Queen of Wands (The Tree of Ages Series Book 4)

by Sara C. Roethle

  She scooted up, repositioning her pillow against the wall at the top of her bed. Was he right? Had she made an enemy of Finn, who would perhaps be one of the worst enemies to make? She hoped not. She did not agree with her siding with the Faie, but Finn was still Finn, wasn’t she?

  “I suppose you’re right,” she sighed after mulling it over. “Perhaps we can contact Finn again to set things straight.”

  He snorted. “I don’t see much chance of that with Keiren as your mediator.”

  She stared down at her laced fingers in her lap. “That’s true. She destroyed what little good will I had fostered with Lady Sìoda, and now has done far worse with Finn, but . . . ” she trailed off.

  “But,” he continued for her, “she is also powerful, and a necessary ally, especially against Oighear’s Aos Sí.”

  Despite his words, she didn’t feel any better. Still, more mages had begun to arrive in Garenoch, even after news of the battle had spread. If they were going to continue to grow their ranks, more battles would come, and Keiren’s wards would be necessary to protect them. She could save countless lives.

  She closed her eyes and lifted a hand to rub them. “When did things become so complicated?” she muttered.

  She heard the scrape of chair legs, then felt the bed shift as Maarav sat beside her. He took her hand, lowering it back to her lap. “They became complicated when you were born,” he replied, “at least, according to Keiren.”

  She opened her eyes and turned to him, then smirked. “I disagree. I think they just became complicated when I met you.”

  He laughed, giving her hand a squeeze. “Come with me to the garden,” he suggested. “I’ve something to show you.”

  She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, then glanced toward her dark window. “But it’s the middle of the night.”

  He nodded. “Yes, the perfect time to not have to answer questions from one hundred different mages.”

  Still suspicious, she nodded.

  Her hand still in his, he stood and playfully tugged her out of bed. Once she was on her feet, he dropped her hand and walked across the room, fetching her cloak from a hook on the wall.

  Realizing she was in her baggy white night clothes, she wrapped her arms around herself and blushed. She’d gotten into bed before he’d entered the room, and had planned on remaining there until he left. The gown she’d worn in the in-between had merely been an illusion created by Keiren.

  With a playful smirk, he approached, then wrapped her deep green cloak around her shoulders.

  Grateful for the cover, she opened her arms, then wrapped the cloak more firmly around herself. Once she was covered, she sat on the edge of the bed to don her boots, then stood.

  Looking her up and down with a nod, Maarav gestured for her to lead the way toward the door, which she unlocked and exited quickly, glad to have her back to him to hide her continued blush.

  He followed her into the hall, then shut the door behind them. “To the gardens,” he instructed.

  Sighing heavily, she led the way. Although she wouldn’t mind going back to sleep, she was secretly glad for the distraction. Her interaction with Finn weighed heavily on her mind, almost as heavily as the lingering effects of their battle with Oighear and the Aos Sí.

  Reaching the end of the hall, Maarav nodded to the two assassins standing guard there. The extra precaution had been a recent addition, with so many new mages coming in.

  One of the black-clad assassins, a younger woman, opened the door for them.

  Ealasaid took a deep breath as she stepped out into the cool night air, coating her throat with refreshing moisture. She sensed another rain was not far off.

  Maarav emerged beside her, then the door was shut behind them, revealing another assassin standing outside.

  “So much for privacy,” Maarav muttered under his breath, placing a hand against Ealasaid’s back to guide her forward.

  Ealasaid glanced around the surrounding dark gardens as they walked, occasionally darting her eyes upward to the few stars showing through the clouds overhead, then back down to watch her footing in the darkness.

  “Will we even be able to see whatever it is you want to show me?” she asked.

  “You’ll see well enough,” he replied, then pointed for her to turn down a narrow corridor created by neatly trimmed shrubs. How the gardeners had found time to maintain it during all of the chaos was beyond her.

  They both turned down the corridor, her shoulder nearly touching Maarav’s arm in narrow space. Soon reaching the end, he stopped in front of a large rectangular slab stationed upright, with hardy winter flowers planted around its base. The slab was thick enough to have four full faces, rather than just front and back, and stood nearly as tall as she did, but other than its size, she could see nothing remarkable about it.

  “You brought me out in the middle of the night to show me a nicely shaped rock?” she asked skeptically.

  He took her hand, then knelt, gently pulling her down beside him. “Take a closer look,” he instructed.

  Now consumed with curiosity, she peered closely at the stone, realizing there were names etched into its surface. She lifted her hand to trace the names with her fingers, slowly reading through them. At first she was not sure what it all meant, until she began to recognize a few.

  “They’re the names of my mages,” she gasped. “The ones who died in battle.”

  She turned toward Maarav to see him nod. “It’s a commemoration of those who gave their lives for An Solas. Those without magic are included as well.”

  She turned back to continue scanning the names, spotting Tavish about halfway down. Lowering her hand, she peered up at the large stone. The list of names didn’t even take up the first entire face, and there were still three more to be filled.

  She turned sad eyes to him. “There’s room for so many names.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but at least now they will be remembered, if only in a small way.”

  She turned back to the stone, gazing at it in awe. “How was this erected so quickly?”

  He chuckled. “That’s what happens when magic users set their mind to something.”

  Though the names hurt her heart, she smiled. “Whose idea was this?” she asked distantly.

  “Mine,” he replied.

  She whipped her gaze to him in surprise. “Yours? You, an assassin, would memorialize the dead?”

  He shrugged, almost seeming embarrassed. “I haven’t been an assassin for many years, and you’ve perhaps made me a bit sentimental.”

  She shook her head, still smiling. Just when she thought she knew him, he always surprised her. “Maybe it’s just your advanced age,” she quipped.

  He scowled at her. “Don’t make me regret doing a nice thing. I may never do one again,” he frowned, “and I’m only a few years older than you. It’s not like I’m hobbling around with a cane.”

  She shook her head, turning her attention back to the stone. She was glad he’d shown her at night, when they were alone and no one would be around to judge her reaction. Even though it was a small trifle in comparison to losing a life, she enjoyed having Ouve and Tavish’s names to look at on the stone.

  She leaned over and gave Maarav a kiss on the cheek, then pulled away.

  “Oh no,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down into the grass with him. “I’ll need more thanks than that.”

  Leaning on her elbow with her body pressed against his side, she smiled, then leaned down and gave him a proper, full kiss, lingering for as long as she pleased.

  As she finally pulled away, he raised a surprised brow at her. “And here I believed you to be modest,” he joked.

  She snorted at him, then rolled away to rise to her feet. “I’ve more important things to be concerned with than modesty.”

  He smirked up at her for a moment, then stood. “In that case, I suppose you wouldn’t mind a warm body beside you for the rest of the night?”

  She chuckled, then be
gan to lead the way back toward their rooms. Picking up her pace to keep ahead of him, she was glad the darkness hid the blush that belied her cool air. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she teased in reply to his question. “Queens are only supposed to sleep next to their kings, and you and I are not married.”

  He hurried to catch up to her side, taking her hand to halt her brisk pace. “But we could be,” he said.

  She turned and blinked up at him. Was he kidding? If he was kidding, he was about to experience the full power of one of her lightning bolts.

  As if reading her thoughts, he added, “I am entirely serious, Ealasaid.”

  She continued to stare up at him. What could she say? That she was too young to get married? That she had too many other things to worry about to even consider it? What did she want to say?

  She looked at her feet, then forced her eyes up to meet his heavy stare. “Alright?”

  He smiled. “Is that a question, or an answer?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Both?”

  “Alright,” he replied with a laugh, “and mine is just an answer. I’ve no questions left.”

  She laughed, then stood on tip-toes, leaning her hands against his chest to kiss him.

  Hand and hand, they continued their short journey back toward their rooms.

  Ealasaid couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts as they walked. She was happy, that she knew for sure, but she wasn’t sure of the other implications such a bond might establish. Oddly enough, only one question came to her mind.

  With the assassin guard now in view, she stopped just out of earshot. “This doesn’t mean Slaine will become my mother by way of marriage, does it? I mean, she’s not your real mother.”

  He laughed, clearly caught off guard by her question. He took her hand and started walking again. “You should be glad,” he joked. “It might just keep her from trying to kill you.”

  She laughed, though she suspected his statement might just have some truth to it.

  Finn awoke the next morning to find only Kai in the small room with her, waiting with arms crossed and his back leaned against the wall. His fresh bandage stood out stark white against the tanned flesh near his collarbone, just above the collar of his loose, dark blue shirt.

  “You have a surprising visitor,” he explained, noticing her open eyes.

  She sat up in her bedroll, cringing at the growl in her stomach. She could not remember the last time she’d eaten.

  “Visitor?” she questioned blearily.

  He nodded. “She arrived with the dawn, though I’m not sure how she found us.”

  She crawled out of her bedroll and stood, wondering what Kai was talking about. Had Keiren come to see her in the flesh? It would be no surprise that she could magically travel so quickly, but why?

  “Who is it,” she questioned, straightening her breeches and donning her ratty green cloak atop her tunic. She tried combing her fingers through her hair, but it was a snarled mess from the previous night’s wind and rain.

  He smirked. “Come and see.”

  With that, he turned toward the door, opened it, and exited.

  She furrowed her brow in confusion, then followed. The corridor Kai had taken led out into the main entry room where her allies had gathered.

  Iseult stood off to one side of the room, discussing something with Eywen, while Àed leaned against the stone wall near the fire. The other three Aos Sí warriors, whose names Finn would most definitely need to learn by this point, sat in the middle of the floor with Bedelia, sharing meager portions of their remaining bread and cured meat.

  Finally her gaze fell to Anna. Naoki, having woken earlier, pranced around her feet as she spoke with another woman.

  Partway across the room, Kai turned, then gestured toward their guest with a sarcastic flourish.

  Her jaw dropped. “Branwen?” she questioned, more to herself though both she and Anna turned toward her.

  She hurried across the room toward them, then stopped to look Branwen up and down. She appeared healthy, and in good spirits. Her long, red hair, a much more common shade than Keiren’s, was freshly brushed, and her simple brown dress appeared clean and new.

  “How are you here and not in the in-between?” Finn balked, a bit suspicious.

  Anna smirked. “I was just asking her the same question.”

  Branwen offered a hesitant smile, crinkling the corners of her honey brown eyes. “The Travelers saved me,” she explained. “Or Anders did, really. He paid the price for my life.”

  Finn wasn’t sure whether to hug her, or send her skittering out of the fortress. “What do the Travelers want?” she blurted. “Why did they send you?”

  Branwen looked down at her feet, then back up to Finn. Everyone else in the room had stopped conversing, their eyes on the new spectacle.

  “I would like to speak in private about that,” Branwen muttered.

  She had barely mentioned the word private, when Iseult crossed the room toward them.

  Finn couldn’t help her smile. After everything that had transpired, he still wanted to protect her. “Let us retreat to the garden,” she suggested.

  Branwen nodded, then waited for Finn to lead the way. Iseult followed behind them.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Branwen as they walked, a million questions ready on the tip of her tongue. How had she found them? How was she even still alive? Finn knew the Travelers saw more than was visible to the human eye, future, past, and even hidden intents, but why send Branwen to her?

  She sighed as she pushed open the heavy door to the garden, then walked outside.

  The sun glittered down on the moisture slick leaves, giving the garden a feel of magic. The Pixies seemed to appreciate it too, as they had moved into some short trees and shrubs. Their vibrant colors could only be seen in flashes as they flitted about, gathering small acorns and other things for sustenance, which brought another worry to Finn’s mind. Her party would need more supplies quite soon.

  She turned to Branwen as she stepped out into the garden, looking up at the colorful flashes of the Pixies in awe. “Odd,” she muttered, “that things could seem so much more magical here on solid earth than they did in the in-between.”

  Iseult walked past them toward the garden wall. Reaching it, he leaned his back against the slick stone and gazed upward at the tree branches, giving Finn and Branwen a semblance of privacy.

  Branwen eyed the Pixies, then Finn.

  “Why are you here?” Finn asked softly.

  Branwen’s eyes dropped to her boot-clad feet. “I suppose there’s no point in lying to you,” she began, “you already know where I was trapped, and that my physical body was near death. I don’t know just what Anders did to save me, but whatever he did, it inspired the Travelers to bring me back.”

  Guilt welled up inside Finn. She knew Anders’ actions were not her fault, but she felt awful for Branwen, who’d never hurt anyone, yet ended up being used by the Cavari because they sought her. Then they’d left poor Branwen for dead, trapped mentally in the in-between. Now her brother was dead, and Branwen was a Traveler pawn.

  She placed a hand gently on Branwen’s shoulder. “Did you see him die, or did the Travelers inform you of his fate?”

  Branwen’s eyes remained trained on her boots. “They told me, but I did see him briefly before I was pulled away. I saw him when I arrived in the in-between. Someone had stabbed him in the gut.”

  “I was in the in-between too,” Finn explained. “I saw him, after . . . ” she shook her head. “I saw him after he was sent there, just before he faded away. He was happy that he was able to rescue you. That was all that had mattered to him.”

  Branwen finally lifted her honey brown eyes, now rimmed with tears. “He was such a fool,” she half laughed, half sobbed.

  Finn nodded. Some of the others might not have forgiven Anders, but she did. If the situation had been reversed, and it was Iseult or Kai being held hostage in the in-between . . . well, she would have betrayed a g
reat many people to save them.

  She took Branwen’s hand and led her to sit upon a toppled stone from the wall, large enough to comfortably seat them both.

  “Tell me why you’re here,” she instructed. “Not that I’m displeased to see you, but I know by now the Travelers do nothing for free, and they’ve been attempting to manipulate me from the start.”

  Branwen took a deep breath, then began, “I met a Traveler named Niklas. He explained to me what I am now, a Wraith.”

  Finn did her best to keep her expression impassive. She knew what Wraiths were. Branwen was no longer connected to humanity. She was barely even alive at all.

  “He said I’m animated by the energy that holds the in-between together.” She glanced at Finn, then back down to her lap. “He said you would have reason to break that barrier, and that you would want to use me to do it.”

  Finn shook her head. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  Branwen glanced at Iseult, waiting quietly across the garden, then back to Finn. She whispered, “He told me that anyone, or anything, trapped there can only be released by demolishing those barriers, and that I’m the tool needed to do it.”

  Finn tilted her head in thought. Anything trapped in the in-between . . . She turned wide eyes across the garden to Iseult, then quickly looked away. Niklas knew. He knew about the souls of Iseult’s ancestors, and that she wanted to free them. He’d sent Branwen to help her with that task, but why?”

  Noticing that Finn had caught on, Branwen nodded encouragingly. “The Travelers want the barriers broken too. They are helping you to help themselves.”

  That gave Finn pause. She knew better than to trust anything the Travelers wanted.

  “And what will they give you in return?” she asked suspiciously.

  Branwen smiled sadly. “They will allow me to live a normal life, at least as normal as I can, with my family. The Travelers created me as I am now, giving me only the choice of obeying their orders, or dying fully. Truly, I would have almost chose death if it weren’t for Anders’ sacrifice. If I cooperate with the Travelers I can return to my family, and my brother won’t have died in vain.”