Vynasha ran another hand over the beast’s head in silent thanks. “I need to speak with them.”
Eirwen bowed her head and turned to lead the way into the village.
“Will you punish them?” the Changeling piped up.
Vynasha pulled her unruly curls over her shoulder as they followed her beast along the familiar path. “We’ll see.”
We’ll see how many are left alive, she thought.
Eliajaqlyn hummed and spun her daggers. “You should.”
They neared the village, and Vynasha nearly gagged at the stench of fire and what had been consumed by it. She knew the scent of burning flesh well and ran her fingers over her scarred palm.
A small, pale blur burst through the snow-capped trees, followed by the scent of earth majik. “Vynasha, wait!”
Vedmak moved faster than any of them. Vynasha had barely flinched before the male had grasped Erythea and held her back.
“Wait! I promise, I wasn’t going to…to hurt her.” Thea’s platinum hair was plastered to her face with mud and dried blood. There were dark circles under the girl’s pleading eyes.
No matter what the girl had done to her, Vynasha’s gut churned with worry and anger. “What happened to you? Why have you come?”
Thea sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, and tears carved tracks down her dirty cheeks. “I had to use majik to keep them safe. I—Vynasha, I’m so sorry for what I did to you. But please, please don’t punish Father.”
Vynasha dug her claws into her palms and kept her arms straight at her sides. Anything else and the beast itching beneath her skin would consume her. She’d broken the curse, but she could not forget. “Do you understand,” she carefully began, “that using blood majik against people is wrong?”
Thea nodded and shifted against Vedmak’s firm hold. “Grandmother said I would be helping you. They said you had been taken prisoner and it was the only way to help you get better.” She grimaced and twisted her head away. “It hurt… I didn’t know how it would hurt me as much as it hurt you.”
Eliajaqlyn was a silent spectre at Vynasha’s left shoulder. Eirwen crouched with increasingly coiled tension to their right. A word from Vynasha’s lips, one wrong move, and the girl would die. The stone arch with its infinite memory pressed for punishment on her mind. The air still smelled like burnt hair and destroyed dreams.
You brought doom on yourselves when you stole me away, Vynasha wanted to say. But when Erythea Iceveins lifted her head to meet her gaze, all Vynasha saw was a child. A girl who hadn’t understood the majik in her blood or the consequences of her choices. Vynasha saw herself and forgave her.
A bit of the monster was in her rasping reply. “I believe that we’ve all been punished enough for our choices, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I…” Thea’s lip trembled, and then the girl was openly sobbing, twisting in Vedmak’s arms and seeking comfort wherever she could.
Vynasha flexed her hands and glanced at the Changeling before stepping closer. She reached for the girl’s shoulder, then flinched at the scent of Thea’s majik. That cloying scent had tortured Vynasha while ripping her bond with Grendall to shreds.
“Vedmak, please take the girl to her home.” Vynasha said. The horned male nodded and led Erythea back the way they had come. Every step that took the girl farther away brought increasing relief.
I forgave her, but I cannot forget.
Eliajaqlyn spat at the girl’s footprints in snow. “Blood-letting witches.”
Once, not so long ago, Erythea had been her friend, almost a daughter. Baalor had been her best friend and lover, while Ilya had been someone Vynasha looked to as a second mother. Now the sight of her former home brought bile to the back of her throat.
“Let’s get this over with.” Vynasha led them down the path and didn’t look back.
The village was a smoldering ruin of half-burnt cottages and weeping families. Now that the beasts had left, the living tended to their dead. Vynasha was shocked to see they were looking after her beasts as carefully as the villagers.
Not all the beasts were monsters, not in the beginning.
Smoke obscured enough details that if she squinted, if she wanted, Vynasha could almost ignore the truth before her eyes. Until four blurred figures appeared in the path just ahead of them.
Eirwen growled low. “There is the leader.”
Vynasha placed a hand on the beast’s furred head, an anchor for them both.
Eliajaqlyn coughed and waved a hand before her face. “Wonder which idiot lit the fire.”
Vynasha didn’t expect to share in her humor or to share a grim smile with her cousin as the smoke cleared.
“Ashes!” Ceddrych’s voice rang clear, and for a moment, Vynasha wasn’t a queen but a little girl waiting for her brother to come home. Her legs propelled her forward before sense could catch up, but then Ceddrych had his arms around her waist, lifting her into a desperate embrace.
Vynasha had seen her brother at the gate, but it felt much longer. So long that it no longer ached to remember their struggle to reconcile who they had become. He had kept Wyll safe with Resha.
I hope you found happiness, brother.
“I shouldn’t have allowed it,” he was saying, laughing against her hair. “I told them it was a foolhardy plan. But Thea’s spell wasn’t working, and I didn’t know what else to do for you, little sister.”
Vynasha released a sob and pulled up into his embrace and buried her face in his neck. “I’m so sorry, Ceddrych.”
Her brother kept an arm about her waist and rubbed her back with his free hand. “What’s this, now? We’re both well, so there’s nothing to fret over, is there?”
Vynasha shook her head. “But you don’t know. I tried to tell you so many times about Father.”
“I don’t need to know,” Ceddrych interrupted with a half growl. “It’s in the past, isn’t it? All that matters is you’re safe. Are…” he cleared his throat and set her back on her feet. “Resha and Wyll?”
Vynasha glanced over his shoulder to see the twins, Siam and Rian, and Baalor watching them. “They’re safe.”
Ceddrych released a breath and laughed. “Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me? The beasts came here because of me. Wyll almost died, and Father…” She bit back another sob, then flinched as Ceddrych lifted a hand to her cheek.
Her brother’s brown eyes warmed as he said, “You did what no one has been able to do in five centuries. You didn’t just overcome the curse, Ashes, you freed us. We should thank you every day for the rest of our lives.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back with a fond grin. It was the same look he had given her when she’d found the courage to stand up for herself against their sisters or had done something daring. She hadn’t thought to ever see pride in her brother’s eyes again.
Then he knelt on the filthy street and bowed his head. “Will you accept my pledge of fealty, my queen?”
“Ours too,” a pair of voices called.
Vynasha’s breath caught in her throat as the twins kneeled behind Ceddrych, equally bruised and bloody and contrite.
“Just say yes, so we can get on with it,” Eirwen’s thought interrupted.
Vynasha bit back a smile and tried recalling the old tales Ceddrych had once told before replying, “So long as your service doesn’t interfere with your happiness, then I accept, good sirs.”
The twins rose, beaming, and Ceddrych winked as he said, “If your grace would permit, then I would follow you back to the castle.”
“I’d like that,” Vynasha whispered. Anything more and she’d fall to her knees and beg him to come with her. She’d only ever wanted a home since it had been taken away from her.
Ceddrych rose, and the twins followed him. He ducked his head as he approached and cast a glance over his shoulder. “Was there anyone else you wanted to see before we leave?”
Vynasha absently reached for where Soraya’s key had hung against her chest. “Give me
a moment?”
Ceddrych caught her hand and squeezed briefly before stepping aside. He grasped the twins by the backs of their necks just as they started to reach for her. “Maybe next time, pups.”
Eliajaqlyn snorted, but Vynasha moved before she could hear what the Changeling said. Eirwen didn’t try to follow as Vynasha took in the broken village around them. Her steps faltered just before she reached Baalor. Close enough to reach out an arm and touch, close enough for what she needed to say to him.
What can you say?
Vynasha opened and closed her mouth and toed her filthy boot in the mud.
Baalor took another step, closing the remaining distance between them. “I almost killed your brother when I found out he helped you escape,” he began.
Vynasha looked up only to find a smirk playing about the corners of his mouth and crossed her arms over her chest. “I would have been very upset with you for that.”
Baalor fought back a smile as he looked past her and back at the villagers slowly gathering nearer. “So, Beauty, what will you do now that you’ve saved the prince and broken the curse?”
An echo of Grolthox was in his tone, and Vynasha didn’t hate him for it. Instead, she remembered how she had loved him. No matter what had been true or false about him, she was certain of this much. So it was with confidence she finally answered, “Make a home.”
“Truly?” Baalor’s brow lifted, and his smile turned genuine. “You know, I often wish…” He pushed the thought back with a shake of his head.
Vynasha stole a breath and whispered, “Me too.”
For a moment, there was nothing more than the whispers and weeping of the villagers, her brother trading barbs with Eliajaqlyn, and Eirwen’s steady purr just behind. Vynasha looked everywhere but where she wanted, not directly at least.
Baalor’s jaw clenched, and then, with a wry grin, he added, “You should give a speech.”
“What?” Vynasha gasped. “I’m not so great with words, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Baalor gestured to the growing crowd. “To them, nothing you say can dim their love for you.”
Shivers laced her spine at the double meaning behind his words, but Vynasha still faced her people. Her people. Telling scars caused by burns marked some, while others bore the slash of claw and strike of tooth. Children clung to slightly older children and adults, bearing familiar faces. These people had sheltered her when Vynasha had nothing, and she’d never forget that, any more than she’d forget their betrayal.
“You all know the curse is broken,” she began softly. The crowd crept closer, reeking of ash and their afflictions. Vynasha cleared her throat and spoke louder. “I have claimed the power of the mirror. I am the only gatekeeper now.” Her voice cracked, and she cast a desperate glance over the crowd until her gaze settled on her brother.
Ceddrych’s brow creased in concern, but then he was suddenly at her side, slipping his hand into hers with a gentle squeeze. Her limbs ceased shaking as she borrowed her brother’s strength. “Wylderland belongs to us now, not only those in Castle Bitterhelm but to all peoples.”
Some mirror folk were there, hovering on the fringe, just as bloody and marred as the Wolvs. Vynasha did her best to meet their eyes and watched with growing unease as they bowed their heads. She didn’t want them to fear her, not when she didn’t trust the power in her blood.
No one should have this much power.
“I can’t undo the past, but I can give you another chance for the kind of life you deserve. So anyone who wishes to be returned to their original form, please step forward. Those who wish to remain as they are, guard this land and its borders as you were meant to.”
Vynasha held her breath and didn’t have time to worry over her brother’s vise-like grip on her hand. The villagers gaped at her, and a faint din arose over the ruins as they whispered to on another.
Eirwen pushed a thought suddenly into her mind. “That is why we choose to serve you, my queen.”
Vynasha bit back a nervous smile then gasped as Baalor was the first to step forward. All whispering ceased.
The last time they had stood before the village, Vynasha had agreed to be Baalor’s wife. She hadn’t wanted him to bow to her and wasn’t sure if she’d ever trust him again. But she hadn’t forgotten who Baalor Iceveins was: pack master, leader of the village in all but name, the false prince Grolthox.
His rough voice fell over the hushed crowd. “If it’s all right with you, my queen, I’d very much like to live as I have beyond the castle gates.”
Vynasha recalled the wolfish snout and sheer majesty of his true form. His people had come through the mirror once, bearing that form. “But why? You have been denied yourself for so long,” she blurted then hesitated at the amused arch to his brow.
Eirwen bumped the back of her hand with her furred head. “Not all of us have reason to hate what we have become.”
Baalor bowed his head but held Vynasha’s gaze as he replied. “My true mate fell in love with this form, as you recall. While I wouldn’t deny any of my pack or family the chance to be restored, I would choose happiness over power.”
Her mouth fell open, but no words came in the confusing blend of anger, sorrow, and longing she battled against. Ceddrych squeezed her hand but not in a gesture of comfort.
Her brother released her and did the unthinkable by joining Baalor and saying, “I swore myself to you, but I’d very much like to be human again if that’s all right, little sister.”
Vynasha buried her fingers in Eirwen’s fur as Luanor Iceveins slipped through the crowd, pain creasing her brow with each hobbling step. The former beast braced a hand on her brother’s arm as she said, “Restore me?”
At least a dozen others stepped forward. The very last and least expected of them all, Ilya Iceveins walked through the crowd to stand at her daughter’s side. The old witch leaned on her longsword like a cane, and black piercing eyes met Vynasha’s. “I grow weary of this world. Let me rest?”
Vynasha’s heart pounded painfully in her chest as she closed her eyes and reached for the power of the mirror. Before she had unlocked the gate, the curse had poisoned all majik to twist into pale shades of what it had been. Only after Vynasha had opened the mirror could she tell the difference. Only now could she feel the way their land was teeming with it once more. It was too easy to give in to the temptation to seize every drop of this power for herself. Let the ones who rose against her be punished and a new freedom be given to those trampled upon.
And yet…
“I choose happiness over power,” Baalor had said.
I can’t change the past, Vynasha thought, but I can give you hope for a better future.
She released a breath, and violet light burst from her skin, rising from the earth and piercing into the hearts of all who had made their wish.
IN THE END, the people were given a choice: Go through the mirror and guard the other side or stay and help rebuild what was lost. Most chose to stay. But a few, like Luanor and Eliajaqlyn, chose to go to that forbidden realm of majik.
“I’m not even from that realm, little cousin,” Eliajaqlyn had told Vynasha in parting, “but I’d like to at least try to find my way home.”
To say the people were relieved to see the Changeling go was not lost on their queen. Not even Vynasha completely trusted her mother’s kin, much as she longed to find others like herself.
“Silly cousin,” Eliajaqlyn had said, “you are a hybrid. There are none like you, not this side of the mirror, anyway.”
The wind carried a bitter chill, and Vynasha tightened her cloak even as she used majik to ease the sting. Too much power and the winds would cease, and she had learned early to be careful with the weather. No point in mucking up the seasons now that they had them again.
The queen of Wylderland waited at the crest of the hill before the open black gates of Bitterhelm. While she shifted anxiously on her sturdy boots, Vynasha wished she had not allowed Lyttia to dress her in something so
grand.
He’ll think me a fool, she mused wryly. Their last meeting had not gone so well, after all. There was a likely chance this would end very badly.
Pressing an absent hand over the amulet about her neck, Vynasha pretended she wasn’t scouring the road leading away from her domain. She turned her thoughts instead to matters waiting for her attention back in the castle. Odym claimed she worked too hard, but they were so close to being ready.
Rebuilding Bitterhelm had taken ten winters, but soon they could finally welcome all of their people through the gates. They had built them a home, but it hadn’t been Vynasha’s work alone. Many folk from the forest, along with the beasts who returned to their former skins, had chosen to live in the abandoned ruins while helping with the work. This was made easier now that the shades had vanished with the end of the curse. Only the beasts who had kept their cursed forms lived with Vynasha in the castle.
“Beauty?” A low, gravelly voice interrupted her thoughts, and Vynasha smoothed her skirts as Baalor finally crested the hill.
Her friend was as tall and feral looking as ever in his furs and his windswept hair tugging free of its tie. Otherwise, Baalor was unaltered from their last meeting the year before. Only the humans Ceddrych led on Mount Grimm had shown signs of aging so far, and very slowly at that. Time moved differently in these borderlands, after all.
“Grolthox,” she greeted, teasing him as she might have before their last argument. While Vynasha winced as soon as the hated title passed her lips, Baalor only rolled his eyes.
“There is that wonderful tact that makes your subjects swoon.”
Vynasha scoffed then stiffened as Baalor took another three steps. She smoothed her skirt and lifted her chin. “I haven’t had any complaints.”
“You wouldn’t, with all the power of the gate at your fingertips,” he replied while crossing his arms over his chest.
“You bloody brute, would you just greet me properly for once?” Vynasha resisted the childish urge to stomp her foot.
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