She looked at me with an arched brow. “The ability to aid someone in navigating their own memories and tease them to the surface. The subject will be awake and yet asleep.”
It sounded like hypnotism.
“A hypnotist?” Finn said. “Yes, that could work.”
“Well, thank you so much for your validation, human,” Aurelia said shortly.
Finn’s jaw tensed.
Roxy bristled. “This human and humans like him have kept the shimmer alive for the past century. The shimmer the Tuatha provided faded.”
“My shimmer. I remember that light.” Aurelia touched her breastbone. “It used to be warm, and it was mine.” She exhaled sharply. “How could I have forgotten?”
“Your sacrifice and that of all the other fey served its purpose for a long time,” Roxy continued. “But now, nothing will save it.”
“Except restoring Alaron.” Aurelia stalked across the room. “Stay here. I will summon Bunty.”
Bunty? It sounded like the name of a pet bunny, not a Knowledge Keeper, but who was I to judge. I’d named my pet dormouse Roxy, and she’d turned out to be a silver wolf.
A mechanical one.
With fur.
I wandered over to one of the windows, allowing the sun to bathe me in warmth.
If the mind diving worked, if Alaron’s memories were still there, if we could tease them to the surface, we could gather an army and go back to the winter kingdom in force. All we needed was a distraction and a way in. All we needed was to get him to the throne.
“Wynter, are you all right?” Finn asked.
“Huh? Yes, I’m fine.”
“You had that look on your face, the one you get when you’re thinking too hard.”
“The cross-eyed one?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
For a moment, it was just us, Finn and Wynter sharing a private joke. For a moment, there was no mission for the greater good and no awkward tension between us. But that moment didn’t last.
His expression closed off as if he’d remembered he wasn’t meant to be getting chummy with me.
Annoyance heated my eyes. “Can you not do that, please?”
“Do what?” he asked in a flat tone.
The urge to punch something had me curling my hand into a fist. Why was it that I could fight wolves and cross frozen lakes, but when it came to Finn and his glacial mood, my insides felt like claws were attacking them?
“Stop being closed off and cold. It isn’t who you are. It isn’t who we are. Together.”
“There is no we, Wynter.”
I balked, and then the annoyance turned to anger. “Excuse me? You may not want to be romantically involved with me, but we still have a connection. We’re still friends.”
His throat bobbed.
Urgh, I wanted to shake him. “Look at me, dammit.”
His baby blues met mine. “No, Wynter. We’re not friends. Not anymore. I can’t be your friend. I can’t watch you with them. Once this is over, I’m going home, and once I’m there, I’ll remember you like you were before … Before.”
My neck heated. “Before I turned into a hussy?”
He tucked in his chin. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, you didn’t have to.” I left him at the window and walked away.
I was done with Finn.
Chapter Sixteen
Bunty was a woman. A slightly scatty-looking fey who blinked a lot. She’d cleared the room of Fenn’s men and Dareth. They’d been taken to the kitchens for refreshments. She’d ordered the shutters closed, and now the chamber was shrouded in darkness with only a single lamp to light it. Bunty had positioned a chair in the center of the room, set a tiny table before it, and placed the lamp on the table. Fenn had been ushered into the seat, and the rest of us shooed off into the shadows.
“Silence,” Bunty instructed us with a stern look that was somewhat ruined by the extra blinks. “I need silence.”
“We won’t interrupt, Bunty,” Aurelia said. There was a softness in her voice when speaking to Bunty, a fondness that took away the edge to her regular curt tone. “Thank you for doing this.”
Bunty nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, of course.” Her smile was short and sweet, and then her focus was on Fenn, who was seated on the chair before her. “Relax, please. Just breathe and relax.”
“I’ll do my best,” the winter king said.
Finn, Veles, the Raven, Aurelia, and I stood in the shadows of the room as Bunty pulled up a stool and perched on it. She reached into the bag she’d brought with her and pulled out a vial.
“Here.” She held it out to Fenn. “Smell it.”
He took it gingerly. “What is it?”
“Crushed Aramanthin. It will help you slumber while awake.”
He uncorked the vial and held it under his nose for a second before passing it back to Bunty.
“Lie back now,” she instructed. “Close your eyes.”
Fenn did as told.
Bunty began to hum. It was a low pleasant sound, a soothing vibration that made me want to close my eyes. I stood straighter, resisting the pull of lethargy. Beside me, Finn buckled, but Veles’s hand shot out to hold him up.
Whatever Bunty was doing was influencing us too but not as much as Fenn. His chest rose and fell evenly. Was he asleep?
Bunty stopped humming. “Fenn, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Go back for me. Go back to when you woke up in the keep. What do you see?”
“I’m in a room with a fire burning. It’s a lounge, someone’s lounge. How did I get here? Where is here?” His chest started to rise and fall faster. “I … I’m … who am I?”
He was practically hyperventilating now.
“It’s all right,” Bunty said. “You’re safe. Relax.”
Fenn’s breathing evened out again.
“I want you to slip into sleep again and go back, back to the point before you fell asleep in the keep.”
Fenn’s brow furrowed.
“What do you see?”
“The fire crackles. I know this place. I came here to … to what? Wait, who are you?”
“Me?” Bunty asks.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“There is someone with you. Who is it?” Bunty urged.
“A child, a woman, a crone,” Fenn said.
Bunty made a choking sound and then leaned forward and touched Fenn’s hand.
“Bunty!” Aurelia took a step forward and then froze. “Oh, no.”
Bunty’s head tipped back. Her eyes were open, but her irises and pupils were now white.
“Who are you?” Fenn’s voice spilled from her lips. “How did you get in here?”
“Time runs out,” a child’s voice said. “Soon, you will forget.” The voice changed to a more mature female one. “And once you do, you will not remember. Without remembering, you cannot break the enchantment.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Give them to me, Your Majesty,” an old woman said. “Give me your memories of being the winter king. I will keep them safe. Do not let the enchantment bury them where you cannot go.”
“I’m forgetting …”
“Yes.” It was the child once more. “It is happening. But you can take control.” The voice melted to the young woman’s. “Let fate guide you.”
Bunty’s head snapped forward. Her fingers slipped from Fenn’s hand, and then she toppled off her stool.
Aurelia moved lightning fast, catching her in time to gently lower her to the ground.
“Bunty? Bunty?”
“I’m fine. Just a moment.” The Knowledge Keeper allowed the queen to pull her to her feet. “Oh, my. I was not expecting that.” She reached out and tapped the back of Fenn’s hand three times. “Wake up.”
Fenn opened his eyes. “Is it over?”
Bunty sighed. “I’m afraid it’s only just begun.”
* * *
The shutters were up, and the room
was flooded with the golden hues of a late afternoon sun.
Bunty blinked at us and then rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “The maiden, the mother, the crone are all forms that Cailleach takes. She is the veiled one. A master of fate and the keeper of the afterworld.”
Veles sucked in a breath. “Cailleach, of course. The afterworld is the place between living and death.”
“The winter king saw Cailleach,” Bunty confirmed. “She has his memories, and if he wants them back, he’ll have to go to the afterworld to get them.”
“I’m the winter king …” Fenn ran a hand over his face. “It’s true? I gave away my memories?”
“It’s true.” Bunty offered him a perfunctory smile.
“But why did she take my memories?”
I knew the answer to that one. “She said that the enchantment couldn’t be broken if you didn’t have your memories, which we already knew. But if you’d lost your memories to the enchantment, then it seems like getting access to them would have been impossible … so, then you couldn’t break the enchantment.” I winced. “Am I making sense?”
Fenn frowned. “Yes. That makes perfect sense.” He looked to Bunty. “Where is the afterworld. How do we find it?”
It was Veles who answered. “There is only one way to get to the afterworld. You have to die.”
Chapter Seventeen
The room was shrouded in silence. I looked to the Raven, who shook his head and shrugged.
Aurelia began to pace, and Bunty looked thoughtful.
“What good is a dead king, even with his memories?” Finn asked.
He had a point, but my mind was churning with possibilities. “Why would Cailleach have taken the king’s memories if there was no way of him getting them back and breaking the enchantment. There has to be a way for him to enter the afterworld and come back again.”
“The Hunt,” Raven said. “We need to summon the Hunt.”
“The same creatures that devoured the souls in the tavern?” Was he crazy?
“Fey don’t have souls like humans,” the Raven explained. “We release energy which is then transported to Nawia, only in this case, with the shimmer in place, the souls would be stuck in the afterworld.”
“I don’t understand, what has the Hunt got to do with this?”
“The Hunt feeds off the energy released when a fey dies. The energy that is unique to each fey and then passes through them on to the afterworld. A long time ago, they would be allowed one day to ride through the mortal realm and devour souls. This would be a filling meal. But that time has passed, and all the Hunt has now is the residue that comes from a fey’s energy.”
“The Hunt can go where it pleases,” Veles said. “And from what I recall, it can take passengers.”
Bunty sat up straighter. “I can create a concoction to stop the king’s heart and one to restart it again. When he dies, it will summon the Hunt, and you can convince them to aid us.”
“How long to make the concoction?” Aurelia asked.
“If I begin now, I can have it ready for the dawn.”
“Thank you.” The queen inclined her head, and Bunty scurried from the room.
We had a plan, now all we needed to do was execute it.
* * *
The room I’d been shown to was small and cozy. The bed was made, and a fire was already crackling and popping in the hearth. The metal shutters on the windows were closed but decorated in an autumnal pattern of green, orange, and brown. The floorboards were bare, but there was a large, warm-brown rug laced with a green vine pattern on the floor. A washroom, complete with a claw foot bath and a shower stall, led off the room, and there was a small dresser with an ornate mirror.
Guest quarters she’d called them. One of the guest quarters anyway. The castle was filled with fey. Villagers and noblemen and women hadn’t simply been relegated to the courtyard; they’d been allowed into the inner sanctum of the castle itself. We’d been lucky to find a bed for the night.
Fenn’s men had been happy to share the lounge, bedding down on the floor. Dareth had joined them, promising tales of his journey. My body was tired, my limbs ached, and my mind was buzzing with what was to come. I wasn’t in the mood for tales.
Instead, I retreated to my room for the night and closed the door. The washroom had been my first stop, and now my body was clean and fragrant beneath my dirty clothes. Maybe the queen would be able to offer a change of outfit?
Silence was golden, but it left too much room for thinking, and unfortunately, the only thoughts that seemed to enter my head were ones of death and destruction.
I can sense your disconcertion, Berstuk said in my mind.
The knot that had been forming in my chest melted. How did he seem to know when I needed counsel? “I’m afraid we’ll fail. Everyone is counting on me, but what if, when it comes down to it, I disappoint them. What if I can’t get the king to the throne? What if I get him to the throne but then can’t get to Oblivion to kill it? What if … What if Queen Aurelia is right, and my being out there is too risky?”
You could die in your sleep. Or trip and break your neck.
“Um … that isn’t helping.”
He chuckled. What I’m trying to say is that death and failure can happen at any time and come in many forms. There are no guarantees. But if you believe you will succeed, if you can have faith in yourself, that faith will give you power.
His words were a soothing balm to my prickly, deadly thoughts. “You’re not the man I thought you were, Berstuk.”
Oh? I’m not a devilishly handsome goat-legged creature?
I couldn’t help but smile. “I thought you were evil.”
He sighed. So did I. Evil came easy. Succumbing was easy, and then you stumbled into my clearing carrying hope, and suddenly, the easy path wasn’t so appealing.
“So, you marked me?”
I needed to see. I needed to be a part of this.
“We’re going to kill the winter king at dawn to summon the Hunt and then revive him again.”
He sucked in a breath. I know. I heard.
He’d been listening? “I didn’t sense you.”
There was a smile in his voice. I still have some devilish tendencies. The plan is risky, but you have no other choice.
“I know.”
There was a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Finn entered. “It’s getting rowdy out there.” His gaze tracked to the chaise longue. “Is it okay if I sleep in here?”
My throat tightened.
Tell him to fuck off, Berstuk said. He doesn’t deserve you.
I ignored him. “I thought you didn’t want to be around me?”
Finn pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say that. I said we couldn’t be friends, and even that … Wynter, I don’t know. I just … I care about you. I’m in love with you, and those feelings, they don’t just go away because you can’t have what you want.”
“You chose not to have it.”
He closed his eyes. “And I stand by that.”
I headed for the door. “You can take the chaise. It’s big enough.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get some air.”
Chapter Eighteen
VELES
The human, Finn, slips out of the room, and there is no doubt in my mind where he’s headed. Jealousy is a twisted monster clawing at my insides, but I soothe it with a gulp of ale. Let him go to her. Wynter is no fool. She knows what she wants, and the human isn’t it. The part of her that loves him—that holds on to him—is the human part. That part is rapidly fading as she acclimatizes to the godliness of her soul.
Finn is a dream that will fade with time, and there is a part of me that pities him. He doesn’t know what he is losing. Doesn’t realize what his prejudices are keeping him from.
Fuck him.
Better for me if he’s out of the picture. Sharing Wynter’s affections with the Raven will be challenge enough. I slide my gaze toward the b
ird now. He’s seated in the shadows watching the revelry with his beady black eyes.
How long would it take to pluck off all his feathers?
My lips are smiling with the thought when he looks up and catches my eye. Fuck, he’s coming over. Damn the smile and the unwitting invitation.
“Veles.” He leans up against the wall beside me.
“Raven.” I take another sip of my drink. It’s sweet and potent, but not potent enough to cloud my mind. “Are you enjoying the tale?”
“I wasn’t listening to it. I was thinking.”
“About?”
“Wynter.”
I can’t stop my lip from curling. “You’re regretting not fucking her when you had the chance?”
He tensed. “I don’t regret any moment I’ve shared with her. But I have no way of knowing how many of those moments were also shared with Morrigan. She clouds everything. Her presence. Her control.”
He doubts Wynter. Doubts that she loves him. Worries that it’s Morrigan that drives Wynter’s emotions. This is the moment to drive home his insecurities, to push him out of the picture and claim Wynter as mine. But instead, I find myself laughing. It takes me by surprise, claiming my lungs and my vocal cords, as my mind marvels at the ridiculousness of his statement.
I laugh and laugh so hard that there are tears streaming down my face.
“What?” The Raven looks at me as if I have gone insane.
Maybe I had because the damned laughter won’t stop, and tears are clouding my vision.
“Veles?” the Raven snaps.
“I’m sorry.” I hold up a hand because I need a moment to gather myself. To fight against the breathless ache in my chest that comes from pure unadulterated humor. “You think Morrigan drives Wynter’s emotions? If that were true, do you honestly think she’d have allowed Wynter to fall in love with me? To lay with me?” I choke back another laugh. “By your reckoning, I’ve been fucking Morrigan.”
The Raven stares at me in horror. And then he turns and strides out of the room.
Wait … have I just pushed him into fucking Wynter? The urge to go after him and stop him is a gnawing ache in the back of my mind, but I squash it. Wynter doesn’t belong to me. She doesn’t belong to anyone.
Fate’s Destiny: Heart of Darkness Book 3 Page 9