Hush, the woods are darker still

by L. V Russell

  “Your Glamour is coursing through her body, changing her. It is a lot to endure.”

  “Laphaniel?” I opened my eyes, blinking against the too-bright light. “Why is everyone yelling?”

  His hands were on me instantly, helping me sit, running over my cheeks to check I was okay, threading through my hair when I told him over, and over that I was.

  I was back in our room, lying against soft pillows, surrounded by furs and throws. The fire crackled in the grate, the logs inside splitting— the flames spitting. The candles were all lit, flooding the room with a light so bright it hurt my eyes. I closed them again, my head filling with the quick thudding of something achingly familiar.

  It beat too fast, a panicked drum.

  A strange taste coated my tongue, sharp and cold and strangely sweet. It faded with the slowing of Laphaniel’s heartbeat, taking on the scent of spice and black liquorice that I would recognise anywhere.

  “You were frightened,” I said, squinting through half-open lids. “I could…I could taste it.”

  Darkness bloomed at the corners of the room, candles curling up into grey smoke as Charlotte doused all but a small handful.

  Laphaniel gave a tight smile. “You terrified me.”

  I placed my hand over his chest. “I know, I heard your heartbeat.”

  “Can you feel it?” Charlotte placed a claw beneath my chin and tilted my head up. “The Glamour?”

  The Spider’s heart thrummed like a hummingbird’s wings, almost silent. There was a flood of new sensations overloading everything, tastes, and scents and sounds…but nothing else.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Keep searching for it,” Charlotte replied, claws scraping back the tangles of my hair. “It is there, deep inside you.”

  With a shaking hand, I ran a finger over Laphaniel’s delicately pointed ear before touching my rounded one. “I’m still human.”

  “You are still you,” Charlotte said, passing me a hand mirror. “but no, not entirely human. Not anymore.”

  I lifted the ornate glass, focusing first upon my very human ears, relieved they had remained the same. Freckles still scattered over my nose, though my skin was smoother than it had been before.

  The biggest change was my eyes.

  Before, they had been an ordinary green, pretty perhaps, but ordinary. Even in the dim light, my eyes seemed to glow, a luminous green speckled with flecks of bright gold. A ring of deep amber circled my pupil, darkening as I stared in shock. Slowly, slowly it deepened to black, swallowing every last bit of emerald.

  I dropped the mirror, not wanting to look any longer. I whirled around to face Laphaniel so quickly, I made him jump. “Your eyes are blue.”

  The lovely purple had faded away, the silver around his pupil dulled to a soft grey.

  “A small price to pay,” he said, glancing at Charlotte, who continued to hover around us. “Your hair has got longer, look.”

  He brushed it across my shoulder, fingers running through the deep reds, golds, and blacks that now threaded through it. It was at least six inches longer, thicker and bouncier.

  “Oh,” I breathed. “I like this.”

  “But not your eyes?” he smiled gently, our hands continuing to explore the changes in each other. “Because they change colour?”

  I nodded. “They are very not human.”

  “They are beautiful, though.”

  Heat spread across my cheeks, and I snorted. “Do you feel different?”

  Apart from his eye colour, he looked just like he always had. Though he had lost some of the stillness that would settle over him, even sat beside me, I could detect a restlessness that hadn’t been there before.

  Laphaniel hesitated. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Do you think you can lie now?”

  My question piqued the interest of Charlotte, who cocked her head, eyes bright. “Tell us an untruth, angel. Tell me that the sky above burns red.”

  Laphaniel turned to the window, at the calm Unseelie sky of violet and black. “The sky is red.”

  The words came out in a quick tumble, and he winced, bracing himself for the pain that would normally follow the lie. His eyes widened, then a grin spread over his lips, bright with wonder and wickedness.

  “I think you’re going to need a little practice,” I said, laughing. “Your poker face needs some work.”

  Charlotte scurried closer, stopping a breath away from Laphaniel’s face. “Do you still fear me?”

  “No.”

  The single word hitched ever so slightly, slipping past his lips with just enough unease to paint it as the lie it was. It wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t faltered. The scent of cloying sweetness lingered at my nose, the taste of that fear chilling upon my tongue.

  Charlotte withdrew, smoothing down the faded grey silks of her gown. “I shall be in my quarters if either of you needs me.”

  “I no longer believe you’re going to eat me,” Laphaniel said, surprising myself and Charlotte when he reached for her hand. “But, your stories were whispered over my cradle in the darkness, and they are very hard to forget.”

  Charlotte’s answering smile revealed the rows of neat white fangs. “One day, you will tell me these stories.”

  “If you would like.”

  Her eyes glittered, black and huge in the dim light. “In the darkness?”

  Laphaniel nodded. “It is the best place for them.”

  “Would you be afraid?”

  “Oh, most likely.”

  The Spider grinned, the smile turning wistful as she ran a claw over the smooth band upon Laphaniel’s finger. “Perhaps, one day, I will share a different story over a different cradle.”

  “Perhaps,” he replied after a pause.

  “Keep searching for that Glamour, little one,” she said to me. “It is there. Find it and work with it.”

  Charlotte turned in a whisper of silk, her claws clicking upon the marble floor as she left the room.

  Laphaniel sat beside me on the bed. “Ready to see what you can do?”

  I met the strange blue of his eyes before glancing back down at my hands, wanting to feel the thrum of Glamour in them. “Where do we start?”

  “Summon a flame,” he answered. “It’s the easiest trick to learn.”

  Hours passed.

  We had been trying for hours.

  Outside, the strange violet sky darkened to a deep indigo, bringing to life countless stars that glittered in the pitch. Laphaniel re-lit the candles with a match.

  My hands shook with the effort of calling up magic that had never been a part of me before. My heart thumped, quick, and jittery. My palms so slick I had to keep wiping them on the bedcovers to get enough friction to click my fingers.

  Laphaniel’s heartbeat remained steady, his hands cupping around mine while he explained over and over how to call heat to my fingertips.

  “Try again,” he said, a harshness taking over his voice as his patience finally wavered. His hands hovered above mine. “Again.”

  I shifted upon the mound of furs I sat upon, my body aching with its newness. My head thumped with the sounds of the crackling fire, the echo of footsteps, the clipped tone of Laphaniel’s words.

  “Again, Teya.”

  I moved my fingers like he showed me, trying to feel for the heat that just wasn’t there, that spark of magic I had taken from him, trying to get a flame to ignite. Nothing happened. My fingers were sore from nothing happening.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Laphaniel fell back against the pillows, a frustrated grunt slipping from his lips as he blew out a breath. I didn’t blame him; it should have been easy enough.

  I could feel the Glamour raging within me, deep beneath the surface, a constant thrum of energy that set my nerves alight. I marvelled at how Laphaniel could have ever controlled it and moulded it to his will when I couldn’t even reach it.

  “Hold your fingers together,” Laphaniel said again, shifting beside me. “Can you feel
it tingling?”

  I shook my head, feeling nothing but the weight of failure.

  “Concentrate, don’t touch your fingers together yet. Wait until you feel the heat, then click.”

  I did exactly as I was told, wincing as he raked a quick hand through his hair, muttering beneath his breath.

  “I’m really trying,” I gritted out, prickling at his impatience. A part of me feared that it was because the Glamour wasn’t mine, like it truly didn’t belong to me. “This is all new for me.”

  “You’re just assuming you can’t do it, so it isn’t working.”

  “Could you give me more time?” I snapped, feeling the tension crackling between us. “I was human this morning.”

  Laphaniel gritted his teeth. “And I wasn’t.”

  He pushed himself off the bed, running a hand over an unlit candle on the nightstand, flexing his fingers above the wick as if he could still feel the heat in them.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He started to pace the room. “I can’t hear you.”

  “I said…”

  “No.” He shut me off, still pacing. Restless. “I can’t hear you like I used to. I could pick out the sound of your heartbeat within a hundred beating hearts, and now I can’t hear it. You smell different, too. Everything does. I’m afraid that if I can’t see you, I won’t be able to find you.”

  “I think we’ll always be able to find each other,” I said, watching while he rummaged through an ornate liquor cabinet. He pulled out a large bottle and poured two generous glasses of thick, dark amber liquid. I took the glass he offered me, grimacing at the burn it left as I took a sip. Laphaniel swallowed his shot and poured another.

  “Do you regret what you did?” A question I was unsure if I wanted the answer to or not.

  Laphaniel rubbed his eyes, swirling the whisky in his glass before drinking. “I can’t really, can I? Not if it helps in the end, not if it means we can destroy Luthien.”

  “It’s still okay to miss what I’ve taken from you,” I said, reaching for him when he passed me. “Even if it’s…”

  “Wasted on you?”

  I pulled back my hand in surprise, waiting a moment for him to apologise, but he said nothing and poured yet another drink, downing it like the other two.

  “I’m doing my best.”

  “Then, do better.”

  I glared at him. “I need time. Stop drinking and help me.”

  His eyes narrowed, looking at something over my shoulder. I turned to see nothing but the dark sky of Unseelie. When I faced Laphaniel again, he had another drink in his hand.

  “Can you feel the Glamour inside you at least?”

  “Yes.”

  Laphaniel took a smaller sip before placing the glass down. “Okay, good. Reach for that thread, see what happens.”

  Nothing happened.

  Nothing,

  Nothing,

  Nothing.

  “Why can’t you do this?”

  I stood, tilting my head to meet his eyes and hissed, “I need more time.”

  Laphaniel closed the gap between us, towering over me, his face too close to mine. I could smell the tang of liquor on his breath. His hands gripped the tops of my arms, and he gave me a quick, rough shake.

  “We don’t have time, Teya!” he growled at me. “Don’t you understand that? You need to figure this out right now, or you’re going to kill us both.”

  “Get your hands off me!” I shoved him away, startled and furious. “Don’t you dare touch me like that.”

  He stumbled back with a forced laugh, swiping up the bottle of whisky again. “This isn’t going to work, is it?” he said, shaking his head while he took a deep drink. “What are you going to do when you face Luthien? Click at her?”

  I wanted to snatch the bottle away from him, but I forced a distance between us. “I have seen the dregs of your memories, you know,” I breathed, anger surging upwards like a tide. I could taste it upon my tongue.

  He faltered. “What?”

  “I saw you as a frightened little boy, and I saw you with Nefina.” Something prickled up my spine, glorious and hot. “You couldn’t save her—are you afraid that you won’t save me?”

  He backed away, the anger dissolving into something else, but he took a breath, feeding that fury and aimed it back at me without mercy. “I’m afraid I’m going to end up dying for you again.”

  I felt sick and fought the urge to strike him. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to stop disappointing me.”

  “You don’t mean that…”

  We both jumped at the sudden crash of thunder that sent sheets of rain to beat against the windows.

  Laphaniel tipped the bottle in my direction, sloshing amber liquid onto the rugs. More thunder boomed against the sky.

  “Oh, but I do,” he began, his words beginning to slur together. “I am so tired of having to keep dragging you up. You keep expecting people to drag you up, to help you, to comfort you. Do something for yourself, Teya! Help your damned self.”

  “I never asked you to die for me,” I said, while the wind picked up outside, turning the rain into fine sleet.

  “And yet I still did,” Laphaniel answered coldly, taking another drink and then another until I snatched the bottle from him and launched it into the fireplace. The bottle shattered, the pieces glittering. He turned away and smirked at the lightning ripping the sky apart.

  Furious tears began a slow descent down my face. I felt like my world was breaking. “No wonder everyone you love leaves you.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, and I knew I had hurt him, but when he opened them again, they were dark and angry. “I left Luthien, and right now it would be just as easy to leave you.”

  The skies outside crackled, and I could almost taste the storm, feel the way it was trying to split the night in two. I was so angry, so hurt…so in pain that I could taste blood against my lips.

  “Then, get out!” I shouted at him. “Get away from here. Get away from me!”

  I screamed, and the world screamed with me. The glass in the windows shattered, the candles exploded into flame, and a cacophony of broken things bellowed through the room. It tore Laphaniel from his feet, tossing him against the wall with so much force I heard his head crack before he slumped to the floor.

  I followed him, ignoring the sound of broken glass beneath my feet, unable to see past the red haze that covered my eyes, barely hearing anything but the sound of my rage. My fury was a palpable thing, heady and wild and satisfying, flowing through my veins like a drug.

  A screech tore through me, a banshee cry that teased winding vines through the broken windows to creep around my feet. They looped around Laphaniel, pinning him up like a puppet, grasping at his throat until he was forced to suck in a pained breath. I tightened my hold and squeezed.

  The storm was mine, and I was not letting go.

  “I…I…can’t…breathe.”

  More lightning flashed, thunder rolling across the skies while hail pounded the castle walls, spraying the floor with ice. I saw only red—beautiful, beautiful red.

  “If you can still talk, you can breathe,” I hissed, power coursing over me in dizzying waves.

  “You…lit…the…candles.”

  I turned, the mist fading instantly when I saw that every single candle in the room was ablaze, the light dancing over the destruction I had caused. My gaze snapped back to Laphaniel, and I choked on my scream when I realised what I had done.

  The vines uncurled and dropped him, and the winds died down. I caught him when he fell to his knees, gasping. He sucked in rasping breaths against my shoulder, the noises catching in his throat as he struggled to get them in. His hands tightened on my arms, panic taking hold.

  “I could have killed you,” I said, drawing back, my hands trembling against him. “I nearly killed you.”

  Laphaniel leant forward, resting his head against his knees as he calmed his breathing. He sat there for a
few minutes before he looked up, his neck bright with livid red marks. “Then, just imagine what you’ll do to Luthien.”

  Thunder erupted at the sound of her name, and Laphaniel grinned while I fought against the surge of emotions raging within me. “You didn’t mean anything you said.”

  “No,” he replied, touching his forehead against mine. “But you believed me.”

  I held onto him, my hands snaking through his hair. There was blood on my hands when I pulled them back, trickling slowly from a cut near his temple.

  “I would have loved to…to have the time to show you properly,” he began. “We just didn’t have the time. I didn’t want…I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  I took an uneasy breath, tears threatening at my eyes as the anger ebbed away, leaving me exhausted. “You’ve never been able to lie to me before. I believed you because I wouldn’t blame you for having enough. I’ve dragged you through hell, and I guess everyone must have their limits, I thought you had finally reached yours. You gave up so much for me, and I was still useless.”

  Laphaniel looked around the room, at the destruction and chaos I had caused, a lovely, wicked smile spreading over his face. “You have just destroyed an entire room in a temper tantrum. I wouldn’t call that useless.”

  I returned his smile. “I can’t believe you drank a bottle of whisky just to piss me off.”

  “And I would gladly do it again,” he said, pushing himself to his feet, clutching the broken bedpost as he stumbled.

  “That drink has hit you harder than it used to, hasn’t it?”

  “A little bit,” he admitted, lowering himself onto the bed. He looked around at the blazing candles, shedding erratic light onto the shattered pieces of furniture, then back at me.

  He looked at me with such pride in his eyes that I felt heat rise to my cheeks. The pain of his words melted away beneath that look, and I found myself longing to be closer to him, to undo the doubt and the hurt and the anger that had caused me to completely lose control. Words that niggled at the back of my mind, knowing that perhaps there was a little truth to them.

  I slipped into his arms, the broken bed creaking under our weight as I kissed him hard. I could taste the raindrops on his mouth, the subtle tang of blood and sweat and alcohol, but beneath that…him. He tasted like the woods, like spice and warmth. Of home.