by Cait Ashwood
Agitation and urgency had been building through the mark. Hound had never gotten any feedback through it when she was connected with a Grove before, and the fact that whatever was happening in there was strong enough to reach him through her shielding scared the shit out of him. Hound stared at her limp body in his arms, measuring every breath, watching the flare of her nostrils like his life depended on the action.
Jasper and his team phased in around them and they were surrounded by shouting and chaos. Steel rang out as his men came under attack, but he couldn’t move. The panic in the mark grew so strong that he even lost his hearing, unaware of anything happening around him. And then, there was utter silence. But it was more than normal silence. This was emptier than he could ever remember anything feeling.
Come on. It had been more than the usual time since the last flare of her nostrils. His panic ratcheted with every frantic beat of his heart that passed without her taking another breath. It took him too long to notice the blood blooming through his shirt. He wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but it came from the mark. The buzz. Ever since she’d marked him, he’d always known where she was. There was always a buzz of sorts, a pull, a draw, moving him toward her. That’s why everything was so quiet. It was gone.
He was too blank for horror, too absorbed for dread. With slow movements, he peeled his shirt away from his chest. The pearlescent marks that had marred his skin since Audrey had marked him all those years ago were red with blood, drying at a rapid pace until the design faded to a rusty brown.
No. He stared at it, uncomprehending. His eyes flicked back to her face, which was quickly losing its color. No breath rushed through her nose. He stared at her chest which was still, no longer rising and falling with the rhythms of life. No. He still wasn’t convinced. He pressed two bloody fingers to the vein in the side of her neck, but it was still beneath him.
A wail of grief tore through the chamber, but for all he knew, it had come from him. She was right here in his arms, but she was gone.
“Hound, move. Let me see her.” He couldn’t move. She was pulled from his arms, but he couldn’t move.
It was as if there were two separate parts of him. One, the wolf of his mark, howling his grief for the world to hear. The other, entirely detached, watching events unfold as if from above him. Deuce was desperately attempting to revive her, but Hound knew the truth. She was gone, and no amount of breathing for her or pushing on her chest was going to bring her back.
“Dad? Dad!” How Brana had gotten here, he didn’t know, but not even his daughter’s cries could bring him back.
She pulled at his shoulders, trying to get him to respond. He wanted to pull her into his chest, to keep her from seeing, but though his brain sent the messages, his body refused to comply.
Jasper, covered in blood, came into view. He pulled Brana off him, leading her away from where Deuce and another medic worked desperately on Audrey. Another man in Seeker black escorted someone back from the top of the rise. She leaned heavily on him, stumbling so frequently that he eventually scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way. Lily’s eyes were glued to Audrey, her face strewn with tears.
She knows. There was no surprise, or shock, or denial on the girl’s face. She simply knew. Trio was the one carrying her, but she started struggling as he tried to take her past Audrey. She managed to break free and pushed Deuce off her, picking her mother’s body up and cradling it to her.
His body finally responded. He found himself standing in front of them, though Lily’s attention was entirely absorbed.
“Why did you do that? Why?” She choked on her sobs. “I’m the one that ran away, it was my fault.”
“Lily!” Ace’s panicked voice was the only warning Hound got as Ace shoved him out of the way, his former first in command desperate to get to his daughter. He skidded to a stop as he tried to take in the scene before him.
Blue eyes swam in front of Hound’s face. “I need you to stay with me, Hound. Can you speak?”
The world caught back up with him. He turned away, vomiting on the ground. He was back, but oh, what he would give to get that sense of detachment back. Now he could feel again, and he felt everything. Half of himself had been torn away, had ceased to exist. He puked until there was nothing left and he was heaving on the ground, the physical pain nothing to the emptiness threatening to consume him from the inside out.
“Dad?” Brana’s voice, high with panic. “Deuce, what’s wrong with him? And where’s my mother?”
“Brana, you’re not helping. Come on--” That was Jasper.
So much noise, so much chaos. Blood, everywhere he looked. More lizards closing in on their location. Lily screaming as someone tried to take Audrey from her. A hand landing on his shoulder.
Gone.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lily stood in the doorway, feeling like an intruder in a place that had once been a home to her. No one stood in the still silence of the room, but it terrified her nonetheless. A slab of marble rested in the center of the room, surrounded by flowers. Under a gauzy shroud lay her mother, and yet she could not make herself approach.
They stink. It was an odd thing to think, but she’d never liked the smell of lilies. They’d surrounded Audrey with every version of the plant they could find, a way to honor their fallen First.
Lily forced one foot in front of the other, eyes on the ground. It was easier that way. Only two days had passed since the nightmare began, and it showed no signs of ending any time soon. And it’s all my fault.
A small place on either side of the slab was free of flowers to allow visitors to pay their respects. Many had come from all corners of civilization, all speaking about her valor, her bravery, her sacrifice. How her actions had saved the world, and maybe they even had. But she didn’t die for them. She died for me. Two days, and it was only now that she could force herself to come here, and that only because after tomorrow, she’d wouldn’t have the chance again.
Lily cursed the trembling of her hand as she reached out to pull the shroud away from her mother’s face. It had always been difficult for her to separate her mother from her role as First. She certainly hadn’t been the warmest creature on the face of the planet. I feel like I never knew her. Of all the people to give her life for, why me? The tears wouldn’t come, they couldn’t. They were buried under far too much guilt to have any chance of rising to the surface. She’d hated the woman, so much so that she ran away from home. So many people had been looking for her. She’d had no idea, but each of them had come to see her after paying their respects to Audrey, to celebrate that the lost child had finally returned home.
It wasn’t home anymore, not really. The Tower was too uncomfortable to ever have that name anymore. Everyone treated her with respect, expressed their condolences. They spoke to her as someone worthy of their time and affections. Did they not see her for the monster she was? Did they not see that she had caused all of this, acting out some childish tantrum she was far too old for? Did they not see her for the murderer she was?
Footsteps approaching from the other side of the room tore her away from her thoughts and she stepped back, sure she was about to be admonished for removing the shroud.
“It’s just me.”
She relaxed, but only marginally. Rowan had been the only person to truly offer her comfort, and it was more through silence and solidarity. He knew the words the others chattered grated on her. His presence alone was enough to deter some people from bothering her, and he seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing when she was close to breaking. Though fraternal twins, everyone remarked on how alike they were. They had similar heights and builds, but it was their mannerisms that most closely identified them. For the first time in her life, she felt like a missing piece had been returned to her, like she might finally have an idea of who she could have been.
“I didn’t know her.” He stared down at her face, a sort of longing painted there that she felt herself.
“I’m not s
ure anyone but Hound ever did.” There was no bitterness to the words. She was stating facts, nothing more.
Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
Lily swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Because... she was who people needed her to be.”
Her brother nodded after a moment. “And everyone needs something different.”
They stood in silence, staring at the woman who had risked so much to bring them into the world.
“She regretted it, you know.”
Her breath caught in her chest. “Regretted what?”
Rowan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “She said she was a horrible mother to you and Brana. That she’d let losing me ruin her for being a mother to either of you. She blamed herself.”
She bit her lower lip, not sure what to say.
“You had more time with her than I did. I just thought you’d want to know.” Rowan gave her a look, one of those looks that spoke with so many unsaid words. They understood each other on an instinctive level, and she knew what he was trying to say. He turned sharply on his heel and left her alone with her mother.
There was enough room between Audrey and the edge of the slab that she could sort of sit, so she did. All of the worry lines that had been so prominent in life were relaxed in peaceful release. She looked almost happy, like she’d died doing something worthwhile. Brana was the child worthy of you. Not me. Rowan’s words echoed in her mind. She was alone now, and had a chance for one last conversation with her mother. It felt too awkward sitting there staring at her, so she placed a hand on Audrey’s, which were clasped peacefully about her waist.
“You weren’t horrible. Strict, maybe, but fair, even if I didn’t want to admit it.” She blinked quickly, staring up at the stained-glass windows. “I don’t know why it took you dying for me to see that.” She’d been so angry, so caught up in her own affairs, that she’d never stopped to think what life was like for her mother. Lily had been self-centered and selfish, and now she and the rest of the world were paying the price.
“A horrible mother would have let me die. Or maybe that’s what you would have done if you were being fair. Your whole life, you gave to others.” She shook her head. “You just had to do it in death, too.” She stood, no other words to say, but something still felt unfinished. For the first time in her life, Lily bowed to her mother without any of the snark or attitude, or any feelings of rushed formality. This was a true bow, a humbling of the self before another.
She kissed her mother’s hands, her final goodbye. One slid off the other and Lily gasped as the clammy hand slipped down the silk gown. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone else had seen. Quickly, she grabbed for her mother’s hand, but something was wrong. It wouldn’t fit properly over her other hand, as it had been resting mere moments before. Panicking, Lily tried to switch the order, putting her left hand on top instead, but when she moved the hand, three acorns spilled out from under it, slipping down the robe and landing on the marble with three tinks that sounded as loud as boulders.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Brana stormed in from the other side, eyes red with tears.
“I-I was saying goodbye, and--”
“Goodbye? Is that what you’re calling it?” Her little sister had always been meek and quiet, and Lily had no idea how to handle the venomous hiss coming from her now.
Brana’s upper lip curled, her eyes narrowed in fury. “You ran away from home because you didn’t want to serve. We had dozens of men out there scouring the streets for you. Many of the mixed bloods even went into Zaddicus’ lair searching for you, but did you care? No. You were so wrapped up in yourself, in what Lily wanted, in what Lily didn’t want to have to do. Mom died because you left home before she could warn you about the Groves.”
Lily’s mouth fell open. Brana knew?
“Oh yes, she told me about it after a while when you hadn’t turned up. She stared out her window for weeks, hardly moving, refusing to eat, because she was convinced her silence had sentenced you to death. She thought she’d failed you.”
Lily retreated, horrified. It was bad enough having to deal with her own guilt, but now Brana knew? She’d tell everyone exactly why Audrey had died, and whose fault it was.
“She didn’t fail you.” Brana’s tone was quieter now as she rounded the table, advancing on her. “You failed us. You refused to serve, and it cost us our leader. It cost me my mother!”
“She was my mother too.” The rebuttal was weak, and her back hit one of the stone pillars in the room. She was trapped.
“And you killed her for it.”
“No, I--”
“My father is nowhere to be found. Jasper can’t find him, none of the Trackers can. You killed my mother, chased off my father, and for what? So you could sleep with the son of the enemy instead of people who care about you?”
“How did you--”
“He joined the fighting. More people that lost their lives defending you.” Brana turned, starting to pace. “Except, the thing was, when he saw you, he changed sides, started killing his own men. Why do you think he did that?”
“I don’t know.” She honestly had no idea. Why would the man so willing to turn her over to his father start killing his own men to protect her?
“When the fighting was over, Jasper and the others surrounded him. He threw down his weapons and took off his armor. All he said was, ‘Take her home. Keep her safe.’ Then he rode off on that beast of his.” Brana sneered. “You seem to have a way of encouraging others to throw their lives away for you, but not anymore. Not once they know what you’ve done.”
“They killed him? I thought he surrendered.”
“You think he’d have any kind of life with his father after turning on his men? He’s a fugitive now, likely running for his life. All for Lily,” Brana sneered, the sarcasm thick.
“Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it! Please!” She turned into the pillar, hiding her face in her hands as the sobs tore through her.
“You are no sister of mine, and you’re no daughter of hers. Leave.”
Brana didn’t have to tell her twice. She barely felt her feet on the ground as she fled the wake chamber, robes trailing behind her, chasing her, much like her guilt.
Lily fled the room like the coward she was, and it took Brana several moments to compose herself again. She didn’t even know where all of that had come from, but nothing she’d said was untrue. I suffered under her hands for years, and now she’s taken my family from me. Add to that defiling her mother’s body after her death, and something in her had snapped, releasing the floodgates.
She would not approach her mother angry. She owed her memory better than that. Brana sat on the bench furthest from her mother and folded her hands in her lap, counting the beats of her breathing and lengthening them until they were in a normal rhythm and her heart stopped its furious pounding in her chest. Only then did she stand and approach her mother, whose hands Lily flung out to the sides without a modicum of care.
Brana carefully arranged her mother’s hands as best as she could recall them before Lily had needlessly disturbed her. The drape was light and airy, but as she began drawing it up her mother’s frame to restore her dignity, something fell. What? An acorn rolled across the floor and stopped only when it bounced off the soft leather of her boot. Brana bent down and picked it up, brows furrowed. When she looked back up at the drape, there were two more on the surface of the slab. What was Lily doing with these?
Knowing her incompetent sister, the acorns likely wouldn’t even grow. Still, if they were viable, she would put them in their seed library. There was no sense in wasting them. Brana slid easily into her trance, and nearly dropped the acorns. Most seeds showed up as dark, with a spark of light at their cores. They wouldn’t really have much energy to offer until planted and tended. These three, innocent acorns glowed such a bright green it was nearly white. There was no central spark, but they brimmed over with energy.
&
nbsp; The tree in the Grove was a birch, not an oak. Their presence with her mother made no sense, but they had a greater story to tell, she was sure of it. I need to plant them. They couldn’t just be planted anywhere, though. However they came to be with Audrey, Brana could never risk anything happening to them. They needed a special place, a place Audrey was connected to.
“Brana?” Jasper’s voice was soft, hesitant.
She looked up at him, stomach plummeting at the thought of more bad news. He approached slowly, maintaining eye contact with her. He was still banged up from the fight, the cuts scabbed over and ugly, but he’d come through relatively whole. Still made looking at him painful, though.
“A man in a tavern in Fish Head said he thought he saw your father early this morning.”
Brana sniffed. “Was it him?”
Jasper shook his head. “I went out there myself, but if it’s him, he’s hiding his tracks.”
Brana nodded; she half expected that much.
“There... aren’t many accounts of marked men surviving their Leaves,” he said, using the name of the old Order.
“What does that mean?” Did the death of the Lily require the death of the man?
“Well, normally they died first. The few that did survive them, well.” Jasper shuffled his feet. “I’m only saying this because I want you to realize it’s a possibility--”
“They committed suicide.” She’d suspected it when her father didn’t return home that night, or the next morning, or the night after that. Part of her had already been preparing to hear of his death. The connection her parents had shared in life was more intimate than anything most people could hope to experience in a lifetime. If she was hurting, if the Order was hurting, it was nothing compared to what her father was trying to survive.
Jasper simply nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Brana’s eyes drifted down to the acorns in her palm. “I need a favor.”
He glanced up, his eyes earnest. “Anything.”