When she finally drifted off to sleep, I covered her with a blanket and slipped outside.
The rain that began as a smattering just before the Smiths departed was now angry, driving in torrential sheets against the house. The wind pushed it onto the porch, across the windows. I couldn’t wait to feel the downpour on my skin and hear Fate’s voice in my ear.
The river channeled all the water pouring off the foothills, the stones throbbing underfoot. But Fate was completely still. He was present, but his quiet hush drowned out the raging storm around me.
I reveled in the peace he lent, all the while knowing it was fleeting, that some greater storm was coming.
5
River
The room was packed with witches and humans alike, all dressed in their finery, an array of vibrant colors and rich blacks. The gift from my parents sat heavily on my head, a thick silver crown I didn’t want but couldn’t refuse.
That was yet another conversation we needed to have soon, but not tonight. Mom and Dad wanted to have a night of fun and peace without worrying about the Purists or their incessant attempts to drag our family through the mud. For once, so did I. Fun and peace sounded like sweet relief.
Almost everyone caroused on the dance floor as musicians played upbeat songs. Mira even pulled me onto the dance floor once. I thought she just wanted to have fun, but her ploy became apparent when Brecan sent the confetti and glitter into the air, coating everyone dancing. The guests loved it. Laughter filled the hall, echoing across the ceiling.
Though the room was filled with people, I only knew a handful in attendance. Brecan brought his witches from the House of Air, all arrayed in pale blue and white robes. Their tastefully muted tones set them apart from the Fire witches led by Ethne, who were bedecked in sumptuous tones of pomegranate red, sunset orange, and turmeric yellow. Mira’s Water witches were garbed in a mixture of dark blue shades that ranged from the glossiest sapphire to the blackest of navy, while the witches of the House of Earth sported green hues from playful tones of lime and chartreuse to the deepest forest green.
Then there was Arron and his House, the House of Fate. The House where in another life, I would have been assigned to live to learn my magic in safety. If I hadn’t been born a prince, I would be standing with Arron enshrouded in black. As it was, no Fate witch had been born in the Kingdom since me, so Arron stood alone.
Arron’s eyes bothered most people, but they never bothered me. The pupils were slitted, like a cat’s eye. He was called the Son of Night, in part because dark clouds concealed him and reality bent to his whim. He could make the entire room appear as if it was an impressionist painting. He could make everything blurry or make people forget he was in the room. I suspected he could do much more than he’d revealed, and much more than Mom would let him show me.
He walked toward me but stopped when he saw Mira approaching. I wasn’t sure what was going on between them. They obviously loved each other, but Mira’s duties as Priestess of her House kept them apart. At one time I remembered them being happy and as affectionate as propriety allowed, but now…now a chasm had formed between them. When I asked Mom about it, she simply said that Arron felt he loved Mira more than she would ever love him, and that he might have to move on. And that Mira was heartbroken, but wouldn’t admit it to herself.
Mira followed my eyes to Arron and gave him a forced smile before threading her hand through my arm. “I made a new suit for your birthday, but you have to promise not to wear it until I say,” she announced coyly, waiting until I agreed to her terms.
“Why the delay?” I asked.
“It is the suit you will wear when you hand-fast, and it is the suit you will wear when you are crowned King of Nautilus.”
“Then it’ll be a very long time before I wear it,” I teased before thanking her. Tugging at my collar, I tried to ease the tightness in my throat.
Mira might harness all the power of water, but she also animated the inanimate. She had two glass spiders who weaved thread like silk, but instead of plaiting intricately designed webs, they weaved clothing. They had the ability to craft anything Mira imagined, and Mira had quite a vivid imagination.
She’d threaded a golden filament through her teal braids. I wondered if the spiders helped her with that small, but beautiful detail.
Brecan might be Mom’s fair-haired best friend, but Mira was her best female friend. She and Mom spent a lot of time together. She confided in her. She confided to her how afraid she was for me.
I wondered if she wasn’t afraid of me at times. I wondered if all Mom’s friends were. When Mom told them I was a spirit tongue, you could’ve heard a pin drop. All the sound and air whooshed out of the room, and absolute and terrifying silence ensued. Since then, they’d watched and waited. Nothing had really happened yet, so they had wasted their time.
Easing away from Mira, I made the excuse that I was thirsty and needed some punch, wondering how many other witches had latent affinities. Mira would always claim water as her primary, but animation was equally as important to her. I knew of a few others like her, but only a few. A male Earth witch who could communicate with animals, a female Air witch who could divine by reading a person’s irises through interpreting the striations and webs therein, and a female Fire witch with an odd obsession for crystal balls. She wore them in her ears, set them in rings, displayed them on fingers, looped them on chains around her neck, and kept them in her pockets. I wondered if she saw one future or the possibility of many.
Would any of them get the chance to explore what else they could do if their focus was solely on the element in which they were most proficient?
Two guards let me out the door, but Uncle Knox caught me in the hall. “I figured you’d try to sneak away.”
“I’m not,” I protested weakly. “It’s just loud and hot in there.”
He pinned me with a knowing look. “If you leave now, you’ll never have another party,” he replied nonchalantly, pushing off the wall and standing in front of me.
I wouldn’t complain if that were true, but I knew that wasn’t what he meant.
“Your mother will kill you. She worked tirelessly to bring the magic to you for your birthday. She also has a surprise planned, one you will truly enjoy, River. Don’t run off.”
“I won’t,” I promised, even though I’d planned to do just that. But after hearing what lengths Mom went to made me want to stay. For her. I just needed air first. “Do you want to step outside with me for a moment?” I asked.
Knox quickly agreed, walking comfortably with me down the closest hallway to the Night Garden, which was one of my favorite places. My mother loved to bring me there as a child. She would swing me for hours as I kicked my feet and let the swing take me higher, until my stomach dropped and the momentum faded away.
Uncle Knox had hair like Dad’s and mine, but his eyes were Grandmother Annalina’s. Speaking of Grandmother…
She pushed the double doors open behind us before we could make our brief escape. “I thought I saw you slip out, River. Are you feeling well?”
Grandmother always worried for everyone.
“I just needed to cool off.”
“Well, the punch is delicious. I’ll get a cup for you.” The guards pulled the doors open briskly and Grandmother was swallowed by a plethora of streamers that blew inward from scattered wind gusts powerful enough to penetrate the palace windows. Lightning lit the sky as rain pelted the windows, the lightning as constant as the rolling thunder.
“This storm is intense,” Knox noted. “Bad omen, if you ask me.”
A shiver scuttled up my spine. I wondered if he was right.
Grandmother returned with a cup full of blood-orange colored punch, a slight layer of foam floating on top. It was cool and sugary, and just as delicious as she promised it would be.
Knox kissed Grandmother’s cheek and said goo
dbye with a pointed look in my direction before easing back into the ballroom. He found Leah on the dance floor, taking hold of either side of her swollen stomach as he swayed with her and their baby.
Grandmother tucked her arm in mine with a contented sigh. “This is your day. Your party. You shouldn’t hide in the hallway,” she chided, leading me back into the room.
I had to admit, the party was spectacular.
Like the group that made up my father’s advisors, there was an equal measure of witches and non. Dad wisely said he couldn’t be a king to all if both were not included in his advisory council. Though it irked some of those who clung to tradition, Dad was right to forge a new path. The Kingdom changed the moment Dad asked Mom to hand-fast to him, which meant the way the Kingdom was ruled had to change with it.
Every year, he asked her again. Every year, ebony ribbons were tied around their wrists. He had saved every set, tacking them on the wall in his study in remembrance. Seventeen pairs of black, silken ribbons. I hoped the ire of the Purists never managed to persuade her to deny him.
Grandmother patted my hand indulgently. Grandfather Lucius’s spirit watched her from the back corner of the room, a sad but wistful look on his face. He missed her terribly. He wanted her to enjoy all life had to offer for as long as she was gifted it, but when she crossed over, he would be content and finally able to find rest.
Other spirits milled around the palace and surrounding grounds. Most were wandering souls, bound to the land by love or habit, but there were a handful of others who were haunted by the brutal nature of their deaths and unable to move past it. Storms made them easier to see. I wasn’t sure if it was because they drew energy from the electricity in the air or if my power was charged. Whatever the reason, the spirits were here. They were everywhere. I felt each one on the palace grounds almost as an extension of myself.
Grandfather wasn’t unsettled. He didn’t die a tragic death. Instead, his was a graceful passing after a long and painful illness. Grandfather lingered because he longed to be among those he loved.
I knew Dad missed him and Grandmother still mourned. After all these years, she’d never entertained the idea of finding another companion. Not even when Mom and Dad suggested she might need to find comfort in someone else.
Sometimes I wondered if Grandmother could sense him too, even if she didn’t realize it.
And sometimes, I wished everyone could see him. Could hear him again. If they could see and speak to him, their hearts wouldn’t be as broken. Mom knew he was here, but I’d never had the heart to tell Dad.
Grandmother wouldn’t acknowledge his presence, but that didn’t mean he didn’t occasionally try to sway her. I watched as he walked right through the crowd, eliciting shivers from those he passed through, coming to a stop next to Grandmother. As he brushed a hand over her neck-length, whitening hair, I watched the pale hair on her neck raise and her skin pebble. She clamped a hand over the back of her neck and shivered. I didn’t tell her Grandfather was the one who caused it. She looked to the window, suspicious of the storm, but the ballroom windows were airtight. There was no draft.
I turned my attention back to the party.
Despite the music and din of conversations, the party blowers and noise makers, a faint whisper came from somewhere inside. Immediately, I knew who spoke it. Dread sank heavily into the pit of my stomach.
Find the omen…of stones…Fate carefully said. Find…the omen of stones.
The omen of stones?
My mouth gaped. My heart raced. My palms slickened.
Fate finally decided to talk to me on my seventeenth birthday, when my power had peaked.
My mother would come undone. She’d been watching me carefully for years. I thought she was wrong, that Fate wasn’t really inside me and I’d never hear his voice. But it turned out I was the one who was mistaken. Mom was right to worry.
As if sensing my distress, Mom walked through the crowd who parted for her easily and gently stole me from Grandmother, making up an excuse that it was almost time for cake.
“You look ill,” she pointed out, watching me like she always did.
There was no point in lying to her. She would eventually touch my hand and the residue of my worry would tell her what I wouldn’t. Besides, she knew more about this than I did. Maybe she could offer some advice. Maybe she knew what the omen of stones was and where I could find it.
“I heard him. I heard Fate.”
She pinched her lips together. “I knew he would manifest.”
I shook my head, stopping as we circled the room toward the back tables where the punch fountains flowed and the cake floated in layers higher than I was tall. “It’s not like that. He isn’t in me; I just…heard a whisper.”
“What did he say?” she asked, her dark brown eyes imploring. “Be as exact as you can.”
“He told me to find the omen of stones.”
Her head ticked back. “I’ve never heard of such an omen.”
Neither had I.
Mom looked relieved, but unease settled into my skin. “I’ll ask Brecan and Mira after you’re served the first slice. Thank the Goddess he didn’t ask you to hang someone. That would’ve effectively ended your birthday party,” she teased.
She said it flippantly, as though I should be happy as a songbird, but the very thought of taking someone else’s life sent a chill through me. How many people did Fate ask Mom to kill? How many was she able to help in his name?
There were two facets to being Fate’s child. While one part was a blessing, the other was very much a curse.
“Uncle Knox mentioned you had a surprise for me,” I said as she sliced into one of the lower layers of cake.
One of her brows raised. She found Knox in the crowd. “He did, did he?”
She handed the plate and a fork to me before answering, and my attention was momentarily diverted by my favorite cake. Chocolate with buttercream filling, with tiny cookie crumbles mixed into the frosting.
“Would you like to attend the Summer Solstice celebration in The Gallows tomorrow? Without guards?” she added pointedly.
My brows rose. “Really?”
“Of course. I think it’s time you spent some time there. You should be among our kind too, River. I’ve kept you distant from them on purpose, trying to keep the bones away, but with your power fully manifested, it’s time you learned to use it,” she said. “I learned far too early, and I suppose…I didn’t want that for you.”
“I understand, Mom.” I truly did.
When I touched bone, when I saw death, brushed it with my fingertips…it was both terrifying and thrilling. But I wasn’t sure what the purpose of my affinity was. How could such a gift be beneficial to anyone but the spirits who lingered? Maybe I was supposed to help them find peace; I just didn’t know how. And I didn’t understand how Fate factored into any of it.
6
Omen
I heard them.
Above the first rumbles of thunder, the stones began to hum. Their deep resonance roared across each of my ribs, the cage thrumming like a tuning fork.
I dropped the wicker basket I’d held against my hip. Gusts of wind captured the pale articles I’d just removed from the line, tumbling and scattering them over the supple grass.
Lightning fingers forked across the evening sky. The clouds were dark, laden heavily with what promised to be a drenching rain. Their dark bellies sagged toward the earth, bringing the spicy smell of ozone to my nose.
Hiking up my heavy skirts, I ran toward the river. The wind at my back propelled me down the dusty paths cleaving the fields of hay, toward the river’s loamy bank. The water already looked angry, thrusting itself over rocks and flowing white over the small rapids to the north. My long hair tore loose from its plait and dark strands lashed my cheeks as the wind gathered strength.
My heels sank
into the dark mud, soft and slippery. Mud gave way to pebbles and pebbles gave way to rocks, smoothed by the water, time, and patience. The stones sighed contentedly as I waded further in, but I still felt the sharp edge of anticipation among the polished-smooth pebbles spreading beneath my weight.
The fabric of my skirts soaked up river water, which tried to drag them with it in the current, but I held my ground despite the pull.
At first the lightning came in lazy flashes, illuminating the sky in one dull flicker. Then it gathered power and lashed white-hot forks to the ground in rapid succession. The earth moved with the great crashes of thunder that rumbled overhead, and then…the stones began to speak.
Fate had finally broken his silence. He was with me, his voice everywhere. It resonated through the stones.
The stones were so loud, but their voices were indecipherable.
I closed my eyes to better listen.
They made no sense.
Usually, they hummed. Now, they screamed, screeching at the same time, repeating the same word. I could make it out in a thousand undulating timbres and tones: River.
It made no sense.
I was standing in the river.
I looked upstream and down, but no danger was present. The water wasn’t rising too fast, and though the clouds would shower us, we wouldn’t drown from their bounty.
Even so, the stones had never spoken so urgently or so clearly.
River! they screamed.
Something shook me. Fingernails sank into my upper arms. I blinked, coming out of the daze that had consumed me. Lindey slowly came into focus. Soaked strands of silver-streaked auburn hair were plastered to her cheeks, temple, and forehead.
“Omen?” She pulled me in and hugged me tightly. “I couldn’t wake you.”
I looked around to find that it was no longer afternoon. Evening had nearly turned to night. How long had I stood there among the stones?
Thunder rumbled in the distance, making Lindey tense. “I came home and you were gone. How long have you been here?”
The Omen of Stones (When Wishes Bleed Book 2) Page 5