The Consort

by K. A. Linde

  “Fen,” she whispered.

  He grinned like a lone wolf himself. “This is my home.”

  Cyrene’s cheeks heated. Foot, meet mouth. “Ahlvie, I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so—”

  “Condescending?” he offered. “Entitled? Arrogant?”

  She clamped her mouth shut and nodded.

  “I’ll forgive it since I’m all of those things as well. And that backward ceremony you were talking about is our most sacred ceremony. I went out when I was fourteen, and I turned out just fine.”

  Avoca snorted next to him.

  “I feel horrible. I should have learned by now that, just because I don’t understand, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

  “Well, you were raised from the dead. I would think it’d make you cranky.”

  “Raised from the dead?” she gasped.

  “We have a lot to discuss,” Avoca said. “We should go back to Avniella’s.”

  “Avniella?”

  Ahlvie grinned and slung an arm over her shoulders. “Ready to meet my mom?”

  “Your…your mom?” she sputtered.

  “Yep. You get to meet the person who I learned all my annoying habits from.”

  Avoca raised her eyebrows. “Avniella is not a drunk, nor a cheat.”

  “But she sure has a way with words,” Ahlvie said. “Plus…you haven’t seen her drink. She can drink grown men under the table.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but…how exactly did we get here?” Cyrene asked.

  “By horse,” Avoca said, as if that ended the discussion. Then, she bustled Cyrene along back to the cabin she had woken up in.

  When they entered, she found it full of people. In fact, there were so many people in the small room, it felt claustrophobic. Cyrene shrank back as all eyes stared at her.

  “I found her,” Avoca said as way of an introduction.

  “Actually, I found her,” Ahlvie interrupted.

  Her eyes flickered to the three people in the room that she didn’t know. An older woman, who Cyrene realized was the person who had fallen asleep by the fireplace when she escaped; a woman in her middling years; and a man of indeterminate age, who was as thick as a tree trunk.

  The younger woman stepped forward, silencing Ahlvie. “We’re so glad to see you on your feet, Cyrene. I’m sure you are very confused. I am Avniella, mother to your traveling companions, Ahlvie and Aubron. This is my brother, Ryon, and my mother, Lace.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, manners kicking in.

  “Pleasure is all ours,” Avniella said. Her honey hair fell in a thick braid over her shoulder, and when she smiled, laugh lines creased her eyes and mouth. She seemed the type to laugh a lot. “We’re so pleased to see you well.”

  “Yes. Well, thank you for your hospitality and everything you did when I was ill,” Cyrene said.

  Her eyes darted around the room, finding first Matilde, then Vera, then Orden, then Reeve and Aubron, and finally Dean. He stared back with a hollow expression and sad eyes.

  Cyrene cut back to Avniella. “How long was that exactly?”

  Everyone shuffled their feet, as if they didn’t want to talk about what had happened.

  “Two months,” Orden finally barked out.

  Cyrene swayed on her feet, and Avoca put a steadying hand on her.

  “That long?”

  Vera stepped forward with a grim look on her face. “Everyone here knows the grave danger that you were in, so I will not spare you what happened. You took blood magic, Cyrene.”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  “There are only three ways in which you can access magic—birth, earned, and stolen. Blood magic is a…curse. It’s stolen magic. It uses you up instead of you using it, and when you run out, it eats away at not just your body…but also your soul.”

  Cyrene placed her hand on her heart. “Did…did…”

  She couldn’t bring her mouth to shape the words. Did I lose part of my soul? My whole soul?

  “No one has ever recovered from the corruption without taking more blood magic, and that has its own price.”

  “But then…how am I living?”

  “We infused you with magic. Matilde, Avoca, and I. It was so draining that even some of the local healers and their ancient ones assisted where they could,” Vera said, nodding at Lace in thanks. “We weren’t sure it would work. We only hoped for the best.”

  “Thank you,” Cyrene said around a suddenly tight throat. “You…you did all of this for me, not knowing whether or not I would even live?”

  “We’re not entirely sure how you are alive,” Matilde said. “Or the state of your mind now that you are fully awake.”

  “I don’t feel like myself,” she told them.

  The room tensed at those words.

  “But I don’t feel like the thing I was before either. It’s as if I’m something entirely new.”

  “I believe you are, dear child,” Lace said. “I can feel it in my bones. Nothing in this world has ever seen the likes of you.”

  Cyrene wasn’t sure how she felt about being something new. At the same time, she finally felt like herself again. As if the foolish girl who had been so anxious to prove herself were a dream. As if that person she had been back in Byern, surrounded by the Dremylons and court and expectations, was a nightmare. This…this was her reality.

  “What happens now?” Reeve finally asked from the corner.

  He had his arm slung around Aubron’s waist, and they looked content.

  “You are all more than welcome to stay in Fen for as long as you need,” Avniella said.

  “I fear we must be on our way,” Matilde said.

  “No,” Cyrene spoke up.

  All eyes snapped back to her.

  “No?” Avoca asked in confusion.

  “These people housed me for two months at my darkest hour. I owe them a life debt,” Cyrene said.

  Avoca’s eyes rounded. She understood the importance of that statement. She had surrendered her own life to Cyrene once and bound them together for it.

  “It’s not necessary,” Avniella said, waving her off.

  Cyrene stepped forward. “There is a threat to this village, hunting and killing your people.”

  Ryon nodded. “The wraiths.”

  “Don’t listen to his silly ghost stories,” Lace said, swatting at her son. “Focus on your mission. We can handle ourselves here.”

  “I would like to end this threat to your village.”

  “Cyrene, you can hardly stand up,” Ahlvie noted. “How are you going to stop these wraiths?”

  She smiled and touched his hand. “The way we always have. Together.”

  Cyrene spent the next four days regaining her strength, generally avoiding more important conversations, and learning everything she needed to know about these wraiths. Truth be told, there wasn’t much to glean from the villagers’ accounts. No one had ever actually faced one. The village was secluded in the curve of the Taken Mountains and the start of the forest. If attacks were coming, it was purposeful.

  No one tried to deter her from her decision after her announcement of her life debt, but she knew more than one person was anxious for her. If all Matilde and Vera had said was true, then she should not be alive.

  More worrisome, she might have lost part of her soul. A fact that frightened her so much, she had to block it out of her mind.

  One task at a time.

  Find the wraith.

  Kill the wraith.

  Save Ahlvie’s people.

  At midday, she caught a break. Not the kind she wanted, but the one she expected. A wraith attacked, but its victim managed to escape.

  Cyrene hurried over to find out what had happened. She was unsurprised to see the girl from the lone wolf ceremony standing with her arms over her chest, looking defiant.

  “You were sneaking out to try to join the boys again?” her mother shrieked at her. “Can’t you accept that you are a girl? Not a boy?”

  �
��I accept that I can do everything they do and more. I accept that I have Nana Mana’s gifts. I accept that I am old enough to make my own choices.”

  “You are fourteen years old, Caldreva Anamarya!” her mother cried. “While you live under my roof, you’ll follow my rules. Now, get inside, and change out of those clothes!”

  “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt,” Cyrene said.

  The woman went pale. “Bloodbreaker,” she whispered.

  Cyrene startled at that name. “May I speak with Caldreva, please?”

  “You can call me Cal,” the girl said, shooting past her mom and toward Cyrene. “All my friends do.”

  “Creator above!” Her mother cursed before stomping inside.

  “Cal, nice to meet you. I’m Cyrene.”

  “I know who you are. My nana helped you during your blood curse.”

  “That was very kind of her.”

  “Do you want to know about the wraith that attacked me?” Cal asked.

  Her bright green eyes were wide with excitement. Her hair was the color of wheat and fell past her shoulders. And, though Cyrene could see she was slight, she had definition in her arms and legs that came from intense labor. She didn’t doubt every word that Cal had said to her mother. In another village, another world, she would have been a skilled warrior by fourteen.

  “Yes,” Cyrene said. “You can show me, can’t you?”

  “Absolutely! Let me get my bow!”

  Cyrene laughed. Her enthusiasm was infectious.

  Cyrene had tugged on her bond with Avoca, and by the time Cal was back outside, Avoca appeared with Ahlvie and, to Cyrene’s dismay, Dean in tow. He nodded at her as he stood by her side, and she cut her eyes away from him.

  “Ahlvie!” Cal cried, breaking the tension.

  “Hey, squirt,” he said, nudging her. “Still getting in trouble?”

  “Trouble? You were the one who taught me how to fight, how to ride, how to shoot! You’re the troublemaker.”

  “Well, I enjoyed watching you outshine Aubron.”

  “He’s still awful with a bow,” Cal said, scrunching her nose.

  “It’s already nearly midday,” Cyrene interrupted. “I’d like to track the wraith that attacked Cal and see if we can find its lair. If we don’t find anything, we’ll circle back before last light and regroup with the others.”

  “Excellent,” Cal said with a wide smile.

  “Cal, after you.”

  She trotted forward with enthusiasm.

  “You’ve released a monster,” Ahlvie muttered in her ear.

  “With pleasure.”

  Cyrene wasn’t a natural tracker. She had learned much of her skills from getting lost in the Hidden Forest in Aurum while on their way to Eleysia. Now, after seeing Ahlvie’s home, she understood why he was always good at it. Avoca was self-explanatory. This was her life. But Dean…she didn’t know why he’d ever had the need to track, but even he seemed to have more skill at it than her.

  But it didn’t matter to her. She followed in Cal’s graceful footsteps and kept her eyes open for whatever this wraith was. She knew that it was a distraction from her real problems, but she needed to do something to prove useful once more. And this problem seemed like such a small thing she could do for them. Something she could actually fix.

  “It’s probably about two miles ahead,” Cal said. “I ran like the wind when it tried to grab me. I know they say, if it touches you, you’re done.”

  “What did this wraith look like?” Cyrene asked. “All of the accounts I’ve gotten have been…well, ghost stories.”

  “That’s because you don’t see them until they touch you.”

  “But you said—”

  “I didn’t see the thing. I felt it.”

  Cyrene frowned. “Okay. What did it feel like?”

  Cal stopped for a second and then nodded her head to the right. “Cold and wrong. I don’t know. Like, you know, when you’re completely alone, and then you feel eyes on you even though it’s impossible?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s like that but worse. You’ll know it when you feel it. Just don’t let it touch you.”

  “Got it. No touching. Think you can handle that, Ahlvie?” Cyrene asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Did you just make a joke, Bloodbreaker?” he teased.

  Cyrene stuck her tongue out at him. Something about this place and these woods and Cal made her feel younger than she had in so long.

  “So, Ahlvie, who are your friends?” Cal asked, eyeing Avoca and Dean. “Is this your girlfriend?”

  Avoca raised her eyebrow at Ahlvie. “Be careful how you answer that.”

  Ahlvie actually choked. “She’s my…she’s…well, she’s more than that.”

  “Are you married?” Cal gasped.

  Ahlvie’s eyes rounded. “No. Nope. Not that I’m…opposed. I mean…well, we have a lot going on.”

  “I’m bound to Cyrene,” Avoca clarified.

  “Oh,” Cal said, as if she understood what that meant. Then, she nodded at Dean. “And who are you?”

  “Dean.”

  “How do you fit in? Are you bound to Cyrene, too?”

  Dean glanced over at Cyrene, and a small frown touched his lips. “Something like that.”

  “Well, cool,” Cal said, “I like you lot.”

  Cyrene laughed softly. She wanted to keep Cal talking. She found that she felt lighter with the casual conversation rather than all the heavy silences. “What happened with the lone wolves? I saw you stand up with the boys.”

  Cal ground her teeth. “Nana wouldn’t let me go.”

  “Hmm…that doesn’t seem right. What is it exactly? Ahlvie said it was a ceremony.”

  “It is,” she announced.

  “It’s our rite of passage,” Ahlvie explained.

  “I can tell it,” Cal muttered.

  “Then, tell it, squirt.”

  “Look, we’re not actually descended from wolves,” Cal said with an eye roll. “It’s just a story explaining that our people were abandoned, and they found this land. And they made it here through the dead of winter with nothing but a book and their last arrow. So, every fall, a week before the harvest, all of the boys go out into the mountains as—like Ahlvie said—a rite of passage. If they can survive, then they become men.” She rolled her eyes again.

  “And you wanted to do it to prove what?” Cyrene asked.

  “That I can do anything! I can go into those mountains, blindfolded, without a stupid book or arrow and come out stronger and better than any of those lone wolves.”

  “Take it from me,” Dean said, “no matter what you do and how much you try to be better to prove your worth to your family, it will never be enough. Accept who you are in your heart, and you’ll learn that is what matters.”

  “Yes,” Avoca said with a rare smile for Dean, “that is true. You can only truly prove your worth to yourself.”

  “Yeah, well, in the meantime, it sucks,” Cal muttered. Then, she froze. “I…I think we’re here.”

  “Fan out,” Avoca said, taking the lead. She had been a sort of general in the Leif army before she gave her life over to Cyrene. She knew what she was doing.

  Cyrene, however, did not. So, she just tried to stay out of the way. That essentially meant wandering around the woods and trying not to step on anything. Plans were her thing. Action was her thing. Wandering around in the woods, not so much.

  “I was right here,” Cal said with a sigh. “I think…maybe there’s no trail.”

  Cyrene stepped over to her and glanced at the ground. It didn’t seem any different than anywhere else. Then, she took two steps behind Cal and froze. “Do you feel that?”

  Cal’s green eyes widened, and she moved into the exact location Cyrene had been a second ago. “Yeah,” she said with a shiver. “That’s it.”

  Dean moved next to them and shook his head. “I don’t feel anything.”

  Ahlvie tried, too. “Nope. Avoca?”

  “It’
s faint but there. Do you have magic?” Avoca asked Cal.

  “Oh my God, I knew it!” Cal cried, pounding her fist into her hand. “I knew I had Nana’s gifts, but she said I wouldn’t know until I was seventeen.”

  “Looks like you have some innate ability,” Avoca confirmed. “Because, whatever we’re dealing with, it reeks of magic.”

  “That’s encouraging,” Ahlvie grumbled.

  “So, what do we do?” Dean asked. “Head back and try to figure out what kind of wraith has magic?”

  Avoca shook her head. “No, the trail will be lost by then. We should follow it and see where it leads us. Form up, and stay sharp. We have the advantage here. We do not want to lose it.”

  Avoca took the lead with Cal on her heels. Cyrene and Dean followed behind her with Ahlvie taking up the rear. Whatever magic was emanating from this wraith, it was definitely cold and wrong. Cyrene could sense its otherworldliness. And, for a second, she felt as if she had known this feeling before, but she didn’t know where or when.

  So, they soldiered on. And on.

  When they came to a small stream, Avoca feared that it was the end of the trail, but once she was across, it took her only about fifteen minutes to find where it had gotten out of the water.

  Avoca waved them on. Cyrene was glad that she had taken a drink from the stream while they had had a small break because this was turning into an endeavor she had not anticipated. She’d thought they’d find the clearing and then reconvene later to discuss what to do. But she knew that this was the right move.

  Cyrene’s eyes veered to the horizon where she saw the sun sinking lower and lower. They had already been gone for hours. If they didn’t turn back soon, then they would have to camp out here with next to no supplies and these wraiths in the woods.

  Abruptly, Avoca came to a halt. “No,” she breathed.

  “What’s going on?” Cal asked.

  She skirted around her, but Avoca reached out and grabbed her shirt.

  “Hey, let me go,” Cal said.

  “Do not take another step forward,” Avoca warned.

  Cyrene moved to stand beside Avoca. “What is it?”

  “We’re at the edge of the forest,” Ahlvie told them. “You know where we are, Avoca.”

  Avoca’s eyes twinkled in the light. “Truly?”

  He nodded. “I wasn’t sure we were going in that direction, but it makes sense that the wraiths would use it as their home base.”