"You saved him,” Brianna said from the shadows behind her.
Caelan faced her friend. “Yes. Did you think I wouldn't?"
"One can only hope.” The words were bitter, grating against the beautiful day. Bree's face, molted into a million colors of pain, held the twist of desperation and maybe a touch of madness.
And then Caelan knew. “You poisoned him,” she whispered.
"Yes.” No regrets. No sadness. Her loving, gentle friend was gone.
"With what?"
"Mulgwort."
It fell into place then. The first time Brianna had told her about Radley, her face had been filled with joy and a happiness so deep, it shown from her face like a beacon. “I never thought I'd love anyone like I love him,” Bree had said, hugging herself as if she would split apart with all the love inside her.
Caelan had tried to hide the worry and dread that filled her. “Bree, just be careful,” she'd cautioned. “You're playing with fire here. If Useph finds out—"
Fear had flashed over Brianna's face, and her eyes darted around the room, landing on a lockbox Caelan kept in the corner of her workroom. “What do you keep in this thing anyway, Caelly?"
Caelan had sighed but had given in to the change of subject. “Mulgwort.” The Council had given it to her for a case of wasting sickness. “It's deadly, so I keep it locked away."
"Why would you have this if it's so dangerous?"
"The people who are given Mulgwort are dying anyway, Bree. In tiny doses, the poison might kill off any growths a person with wasting sickness has inside their body. But even a thimble full of it would kill them."
Caelan blinked, returning back to the battlements and the present. “Do you know what you almost did, Bree? You almost killed our King."
"He raped me.” The words were stark, no more tears left for her friend to cry. “I wanted him dead. Then I planned to kill myself."
"You don't have to stay here,” Caelan whispered, trying desperately to save her. If Brianna knew there were options, she might be saved. “Come with me to Trayborne. Or go to the New Worlds and find Radley. But don't stay here."
Brianna laughed, a sharp bark of pain. “You think Radley would want me now?"
Caelan remembered his face, the love he'd felt shinning from his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do. But even more importantly, do you want to spend your whole life trapped with Useph, wondering, aching for Radley?” She crossed to her friend, gripping her arm even though Brianna flinched when she touched her. “Even if you never see him again, you have proven yourself strong enough to be free from here."
"I betrayed you,” Brianna whispered, the hard shield falling from her eyes, letting the pain shine plainly there.
"I forgive you,” Caelan said, embracing her friend in a tight hug. “Run. Run, Bree. Don't stay here to die. Now is the time for us to grab our destinies with both our hands and spread our wings to become something. It's now or never. Take a chance. Failing is better than staying here to become Useph's victim."
She felt Brianna nod and tightened her grip when tremors of fear wracked her friend. “I know you're scared. I'm scared, too. But we can make a life for ourselves away from here. I swear to you."
Brianna nodded, then began to cry.
* * * *
Garron's head snapped back under the driving force of Sneed's fist.
"How did a nothing like you even meet her?” Sneed paced the length of the cell, his rage suffocating in the small space.
Garron suspected the King's advisor had lost his mind. “Who?” he asked, then regretted it when he started the blood flowing from his bottom lip again.
He'd been decently treated after he'd been caught escaping this morning. It had only been moments ago that Sneed had him tied to the chair. Now it appeared he would not be sacrificed to the God of War without being tortured first.
"Speaker Caelan,” Sneed spat. “That nothing of a girl. She'll ruin all my plans."
Caelan's name ran like a dagger through Garron's body. Instinct had him fisting his hands and struggling against his bonds. He forced himself to calm immediately. If Caelan was in trouble, revealing his feelings for her would only give Sneed more power over them both.
Sneed laughed, a short spurt of disgust. “She bargained for you with the King.” He crossed the room in three strides to stare at Garron as if he was a bug caught in a net. “She's scared of her own shadow, but she negotiated for your freedom.” Sneed's feral eyes narrowed. “Why?"
Garron fought to keep his face blank as his heart sang. She'd tried to bargain for his freedom. He'd never had anyone protect him before. Always he'd been the one sacrificing for others. But Caelan had tried to save him. Finding his voice and damping the joy from it, he said, “I have no idea."
"There her best friend was, a slave to the King, and she didn't save her. She chose you.” Sneed gripped Garron's hair, yanking it back. “I want to know why. What does she know?"
"Nothing.” Garron narrowed his eyes, trying to sound scoffing when his neck was exposed to a mad man. “You threw her into The Abyss, Sneed. I found her and saved her from being torn to shreds. Of course she would feel in my debt."
"How noble of you, Garron.” Sneed's voice was filled with a heady brew of rage and volatility.
Garron had to do something to distract him from Caelan, to turn the focus back onto himself. “Not noble, Sneed. She paid for my protection with her body.” It had been so much more than that. She'd filled his very soul, and he knew without her in his life, a piece of him would be missing forever. But if he had to cheapen what they had to protect her, then cheapen it he would.
As he'd anticipated, Sneed stepped back, tapping his lips with one finger, as if he couldn't decide if he believed Garron or not. “Why would she save you if you used her? That makes no sense."
"She would have died."
Sneed flapped a hand. “Yes, yes, but women hold grudges forever when you force them."
"I'm telling you what happened. She was nothing to me. Just a woman I bedded. I wasn't even planning to bring her with me when I escaped."
"Yes, yes, the escape.” Sneed tsked. “Really, Garron, do you think you can escape me?"
"I was hoping to, yes.” Garron didn't release the breath he'd been holding as Sneed turned his attention from Caelan.
Sneed laughed. “For a border rat, you have been a worthy adversary. Which saddens me that you must die. You're the only one left who knows what I did in Trayborne, and I know you'd kill me for it if you could. I won't spend my life looking over my shoulder.” He pulled a black scarf from his pocket.
Garron fought his natural instinct to fight his way free. Battle Shout was a useless power when he was tied. Even if he forced Sneed to flee, he still would be chained here. “It isn't as if I can prove it was you in Trayborne."
"It wasn't me. It was that idiot Farley I put in charge of collecting the extra taxes. He killed your parents without consulting me, claiming I'd said to make sure no one knew what he'd done.” Sneed shook his head. “I always wondered how you found out my connection. I'd thought I'd insulated myself well enough."
"Farley told me without my having to lay a hand on him. I agreed that the man who ordered my parents’ death would be a better person to kill than him.” The fact was, as many people as Garron had killed on the battlefield, killing Farley in cold blood hadn't been something he could stomach. Killing Sneed was a totally different matter. He'd been ready to do it. Now he just wanted his freedom. And Caelan.
"Farley is a bigger idiot than I'd thought. I'll have to take care of him after I take care of you."
"I believe he's left the country."
"I'll find him. I can always find my prey.” Sneed tied the scarf across Garron's mouth, causing the coarse fabric to bite into his cheeks. “Luckily for me, the sacrifices to the God of War are led in with hoods on their faces. Yours will just have an extra piece to it.” He gave the scarf an extra yank. “No one will ever know it's you up there."
<
br /> As the black hood lowered over his head, Garron's last sight was of the man who'd killed his parents.
Chapter Eleven
Within the hour, Caelan had traversed the long palisade between the castle and the Temple of the Goddess. It had been years since she'd made this trip, but she was finally ready.
As she entered the Council's inner sanctum, her exhaustion dropped away under the weight of fear she always felt when she came here. It had been ten years since she'd last stepped foot in this room and received her assignment to become the castle Speaker.
The round citadel hadn't changed. It was as if time had stopped here while the rest of the world moved on. From the ceiling, light spilled down onto the cold, blue marble floor. Statutes ringed the room, the Goddess displayed in her seven forms. The loving mother, the healer, the seer, the warrior, the benevolent Goddess, the bringer of justice, the savior—she was all these things.
Caelan walked to the center of the room, up the three round stairs to the empty dais to stand in the perfect circle of light there.
Warmth from the sun spilled onto her up-tipped face, and magic purred through her body. Loving power from a Goddess who had never left her. Without thinking, Caelan raised her hands palms upward to feel the light. “Thank You for waiting for me to understand,” she whispered.
"So,” an old woman said behind her. “Your power has returned, Caelan."
Caelan turned in slow motion, reluctant to give up the loving communion. “Council Mother, I come to ask for a new assignment."
"Yes,” the Mother of Healing said, her old eyes large in her face, one a normal blue, the other an odd, opaque gray. In Council style, her hair had been shaved, the hood of her robe sitting far back on her head, leaving only the stark, sharp features of an old woman who had spent her life in worship.
"I want to leave the castle.” Caelan's voice trembled, all her old fears hovering in the corners of her mind. She pushed them aside. “I will be leaving the castle."
"Interesting.” The Council Mother studied her for a long moment.
Caelan held perfectly still.
"And where will you go?"
Pulling herself up as tall as she could, Caelan took a deep breath. She'd leave with or without the Council's support, but she would dearly love to have them approve her decision. “I've heard Trayborne, a small village on the border, is in desperate need of a healer."
"I have heard this also.” The Mother turned on her heel. “Come,” she said. “We have places we must be. We'll speak on the way."
Only they didn't speak. With a speed belying her age, the Council Mother strode through the temple, her cape flowing out like wings behind her.
Footsteps sounded, and when they rounded the corner to the foyer, they were joined by four other Council Mothers, their faces eerily alike as if they were clones of one another.
Fear climbed in Caelan's belly. There was something about the way they strode down the marble stairs that said the side of the Goddess they were about to display was more warrior than benevolent kindness.
The five Mothers formed around her in an odd circle. The pace was grueling as they strode down the long palisade that carried the name The Walk of Kings. It connected the Temple of the Goddess with the castle. She'd once been told that the Temple and the King had worked hand in hand to run the country, but that had been many generations ago. The Temple had little to do now with kingdom politics.
As they neared the castle, they entered the sea of Mabon revelers who had come to see the annual sacrifices to the God of War. The commoners, most with faces flushed from too much drink even this early in the day, parted before the Mothers, stumbling away in instinctive flight. The Goddess of All Things had, in legends, always hated the God of War. They were bitter enemies, and seeing five Council Mothers on the God of War's sacred day must have been a shock.
They continued without pause, and suddenly, Caelan knew where they were going. Fifty feet before them, Useph sat on a high platform surrounded by his most trusted advisors. The bright reds of their celebration robes splashed against the browns of the common men surrounding them. Directly across from Useph was another platform, filled with six hooded men tied to six large stakes.
Caelan's breath hitched in her throat. She'd never come to this celebration, was, in fact, forbidden from attending as a follower of the Goddess of All Things.
A hand steadied her when she stumbled, before she stumbled, actually, as if the Council Mother had known she would trip.
Commoners retreated, pushing back to form a circle in the center of the two platforms. A hush settled as people anticipated an added show for their amusement.
Caelan wanted to crawl into a hole and hide there. She might have reclaimed the Goddess's touch, but at that moment, she realized she wanted to live a quiet life, full of helping people and changing the world for the better through small victories. This kind of intrigue would never be for her.
Useph rose, his calculating eyes briefly landing on Caelan, before taking in the Council Mothers before him. “It is Mabon, Goddess worshipers. To what do we owe this most unusual visit?"
"Do you make a liar of yourself, King Useph?” the Council Mother at her right asked, her old voice creaking through the words as if she rarely spoke.
Useph's mouth spasmed on words he obviously stopped from voicing. He had to be careful, Caelan realized. Starting a war with the Temple would bring him nothing but more problems. The Council still had power. “I am no liar, Council Mother."
"I hope not,” the Mother said.
It was then that Caelan felt it, the shiver of magic at her back. Shouter magic. Garron's magic.
She pivoted in slow motion.
"I don't have time for this nonsense.” Useph threw himself into his throne chair with a huff. “Proceed with the ceremony!"
Caelan recognized Garron immediately, the huge body standing ramrod straight, the large expanse of his chest that she'd memorized under her fingers.
Six men lined up before the sacrifices, arrows already notched in their bows.
"No,” she whispered. Then louder, “Useph, you promised to pardon him!"
Sneed stepped forward, stumbling in his haste. “Under the law of this land and the God of War, we sacrifice these men, to bring us glory in battle for the coming year!"
It happened as if it was a dream, her body moving of its own accord, sprinting up the steps, racing toward Garron's bound body.
"Stop!” she cried, the force of Garron's power that was still inside her filling the air.
The arrows flew through the air so slowly, she wondered if magic held them at bay.
She reached him as the arrow arrived in slow motion, batting it away with her hand like she might shoo away an annoying fly. The arrow tip grazed her palm, barely cutting the surface.
With shaking fingers, she ripped the hood from Garron's face, pulling the gag from his mouth.
"Caelan,” he whispered, her name like an anthem from his lips.
"You promised to pardon this man, did you not?” one of the Council Mother's said into the silence behind her.
Caelan tried to undo the ropes at his wrists, but her fingers were numb. She looked on helplessly as her right hand fumbled, unable to grasp his bonds.
"I have no idea. Did I?"
"You did!” Caelan yelled to him, feeling strange. “You promised me."
"Sneed, you will provide an explanation.” Useph turned to his advisor.
"There must be a mistake, Your Highness. I'll look into it immediately."
"There is no mistake.” Garron's voice rang through the clearing. “He needed me dead. I knew about him stealing tax money from you, King Useph. He had to make sure his secret died with me."
Caelan stared at her hand, her palm and fingers puffing up in front of her eyes, although she couldn't be sure, since things were blurred, fading in and out.
"He's using his power of Battle Shout to cloud your judgment, King Useph. Do not listen to him!"
&
nbsp; "He cannot lie, or he loses his abilities. Just as a Speaker will lose her ability to heal,” one of the Mothers said from far away.
Caelan's sight narrowed to just her palm, and suddenly, her legs could no longer support her. I've been poisoned, she thought, as the ground reached up to meet her falling body.
* * * *
Garron watched Caelan fall, his hands still tied so he couldn't reach for her. Helpless. He was so helpless. It made him want to hurt someone, preferably Sneed.
The witches from the Goddess Temple ran to his woman. He didn't want their hands on her. “Untie me,” he ordered the one with the odd light gray eye that seemed to stare right through him. “Untie me,” he said again, this time infusing the words with power.
"Ahh,” the old witch said, the word like a purr of satisfaction. “A man blessed with Battle Shout."
The other four witches looked at him with suspicion.
"You dare to defy my direct order? You'll die for this,” Useph yelled, but Garron could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. He had to reach Caelan, had to touch her.
The one with the gray eye stood up and pulled a ceremonial dagger from her sash, then disappeared behind him. Garron tensed as she cut him free, not entirely certain she could see well enough to wield the knife.
"The arrow had poison on it,” a Mother said, her voice expressionless.
Garron dropped to his knees. “Caelan, love,” he whispered, running his thumb over the blue ring forming around her lips. “Don't die."
He'd tasted her healing power, still held some of the soft glow of it inside him. Could he use her own power to heal her?
Leaning over, he rested his lips against hers, then blew her magic, mixed tightly with his, into her mouth.
"He attempts to heal her.” He could feel the Council Mothers’ disapproval.
"Unusual,” said the gray-eyed witch.
Caelan's eyes blinked open.
"Tell me the words to Speak, Caelan, so I can heal you,” he whispered to her.
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