“What? That’s…impossible.” Lyssanne struggled to maintain a hold on her splintering wits. “No one knows about that. Seianelle only told us yestereve.”
“He is right,” said a smooth voice from behind.
Lyssanne spun to find Olivia fluttering near the fire. “Oh, Olivia! Please forgive me. Serena…I couldn’t save her. Those creatures—”
“Have taken her to the witch Venefica,” Olivia said. “There was nothing you could do.”
Lyssanne’s hand flew to her mouth. The queen of faeries, in the hands of the sorceress who had killed her daughter, murdered Lyssanne’s own father?
A sizzle drew Lyssanne’s gaze toward Reina. Jada hovered above the unicorn’s head.
“Let us not waste time on what we can’t change,” Jada said. “She knows where you are. You have to get moving.”
“They are safe enough until morning, I think,” Olivia said. “Venefica won’t attack again.” She glared at Brennus. “At least, she cannot use him to do so at night.”
“You knew?” Lyssanne whispered. “About, about him?”
“About the curse, yes. I suspect the bargain he struck has forged a link to the sorceress, a foothold she can use when the darkness of his curse is in effect. As to the rest, we know what you know. Had I been aware of the depth of his treachery, well…”
“Yeah,” Jada said. “That has to be dealt with, too. But first, there are things Lyssanne must know.” She glanced at Olivia. “Things she should have known long ago.” She darted toward Brennus and hovered nose-to-nose with him. “As much as I’d like to reduce you to a pile of charred feathers, here and now, you have information we need.”
She jabbed a finger into his chest, green sparks sputtering, then dying, at her fingertips. Brennus leaned backward, breath hissing out between his teeth. The sparks sputtered twice more. Then, with every poke of her finger, they sizzled against his dark tunic.
“And,” she said, sparks punctuating every word, “you…are going…to…give it.”
Olivia cleared her throat.
With a grunt, Jada floated back to her captain’s side, leaving Brennus’s tunic front smoking. “You were saying, O?”
“Yes, well,” Olivia said. “The man may be a traitor, but he spoke true a moment ago. You were not the first to hear the prophecy of the Light-Wielder. That vision was given long before your birth, revealed to a devout faerie. Somehow, the sorceress learned of it and bent her every effort to discovering who it foretold. She settled upon you.”
“Why?” Lyssanne tensed. “It isn’t about me. I’m no heaven-born being, trapped in a mortal body. She was mistaken.” Sudden tears filled the corners of her eyes. “That? That’s why she attacked my family? She was wrong! The Princess Tria, my father, they died for nothing!”
“She was not wrong.”
“But, Olivia—”
“Lyssanne, the gifts of your fathers drew her eye upon you. First, because of the gift your mortal father bestowed upon you—your name.”
“My…?”
“Caelestis,” Jada said. “Your father’s surname, in the old language, meant of Heaven.”
“Once she’d singled your family out, Venefica went to your parents,” Olivia said. “There, she sensed the gift the Father of us all had placed within you at the moment of your creation.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was forbidden.” Olivia sighed. “After the sorceress learned of the prophecy, we FAE and every member of the Royal Elfin Army were forbidden to speak of the vision. The King, alone, reserved the right to reveal it to you, in a way that could not be corrupted or overheard.”
“That prophecy,” Brennus said, “is why Venefica cast the curse on you.”
Lyssanne turned to him. “What curse?”
“Wait,” Jarad said. “Now you’re saying this witch lady cast the curse? I thought it was generations ago.”
“Not his curse,” Jada said. “Lyssanne’s.”
“Your ailment,” said Brennus, his gaze trained on Lyssanne. “It was a spell…or a potion. Actually, it was both.”
Lyssanne shook her head. “I’ve never met a sorceress or drank a potion. I just…got sick.”
“I was there, Lyssanne. I…watched her do it.” He turned away, staring into the flames. “She wanted to hurt you, to weaken you, so you could no longer stop her. She said she was binding your gift, but that part didn’t work.”
“Stop her? How could I stop her? I saw the Mist, true, but could do nothing about it. I didn’t even know what it was.”
“You did thwart her. Your Light repels the Mist,” he said. “I wondered, even then, if you realized you were doing it, using your gift.”
She shook her head again, words deserting her.
“It’s true, Lyssanne.” He reached out a hand to her then dropped it. “I can see the Light when you…do whatever it is you do. That time with Noel, and…I watched you save Jarad from the Mist more than a year ago.”
“Jarad?”
“Me?” Jarad said.
Brennus turned to him. “I saw the Mist attack you.” He ran a hand through his raven hair. “It was drawn, I think, to your fears. The other boy was stuck in the tree, and you…Lyssanne freed you from it.”
“The day I saved Gavan,” Jarad said, sinking to the ground as if he’d been struck.
“What?” Lyssanne hastened to Jarad’s side, but he kept speaking.
“That Shadow Mist stuff, it makes people sadder, scared, or mad, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Remember that day we came to visit? I’d started being angry all the time, and that day, you made me climb the tree, and well…" He spread his hands. "Everything got better after that. I wasn’t so afraid anymore.”
“You see, Lyssanne, the prince is right.” Olivia rested a hand on her shoulder. “Your gift alone can stop the Shadow Mist and its Keeper. You must return to Cloistervale and confront Venefica Mortifer before it is too late.”
“I, I can’t go back,” Lyssanne said, focusing on the one certainty in this madness. “It is forbidden. I’m in exile.”
“Every day that your friends live beneath her rule places them in greater peril of being lost to the King,” Olivia said.
“Rule? The Council would never allow—”
“The Council is no more,” Jada said. “As is public worship of the King.”
“And without Queen Serena,” Olivia said, “the restlessness of the FAE will grow worse.”
“Can’t you rescue her?” Brennus’s voice was icy as a Neigean’s. “You have an entire magical army at your disposal. Surely one witch is no match for the exalted power of the FAE.”
“Do you not think we’ve tried?” Jada shouted. “We went straight there when Serena was taken.” She brandished her wand at him. “That’s why we weren’t here to help Lyssanne, even though she gave us the authority. We, her appointed guardians!”
“Venefica was prepared for us,” Olivia said. “She has set spells against nonhumans all over that mountain. We can’t get near the place. No supernatural or magical creature can without her permission. Worse, she holds the queen in a cage of iron.”
“Iron?” Lyssanne said.
“It is anathema to those born of the King’s pure power,” Reina said. “Unicorns, faeries.”
“Captain…” Jada said.
“I feel it.” Olivia waved her wand and began to shrink. “We must go. Rest tonight and make your preparations.”
“You’re leaving?” Lyssanne squeaked. “Now? But—”
“We shall find you again soon,” Olivia said, “and will help in every way we can.” She clasped Lyssanne’s hands in miniature fingers. “Even in war, you are never alone.”
The pressure of her fingertips lingered after she’d vanished.
Lyssanne stood for an age, staring into the space where Olivia had been. At length, she blinked stinging yet dry eyes and walked away from the campfire. She needed to think.
“Lady Lyssanne,” Jarad called.
She held up a hand. It was all the explanation she could give.
“Let her be,” Reina said.
She wandered toward the mountains. Well away from the pass, she sank to her knees and prayed. Short, simple, containing the essence of her entire being. “I need you.”
She slipped from her knees and sat, legs folded to one side, staring at nothing, thinking of nothing and of everything. Night deepened, stars rose, and there she remained.
A shadow fell across the patch of moonlight in which Lyssanne sat.
“I’ve wounded you,” Brennus said, “in so many ways. You did nothing to deserve it. You were no enemy of mine, sought no fight, harmed no one.”
She pushed to her feet and turned to face him. “Please, you needn’t—”
“I do not ask for your forgiveness, much as I wish it. I could never be worthy.” He spread his hands. “I, who do not deserve the name of knight.”
“Don't say such things.” She cleared her throat. “You are a man of honor. How often have you saved my life? And, I daresay, those of countless others? Your word is ironclad and—”
“Oh yes, I keep my word. Look what that has done to you.”
“So, you were her spy. ’Twas not you who did me harm. You say that is finished, and I do forgive you. I’m certain my heart shall soon follow my will in this.”
He stepped closer. “Lyssanne…”
“It will all sort out, you’ll see. Tomorrow, we’ll start back for—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Don’t tell me your plans. If I don’t know them, neither can Venefica.”
“But you said you’ll not spy for her again.”
“Never. Not willingly, but she has ways even I do not know. And the Shadow Mist…She’s kept it from me thus far, but if she suspects betrayal, she won’t hesitate to use it. Then, not even my thoughts would escape her.”
“I need your help,” she whispered. “We aren’t certain we know the way to—”
“If I go with you, she will find you.” He looked toward the campsite. “Fly from me, Lyssanne. That is the greatest service I could do you, to never see you again.” He turned back to her. “Only promise me you won't go near your homeland.” He stared into her eyes, his voice breaking. “If you return, she will destroy you.”
“Where could I go?” Hugging her arms, she paced away from him, then back again. “She found me even at Avery Hall.”
“Because of me,” he growled.
“She could find me anywhere. You said yourself, she has ways.” Lyssanne hung her head. “Shall I never be safe again?”
Brennus moved without sound. He bent close, his brow nearly brushing hers. His breath stirred her hair as he placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to his. “Had I the power, I’d slay her myself to free you. She’d see it in my eyes before I had the chance.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “She may still be able to use my sight, but this I promise you. No harm will ever again befall you by my hand or my word.”
Lyssanne dropped her gaze to his shoulder, her heart throbbing in her throat.
He laughed beneath his breath, a small, bitter sound. “Now, when you’d finally be safe in trusting me, for once, you cannot.”
She parted her lips to protest, but he covered them.
“However much you might wish to, your face reveals your heart’s truth.”
“How can you know what I feel, when I do not? I meant it when I said I forgive you. ’Tis just”—she drew in a long breath—“I know not what you wish of me…or,” she murmured, “what I should want of myself.”
“Lyssanne.”
She stepped back. “Forgive me, but you contradict your own words, Highness. Once, you told me I should trust no one, least of all you. That very night, you’d saved my life, yet you said I should fear you. Now, you admit betraying me ever since I’ve known you, and you wish me to trust you? What has changed?”
“Everything.” He sliced the air with a hand. “My entire world is tossed on end, now, when it is too late.” His head jerked toward the mountains. “When you vanished from that landslide, I thought I’d lost you.” He cleared his throat. “Then, after we saw the simurgh, I realized the only way to save you was to lose you, to leave you. Now I, I don’t know if even that will suffice.”
Had he just made a declaration of love? Lyssanne couldn’t contemplate that at present. Her emotions were too raw. She latched onto the one statement her mind could manage. “You saw the landslide? Were you a, a bird, watching it happen?”
“I saw it, watched it, I…” He crossed his arms. “I caused it.”
“You…” She stared up at him, a nervous laugh bubbling forth. “You couldn’t have. I tripped over a branch. Jarad said that dislodged some rocks and triggered it.”
“A branch I put there, where I knew you wouldn’t be able to see it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The night before, I slipped past your camp and piled those rocks in the midst of the pass, wedging the branch beneath them for precisely that purpose.”
“But Jarad might have—”
“I knew he would see the branch and step clear of it. You forget, Lyssanne, for months I watched the two of you traipse through all manner of terrain.”
“You…set that up…for me? But if Cusith hadn’t spirited me away, if all those rocks had fallen upon me, I might have…No, I would have been killed.”
He merely stared at her.
“You…tried…to kill me?” Her hand flew to her mouth. She backed away, whispering, “Why?”
“Orders.”
“Orders!” She breathed the word as if it were a poisonous fume. Unable to tear her eyes from his face, she continued backing away.
“I gave my word of honor.”
“Your vow to that…Venefica,” she said.
“I made that vow before I knew you.”
“And you never break your word.” It was a statement, flat as Seianelle’s plateau.
“I never have, no.” He sighed. “Nor has keeping my word ever come at so high a cost.”
“What has it cost you?” The question was bitter acid. “Time, perhaps?”
“It has cost you everything,” he said. “And cost me your trust. That is a price too high.”
“My trust? We were friends. I thought that you, that you…”
“Cared for you?” He gripped the sides of his head then flung both hands toward her. “I did, I do care for you.” His words rushed out like tree sprites fleeing a fire. “I hadn’t intended to go through with it, but I was angry. You’d left Avery Hall, so I set the trap—not to kill you, to frighten you. But she—”
“No.” Lifting her hands, Lyssanne at last freed her gaze from his. “No, I can’t…”
She turned, but he caught her arm. His hand trembled, rigid muscles quivering in his forearm as if restraining his strength, barely. Lyssanne pulled free and fled on shaking legs.
She ran past the campsite, past Jarad rising to his feet and calling her name. She fled into the wood, heedless of the darkness or the tangled branches snatching at her hair and skirts. At last, her wobbling legs no longer able to hold her, she fell to her knees, shaking all over. Then, the tears came.
For an age, she huddled there, unable to breathe despite the great ragged gasps rocking her body. Each shudder further exhausted her, wave upon wave assaulting her even after the tears ran dry.
Weak from treading water in the bottomless river of pain and fear her heart had become, she lay on the ground. All strength and emotion had seeped into the soil with the last of her tears. Gradually, her mind recalled who and where she was and that, by some miracle of the King, she still lived.
How could her heart be lost to a man who had gone to such lengths to kill her? Lyssanne gasped. She loved him. Had for some time.
She hadn’t allowed herself to admit it. For, how could he, a prince, love her in return? But this—that the man she loved could have, even for a moment, wanted her dead—’twas a pain worse even th
an the curse that had stolen her life.
After a time, another thought intruded. He didn’t have to tell her what he’d done. She would never have known. If he’d wished to continue betraying her, he would have held his silence. Such honesty carried a measure of honor that, itself, was worthy of trust. Wasn’t it?
At once, she knew what she must do. She rose, scrubbed at her face with the hem of her sleeve, and went to join the others.
Before anyone could speak, she outlined her plan. They would return to Avery Hall, all of them. Brennus would show them the way. If Venefica discovered their whereabouts, so be it. The castle had been defended against her once. This time, they would be prepared.
“I shan’t remain there long,” she said, then turned to Brennus. “Nor, I think, will I tell you where I shall venture thereafter. The rest, we shall sort out along the way.”
As for her trusting Brennus, she would figure that out as well.
25
Fealty
Fighting to ignore the increasing pain of Venefica’s summons, Brennus sprinted toward Duncan’s high stables. All the arrangements had been made. With a word, he could set either plan into motion. Now, all he had to do was persuade Lyssanne to change her mind.
Without breaking stride, he flung the stable door wide. “You can’t do this,” he said, his words plowing through the stench of hay and horse filling the dim enclosure.
Lyssanne turned from Reina’s stall at the far end of the aisle. “Brennus? How did you—”
“Lily,” he said. “I fair frightened your whereabouts from her when you left the hall.” He fixed her with a stare that had withered many a trained soldier. He would make her see sense. “Faeries can fend for themselves, and those peasants brought this upon their own heads.”
“You heard what Jada said.” Lyssanne crossed the distance to him. “They can’t help Serena, and my people—”
“They ceased being your people nearly a year ago.”
“They are the only family I have left.”
“Families do not betray their own.”
She sighed and hung her head. “They can’t fight her.”
Keeper of Shadows (Light-Wielder Chronicles Book 1) Page 37