by H. R. Rekow
“Sure, if he was real,” Elshender muttered.
“That Spellbinder’s an old wives’ tale,” Theron said and shook his head. It was not real, none of it.
Sobriina’s eyes darkened. “What if it is true! Something is shady and sinister within Wraith’s Hollow. Even the meager horses sensed it! Whatever it was could have made her someone else. Or, taken a piece of her glassy heart away! Even placed a darkness into her core self.”
Theron lifted his chin and eyed his friend.
“You are suggesting . . .” Elshender’s eyes narrowed. “Lord Demus changed the woman? I thought you were smarter than that!”
“Possibly,” Sobriina said, then gasped. “Possibly before you even set your eyes on her, my prince! How are we to know if Olivia is truly who she claims to be, even from the beginning? There might have never been a girl named Olivia—”
“Enough of this!” Theron slammed his fist on the table and rattled the oil bowl. The two silently sat back in their chairs. “I asked for your advice, not a child’s tale!”
Sobriina raised her head and looked the prince in the eyes. “Lord Demus did this.”
Theron held her gaze, but did not reply.
“How are you sure?” Elshender questioned with a smirk.
Sobriina took in a deep breath. “What other explanation lies before us?”
“She ate something wrong, and that’s what’s making her different,” Theron said, his eyes darkened.
“Her new skin, or way of being, began the moment Wraith’s Hollow lay behind us. Something happened between the trees of gray; I am convinced.”
“Obviously!” Theron scoffed.
Sobriina’s eyes narrowed. “A side of you wonders if my words are true. It frightens you. That is the only reason you disagree; there is no other.”
Theron’s jaw clenched as his eyes darkened still. “I disagree because it’s ludicrous!” He turned away, seething with clammy hands. Sobriina and Elshender watched him, and Theron felt the weight of their stares. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. Maybe Sobriina’s right.
“Then test her.” Sobriina relaxed in her seat. “Test her and see.”
Theron closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He stared at the oil flame and watched as it flickered without a sound. He sat in silence and the other two waited. Theron lifted his chin and breathed out a slow hiss, nodding. “A test, then.”
Sobriina grinned.
Elshender leaned forward. “What? What is it?”
“And how can we lend a hand?” Sobriina added.
Chapter 14
Revealed Truths
Theron stood upon the northern tower and wind blew across his face. It whipped his hair and he drew his cloak closer to himself. Mist still laced the morning, and the cool white haze blanketed the horizon. The distant murmur of the city drifted up to their ears between dog barks and horse brays. A number of servants stood around Theron as they waited for Olivia. They talked in low voices as Elshender and his two knights stood close at hand.
Among them stood two beasts of might and beauty: griffins. Their heads were that of an eagle, framed with cat-like, pointed ears, and great wings were tucked close to their sides. Their front legs were birds’ feet, dark talons curled and scraping along the stone roof, and the hind legs were those of a lion. The torsos and tails were also of a lion, though their tails were tipped in feathers. The beasts stood alert, the wind wafting their feathers with each gust, and their heads moved in a jumpy, bird-like fashion as they whispered between each other. Two servants stood on either side of the griffins, and fastened saddles between their wings.
Theron looked out across the land toward Wraith’s Hollow far beyond his seeing capabilities. The dark tree line sent his mind back to the day they were attacked. How did he stray so far from her side? If only he could go back and protect her from whatever evil had befallen her. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, as he did before battle to calm his nerves. He looked up into the sky and saw pasty clouds drift past on a sea of blue. A hawk soared among them. He thought of The Wizard and wondered if he would help them. Let me find the truth today, he thought. Let this be my Olivia!
“You all right?” Elshender asked as he nudged his arm. Theron nodded. He looked to the large warrior and the knights beside him. Their weapons, one a sword and the other with a mace, were well hidden behind thick robes. Elshender studied his friend, and saw his rigid steps as he paced and his eyes leaping from one thing to another. He clapped Theron on the back, and nodded encouragingly.
Theron glanced away and cleared his throat, trying to quiet his beating heart.
“Ah! There is my darling, scrumptious love!”
Theron turned and saw Olivia walking toward him, Cedany, Krea, and Sobriina close behind. The she-elf glanced at Prince Theron and looked away before anyone noticed. She turned her purple eyes out across the land, gaze falling on an owl that flew toward the castle in wide arcs. Her shoulders bunched and her eyes darted away.
“Smile,” Elshender mumbled to Theron.
The prince grinned as he wondered if this Olivia was in fact not a someone, but a something. He walked toward her, his arms outstretched. “My dear.”
Olivia, her lips pulled taut in a wide smile, took hold of his cloak and yanked him close. Theron bit back a grimace as her lips pressed over his. His hair stood on end, and he resisted the urge to pull her back.
Olivia released him and smiled again, though her brown eyes did not look at him. “What is your delightful surprise?” she whispered. She curled a strand of his hair through her soft fingers.
“Um . . . well—” He cleared his throat and eased his hair from her hand. “You said you wanted to learn how to ride. Ride a griffin, and now . . . you can.” He motioned to the beasts behind him. “They are prepared and waiting.”
Olivia’s eyes flickered to the griffins and her smile melted. “Poisoned air—”
Theron gave her a sideways glance, the curse quite unladylike.
“Um . . . how sweet, but . . .” Olivia laid a hand on her brow. “I’m not feeling very well, as of late.” She looked at him, her brow creased. “I don’t rightly think it would be wise to take part in this thrilling and dangerous sport in the state that I’m in.”
Theron raised his chin, dread’s cold touch freezing his blood. “You seemed fine to me during breakfast.”
“Oh, it has suddenly come over me. You must understand, beloved.” Olivia grinned and stepped closer, her lips puckered.
Theron drew back and forced her to stand at arm’s length.
“Darling?” Olivia stared at him, alarmed. “Whatever’s wrong with you?”
Theron looked into her eyes and swallowed hard. “Remember when we first met?” he whispered.
“Oh yes,” she said with a sigh. “How could I forget?”
“It was so beautiful.” Theron willed himself to smile. “At Crown Haven’s gates, the sky bright and blue, with everyone around to welcome me. And then I kissed your hand. When we first met.”
“Of course,” Olivia said. Theron’s heart leapt into his throat. “I remember it well; it was not very long ago. What a delightful day! Well, once I overcame my foolish nervousness.” She smiled bashfully.
Theron gazed down at her, unable to move. His heart struck against him as though it tried to escape. “That’s where we first met?” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard. “Right?”
“Yes, my lord,” Olivia said, her head tilted to one side. “Why are you mentioning our first meeting?”
The prince swallowed hard. Goosebumps rose along his arms. He closed his eyes and gathered his nerves. This woman could still be Olivia. She may still be here somewhere. He took a swift, controlled breath. “I . . . I’m concerned for you.”
Olivia’s brow furrowed as she studied his face. “Oh, this is just a sudden yet passing chill I feel. I am going to be fine.”
“Are you?” Theron’s gaze sharpened. “You’re acting . . . different
.”
Olivia blinked and turned away. “Whatever do you mean, my lord?”
Theron stared down at her as a thin string of hope gripped his heart. He turned her toward him and cupped her face in his hands, looking her in the eyes. “Olivia.” She stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Olivia, I love you.” His heart pleaded for her to come back.
Olivia laid a hand over his and smiled. “Oh, my lord . . .” She sighed and wrapped her arms around him. “I will always return your love, tenfold.” Theron embraced her and felt her heartbeat against his chest. He closed his eyes and laid a hand between her shoulders. He questioned his doubts as he felt her beside him. A fool! That’s what I am. A fool for questioning her! This is Olivia, my bride and—
Theron’s eyes flew open. His hand, on the back of her neck, stiffened as he felt her smooth skin and . . .
His heart skipped a beat. His fingertips brushed small, taut strings crisscrossed down her spine, like the cinching ties of a dress. Olivia swiftly inhaled and drew back with a sudden jerk. She touched the back of her neck and placed her veil over the stitch work. She smiled weakly, but looked away. “A horseback riding accident, my lord,” she whispered. “It embarrassed me, thus I long to conceal it. Also why I don’t want to ride such frightful beasts as griffins.”
Theron rigidly stared with bulging eyes and mouth half open, realization draining him of color. After a silence, which was far too quiet, Theron shut his mouth as his eyes narrowed to darkened slits. He looked to her nose, at the corners of her mouth, and her ears. He noticed that, beside her left ear, stitches were crossed along its high corner.
Olivia tensely stared at Theron. She glanced at the griffins, the servants, and the men-at-arms. She eyed their weapons and looked away. “What are your thoughts, my lord? Share. If we are to be one—”
“I told Olivia to call me Theron.” He looked her in the eyes. Brown eyes, they were brown. He lifted his chin, clearly remembering Olivia’s vivid emerald eyes! “Theron. Not my lord.”
Olivia stared up at him, then giggled. “What are you talking about, my love? Why say I told Olivia? I am Olivia!”
A muscle in Theron’s jaw twitched, vehement loathing emanating from his gaze. Olivia’s smile disappeared. Sobriina glanced between the two, her mouth half open.
Theron reached forward and grabbed Olivia’s face with one hand. She screamed as his fingers dug into her eye. He pulled and skin tore free. A shriek fled Olivia’s lips, shrill and wild-like. She fell back, her hands pressed over her face and collapsed to her knees, wailing. Krea rushed to her lady’s side, screaming, as Cedany followed. Sobriina did not move as she watched, her hands held behind her.
Theron, his eyes cold and muscles tense, looked down at his hand. A misshaped shred of ivory skin flapped in the breeze. It had two holes in it, one for an eye and one for a nostril. Theron looked back at Olivia and listened to her whimpering howls.
“Flesh Thief . . .” he whispered darkly. His chest heaved as color rushed into his face. “Flesh Thief!” He raised the skin in his hand so all could see.
The servants yelled and flinched back. The men-at-arms drew their weapons without another thought. Krea stared at the strip of flesh, her cries suddenly caught in her throat. Sobriina covered her mouth and stared at the woman on the ground.
Olivia shuddered and looked to Theron with her good eye. “W—what?”
Krea backed away and seized Cedany. She would not let go.
A tear fell from Olivia’s eye. “Why speak such horrid things—”
“Take it off,” Theron seethed.
“My lord—”
“Take it off, by the Silver Eye!” His face trembled and his eyes burned. He drew his sword and held it in a firm grasp.
Olivia gulped and sobbed, looking to anyone for help. No one moved. Olivia turned back to Theron with trembling gasps. He stood over her unmoved, eyes cold and murderously dark as he adjusted his hold on the sword.
Olivia sighed and her eyes lost their horror. She glanced away and shrugged with a sniff. “Shame,” she muttered as she stood. She faced Theron and his heart missed a beat. Half her face was Olivia, but the other half was a mess of shredded skin. No blood dripped from her, but a darker shade of skin peeked through the gore. She grinned and her eyes narrowed. “Took you rightly long enough to figure it out!” She smirked.
The Flesh Thief took a fistful of her blonde hair and pulled. Her face stretched until it tore in two. It fell away and hung limply down her back, the golden locks dragging upon the ground.
Krea screamed and one of the servants fainted. Theron flinched and stared, forgetting to breathe as he stared at who lay underneath the disguise of flesh.
Nan’s grin broadened as their eyes locked. “You know, boy?” She scratched her forearm. “Yous be a good kisser.” Her nails dug into her arm until the overlaying skin began to tear. Krea turned away with a guttural cough, bile rising from her stomach. Nan laughed and ripped the skin from her arms. It fell to the ground in dead heaps. “Oh, and I’m a Wilder! Shade Kin, if you must know. Just like everyone thought. Surprise! Ha! Ha!”
Renewed hatred washed over Theron like a boiling wave. He had slain Wilders before, one more would make little difference. “Where is Olivia?”
“You’re not the best kisser, I say,” Nan continued. “A Charnelic would better the best, or even a werewolf! If there’s enough meat in his belly, that is. But you’ll do.”
Theron stepped forward, his breath coming in rapid bursts. “Where is she? Is that her skin?” His voice cracked despite himself.
Nan absentmindedly glanced at her hand and picked the skin still attached to her fingers. She flicked it to the ground in little flakes, humming.
Theron’s eyes darkened. “What have you done with her!”
Nan shook her head and sighed. “This was the bestest thieving.” She grinned. “Even better than when I were in that wolf’s hide and went to that village. Learned throats rip out nicely with a good set of fangs in.”
“I will not ask you again!” Theron yelled.
A chuckle lifted from the Wilder’s throat and rattled its way to her lips. “You’re cursed, king of dung!” she sang high and loud.
Theron blinked.
Nan looked at him. “Cursed. From them stones Unki the Firm sits on—”
“Is she still alive—”
“Cursed! By the ground! The sun! The moon! The holy stones!”
“What have you done to her!”
Nan’s eyes narrowed and a smile rounded her lips. She pointed a finger at the prince, half covered with the tattered, stolen skin. “May your eyes be gray. May them be dark like a Wraith, for a Wraith you’ll become!”
Theron straightened his back as his grip of his sword tightened.
“Be always bad! Always cursed! And may all your lovelies be ripped from your heart!” The Flesh Thief’s smile grew. “I, Fyss, Flesh Thief of Unki’s Fist, curse you in and out!”
Theron lifted his chin, yet his blood chilled. He could not breathe.
“Nan,” Krea gasped, a puddle of vomit strewn beside her. “What, what happened to you? Why are you so . . . This is not like you! Did Lord Demus curse you too?”
Fyss gave the pale girl a cold look and shook her head. “Nothing’s changed in me. The disguise is gone, off at last! I ain’t that mother-like lady, Nan. I don’t care about you! I be Fyss! I’ve attacked a village because they sold my daughter! My little Nadira, little shadow princess . . . I’m a killer, a true Shade Kin! I be a Wilder! Hail Unki the Firm! May he stick your jaw!”
The Flesh Thief grinned as Krea flinched away, coughing again. She shook her head and glanced back at Theron, her head tilted to one side as the dead scalp and long hair shifted in the wind. The shredded skin’s face stared blankly at those around it, hollow and unblinking. “Foolish man—”
“Answer me!” He hissed. “Where is Olivia?”
Fyss lifted her chin. “Where you left her.” She absentmindedly motioned to the horizon, to the far
off black line of Wraith’s Hollow. Theron’s stomach flopped on itself.
Cedany gasped suddenly, her face white. “Valsara,” she breathed. “You killed Valsara. That’s her skin. You killed and skinned Olivia’s double. That’s why we couldn’t find her. Oh, Wizard save us!”
“But why go after her, huh?” Fyss asked. She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “She’ll be used by that man who’s got her. He’s a smart one, he is. Will come up with new things to do with her pretty little self.” Theron’s skin crawled as his hand tightened on his sword. “Once she’s spent, he’ll get rid of her. She’s probably half eaten by wolves by now—”
“By the One in Red, I will saw you in two if I must!”
The Flesh Thief stared at Theron, stunned. She threw her head back and laughed long and hard. “You? You, saw me in two! Like a log for the fire?” She chuckled and shook her head. “Not your day to kill, oh cursed prince. Not yours!”
Theron stepped forward, his sword lowered to the level of her heart. “You will tell me—”
“He sees all!” Fyss cried. “Knows all! Knows you see my face! Knows I’m done here! That Spellbinder! That horrid, wonderful, beautiful—”
The Wilder cried suddenly and fell to her knees. She gasped and collapsed to the ground. With a shake of her head, she chuckled. “See? I speak and his powerful hand strikes.”
Theron stared at the Flesh Thief, his eyes wide and brimmed in darkness. “No. . . . Wait!” He dropped his sword and raced to her side. “Speak! Before it’s too—”
“Fool!” the Flesh Thief choked. “Was too late the day—” Her back arched as pain riddled her face. She groaned and blood seeped from her nose. “—the day . . . Olivia was taken from you . . .”
Theron’s heart beat wildly as he watched the life being pulled from Fyss’s eyes. He seized her shoulders and jerked her this way and that. “Talk! Where is Olivia!”
The woman grinned, her eyes narrow and filled with amusement. The next moment, a gray emptiness dulled them, and her body fell limp in his arms. Theron blinked as he stared down at her, heart racing with dread.