, but steadily and gently, letting his wounded body soak it in like warm sunshine. When his skin began to warm, and the blue tinge was replaced by a healthy, pale pink, she got to work on closing his open wounds and easing the welts away.
Within ten minutes, Rori looked like he did almost every night at Roarke Manor. Like a small boy asleep from a long day divided up between chores and play.
When she was finally ready to take her hands from his skin and declare him tired but healthy, Seren had to put out an arm to brace herself. Spots swam before her vision, and she could sense a massive headache and nausea coming on.
Brenn was there before she knew it, scooping her up and holding her close. His scent of leather, evergreen forests and fresh hay pushed away the metallic tang of blood enveloping the crossroads, overwhelming her spirit with a sense of peace. She could let herself go now. She was safe. She would always be safe with Brennon Roarke beside her.
“Healed,” Seren managed in a sleepy voice, her eyes already closed. “Safe.”
She felt Brenn’s lips press against her forehead and then the great, sweeping wave of exhaustion took her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Family
Seren came slowly awake, a familiar warm weight pressing down on her stomach.
“Uncle!” a bright voice called out. “Uncle Brenn, she’s waking up!”
Seren tried to open her eyelids, but it was too difficult. Instead, she murmured something and rolled her head from side to side. Where was she? Why was it so hard to open her eyes? What had happened?
Finally, she somehow managed to crack an eyelid and immediately regretted it. Brilliant, white light flooded in from a window somewhere, illuminating every color to impossible clarity. Ugh. It was as if she were opening her eyes for the first time in her life to find everything that had been described to her by others to be far more intense than she had ever imagined.
Throwing her forearm over her eyes, she breathed in deeply and swallowed, her mouth dry as cotton.
“Fetch some water, Rori,” a deep, familiar voice said. The tenor of it sent shivers down her spine and drew goose pimples out on her skin. She would know that voice even in death.
“Brenn,” she rasped, her arm still covering her eyes.
A shadow moved to stand over her and then his fingers were tracing her cheek, outlining the edge of her jaw. She reveled in his touch and braced herself as the memories suddenly came flooding back: her flight from Ardun, Brenn coming after her and telling her he loved her, their night spent together in the woods, the return to Ardun to find Rori taken, the fight with the Druid and the Corcorain siblings …
Pain clenched Seren’s heart, but it quickly passed. Baird had wanted her in exchange for Rori, but Brenn wouldn’t allow it. Instead, they had met their enemy at the crossroads together, and they had defeated them. Everyone she cared about was safe.
“Move, Nola,” Brenn grumped somewhere above her, but closer than before. “You’ve had your time with Seren.”
That comfortable weight on her stomach shifted and disappeared, then an even greater weight pressed into the mattress beside her. Gentle fingers lifted her arm away from her eyes and helped her to sit up. The movement brought the headache roaring back, but Seren tried not to let it irritate her. She felt like one of the giant slugs that often wandered about in spring when the rains start to turn warm: a boneless, sluggish mass of flesh.
“Open your eyes, Seren,” Brenn said again, his voice gentle this time.
She did, slowly. After blinking several times to adjust to the light, Seren could finally see clearly. She found herself laying in the comfortable bed in the room that had become her own personal sanctuary shortly after arriving at Ardun. The paper-thin white curtains did little to block the winter sunlight streaming through the window, and the door leading to the second floor landing was propped wide open. So that was how the cat had managed to make herself at home. Seren smiled weakly. They had been in such a hurry to get to Rori that she hadn’t thought to see if Nola was safely hidden away in the house. And thinking about the cat brought to mind something else.
“Addie,” she whispered, closing her eyes again as she reached for Brenn, her hand falling on his forearm, her fingers curling around the muscle just below his elbow. Even that simple touch ignited her well of glamour.
“She is doing fine, Seren. Everyone is healing. Rori and I have spent the past two days tidying the house and tending to you.”
Seren sucked in a breath, and her eyes shot open. She turned her head so that she might see Brenn’s face. It looked paler than usual, his eyes as clear grey as ever, but withdrawn somehow. Just as they had looked after the fight. He is still lost inside of himself, she thought. That darkness is still there, sinking its teeth into his soul. Her fingers itched to draw on her power, to see if she could somehow heal that part of him, as well. She had managed to banish his nightmares, but the faeduhn magic that infected him? Just thinking about it had her depleted glamour stirring. She sucked in a breath as a wave of dizziness and nausea pressed against her.
“No, Seren, do not call on your glamour. Whatever you’re trying to do, stop.”
She gave him a wry smile. “How do you know?”
He snorted and returned her grin. “I know you, Seren. I know what happens to you when you use too much glamour, or try to call on it when it has not been replenished yet. And I know that look you get when you are ready to cast aside all caution to heal those in pain.”
His voice dropped lower when he said, “I will not lie to you, Seren. The darkness has grown worse since the battle. How could it not? But I knew that risk going in. I fight it every day, every hour, every minute, but I have not yet succumbed to the faeduhn’s will. I was certain rescuing Rori would have been my undoing, but it wasn’t. That knowledge alone gives me strength to continue the fight.”
He reached down and laced his fingers through hers, lifting her hand to his lips. “I will accept your help, Seren. Gladly. When you are strong enough to offer it. After all, I have so much more to live for now.”
Seren looked up at him then and smiled. She nodded her head once, warmth suffusing her spirit despite her worry.
“Now that that conversation is out of the way, there is something else I need to discuss with you.”
Brenn retrieved his hand and crossed his arms, arching a dark brow at her. Seren felt suddenly nervous. He didn’t look angry, but his posture was much more severe.
“Rori,” he said simply.
Seren wasn’t expecting that, so she gave him a look of utter confusion.
“I know you said you used your glamour on him before, but at the time, I was so focused on getting him back, I didn’t stop to think what you truly meant.”
When she met Brenn’s eyes again, they were shining with unshed tears. Seren dropped her gaze and wrung her hands in her lap, biting her lower lip sheepishly.
“You healed his eyes, Seren,” he rasped, his tone disbeli
eving and full of wonder.
Seren shook her head, wincing slightly at the pain. “No, I started to heal them. I didn’t want to push too far too soon. In all honesty, I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to do it. He can’t see all that well, but he told me he can make out some colors and shapes, and–”
Seren was cut off as Brennon swooped in to gather her to himself. She let out a tiny squeak but didn’t get farther than that. Brenn’s lips were pressed to hers, his fingers raking through her hair. This kiss was relentless, and she had no choice but to give in. When Brenn finally broke contact, both of them were breathless.
“Thank you, Seren. Thank you,” he breathed roughly into her ear.
Seren reached up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Her own fingers played with his hair as she whispered back, “I think I might be able to heal him completely, over time. I can’t promise anything, but I will try.”
When Brenn gently pulled away from her, she could see the tears in his eyes, clearly now.
“The very fact that you tried means more than anything to me. And to Rori.”
Seren reached up and touched his cheek, the rough stubble of a few day’s worth of beard rasping against her skin. Brenn turned his head so he could kiss her palm, his eyelids drifting shut.
“I will always do everything in my power to make you and Rori well.”
Before either of them could exchange any more words, a chorus of cheerful barks followed by Rori’s energetic voice poured in through the back door.
Faeborne: A Novel of the Otherworld Page 37