Heart's Desire, Part 22

Chapter 7

Without Magdalen in residence, her rooms were cold and empty; soulless. Kyren kept his gaze away from her lavish bed--now stripped bare of its silken sheets.

There were signs--here and there--that Amalea's technicians had been hard at work decoding spells and disarming traps. A gaping hole in the floor underneath one of the windows spoke of a success, and an expanse of cracked and broken tile gave mute testimony to a possible failure.

The mirror stood untouched, its gilded beauty mocking what lay behind its glass.

Kyren stared at his reflection for a moment, then tore his gaze away. "There's a--a button on the left-hand side."

"And more than likey a trap, since I doubt she wanted her secret to be discovered," Amalea said darkly. "I've already lost one of my team."

"Lost?" Kyren stared at her, stricken.

Amalea shook her head. "I'd rather not discuss it here. There's too much of Magdalen left here as it is. Since she told you to return here to kill her prisoner, I think, perhaps, you should open the secret door."

"And if she left a trap for me--" Kyren briefly closed his eyes. "Cousin, if she left a trap for me, promise me that you'll open the door regardless."

"I promise," Amalea said, her voice very soft.

It took him a try or two to find the button to press. He closed his eyes when he pressed it, expecting anything but the door to open. It would have been just like Magdalen to tell him to murder her prisoner, and then leave a trap behind that would kill him as well.

But the mirror slid open--whisper-quiet--and the smell of rot and mildew crept into the room.
Amalea hissed a strangled curse and started past him, but Kyren caught her arm just before she stepped into the tiny cell and opened his eyes.

"I'll go in," he said. "You stay out here." The dim figure lying in a corner of the tiny room was barely visible in the sunlight streaming through the windows. "Can you--Can you make me a light?" His throat was too dry to swallow, but he forced himself to anyway and almost choked on the fumes.

Amalea snapped her fingers and cupped her hand around a ball of flame. When she released it, it darted into the room and hovered over the body in the corner.

As far as Kyren remembered, Magdalen's prisoner had not changed positions. He had been lying in the corner three weeks ago, the same rusted shackles hanging from his stick-thin wrists. It was only Magdalen's word that assured Kyren he was well and truly alive then, and he didn't even have that to go on now.

Holding his breath, Kyren stepped over the mirror's frame and into the tiny cell. It only took five steps to reach the corner--and less than a second to determine that despite appearances, Magdalen had not lied.

"He's alive," he said, ignoring the puddles of slimy water to drop to his knees beside the boy. "He's--"

"He hasn't aged," Amalea said from behind him, her voice uncharacteristically grave. "Else Althea was robbing someone's cradle. Let's get him out of here, Kyren."

Without speaking, Kyren gathered the boy into his arms. He weighed almost nothing--a bag of bones--and one of the shackles slipped off his wrist without any resistance at all.

His other hand had been tied shut at one point, but the rope had rotted away long ago. When Kyren lowered him to Magdalen's abandoned bed, Amalea coaxed his clenched and blackened fingers apart.

"An interesting reaction to the spell," she said, and bit her lip as she tried to pry the heartblood stone from the palm of his hand. "It's the conduit, of course, but it also acts as a very powerful shielding spell. And I think someone wanted to find him very badly." She abandoned her efforts--for the moment, at least--and slid the other shackle off his wrist. "Kyren, there's an iron chain around his neck. Can you find something to remove it?"

"Must we stay here to do this?" Kyren shivered. "I realize you will think me even more paranoid, but I can't stop imagining Magdalen's presence in these rooms--" He heard a shiver of a sound behind him and spun around with a yelp.

But it was only the door in the mirror, sliding shut on its own.

"The chain first," Amalea said. "That way, if he has any sort of healing talent, his body will be free to use it to repair some of the damage."

The iron was so brittle that it crumbled at Kyren's touch. He picked up all the pieces he could find and deposited them into the hole in the floor--which vanished as soon as the iron canceled out Magdalen's spell.

"Hmm. Simple, but direct. I wish we'd have thought of that," Amalea said, and smiled at him. "There may be hope for you yet." She smoothed down the boy's tangled hair. "Josiah--if that is your name and you can hear me--you will be safe soon."

She stood, then, and held her hands out above his body. "I'm no Healer, of course, but we may need one if he doesn't wake up." She whispered a spell Kyren didn't know, and a gentle wind swept through the room, removing ten years of dirt and debris from Josiah's body and leaving clean skin and ruined clothing behind.

His hair was blond enough to be yellow, his skin wasted and pale. He looked so impossibly young that Kyren wondered if he didn't have some elvish blood in him. Magdalen would think that fitting, he suspected, if her prisoner was, in fact, a halfblood.

When he slid his arms underneath the boy's body, Josiah jerked awake in an instant, as if the alienness of touch had thrown a switch somewhere inside his mind. He rolled away from Kyren, saw Amalea, and changed direction, scrambling backwards until his back hit the wall behind the bed. Then he stopped, panting, his eyes wide with fright.

Kyren glanced at Amalea for direction, but she seemed as shocked as he was.

"We won't hurt you," he ventured, keeping his voice soft. "We're here to help you."

"Truly, we are," Amalea said. "My name is Amalea, and this is my cousin Kyren."

"Is--Is your name Josiah?" Kyren held out his hand. "Please--we are not here to harm you. I swear it."

Josiah's brow furrowed, as if he did not quite comprehend their words. After a moment of silence, he licked his lips and nodded. He made no move to speak. Was there something--some other spell, perhaps, preventing that? Althea had taken so much away from him already--

Amalea beat him to it. She approached Josiah carefully, as if he were a frightened puppy instead of a--a human shaped boy. With one slim finger, she touched his lips and whispered a spell--and something invisible burst into flames. The flames did not harm him, but he jerked back, hitting his head on the wall.

Kyren winced as Josiah collapsed on the bed, his eyes tightly closed. When he tried to push himself up with his wounded hand, it would not bear his weight.

"Can you speak now?" Amalea asked.

Josiah's cheeks were wet with tears when he raised his head. "Where--" He choked on the rest of his question and curled up on the bed, tucking his wounded hand against his chest.

"You're in Faerie," Amalea said. "In my family's castle. I would like to apologize on behalf of my kin. We did not know you were here."

Josiah's shoulders shook. Kyren wanted to strangle Magdalen--for starters--but he forced his mind to dwell on other things. Like the fact that Amalea had commented on Josiah's wounded hand, that someone had tried very hard to find him.

But would they still be looking, ten years later?

"Amalea, can you get that--that stone off his hand?" His voice was harsher than he intended, but Amalea took no offense.

"I can try again," she said. "But it's fused somehow. I might have to cut it free. And I'd rather do that in a medical setting, just in case there are complications."

"You said that the stone was the conduit for the spell," Kyren said. "Althea could use the spell, still, and--"

"She tricked me." Josiah's voice cracked. "Is--Is she why I am here?" His eyes were blue, Kyren noted. Blue and bloodshot and confused.

"Yes," Kyren said, and found himself close to tears.

"How long--How much time has passed?" Josiah started to shiver then, as if he dreaded the response to his question.

He was so weak; so frail.

"Someone tried to find you," Amalea said when Kyren did not reply. "The spell blocked their searching, but--if you leave this castle without that stone embedded in your hand, would they still be searching for you?"

"I don't know," Josiah whispered. "I'm all alone." He closed his eyes.

"Not anymore," Kyren said fiercely. "You're not alone anymore."

"No." Josiah's voice cracked again. "You don't--you don't understand. I'm all alone in my head. The bond is gone." Tears slipped down his face, but he made no move to wipe them away. "How much time has passed?"

"Were you connected to someone, then?" Amalea asked. "Is that why they tried so hard to find you? Once we get that out of your hand and if you leave the castle, your bond will return, unless it is well and truly broken."

"Ten years," Kyren said.

Josiah opened his eyes. "Ten--" He flinched then, and drew in a sharp breath. The heartblood stone had begun to glow.

"Oh, no," Amalea said, distressed. "No!" She grabbed Josiah's hand as he writhed on the bed, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched against a scream. "Kyren--a knife! I need a knife--she's using the spell!"

The only knife Kyren had in his possession at the moment was a tiny silver penknife that he used to cut reeds for his instruments. But the second Amalea touched the blade to Josiah's skin, his eyes flew open and he snatched his hand away.

"No!"

"It's a fatal spell, Josiah." Amalea said, practically begging him. "Please don't try to fight it alone. We've removed all the barriers--"

Josiah bared his teeth. "That--" He clenched his wounded hand tight, and the red light spilled from between his fingers. "Is--" He was panting again, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "All I need."

The heartblood stone exploded, leaving a hole in Josiah's hand that quickly filled with blood. He lay still for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling. "I will not stay here."

"That should not have been possible," Amalea murmured.

Kyren risked a glance at Amalea's face. "I daresay that after that you can go anywhere you desire."

Josiah nodded and let his eyes slide shut. He did not protest when Amalea wrapped a strip of cloth around his bleeding hand, nor did he awaken when Kyren carried him out of the room a few minutes later.

"That should not have been possible," Amalea said quietly as soon as they reached her rooms.
"He's had ten years to think up a defense to that spell," Kyren replied. "I imagine Althea's not in a very good mood at the moment." He lay Josiah on the bed he himself had so recently vacated, and stepped back.

"And I can't imagine that no one felt that, if the bond he spoke of still exists," Amalea said, staring down at him. "I'll be right back. Will you stay here with him?"

"Where are you going?" Kyren asked, a little apprehensively.

"To the kitchens, for food," Amalea said. "After a spell like that, he'll want to eat when he wakes up."

"If he wakes up," Kyren murmured.

"As you said, he had ten years to perfect that defense," Amalea replied. "Surely you don't think that in ten years he wouldn't leave himself enough strength to survive that spell's destruction?"



Next Update: August 17th or 18th


House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire, Part 21

Chapter 6

Emle watched Sennet until she vanished in the trees. She liked the Healer; but then again, she'd only once met a Healer she did not like. Sennet's personality seemed to combine all the endearing qualities of humans--compassion, kindness, and seriousness--with a willing to use her talent to serve others.

Not that Healers had much of a choice, in truth.

If current events were a bit different, Emle wouldn't have minded to befriend her, just to have someone else to talk to. She turned away from the broken window, expecting to see Malachi behind her, but no one stood under the archway that led into what had once been a lavish room.
She found him in the parlor, sitting in the middle of the floor in a pool of sunshine, surrounded by broken glass from the shattered windows that spanned the room. His eyes were closed; his face turned up towards the sun.

"Can he hear us?"

Without opening his eyes, Malachi shook his head. "He closed the bond as soon as we arrived. He hasn't done that since--" He glanced at her, as if trying to decide how much he should say.

"Since Josiah vanished ten years ago?" Emle perched on the edge of a wobbly chair and let the heat of the sun seep into her bones. "Gabriel told me that much, but I have a feeling he left some of it out."

"He--He did." Malachi stared at her, considering.

"Will you tell me?" She had to ask, despite the fact that she knew he would refuse.

"I--I don't know if my Master wants me to tell you," Malachi said. He opened his eyes and scrambled up, ignoring the glass beneath his feet. "I apologize, milady. I'll take you back now."

"You can call me Emle. And if you'd like to stay here for a little while, I think that will be okay." She could not deny him a moment of peace.

Malachi shook his head. "The longer we stay, the greater the chance for discovery. We should go back." But he made no move to leave.

Emle hesitated. "If he closed the bond, does that mean he won't know what happened here?"

"He can tear it from my mind if he wants to," Malachi said, his gaze hooded now. "And have no doubt he will do just that." He started past her, only stopping when she touched his arm.

"You are part of our family, and you should be allowed to shift shape," she said. "Will he deny you again?"

Malachi bit his lip and glanced down at the floor before replying. "Our Master had his reasons for not allowing us to shift." This time, his hesitation was longer. "As Hounds, we must obey," he whispered. "We have--We have no choice."

"Tell me about Josiah," Emle begged. "Help me understand."

"I can't," Malachi whispered, shaking his head. "Not without our Master's permission." He closed his eyes, then, as if bracing himself for Emle's protest, but she did not pursue it.

"Then let's go home," she said, trying to allay the tension in the room. "And I'll ask Gabriel. I don't want to put you in a position to be punished."

Malachi nodded, a single jerk of his head, and opened his eyes. He stared at the room around him for a moment, then took a shaky breath. "Thank you."

"I should thank you for your company," Emle said. "Gabriel trusts you--"

"No!" Malachi spun around with both hands pressed across his mouth, as if holding back the words that wanted to be spoken.

"He let you come with me," Emle said, confused. "Why--"

Malachi lowered his arms, still facing the wall. "He cannot trust me. I betrayed him." He said this last in a whisper, his voice cracked and broken. "I disobeyed."

"I thought you said you couldn't disobey." Emle glanced outside at the sun, relieved to find that it was still the afternoon and not dusk quite yet. "Surely if he wanted to punish you, he would have already--"

"He promised Lucas I would live," Malachi whispered. "But--but what happens when the Council's binding no longer holds the Master of the Wild Hunt?" He struck the wall with one closed fist, and a shower of plaster fell down from the ceiling.

Emle grabbed his wrist before he could cause an avalanche. "Perhaps it would be wise not to do that again."

Malachi stared at her. There were tears in his eyes--along with a raging storm of emotion that clouded both his judgement and his common sense. If he were any calmer, she wouldn't have been worried, but his arm trembled in her grasp.

"You will not die by Gabriel's hands," Emle said firmly. "If he wanted to kill you, he would have done so, despite his promise to Lucas."

She saw disbelief in his gaze now, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Gabriel could be so merciful.

"I will fight him for your life if I have to," she said, and realized she meant it.

"You can't mean that," Malachi whispered. "We are his Hounds." He shook his head. "You don't understand."

Emle did not release his arm. "You're right," she said. "I don't understand. But even despite that; you are a member of our family, Malachi. And he will not kill you."

He had regained some of his hard-won calm, but it was a fragile, tenuous thing. "I will try to believe you, milady." He tried to smile, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Are you ready to leave?"

Their conversation was not over; only postponed, and Emle knew the subject would come up again. But now--now, they had to return home before Gabriel sent the Hunt out to find them.
"I'm ready," she said, taking one last look around the parlor. "Let's go home."


Malachi made her stay inside the house as he scanned the forest for any sign of trouble. At his signal, she joined him on the porch.

"We're not that far from Darkbrook here. Or the road. Did you see anyone?"

The forest outside was quiet and serene. Birds hunted for grasshoppers in the tall grass, and a hawk flew overhead. It was every bit the epitome of a midsummer afternoon.

"Not a soul. I don't think anyone has been in this house for years." Emle hesitated, wondering if she would open yet another can of worms with this admission. "I--I explored a bit while you were gone."

Malachi choked on a breath and whirled around to face her. "You did what?" He tensed as soon as he spoke. "I apologize. Milady. But Our Master will hold me responsible if you come to harm."

"I walked around," Emle said, embarrassed since he truly did not need to apologize. Gabriel had made him responsible for her safety, and if she had done something stupid, he would have been punished. "I'm fine, Malachi. He said for you to leave me here. Did you think I would content myself to stand in one place and not move a muscle until you returned?"

He flushed. "No, of course not. Did you--did you find anything interesting?"

"Just an echo of old magic," Emle said, glancing back over her shoulder at the house as Malachi led her down the steps. His gallantry was touching, if a bit annoying. Even pregnant, she was not a helpless idiot. "It--" In one of the upstairs windows, a curtain shifted, as if someone on the other side had moved it a little so they could see out. Her voice caught in her throat. "It was a beautiful house in its prime."

"The man who owned it was not a beautiful man," Malachi said, not noticing her lapse. "But you're right. It was a beautiful house."

Emle dared not take her gaze away from the window. As Malachi led her away from the house, the curtain moved away entirely and a figure appeared in the dusty window. A child. She could see that even from here. A human child.

"What are you--" Malachi turned to look and the child froze, his mouth a perfect 'o'. And then, in a rush, the boy vanished from the window, leaving the curtain rocking against the glass.

"Malachi, it's only a child," Emle said, somehow convinced that he would rush back to the house and attack the boy to escape Gabriel's punishment.

He was immobile beside her, his body frozen in place as if he could not quite believe what he had seen. As far as she could tell, he wasn't even breathing.

"Malachi?" She took his arm.

There were tears in his eyes when he turned to look at her. "I did not come here to die," he whispered. "But our Master will murder me if we were seen."

Before she could stop him, he abandoned her and fled into the house.

"Malachi, wait!" Emle started after him, clutching the folds of her skirt in one hand. Peversely, she envied Sennet and her comfortable pants. Her skirt snagged on a nail on the steps, and the heavy fabric tore when she pulled it free.

The baby enjoyed this exercise--she kicked right under Emle's cushioning hand as she hurried through the front door again and looked for Malachi. Something crashed above her on the second floor. Emle ran towards the stairs as chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling. One glanced off her shoulder. Another hit her head hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Someone shouted up above, and a horrendous crash threw up even more dust--but from the back of the house. Coughing, Emle hurried down the hallway towards the kitchen, where a door she had noticed in her previous wanderings now stood open.

The boy from the window had just managed to stagger to his feet when she appeared in the doorway. He twirled around, his eyes wide, as Malachi descended the last few steps at a run.
"Wait," Emle said, holding out her hands. "Wait, please. We're not going to hurt you."

Malachi stopped and stared at her, his eyes as wide as the boy's. She could hear his harsh breathing in the dusty air, and see the tracks of tears on his cheeks. "Milady--"

"Malachi, we have no reason to hurt this child." Emle wondered if Gabriel would truly force him to do something so terrible.

The boy had backed away as they spoke, inching towards the kitchen door. He wore an eyepatch over one eye, and his dusky skin was covered with dust. His clothes were worn, but well-mended, his hair in need of a cut.

As far as Emle could tell, he was well and truly human.

"All we need is your promise that you won't tell anyone you saw us here," Emle said to him, keeping her voice low and calm.

"Milady--" Malachi's voice broke. "If he finds out what you have done--what we have done--"

"What did you intend to do, kill him?" Emle asked bluntly.

Malachi flinched. "No. No, of course not. I--" He sank down on the last step and put his head in his hands.

"I won't tell anyone," the boy said quickly.

"If someone comes here after us, looking for us--if someone saw us in the forest, would you be able to withstand them?" Malachi asked. "I have my doubts of that."

The boy stared at him for a long moment. "I won't be here. I have other--I will gather my things and go elsewhere."

"You live here?" Emle stared at him. "But you--how old are you, child?"

"My name is Jordan," the boy whispered. "And I'll be--I'll be eleven next month."

"And the Council allows you to live in the forest by yourself?" Malachi stared at him, shocked. "There are--" He glanced at Emle. "There are those in the forest who would eat you for breakfast, Jordan."

"I'm not afraid of the Wild Hunt," Jordan said.

Emle didn't dare look at Malachi for fear of bursting into helpless laughter. "You are not? Why not? Most people are."

"Lucas told me that they wouldn't hurt me, and that if I saw a Hound, I should just turn around and walk the other way."

It was the strange logic of a child, but Emle could not fault Lucas' recommendation.

"Perhaps he was correct," she said. "But still, you are only a child. Why aren't you with your family?"

Jordan turned away from her and wrapped his arms around his middle. "I don't have a family," he whispered. "And I can't live in town. Lucas told me about this house. He said I'd be safe here."

"I know who you are," Malachi said, breaking his silence. "I remember--I heard someone talking about you. You--You can read minds." His voice cracked.

"Not yours," Jordan said quickly, as if he expected them to flee. "And I can't control it. I--That's why I'm here. The Council can't help me."

He put on a brave face, but Emle sensed a surge of pain through his words. As if he believed the Council had done everything they could, but in the same breath, he thought they had given up far too quickly.

Malachi exhaled. "At least there's that," he said. "Perhaps I won't die today."

"Why should you die at all?" Emle asked. "It's obvious--" She had to stop herself from speaking Gabriel's name. "It's obvious he didn't know Jordan was living here. Or else he would have told us to meet Sennet somewhere else."

"I can't read her thoughts either," Jordan whispered. "But I--I can read the Council's thoughts. That's one of the reasons why--"

"They don't want you around," Malachi said.

"Yes."

Emle smiled at him. "Well, I still think it's not right that you have to live like this," she said. "Malachi, can I speak with you for a moment? Jordan, will you promise not to run away?"

"I promise," Jordan said, and sat down against the wall.

Malachi joined her in the hallway, his face full of foreboding. "I know what you're going to say," he said before she could speak. "And while I think it's a noble thought, I don't believe our Master will allow what you wish to happen."

"It wouldn't hurt to ask," Emle protested. "He's only ten! A child! Living out in the forest by himself!"

"We can't bring him back with us," Malachi said a little wildly. "Not if you don't want to push our Master to fury. You've never angered him, milady. You wouldn't know."

Emle hesitated. His words rang true. And what if Gabriel drove her out--or worse--for wanting to help him? "You're right, of course," she said, suddenly weary. "And you've been a Hound far longer than I've been your Master's lady. I will defer to your judgement on this, Malachi. If you don't think we should proceed, then I all I will request is that you check on Jordan from time to time. A child should not be living in the forest alone."

Malachi closed his eyes, as if he did not want the responsibility of the decision. But instead of denying it, he sighed. "I think--I think if he agrees to your request, then he might--he might just allow us to keep our human forms. Milady."

"Then I will make my request," Emle said. "Will he pull the information from your mind before we return?"

"I have no way of knowing," Malachi said. "If he does, then I will die." He stared at her, his gaze bleak. "You will have to tread carefully when we return."

"Then let's see if Jordan will stay here until we send word," Emle said, trying to push away her apprehension. She did not want to put Malachi at risk, but she had to try. And the Hunt's house in Faerie would be a perfectly secure place for a child to be comfortable. Especially a child as unique as Jordan. He was just a little older than Eri, after all. Surely Gabriel would see that--
When they returned to the kitchen, Jordan was in the process of removing a cache of canned goods from the ancient refridgerator. He turned at their approach and dropped a jar of peanut butter on the floor.

It rolled to a stop at Malachi's feet.

"You shouldn't have to leave because of us," Malachi whispered, bending to pick up the jar.

Jordan shrugged. "I'm used to moving around."

"A resourceful boy such as yourself must have many places to hide in the forest," Emle said, struggling to keep her voice light. "What would you say if I told you we may be able to find you someplace safe to sleep every night?"

"I apologize, ma'am, but I would say that you must be dreaming." Jordan spoke without a single ounce of emotion in his voice. "I have a wild talent. No one wants me around."

Emle's heart ached at his words. They were--undoubtedly--true, but even someone with such a wild talent deserved a bit of friendship. "Will you stay here for a little longer? If I can, I will send Malachi back to tell you of my--my husband's decision."

Husband was as good as a word as any.

"But what if someone saw you in the forest?" Jordan asked, glancing at Malachi. "Are you in trouble?"

The obvious response would be for Malachi to stay here with Jordan, and allow Emle to return on her own, but she knew he would never agree to that.

"What if--"

"No," Malachi said, as if he had read her mind. "I am fairly certain no one saw us. And if they did, I would not have been able to hide us from their presence anyway." He took a deep breath. "Jordan, if you decide to stay and await my return, please don't show yourself to anyone."

"If the person you're so afraid of is a wizard, I might not be able to hide from them," Jordan said with the wisdom of the obvious.

"The person I'm afraid of is my Master," Malachi whispered.

Jordan glanced at Emle. "Your husband?"

"Yes," Emle said, and wondered if they had lost him. She could not force him to go back with them, after all, and what would he say once he realized where they were going? There was no easy way to tell someone that the WIld Hunt had room to spare for a homeless human child.
"I'd rather not, then," Jordan said. "He doesn't sound like he's a very nice person if Malachi's so afraid of him." He smiled at Emle. "Thank you for the offer, though. I'm sure I'll be fine."

Malachi handed him the jar of peanut butter. "I truly don't think he would harm you."

"But he will harm you, if he finds out I saw you here?" Jordan asked quietly. "Even though it wasn't your fault?"

"It would be my fault, despite what you believe," Malachi said. "I apologize for chasing you. I--I overreacted."

"What if I--" Jordan but his lip and glanced at the floor. "Could I come with you and explain that you couldn't have known I would be here?"

It was a very brave offer, but Emle imagined Gabriel's reaction and shook her head. "I will explain and send Malachi back to fetch you. Please?"

"What if he doesn't come?" Jordan asked. "Should I--Should I stay here?"

Malachi glanced out the window. "If I do not return by dawn, then go to one of your safe places." He hesitated, then glanced at Emle. "We should go. Now."

Far too much time had passed. The shadows had lengthened beneath the trees. Gabriel would worry, and every second they remained in the house meant that he could very easily open the bond and know everything that had happened before she had a chance to explain.

"Jordan?"

Jordan hesitated. "Until dawn," he finally agreed. "But after that, I'm leaving."

"Thank you," Emle said, and turned to follow Malachi out the door.



Next Update: August 10th




House St. Clair Home

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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

House St. Clair Home

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Heart's Desire Part 16

Heart's Desire
Book 3

Chapter 1
Ten years later

"Change!" With effortless ease, Eri shifted from a girl into a Hound. "See? It's easy. I can do it--why can't you?"

Malachi shook his head. You don't understand. Our Master-- He never got a chance to finish. Eri reached out, touched his forehead, and Gabriel's bindings melted away.

The stone floor was much colder against human skin than the fur of a Hound. Malachi choked in a breath, his chest tight with terror. How long would it take Gabriel to realize he had shifted shape?

"Malachi?" Eri's voice was uncommonly grave. A blanket--the blanket from her bed--drifted down to cover him, and Malachi glanced up to see Eri's wide blue eyes staring down at him. Her lower lip quivered as she sank down on her knees. "Oh, Malachi--I'm sorry--"

No hue and cry had risen; the bond still rested easily in the back of Malachi's mind. Before Gabriel realized what had happened, Malachi shifted back into the form of a Hound and fled to the sound of Eri's soft sobs.

He did not go far, of course, and he should have realized Gabriel would find out one way or another.

A few minutes later, Malachi heard Gabriel's footsteps in the hall, and then his voice, soft and questioning.

Malachi closed his eyes, shivering from the aftershock of what Eri had so easily removed. He could shift now, without constraints, and escape out the window, perhaps, before his Master discovered what Eri had done, but where would he go?

"My daughter is crying and I cannot console her," Gabriel said from the doorway. "She claims she hurt you."

She did not hurt me, my lord. Malachi tried to keep the fear from his thoughts, but the transformation had shaken him. That she could so easily push the bindings away! But-- There was no easy way to admit what had happened, and he could not keep it a secret. With a heavy heart, dizzy and sick, he shifted shape, kneeling naked in front of his Master.

"She--She took away your bindings, my lord," He spoke softly, his gaze on the floor, unmindful of the cold stone against his naked flesh. "I did not ask her to--I swear--"

"Eri did this?" Before Malachi could think to flinch out of the way, Gabriel had knelt in front of him, one hand on Malachi's forehead and the other cupping his chin. "Hold still."

Malachi froze as the bond flared to life inside his mind. "My lord--"

"Hush. Hold still." Gabriel's voice held no fury at all. "She is only ten years old--she doesn't realize what she has done."

Something shifted inside Malachi's mind--a reorganization of sorts that left him no less shaken, but much less dazed. By the time Gabriel withdrew his hands, Malachi had almost fallen asleep.
Dimly, he realized Gabriel had lifted him up and carried him over to the bed.

"Sleep," Gabriel ordered when Malachi tried to open his eyes. "You may have a headache when you wake up. I'll--I'll speak to Eri."

"My lord--" Malachi struggled out of the depths of darkness and tried to find his Master's presence.

"Sleep," Gabriel said, with only a thread of warning in his voice.

"Don't--Don't punish her--"

Gabriel laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that. I think she's punished herself quite enough."


The past ten years had been--educating. Coping with Josiah's loss and raising a child at the same time had strained Gabriel's nerves to the breaking point time and time again, but in the end, they all had survived to this point, and grown a bit wiser as time passed. His love for both his daughter and his Lady had blossomed, bringing with it a curious guilt when his thoughts turned to his Hounds.

Now, with Emle pregnant again and another daughter due in the coming weeks, his guilt had doubled. His Hounds--His Hounds were not children. But they were part of his family, for want of a better word, and they deserved--they deserved to be rewarded for their loyalty.

He had not--yet--told Emle that they had any other shape than the one she knew them in. Now, thanks to Eri, he truly had no choice.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't know--" Eri's voice trailed away, no doubt when she saw Malachi asleep in the bed. "Did I hurt him badly?"

"Not badly," Gabriel said, turning to face her. "But I put those constraints on my Hounds for a reason, Erianthe. Especially Malachi."

Eri hung her head. "I only wanted--"

"You wanted him to be able to shift, like you," Gabriel said, and wondered if he dared approach Lucas about training his daughter. If she could just wipe away his constraints at ten years of age, what would she be able to do by the time she turned twenty?

Eri nodded. "I didn't know he wasn't allowed. He tried to tell me--"

"I know he did," Gabriel said. "Why don't we let him rest? We can talk in the library."

"I'm--"

Gabriel ruffled Eri's fine hair. "I know you're sorry. Malachi will be fine when he wakes up. I promise you that." He hesitated. "And I won't stop you from apologizing to him, if you wish."

For the first time in almost two hours, Eri managed to smile. "I'm glad," she said. "I never meant to hurt him."

"I know," Gabriel said, and led her across the hall to the library, where they could talk in peace, but Emle was already there, seated in one of the leather-clad chairs, with a book propped on her protruding stomach.

For a second, Gabriel could only stare at her, lost in her beauty.

"If I may have a moment of your time?" She smiled when she saw Eri, but her smile didn't last long when she saw that their daughter's eyes were puffy and red. "What's wrong?"

Gabriel did not miss Eri's desperate glance. "Perhaps it would be best for me to tell you," he said to save his daughter an awkward explanation. "Or show you, in truth. But you needed to speak with me?"

"I'll go outside," Eri said, as if she had picked something up from her mother's mood; something Gabriel could not see. She vanished from his side before he could protest, shifting into the form of a lithe young Hound.

"I didn't ask her to leave," Emle said. "But I did wish to speak with you alone."

She seemed oddly hesitant to speak her question, or whatever she wanted. Was something wrong? "Are you well?" Gabriel asked, thinking that she hadn't mentioned anything that morning.

Emle smiled. "Yes. I am well. And the baby is fine, as far as I can tell. But--Our child is due in two weeks, Gabriel."

"I know. The Council's binding is set to expire in two weeks as well." That had preyed on his mind more than the impending birth of his second child.

"Are you intending to deliver her?" Emle asked, and this time, Gabriel could hear the exasperation in her voice.

"I--" In truth, he had not thought of that. "No, of course not. But--" How would that work? No one knew he was Eri's father--he had not kept them in hiding, but he had taken pains not to make his tiny family a target. Emle had not stepped beyond the wards for many months, and Eri only ventured out in the form of a Hound, where her presence would be least likely to attract any notice.

"Sennet delivered Eri," Emle said, taking pity on him. "I am certain she would not mind aiding me again."

"I had hoped to see this daughter born," Gabriel said, suddenly struck by the sickening feeling that something horrible would happen to prevent that. "I--"

"Sennet is a Healer, and neutral," Emle said.

"She can't come here--" An aeon of distrust rose to encompass his thoughts. He turned away from her, distress clouding his mind. All Magdalen needed was to find out about Emle and Eri's existence--not to mention his unborn daughter--and she would have plenty of leverage to force him to bind himself to her.

Unless she was dead, but he had no way to find out if she had perished in the last century. He had not seen her since the Council's binding had kept him from her grasp.

"I can go to her," Emle offered. "At first, at least--just to request her services. After the Council's binding expires, it won't matter, will it?"

Gabriel had never told her about Magdalen. "I don't know," he said, helpless in the face of her request. "My Hunt--I--have other enemies." He tried to smile. "There is much you do not yet know about my Hunt, milady."

When he glanced at her, Emle's face showed no surprise. "Yes. I know. But I have not pushed you to tell me anything."

And she hadn't. "Perhaps you should have," Gabriel whispered. "I can't allow you to go alone. Not now, when--" He wanted to tell her everything, but now was not the time. "When the Council's binding is so close to expiring."

"I understand that you can't go with me," Emle said. "Not at first. I'd take a Hound, but they're rather--recognizable."

Gabriel froze. "What did you say?" His voice came out harsher than he intended.

Emle stepped back. "I--I said I understood that you--"

"No. After that." Gabriel controlled his temper with an effort. This was not Emle's fault.

"I said I could take a Hound, but--"

Gabriel closed his eyes. Would Malachi-- He pushed that thought out of his head. Could he trust Malachi after what had happened when Josiah vanished? Did he have a choice?

"There is much you don't know about my Hunt, milady." He took a deep breath. This was not the way to tell her, but he couldn't see another way around breaking the news. "You could take a Hound."

He sensed her confusion, even before she spoke. "What do you mean?"

"My Hounds--My Hounds were not born in the shapes they wear," Gabriel said, turning back to the window. It was easier to bear this confession if he didn't have to see her face.

"I know," Emle said. "I've heard the stories." Her voice held no blame; no recriminations for his long-ago sins.

"But you don't know that they need not stay as Hounds," Gabriel said. "Before you returned--ten years ago--I had let them have a bit of freedom. Today, our daughter removed my bindings and allowed one of my Hounds to shift."

He turned just in time to steady Emle as she swayed. "Our daughter did this?" Guilt flashed into her gaze. "I never thought to ask about your Hounds--"

Gabriel held her close. "I did not wish to tell you." Softly, he told her about Josiah's disappearance, and what he had done in response to it. "Perhaps I acted wrongly, but that was the best--the only--thing I could think to do at the time."

He left out Darkbrook, and everything that pertained to a Hound as a student of magic. That could come later. For now, all she had to do was understand.

"And now? One of your Hounds is in human form?" It did not take long for Emle to grasp what had happened. "What will you do with him? Force him back into the form of a Hound?"

Gabriel sighed. "No," he said, and hoped he was making the right decision. "I don't think so. But Malachi will go with you to the Healer's house, or meet her somewhere in the forest, and you can ask her your request. All I ask--All I ask is that you try to keep my name from her knowing, at least for now."

"What if Malachi doesn't want to go?" Emle asked.

That old anger bristled in Gabriel's chest. "He will not have a choice."

Emle stepped out of his arms. "If your Hounds are to be part of this family, then they must have a choice," she said. "If Malachi doesn't want to take me, then don't force him, Gabriel. Please--promise me that."

Gabriel turned his back to her again. "You don't understand," he whispered. "They have no choice."

"They won't have a choice if you don't give it to them," Emle said gently. "Where is he?"

"In the bedroom, down the hall," Gabriel said, struck by the truth of her words. Was it that simple? "Asleep."

"I will wait until he wakens," Emle said. "And then I will ask him."

She was gone before he could respond to that; and the room darkened in her absence. After a moment, Gabriel followed her into the bedroom, almost dreading the look on her face when she saw Malachi in human form.

He had not mistreated his Hounds in the past ten years. He had not beaten them, or forced them to do much of anything at all. But he was still their Master, and sometimes, that seemed worse than any beating ever did.

Emle stood for a moment, staring at Malachi's pale face. "He'll need clothes," she said, her voice stiff and formal.

"I will find him clothes," Gabriel whispered. "And I will cut his hair." And before she could lose her temper, he fled, leaving them alone in the room.

Trusting that Malachi wouldn't do anything stupid. Hoping that Malachi wouldn't betray such trust again.


As soon as Gabriel left, Emle pulled up a chair beside the bed. Her hands shook; something she had taken pains not to allow Gabriel to see, but the first wash of panic had fled, leaving her drained and wondering what else he had never told her.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," Eri whispered from the doorway.

Without speaking, Emle held out her arms. Eri curled up on what little lap Emle had left and rested her head on her mother's breast.

"Did you know he could shift?" Emle asked, keeping all blame from her voice.

"No." Eri sighed. "Yes. I could feel that he wanted to, but I didn't know why he couldn't." She bit her lip. "He isn't going to be happy with me."

Emle remembered Gabriel's talk of choices, and wondered if Malachi would even consider daring to say no to anything his Master ordered him to do. "Perhaps things will change, now that we know. Gabriel said he wouldn't force Malachi to stay a Hound."

Malachi's eyes twitched open, then closed again, almost as if he didn't want to face whatever would come next. Emle watched as he curled one hand into a fist, then carefully explored the blanket that covered him.

Eri stiffened and slid off her lap. Before Emle could stop her, she had touched Malachi's hand.

His breath caught in his throat. It wasn't quite a growl, and he must have realized their presence before it actually left his lips, because he turned his head away and opened his eyes.

"Gabriel went to find you some clothes," Emle said, just in case that would help.

Malachi shivered. "Clothes?"

"And he said he would cut your hair, too."

A tear ran down the side of Malachi's face. He closed his eyes again, still shivering, and curled up in the bed.

"I'm sorry, Malachi," Eri whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you." She touched his hand again, and this time, he did not flinch away.

"You--You didn't hurt me." He opened his eyes again, and wiped away the tears, glancing once at Emle with a bit of panic in his gaze.

"Gabriel told me what Eri did," Emle said, hoping to reassure him. "And I have a question for you, but it can wait until you've rested a bit."

"You can ask it, milady." The honorific sounded strange coming from Malachi's lips. He shifted in bed and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

There were scars across his skin, testament to a Hound's hard life, but nothing new; nothing fresh. And the look in his gaze spoke more of wariness than fear, but Emle had a feeling that would change when Gabriel returned.

"No. It can wait." She smiled at him, hoping to receive a smile back, but perhaps it was too soon. "Are you well? Is there anything you need?"

Malachi blinked, considering her question. "You said--You said he wouldn't force me to stay a Hound."

"That what he told me, yes." Emle expected him to be happy, or at least relieved, but he only seemed confused.

"My lord, I do not understand." Malachi's voice dropped to a whisper.

Emle knew about the Hunt's bond, and she knew that Eri could hear a portion of what they said through it. She envied her daughter for that; and envied the Hounds as well, because her interaction with Gabriel had to be verbal.

"The Council's binding ends in two weeks," Gabriel said from the doorway. He held a small pile of clothes and a pair of scissors in his hands. "And I did intend to keep my promise."

Emle glanced at Malachi, whose eyes were filled with tears. He started to speak, choked on his words, and turned away from them again, his shoulders shaking.

"He didn't believe you," Eri said somberly.

"Yes. I know." Gabriel's voice held no anger, but Malachi did not relax.

"Perhaps Eri and I should go," Emle offered, glancing at Gabriel for his reaction. "We can come back later--"

"No, please--" The pillow muffled Malachi's voice. "Don't go. I apologize--I--"

Gabriel moved from the doorway too quickly for Emle to track. He set the clothes and the scissors down on the bed, and knelt on the other side, gently touching the back of Malachi's head. "I told you that you might have a headache when you woke up."

"You did not say my head would feel as if has been torn in two," Malachi whispered, and even Gabriel smiled at that.

"It will pass; I promise you that," he said. "Food will help--I'm sure Eri would be happy to bring you something."

As far as Emle had ever seen, the Hounds scrounged for their own food in the forest. That meant Malachi was accustomed to whatever he could catch, not the stores of food they kept in the pantry.

"Tea?" Malachi whispered.

"And perhaps some of the soup I made last night," Emle suggested.

As soon as Eri had left on her errand, Malachi raised his head. "What of the others, my lord?"

Gabriel sighed. "They will be allowed to shift as well, I suppose. But let me cut your hair before Eri returns."

Malachi slid out of bed, taking the blanket with him, and stood in front of Gabriel, his back straight. His hair had a reddish tinge--almost mahogany, Emle thought; a beautiful color.

Malachi only quivered once when Gabriel approached with the scissors, as if he expected punishment instead of a simple haircut.

"Hold still," Gabriel said.

"Yes, my lord," Malachi whispered, but he flinched back as the scissors flashed.

"I said hold still," Gabriel repeated, a thread of irritation running through his voice.

"Yes, my lord."

Emle watched as the tangled mats of hair fell away, leaving Malachi looking a bit more civilized. There was no finesse to this haircut; the slightly ragged line fell just below Malachi's ears.

He turned as soon as Gabriel was finished. "You--You had a question to ask of me, milady?"

Gabriel had caught him with the scissors, right below his left eye, but he made no move to wipe away the trickle of blood.

"I am in need of an escort to the Healer Sennet's house," Emle said. "Gabriel said you might be willing--"

"Of course!" Malachi said. He wiped the blood from his cheek and frowned down at it.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to go," Gabriel said. "I would hold you responsible for Emle's safety, and the safety of our unborn daughter."

Malachi stiffened. "I know." He glanced back at Gabriel, almost wildly, and clutched the blanket around his shoulders. "I will bring her back unharmed, my lord. You can--You can trust me. I will not betray you."

From his tone of voice, Emle suspected that he had betrayed his Master before. But when? She put one hand on her stomach and felt the baby kick. "No one knows that I live here," she said, hoping to defuse the tension. "I could go alone."

"No." Malachi and Gabriel spoke as one.

"No," Gabriel continued as Malachi glanced down at his feet. "And you cannot be seen around Sennet's house, either. Malachi can ask her to accompany him to a neutral location."

"Is there a neutral location in the forest, my lord?" Malachi accepted the tea when Eri handed it to him, but had to sit down to drink it, lest he lose his blanket.

"I have to warm up the soup," Eri said. "I didn't think you would want it cold."

Malachi glanced at his Master before he spoke. "Thank you."

"There is a house in the forest that would do for our purposes," Gabriel said after a moment of watching Malachi drink. "The Council owns it, but no one lives there."

Malachi almost choked on his tea. "The Daulton house, my lord?"

"Sennet can meet Emle there," Gabriel said. "It is near the road, but far enough away from Council involvement so as not to raise their suspicions."

"I would--" The mug shook in Malachi's hand. "I would have to leave her alone, then, for a little while."

"I know."

Malachi closed his eyes and bowed his head over the mug in his hands. "If that is the only way--" he hesitated, then, as if struck by a thought. "Could someone else not come with us, my lord?" He rushed on in the face of Gabriel's silence. "That way I wouldn't have to leave her alone."

Emle wasn't sure Gabriel was open enough to the idea of the Hounds in human form to allow someone else to shift just yet. "I'll be fine," she said. "This is just a small meeting, nothing more. All I want to do is ask for Sennet's aid and make sure everything is--on schedule."

"I could go with you, Mama," Eri said with the innocence of a child.

"No!" Gabriel's eyes silvered--a true indication of his distress. "No," he said, and Emle could tell he struggled to keep his temper. "There is--very little chance that anything will happen."

Emle stroked her daughter's fine hair. "We'll be fine. And unless Sennet can't see me right away, we won't be gone for long."

"The soup will be ready by now," Eri said, glancing at her father, as if she expected him to punish her.

"I'm not hungry," Malachi said, then stared at her, stricken, when Eri's face crumpled into tears.

Gabriel sighed. "Malachi, eat." Without waiting for Malachi's reply, he gathered Eri into his arms. "It's getting late, and this has not been an easy evening for anyone. I did not intend for you to leave right away--you can wait until daylight, at least."

"Yes, my lord." Malachi stood, struggling to keep his blanket in place.

"You--ah--you can't go far wearing a blanket," Emle said.

Eri's tears turned to laughter in an instant. For a moment, Emle thought Malachi would laugh as well; his breath caught in his throat and he ducked his head down again, his hair falling to cover the expression on his face.

But when he spoke, his voice was soft and serious. "That is true, milady."

"Get dressed. Eat. And rest until it's time for you to go," Gabriel said. "It is far past Eri's bedtime as it is."

Emle thought Eri would protest, but she left with her father willingly enough, only glancing back once at Malachi.

"I will dish you out some soup," Emle said.

"Thank you," Malachi whispered, his head still bowed. He turned, then, to gather up the clothes, and the blanket slipped down from his shoulders, baring his scars to her view once again.

"Did Gabriel do that to you?" Emle asked, half-dreading his reply.

The look in his gaze told her everything she wanted to know, and more. Sickened, she closed her eyes and tried to regain her sense of place. He had not mistreated them in her sight, at least. And the scars were old. Surely they were from before the Council's binding. Surely.

"We are his Hounds," Malachi said, as if that was an answer.

She could have argued with him; or tried to see his point of view, but it was late. And she had discovered enough about the Hunt for one short evening. "I will dish you out some soup," she said, and fled into the kitchen, where at least almost everything was within her understanding.



Malachi sat on the bed for a long moment after Emle left. It was difficult to think past the pounding in his head, muchless hold a conversation, and he relished the silence that surrounded him now, soothing his ragged emotions.

Gabriel had even dampened the bond between them, leaving him alone--up to a point, at least--with his thoughts.

He had not expected any of this. Not Eri's show of power; not Gabriel's acquiescence to the agreement they had made so long ago.

After a while, it had been easier just to forget about having a human form. And after a longer while, he had not--truly--missed it. Being human changed things. As a Hound, he did not have to pay attention to the vagaries of human emotion. The only person who actually meant something--other than Eri and Emle, of course--was his Master, and his word was law. He didn't have to think about anything at all, or consider an argument, or pretend to be anything else than what he was--a Hound.

It had been, in a way, refreshing.

You are alive, Nathaniel said through the bond.

"Yes." Malachi didn't bother to look around. He knew the others had been listening; it was hard not to.

And unhurt? The quiet click of Nathaniel's toenails was the only sound for a moment as Nathaniel approached the bed.

"My head is pounding," Malachi said. "But I will live. I had--I had gotten used to being a Hound." He shivered, realizing that he sat on the bed half-naked with a pile of clothes beside him. Without looking at Nathaniel, he pulled on a shirt.

You are to stay human, then? Zechariah's voice this time, with a thread of anger running through it.

"I did not ask for this," Malachi reminded him. "And if you were listening, you would have heard our Master say that he would hold up his end of our bargain."

That he had dared to do something so bold as to bargain with Gabriel still shocked him. That Gabriel had agreed to anything was a miracle unto itself. That he intended to keep his end of the bargain even more unlikely, but if Malachi couldn't trust their Master, then who was left to trust?

He pulled on underthings and pants, then stood on shaky legs to face the others. Thomas was the only one absent--and he was stuck on guard duty in the cave outside the door.

For a moment, he thought that Zechariah would not let him pass. But he moved aside, finally, and Malachi walked down the hallway to the kitchen with the other Hounds trailing behind him.
It was much colder now, even with clothes. His bare feet cringed from contact with the stone floor, but he managed to make it to the table without stumbling over anything, and eat the soup Emle had left for him.

Human food tasted so strange after a decade of meat and the occasional apple. But his taste buds remembered tea, and his body gloried in the warmth. Slowly, the pounding in his head began to fade.

You look a bit better now, Seth said from the doorway.

"I feel a bit better now," Malachi said, but he couldn't help his reaction when Gabriel loomed behind Seth. His heartbeat quickened; he clenched his hands around the mug of tea and shrank back in his chair. Seth vanished; moving too quickly for Malachi to follow.

Gabriel considered him for a long moment. "I am not angry with you, Malachi."

Malachi forced his hands to loosen around the mug. "I know." That didn't help the tension; in truth, his Master's words made it worse.

"May I sit with you?" Gabriel's voice was so neutral that Malachi almost smiled.

"Of course," he said. As if he could stop his Master from sitting anywhere he wanted.

Gabriel sat across from him, a looming presence. "You ate?"

"Yes." He tipped the bowl up to show his Master. "I ate. And I drank. And my head doesn't hurt much anymore."

"Good."

"I truly didn't ask her to--"

Gabriel reached across the table and touched Malachi's bare arm. "I know. Stop apologizing. I will not punish you for this."

Malachi had to bite back another apology. "Yes, my lord."

"You need to rest," Gabriel continued. "Rest, and then bring my lady back unharmed. And then we will talk about the future."

He left then, his presence fading as he walked down the hall.

Malachi wiped tears from his cheeks, gathered up his dishes, and placed them in the sink. When he walked into the living room, Seth was asleep on the hearth, his head nestled on his paws.

You could sleep as a Hound, Nathaniel suggested, walking in from the garden.

"I could," Malachi whispered. "But part of me wants to stay human for as long as I can. Just in case--" He swallowed fear. "Just in case he changes his mind." But if he spent his night human and could not enjoy it, then what was the point?

With a sigh, he shifted shape and padded out into the garden. At least dirt would be softer than stone, and he wouldn't have to find a blanket, as a Hound.

He didn't have to do a lot as a Hound. It was as a human that everything was so complicated.



Next Update: July 6th

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