Heart's Desire, Part 20

Chapter 5

"You are not well, Cousin."

Kyren's first thought upon awakening was that Amalea had somehow found out about his crimes and had deemed him to be mentally unstable. He opened his eyes, half-expecting to find himself in a cell, but found himself lying in an unfamiliar bed instead.

Amalea sat beside him, a china plate in one hand. "Not that I wished to humor your paranoia, but I thought you'd be better served in my rooms. And your bed was a mess. I can't see how you dare to sleep in it."

Kyren tasted honey on his tongue. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and realized that she had fed him the half-finished scone that sat on the plate.

"When is the last time you ate a meal, Kyren?"

"I--I don't recall," Kyren whispered. "After Magdalen showed me--what she showed me--you were right about that, Cousin, I thought about stealing some food from the kitchens, but I--"

Amalea stared at him blankly. "You--you what? Steal food? Why would you do such a thing?"

Kyren closed his eyes. "Ten years ago, Magdalen asked me to--" He shook his head. "No. She instructed me to go to a certain spot in the forest and wait for the person who would arrive. That person was a student from Darkbrook. Althea Dunning."

"Althea? As in a member of the human's Council, Althea?"

Kyren nodded. "The very same. She wasn't then. She was angry because she hadn't made some important list. Magdalen gave her a spell to--to eliminate her competition."

"Surely there was more than one name on that list?" Amalea asked, her eyes wide. "What human child--especially one schooled at Darkbrook--would stoop so low?"

"She claimed she would not, but it took almost no time at all for Magdalen to convince her otherwise," Kyren said. "Magdalen gave her a spell. She's given her other spells, over the years. I think she thinks that Althea is her protégé."

"And it doesn't hurt, I'm sure, that she is a member of the Council," Amalea murmured. "But why the Council? What does she want from them?"

"She will kill me for telling you this," Kyren whispered. "She plans--The human Council is slated to free the Hunt in two weeks' time. Magdalen wishes to have the Hunt for herself."

"This is treason, you realize," Amalea said, her voice still calm. "We have an agreement with the human's Council."

"I know," Kyren said. "And I am just as guilty. I knew what she intended and I did nothing to stop her."

"Magdalen is a powerful witch," Amalea said, as if to reassure him. "And despite your lineage, Kyren, you are not." She stuffed a morsel of scone against his lips. "Eat."

Kyren swallowed the bite of scone without choking, which seemed to be an improvement. "I am no invalid, Cousin. I--" He opened his eyes. "Do you even realize what I've done?"

"Oh, aye," Amalea said, unperturbed. "I realize that Magdalen took advantage of someone less powerful than she, an overly romantic elf with the royal blood she seemed to need for her plans."

Kyren flushed, anger washing away the weariness. "Amalea, you go too far!" And yet, he could not fault the wisdom--or the truth--of her words.

He was a musician, not a wizard. His powers were few, compared to most of the royal family. It had always been this way.

Amalea smiled at his outburst. "Ah, now you're beginning to sound like the Kyren I thought I had lost. What did she show you three weeks ago?"

Kyren licked his lips, both upset and unsettled by her skillful manipulation. Perhaps he should become a hermit and not get involved with any more women, if he survived this.

"There's a room behind the mirror that hangs in her suite," he whispered. "Have you found it yet?"

"No," Amalea said. "But now that I know about it, we will. What's inside the room, Kyren?"

"The spell Magdalen gave Althea--it somehow transfers the victim's power to the spellcaster. I don't know how it works, but Magdalen killed an elf that night to demonstrate the spell." He shivered, remembering the despair in the nameless elf's eyes. "I don't know who he was. Someone who angered her, I guess."

"There's been more than one disappearance in relation to Magdalen," Amalea said. "And I think I know about this spell. It's a fatal spell."

"Not always," Kyren whispered.

Amalea stood up. "What do you mean, 'not always'?"

"I thought--I swear to you that I did not know what she did," Kyren whispered. "I didn't know. I thought she had murdered the boy who replaced her. I thought he was dead."

"But he is not?"

"Magdalen told me she offered to keep him for Althea. So she wouldn't have to kill anyone else to use that spell."

"That's a fatal spell, Kyren."

Kyren shook his head. "Not always. For the past ten years--"

Amalea gasped as she finally figured out what he was trying to say. "There's a human child in the room behind the mirror?"

"Not human," Kyren said. "I don't know what he is. The Council searched for him--the Hunt searched for him, if you remember, but he was already here. And he's been here, since then. I didn't know until Magdalen showed me. I swear it."

He was babbling now, desperate for her to believe him. "Magdalen gave Althea a stone from the elf who died. That has something to do with the spell."

"A stone like this?" Amalea pulled a thin silver chain from under her gown. Set in a silver pendant was an oblong ruby red stone that glistened in the lamplight.

Kyren sat up, scrabbling a bit in his haste to wade through the bedcovers, and tried not to let his voice betray his sudden fear. "Are you--Oh, Cousin--did she--"

Amalea laughed softly. "If I'd known what a reaction this trinket would bring, I would have kept it hidden." She tucked the heartblood stone back into her dress. "This belonged to my grandfather, Kyren. It's a very powerful token."

Kyren fought to breathe without hyperventilating. "That--That's what Magdalen said. She gave one to Althea. From the elf she killed."

"With the spell that she also gifted Althea?" Amalea asked.

"Yes."

"And this child--although he wouldn't be a child any longer, would he?--is still alive?" Amalea shook her head. "The spell you speak of is a fatal spell, Kyren."

"Althea changed it somehow," Kyren whispered. "Magdalen told me that no one else knew he was in the castle. That I should kill him if she was driven out." He shivered again, suddenly cold. "She said she would know when he was dead. But I--I couldn't--"

"Are you certain she didn't kill him herself?" Amalea asked gently. "The human's Council will not be pleased to find him here."

"I don't know," Kyren clasped his knees to his chest and lowered his head into his arms. "I haven't the courage to find out. I am sorry, Cousin. It seems I've made a mess of things again."

Amalea set the plate on a table nearby. "I think we need to open the mirror first," she said. "And then, depending on what we find, we'll work at healing him--if there is anything left to heal." She smiled at Kyren, but her gaze was troubled. "Thank you for telling me this."

"Thank you for caring," Kyren said, only a little surprised to find that his voice was thick with unshed tears. "If I had known--"

"You cannot change the past," Amalea said. "But now you know. I'm not going to say you won't be punished for your part in this, but I think you've punished yourself for long enough." She held out her hand. "Let's go see about this boy. Does he have a name?"

Kyren took her hand. Would absolution be this simple, then? He doubted it, considering what had yet to come. What would Amalea say when she saw the wasted body in Magdalen's tiny cell?

"I think--" He cast his mind back to Althea's letter and the venom in her voice when she mentioned his name. "It wasn't--No. That was the other one. I think--I think his name is Josiah."


Next Update: August 3rd


House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 19

4.

When the knock broke the silence of early morning calm, Sennet already knew of her visitor's arrival. The watchful oak at the end of her driveway had seen the shadow moving through the forest half an hour ago, but it had taken this long for him to gather enough courage to approach her door.

He was young, the ferns proclaimed. Young and old, said the violets she'd left in place after reorganizing the garden.

Sennet opened her kitchen door and smiled at her visitor. "Be welcome," she said to ease his obvious fear. "How may I help you?"

He was young. His face, unlined, save for worry; his hair that certain shade of brown that would shine red in full sunlight. He wore it parted in the middle and tucked behind his ears where it fell in tangled waves. He stood a full head and a half taller than Sennet, still fairly short for a man.

But his eyes were old, full of secrets and shadows, fear and uncertainty. He dropped his gaze after that first searching glance, as if fearful she would unmask him.

"You are the Healer?" He hugged his arms to his chest, obviously uncomfortable, but not wounded. He had come for someone else.

"My name is Sennet." She held the door open wider. "Won't you come in? Is there time?"

"Do you--Can you heal animals?" He spoke in a rush, his voice soft, but intense with emotion. "I wouldn't ask, but I--I saw it happen." A flush stained his neck, creeping up to color his pale cheeks. "It's my fault, really. I was in the forest and I scared him and--"

"What kind of animal?" Sennet asked, already moving into professional mode. Every little scrap of information helped.

"A dog. A puppy, really." Her visitor clenched his hands. "Someone dropped him off a week or so ago and I've been feeding him, but I--"

For the first time, Sennet noticed what he was wearing. Or, rather, what he wasn't wearing. Grass stains and mud covered bare feet that were not protected from the elements by the length of his faded jeans.

"What happened?" Sennet decided not to ask. It was none of her business whether or not he wore shoes while walking in the woods that surrounded the village of Beth-Hill. "Did he get hit by a car?" Since he showed no sign of wanting to enter her house, she stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. She didn't bother to lock it. Anyone stupid enough to break into a Healer's home deserved whatever punishment she picked.

"No. He fell." His face tightened for a moment, an echo of pain. "There's an old house near--nearby. The floors aren't safe. I heard him below, but I couldn't see him. And I didn't want to leave him there."

"Does he have a name?" Sennet asked. "Do you?" She didn't have to know names, of course. And many people refused to believe that Healers were truly neutral.

Her visitor hesitated. She read the indecision in his gaze, and took pity on him. "I don't really need to know. But it helps, sometimes, if my patient is unconscious."

"He calls himself Thorn." Another hesitation then, as if he expected her to comment on his choice of words.

Sennet did not speak. She had already decided that her visitor wasn't an ordinary human. Beth-Hill had quite a large population of supernatural creatures--vampires, werewolves, selkies, and dragons, to name a few. Darkbrook, the only school of magic in the United States, was only miles away, and the Council who held the balance between the super and natural worlds had their headquarters right outside of town.

"And my name--my name is Malachi," he continued, his voice soft. He flinched a little as he spoke, as if he expected her to know that name.

Despite the fact that Sennet was the only Healer in residence, she knew she had not met everyone who lived in or around Beth-Hill. There was too much filtering back and forth from Faerie to ever know everyone.

"Well, then, Malachi. Lead on." She smiled to put him at ease, but he did not relax.

"You'll come?"

"A Healer always comes when she is called," Sennet reminded him. "Of course I'll come."

She watched him as he led her through the dew-drenched forest, and had almost decided that he had started out his day in a different shape as he inexpertly picked his way through brambles and over stones and fallen trees. They arrived at their destination before she could embarrass herself by asking.

She had passed the fieldstone mansion once before and given it a wide berth, since it had been gutted by thieves years before, leaving little of value to anyone. What was left would be riddled with termites, rot, and mold by now, even if the shell of the house still echoed its former glory.

"Inside?" she asked, her senses already searching for the distinctive trace of a life in pain. She found a weak heartbeat in a dark place below ground, and saw, in her mind's eye, a small black and white puppy curled up next to a brackish puddle of water. "He's alive," she reported, closing her eyes. "And not badly hurt. A sprained leg, I think. Maybe fractured. I'll be able to tell once I get to him."

"You can tell all of that from out here?"

She didn't really blame him for his disbelief. The only Healer nearby had been assigned to Darkbrook since it opened, and Sennet doubted she would go out of her way to rescue a hurt puppy. Oh, she'd come if Malachi asked, but that was the problem. Most people didn't want to ask. There were too many rumors about the network of Healers--some true, but most not.

A moment later, she felt another life inside the house--a familiar life--and a life within that other life. The puppy's presence vanished as if it had never existed. As Sennet turned towards Malachi for an explanation, she wondered if it ever had.

"I'm not here for a puppy," she said the obvious out loud and folded her arms. "Why the story? Why the secrecy? Healers are neutral; you should know that. And Emle and I have met before." She had wondered, over the years, if Emle and her tiny daughter had flourished.

The life inside showed no sign of physical distress. Even from this far away, Sennet could tell that this baby was both happy and healthy.

Malachi opened his mouth to answer her. Before he could speak, the presence inside the house moved, and appeared a moment later standing on the leaning porch.

She seemed no older than she was ten years ago, still more of a sylph than anything else. Youthful and lovely, she wore a voluminous top and a sensible skirt that looked to be made of silk. Her long white hair--so long that even in a braid it hit the back of her knees--shone in the sunlight that ventured through the holes in the porch roof.

"It's okay, Malachi. You may leave us if you wish."

Behind her, Sennet felt Malachi stiffen. "I will not leave you again, milady." His tone brooked no space for argument.

Sennet turned to face him. "Emle is in no danger from me," she said, offering him a smile. "Truly; you do not need to fear."

Malachi's face was stiff and unyielding. "You do not know what I fear," he whispered, unmoving.

"Malachi--" Emle's voice held no warning, but Malachi flinched as if he had been struck. He turned his back on them and sat down on the ground, his fear a palatable presence in the back of Sennet's mind.

Emle shook her head, then smiled at Sennet. "It has been a long, long time."

"And I am glad to see you well," Sennet said, and meant it. "Are you in need of my aid? Why the secrecy? If you're worried about the child, my lady, she is fine and healthy."

A curious mixture of relief and fear passed over Emle's face before she nodded. "That was one of my questions, yes. Just to make sure. And I apologize for the deception. I--I wanted to be discreet."

"If I knew your secrets, they would be safe with me," Sennet said. "Healers are neutral for a reason. Nothing happened before when I healed you."

"You can't--" Sennet heard Malachi scramble to his feet, but did not turn around. "Healers--Healers know things."

"Yes. I know." Emle hesitated, her gaze on Malachi. "Malachi, you need not be party to this. I can answer for myself."

"You doom us all," Malachi whispered, but did not make any move to leave.

"I wanted to ask if you would attend the birth of my child," Emle said, her voice soft. "I don't have anyone else to ask."

"Of course I will," Sennet said. "I would be more than happy to attend the birth of your daughter. How is Eri? I have thought of you often."

"I should not have stayed away so long," Emle said. "Eri is fine--she is quite a beautiful child."

"May I approach?" Sennet asked. "I need not touch you if you're afraid of what I might know." That was one of the true rumors. When a Healer healed, most of the time her patient's thoughts and memories were an open book, and one that it was very difficult not to read. That was the one truth that made Healers less popular than they would be otherwise. And also one of the things Sennet could do nothing about.

"You may approach," Emle said after another long look at Malachi. "But please--know nothing more than I would wish for you to know."

Sennet blinked at her in surprise. "That doesn't always work," she said, surprised Emle would know that turn of phrase.

"I am willing to take that chance," Emle said, smiling at her.

With Malachi's fear--not of Emle, but of someone or something else--a palatable presence behind her, Sennet walked up the cracked stone stairs and stepped onto the porch. When she placed her hands on Emle's protruding stomach and opened her mind to the child in her womb, she braced herself for the familiar litany of images, but nothing happened.

"Hmm." She touched the baby's mind and a swirl of curiosity met her appearance. "She's growing quickly. Two weeks? Maybe three. You don't have long to wait."

Some other emotion surged through Malachi's awareness behind her. Sennet did not turn to see the expression on his face, but a large part of his fear had fled. Was it that important that she not know who they were? She knew Emle. Or, perhaps--perhaps his fear came from something else. Where they came from?

"Two weeks," Emle said. "As far as I can tell."

"Midsummer's Eve. Not a horrible time to have a birthday."

A surge of worry almost drowned out the baby's mind.

Sennet kept the connection open and sent calming thoughts to the child, not wanting her to become overly distressed.

"And yet you're very worried about something," she said. "Your daughter can feel it."

"This is not a very--stable time for my daughter's father," Emle whispered, and even though Sennet kept her gaze down, she was certain that Emle was staring at Malachi again. "And the problem isn't something I can help with, other than to be available when he needs my support."

Sennet eased out of the connection and stepped away. "Sometimes that's all you can do," she said. "But I'll give you one warning: Your fear of the future will harm your daughter. And you don't want to hurt your health, either."

Emle's face clouded. "I have little choice in the matter, and it will be over by the time the baby is born. I am sorry again for the deception that brought you here."

Struck by a sudden thought, Sennet glanced back at Malachi, whose watchful gaze belied his earlier fear, then turned her gaze towards Emle again. "Are you in danger from the baby's father?" She'd discovered early on that domestic abuse spanned species as well as worlds. No one was immune. And despite the fact that Emle had gone back to him ten years ago, a lot could change in a decade.

"Oh, no." Emle's laughter was like the tinkle of tiny bells. "He won't harm me. And I'll try my best to make sure Malachi isn't punished for his part in this."

Sennet tested her words and found them to be truth. She would have to be satisfied with giving her warning, and leave well enough alone until the baby's birth. "Very well, then. If you have need of me before the baby is born--"

"I will send someone to find you." Emle smiled again. "Thank you, Sennet. You have relieved my mind." She moved away, her head down, her hands on her belly.

Sennet walked down the steps and onto the grass again. For a moment, she thought Malachi would let her pass without speaking, but he blinked and shook his head as if awakening from a dream.

"Can you find your way back to your house?" He met her gaze without flinching now, his face a mask.

"I'll manage." Sennet glanced back at the house, where Emle had vanished from the porch. "Will you tell me one thing, at least?"

He licked his lips. "It depends on what you want to know."

"She's not living in that house, is she?"

Her question surprised a laugh from him, and his face briefly transformed into something closer to human. "Oh, no. Not there. We have a house in Faerie."

Sennet nodded. "And is she in danger from your Master?"

"No." He did not hesitate in his denial. "He truly would not see her harmed."

"You'll come to me if that changes? Or if something happens to her?" She had a connection with Emle again; a commitment to make sure the baby was born in good health.

"If I am permitted to come," Malachi said. He smiled at the expression on her face, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I am sorry," he said, taking pity on her. "There is much about this that you do not know."

"I realize that," Sennet said, "but I'm also here to do my job. It's a lot easier to do if everyone isn't afraid of me."

Malachi glanced back at the empty porch. "It's not you," he said. "Not really. It's--well, our position here is precarious. And any little thing might upset that balance."

He spoke in riddles as well as an elf. "I see," Sennet said, and tried not to laugh.

"Perhaps after Midsummer's Eve, you will understand," Malachi said, his gaze flickering back to the porch. "I should go."

"Please let me know if anything happens."

His mouth twisted down into a frown. "I'll try. That's the best I can do." Before she could press for a sturdier promise, he fled, shoulders hunched as if he expected her to order him back.

With a thoughtful frown, Sennet left the house's looming shadow behind and followed the trail back to her house, using the moss on the forest floor as her guide.


Next Update: July 27th

House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 18

Chapter 3

Malachi awoke the next morning to find he lay in the garden where he had fallen asleep. He raised his head, half-expecting to see Emle waiting for him to awaken, but the garden was empty and still. It was early yet; the sun only just risen.

For the moment, at least, the bond was quiet, allowing him to believe that he was alone.

He shifted shape, his breath catching in his throat at the suddenness of the change, and sat with his knees drawn up against his chest, facing the house.

For ten years, he had not allowed himself to think about the future. He had existed in the present; a Hound, nothing more, pretending that he did not care what would happen once the Council's binding ceased. It was easier that way. The only alternative was madness.

Malachi closed his eyes and felt the garden around him--the thick dew on the grass; the smell of the flowers. His feet--his skin, in truth--were cold and clammy, but he welcomed such sensation after so long as a Hound.

The question he did not dare to ask aloud rose up in his mind: How long would this last? Gabriel had only given them a year and some months until Josiah's disappearance had ruined everything. How long would this small freedom last this time?

He made up his mind right then and there to find a way to die if Gabriel forced him into the form of a Hound again. He could not bear it any other way.

When Malachi opened his eyes, Eri stood in front of him, waiting quietly until he noticed her with her hands behind her back. He stared at her for a moment, not speaking--not sure what to say.

"Mama made breakfast," she said softly. "If you want some." Before he could reply--refuse, in truth--she brought a plate out from behind her back--a plate filled with toast and scrambled eggs and a small pot of jam. There was bacon, too, and a slice of thick ham.

The smell alone was a testament to how far he had fallen; in any other instance, he would have smelled the food--and Eri, for that matter--the second she set foot into the garden.

"I--" What was he going to tell her? That he wasn't hungry? He sat, frozen with indecision as she carefully set the plate and its attending utensils on the ground. She had a mug, too, filled with steaming tea.

"I didn't want to bother you," she said gravely. "But I thought you might be hungry, and Papa said I could bring you some food."

Papa. Only Eri could call Gabriel that without it sounding the least bit ridiculous.

Malachi tried to collect his thoughts enough for speech. "Thank you."

Eri did not look convinced. "You can eat inside if you want to. I--Papa said you wouldn't come even if I asked."

For a moment, Malachi didn't know what to say. He wanted to refuse; to stand up and march inside, but he couldn't muster up enough courage. "He--He was right. I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet."

Eri nodded. "Do you need anything else?"

Malachi shook his head. "No. I'll be fine. Thank you." And now, despite the tension, his stomach rumbled, reminding him that either as a Hound or a human, he had to eat.

As soon as she had vanished back into the house, he did eat, savoring every bite and washing it down with scalding hot tea. When his plate was empty, he leaned back against the tree trunk, closed his eyes, and tried not to allow the hard knot of anxiety that had crept into his stomach ruin his breakfast.

"Malachi?"

This time, the voice belonged to Emle. When he opened his eyes, he saw that she stood not fifteen feet away, wearing an outfit fit for traveling; a simple skirt and a sensible top that hung loosely to accommodate her stomach. She had braided her hair, too, to keep it out of harm's way.

"I'm ready if you are," she continued as soon as she knew she had his attention. "Gabriel said if we left now, we should be back long before dark."

Malachi scrambled to his feet before the fear could rise to choke him again. "I'm ready."

Emle frowned. "You need a pair of shoes before we go," she said. "I don't think--"

"It's okay," Malachi said, glancing at the house. The bond was quiet, but was his Master listening? "I'm fine."

When she looked like she would protest, he dared to lay his hand on her arm. "It's okay."

In truth, he hadn't thought much past their imminent departure. He had never tried to walk through the forest barefoot before, but Emle didn't need to know that.

She still looked doubtful, so he tried to smile. "I am a Hound, milady."

"Yes, but--"

"It's okay."

No one met them as they passed through the house, but Gabriel's presence was thick upon everything, a brooding silence that preyed upon Malachi's nerves. But they reached the cave unchallenged, and Malachi breathed a sigh of relief as soon as Emle closed the door.

"Did you think he would prevent us from leaving?" Emle asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"I thought he might," Malachi said, mesmerized by the sight of Nathaniel, sitting alone at the mouth of the cave.

In human form.

Gabriel had cut his hair, and he wore a pair of well-patched pants and a soft cotton shirt. His feet were bare, and he sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, just like Malachi had been sitting a mere hour before.

Nathaniel glanced back, then scrambled to his feet. "Malachi. Milady. I apologize--I did not hear your approach."

At any other time, that would have been extraordinary, but Malachi knew exactly how Nathaniel felt.

"And you are--?" Emle's voice cracked.

"My name is Nathaniel." Our Master is with the others now, he said through the bond.

Malachi closed his eyes. Gabriel had kept his promise. And that made his task--bringing Emle back unharmed--all the more important.

"If I had known--" Emle's voice trailed away, as if she realized that she couldn't have done a thing if she had known.

Nathaniel smiled. "We are his Hounds, milady."

"That's what Malachi said."

"He spoke the truth."

Emle sighed. "I'm not sure I understand."

Malachi opened his eyes. "We should go."

For a moment, Emle looked as if she wanted to refuse; to put this errand off for another day. As if she sensed--somehow--how important her life had just become. But then she nodded, unspeaking, and walked out of the cave.

Nathaniel caught Malachi's arm as he walked past. "Keep her safe," he said with a quiet intensity that made Malachi realize that the others would be just as likely to tear him apart if something were to happen and they were forced to be Hounds again.

"I will guard her with my life," Malachi whispered, and meant every word.



(Next Update: will be either Sunday July 20th or Monday July 21st)



House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 17

Chapter 2

In the beginning, Kyren had been a naïve fool, his heart broken by the death of his half-blood daughter. Magdalen had appeared out of nowhere to woo him, and he had pretended that her attentions were innocent even as he knew they were not.

So she had caught him in her snare, and drawn him in little by little, until he knew neither left nor right; up nor down. She showed him things--made him do terrible tasks that a stronger elf would have refused.

She had used his royal blood--weak though it was--to move into the castle and he had not protested. It was almost as if he couldn't protest, at least not anymore. She had taken every ounce of courage away from him and left him a shell of his former self. She had used that damned dog of hers--that black Hound--as a weapon, silencing her detractors. She had--

She had--

"You've not left your rooms in weeks, Kyren," his cousin Amalea was saying through the door. "Are you ill?"

Kyren winced away from her voice. "No. I'm fine."

Could she hear the lie in his voice?

Three weeks ago, Magdalen had showed him--his mind reeled away from what lay behind her mirror in a secret room that no one else would ever find.

"Your royal relatives wish me gone from here," she had said, trailing her sharp nails down the side of his face. "If they succeed in driving me out, I want you to do something for me."

To escape from her attentions, he had agreed. And she had opened the mirror, and--

"Kyren, open the door!" Amalea rattled the doorknob, but he had both locked and barred the door. It didn't budge.

Kyren wiped one hand across his face and lurched away from the door. Perhaps if he did not reply to her questions, she would go away, and he could continue to try to drown his sins in wine.

They had succeeded, two days ago. Amalea had slipped a note under his door. Magdalen was gone from the castle. Banished, along with her Hounds. Those who had dealings with her would be punished. The few in her inner circle--

Kyren shuddered and stared at the empty bottle on his desk. He had not intended to run out of wine.

"Kyren!"

He could not react quickly enough when she pushed past his wards and appeared in the middle of the room. The wine had dulled his reflexes. And Amalea had always been more powerful anyway.

Without speaking, he pushed past her into the other room, stumbling a little as he reached for his sword. He realized, then, that he was not thinking straight at all, that Magdalen's little present behind the mirror had unhinged his mind.

"Kyren!" Amalea followed him--of course she followed him. He turned in the darkness of the room and held out his sword.

"Leave me be."

"No." She made no move to approach him. "I know what you're thinking, but--"

"You know nothing!" He shouted the words and staggered back against the wall. The sword clattered to the ground. Kyren slid down the wall and sat on the floor. It was either that or collapse, and he did not want to collapse in front of Amalea. "You know nothing."

"I know that you were taken advantage of and misled," Amalea said. "I know that Magdalen used you and your position in the royal family to get inside this castle. I know that she tried to kill me two days ago."

Kyren stared at her. "She--She tried to kill you?" For a moment, clarity returned to his mind. "Why?"

"Because I was protecting you," Amalea said. "I've had your rooms warded for almost three weeks. And she couldn't get past my wards."

"I--I don't know what to say," Kyren whispered. "I don't deserve your protection, Cousin. Perhaps you should have let her in." He shivered violently. "I am no innocent."

"I know you aren't," Amalea said. "You were in the thick of things for a while from what we've been able to discover. But I believe--and I've argued this for two days now--that you can be redeemed."

Somehow, her words did not reassure Kyren at all. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. "Have you searched her rooms yet?" He didn't want to ask, for fear that she would become suspicious of his interest. But he had to know. If the room behind the mirror was still intact--

Then what? What would he do, leave the poor-- He shivered again.

"We have started searching her rooms," Amalea said. "She left behind a vast array of traps for us, of course. And we've had no luck finding where she fled."

Kyren opened his eyes. "I don't know!"

Amalea stared at him quizzically. "I never said you knew. But she is banished from the castle, Kyren. She's gone."

Kyren's scowled. "Yes. And so if I never leave the castle again, I will most definitely live."

"What did she show you three weeks ago that has you so frightened?" Amalea asked.

Had she read his mind? "What makes you think she showed me--"

Now it was Amalea's turn to scowl. "Kyren, I'm trying to help you. But in order for me to do that, you have to help me a little. I've no wish to see you dead or banished. You've suffered enough."

Kyren laughed a little wildly. "No I haven't, Cousin. Oh, no I haven't." And then, quite suddenly, he felt hot tears running down both cheeks. "Ten years ago--" Ten years ago, on Magdalen's order, he had done something simple, something that had seemed innocent--at least at first.
He shook his head, struggling not to dredge up the old memories. "Do you have any wine?"

"I don't think you need any more wine," Amalea grumbled, but she produced a bottle nonetheless, and poured him a small glass.

His hand shook when she handed him the glass. And he drank it, but it didn't help.

"Tell me," Amalea said, her voice soft. "Please, Kyren. Whatever this is--whatever you did--it's eating you alive. You were once my favorite Cousin. Now you are a ghost to me."

Kyren held out the glass. "More. Please. This is unbearable enough without it."

Amalea handed him the bottle. "Tell me."

Her offering wasn't the same vintage of the bottles he had drunk, nor was it of the same quality. But it burned as it went down his throat, a sure sign that it was working.

"Can I trust you, Cousin?"

"Dare you not?" Amalea asked. "I'm probably the only person you can trust at the moment. I'm still willing to believe you. The others might not be so kind."

"She has spies in the castle," Kyren whispered. "Spies. If she discovers that I've told you, she will find a way to kill me."

"She wanted to kill you before," Amalea said calmly. "She failed. I will not let you die."

"But can I trust you?" He was weeping now, openly, the tears trickling down his cheeks and tasting of wine.

"You could truthspell me and find that I have not been assimilated by the person you are so afraid of," Amalea said, quite seriously. "And I give you leave to do so, if you are that far gone."

"And if I do, and you are bluffing--" Kyren couldn't help himself now. It was almost as if her words had loosened some dam inside of his mind. Perhaps that had been her intention. "Cousin, you say you've not been--assimilated. But I have. Oh, I have."

"Then tell me," Amalea urged, her gaze intense. "Tell me. Please, Kyren."

It was little enough that she cared. Kyren's throat was so dry that he had to swallow twice to speak. "Perhaps--Perhaps I should show you, then, Cousin. Although I daresay she left traps for me, as well."

"Show me?" For the first time, Amalea looked uncertain. "Show me what?"

"This may mean my death," Kyren said, standing so fast that he almost fell. He did not dare look at her. "But at least I can die with a clean conscience." When he turned away, Amalea caught his hand.

"Kyren, please." She gasped a little at his touch. "You're freezing cold!"

He shook her off and took a few steps, but not before he realized that he would never make it to the door. He swayed, alarmed now, struggling to push past an almost overwhelming urge to succumb to the darkness that now swirled at the edges of his vision.

"When was the last time you ate a meal?" Amalea asked, her voice calm, but the expression on her face worried.

Kyren tried to answer her, but he couldn't find enough strength to speak. It wasn't a spell, this numbness, just simple exhaustion. The effect of living in terror for far too long.

She slid a chair under him as he collapsed. "This has gone on long enough! Kyren, what is wrong with you?"

"I'm lost," he whispered, and gave himself up to darkness.



Next update: July 13th

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