A Curse of Blood and Power: A Chronicle of Fanhalen Page 12

  As she finished her sentence, sounds of steps echoed along the stairs and Fàaran’s voice filled the room as he rubbed his face with both hands. ‘I wouldn’t dare make you wait, sister.’

  B

  Fàaran reached the counter, his footsteps quiet yet his attitude nonchalant. He swept the three women with a questioning frown, his gaze resting on Emmerentia a second longer. A plate of food found itself in front of him as he pulled a chair near his sister.

  It was silent for a moment, except for the occasional slurp and Emmerentia’s rustling of the items in the bags. Fàaran gulped down the food as though he hadn’t eaten in the past two weeks.

  Mahena had found a sudden interest in the wall facing her. Lorna kept moving around the bar, casting occasional glances at Emmerentia that Fàaran only pretended not to notice.

  After another moment, he pushed the empty plate forward. Lorna disappeared into the kitchen and didn’t come back for a few minutes.

  He considered his twin. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

  This was the point of no return, and she had to fully understand the consequences of stepping over that line. By leaving this kingdom, Emmerentia risked exposing herself to the potential head-hunters who hadn’t forgotten the hefty price on her head. There weren’t any words required, but Fàaran angled his head at his younger sister, taking in all the fiery passion she yearned to feel, to express once again.

  Emmerentia looked down at her wrist, at that bracelet she kept on at all times, as though its story was unfolding before her eyes. She brought her head back to face him. ‘Yes.’ With a wink, she added, ‘We have to, what would father say if we ignored it?’ It’s too much, too odd to ignore, and I am bored lifeless, was what she didn’t need to say. Fàaran could see it all, feel it through their bond.

  He rubbed his eyes. ‘Alright, but we're doing it my way.’ He grabbed his sister’s hand, a tight squeeze that made her arm spasm. ‘No questions asked.’

  He caught Mahena’s gaze monitoring their exchange. He frowned despite himself, and she averted her eyes immediately.

  Emmerentia nodded. Fàaran gave her a pointed look as she grabbed her bag and handed another one over to him. She turned to Mahena, extending one of the bags to her too. ‘Sorry for leaving you out of this conversation.’

  Mahena only said, ‘I need the bathroom, and I’ll check if I left anything in the room.’ She almost ran up the stairs.

  She was catching up fast on how to behave around the both of them, and he had to admit having the girl around, witnessing Emmerentia smile and laugh and live—even if only slightly—had softened him too.

  17

  Emmerentia watched Mahena force herself away from the hanging painting and disappear in the corridor to the rooms. Despite the very real risks that faced them, she could not look the other way.

  What she had at first thought to be merely a lack of companionship, had turned out to be…words failed her when she tried to describe it, even to herself. The part of her that refused to let anyone dictate her life roared at the idea that a gods-damned spell had stolen moments of her own life. Being forced into exile on account of the consequences of her actions was one thing. Anything else was intolerable. But, that pull, that thread beckoned her forward.

  Holy rutting hells.

  That pull, the earrings, the blackout, the dreams.

  The possibility that the genuine royal jewels of Elgona had been found at some point in history was not far-fetched, and neither she nor Fàaran knew whether there was a way to know if they were authentic without magic

  Emmerentia sighed, an unpleasant mix of feelings melding together within her guts. They would do this on Fàaran’s terms, and she would probably dislike most of it. He was secretive and would make it a blind following. But she had no choice and truthfully, they had better chances of making it alive if they followed her brother. Maybe this nonsense was the push she needed to get her to move, to retrieve a fragment of her old self she had thought buried. Her life would never be the same, but keeping her mind occupied with danger seemed like a good solution to the numbness that had consumed her.

  When Mahena was out of earshot, Fàaran grabbed her arm, squeezing tight enough to drag her attention back to him. ‘I am serious.’

  She pursed her lips in annoyance, but he was right. He had always been at her side in their youth. Since that day she had decided to change her fate, he had proved unfaltering in his duties. He had done so much, sacrificed so much and at this stage, she would not blame him if he turned away. He was a warrior, not a nursemaid bound to his sister’s bedside. Besides, the idea of having a man fawning over her safety made her stomach curl.

  ‘Relax,’ she said as she punched him gently in the shoulder. ‘We’ve always made a good team, and I’ll listen.’

  Fàaran stood up with a nod. He jerked his chin towards the bar behind her. ‘I’ll get the horses ready.’

  Emmerentia turned back to the bar. She usually sneaked out when the barmaid was busy elsewhere, never bothering with formal goodbyes. But something felt different this time, as though she knew next time they met, they would be different women.

  ‘Erase that look off your face immediately,’ Lorna said as she came out from behind the bar.

  Emmerentia shrugged her shoulders. ‘What look?’

  ‘I am no charity case. Give me all the other looks, but that one has no place on your face when it comes to me.’

  Emmerentia bit down on her lip at the words, at the thought she never dared express.

  ‘I don’t expect anything from you, Em. I enjoy your company and if you ever find your way out of the black pit you’ve sunk into, I’ll be happy to meet the real you.’

  And there she thought she had hid it well.

  ‘Until then, stop paying me that look. You don’t know me. The only thing you owed me, you paid back hours ago.’

  Emmerentia’s lips curved upwards. Their games were always aggressive, sometimes violent, yet it had been an entirely other level. The marks on her back were proof of it. She had witnessed the fierceness of Lorna’s soul burning bright enough in her green eyes to know that she was anything but defenceless.

  ‘I don’t think of you like that at all.’ Emmerentia brushed her red hair back with her thumb and forefinger. ‘If that ever happens, I’ll definitely come around more often.’

  Lorna rested a hand on the counter, leaning slightly, a smile in her eyes. ‘It was nothing compared to what it could be.’

  A spark lit her eyes, a promise in her tone.

  Emmerentia smiled in return.

  B

  Mahena patted her satchel for the notebook as she scanned the room for anything she could have left behind, but there was nothing.

  Downstairs, Emmerentia was bidding goodbye to Lorna. The twin frowned and sketched an uncomfortable smile. Mahena wished she could hear what was going on, but the decent part of her made her walk straight out the door to the stables, leaving the two women to finish their business alone.

  The rising sun greeted her with a warm caress on her face, the morning mist coating the grass, droplets of water shining like silver stars. The sounds of the forest met her in a chilled, peaceful morning song. She yawned as she scrubbed at her eyes, adapting to the morning light. The sky was clear of clouds, as pale blue as it could be, soft and promising a good day. A cool breeze snaked a chill down her spine, making her tighten the cloak they’d purchased one day at the market.

  Mahena walked to the stables, not entirely sure what sort of welcome she would get from Fàaran after the night’s conversation. He had surprisingly seemed as concerned as Emmerentia had, but Mahena could never tell with him. He was sitting on the wooden step next to Fàrak’s stall when she walked into the stable, his head resting in his hands. She walked up as loudly as she could, making sure he heard her approach and came back from whatever thought he had dis
appeared into.

  The twin slowly lifted his head up, haze in his eyes.

  ‘I thought you were impervious to fatigue,’ she said as she took a glance at her own horse in the next stall, its head deep in the pile of fresh hay. He’d slept more than both of them, and was usually the one who couldn’t spend more time than necessary in bed.

  The twin blinked a couple of times before rising to his feet. ‘Strength of spirit is built upon.’

  Snob. She unlatched the pen to her mare, noticing she was already saddled, as was Emmerentia’s. She whistled to Fàaran. ‘Practical as can be.’ She patted the mare on the neck, her grey coat a little dirty from the night. She’d expected the groom to actually clean the horse, but maybe that was at an extra charge. The mare neighed and carried on chewing the hay.

  Mahena peered out of the opened door and caught Fàaran’s eye. She formed the question in her mind, then refrained herself. She only said, ‘Do you want me to take hers out as well?’

  ‘If you can manage.’

  Oh, well. At least he talked now. Or words came out of his mouth that were directed at her. It hadn’t happened since they’d left the cottage. Even last night, Emmerentia had done most of the talking and when his lips parted, it was more to correct his sister or elaborate than to address Mahena directly. Progress.

  Mahena gently pulled Oria’s leads, forcing the mare off the last bits of hay. Hooves on soil resonated ahead of her, and she knew Fàaran was walking out with Fàrak on his heels—the horse didn’t even require leads, he just...followed.

  The horse ruffled her nose in Mahena’s legs as she motioned her forward. She led her out, halfway to the door, and tightened the leads in a knot as she turned around to get the second mare. Emmerentia appeared a minute later next to her brother, both their satchels over her shoulder, alongside two other bags hanging in her hand. She grabbed her mare’s leads and, in a swift motion, fixed her cargo on the saddle. Mahena moved to the side to let her do the same on her horse.

  Addressing no one in particular, she asked, ‘If moving across land is that dangerous, why not sail to Vassalis?’

  Fàaran answered, ‘We would have to sail all the way down and around Sahra, which would extend the travel considerably. We can hide and control our travelling pace better over land.’ He chewed on his lip. ‘And I don’t know the situation in the pirate isles.’

  Mahena slid a foot into her own stirrup and hauled herself up. ‘Are they more dangerous than travelling through a land plagued by war?’

  Fàaran shrugged. ‘It would extend the journey by too long.’ He looked to Mahena with something in his eyes she didn’t quite understand. ‘We’ll keep training, make sure you are as prepared as possible in case we encounter hostile forces.’

  Then they left without a backward glance at The Lair.

  18

  They rode for a few days to get out of Mealdan, through green lands and prairies, meadow valleys and along riverbanks, hunting for rabbits and picking fruits rather than stopping by villages. Mahena figured she couldn’t complain as she didn’t really have money to pay for anything anyway, although she would have killed for a hot bath and a soft mattress to sleep on. She snickered at the thought—what a great adventurer that made her.

  The crackling of the fire brought her eyes to attention as she picked the last bone of her dinner clean and threw it to the side. The night was cooler today, and she tightened her cloak around her neck, extending her hands above the flames.

  ‘You did well with the fire,’ Fàaran said as their eyes met.

  Mahena placed her hands above her heart in a dramatic gesture. ‘A compliment?’ She whipped her gaze to his sister, the smirk plastered on her face growing. ‘Is he ill?’

  ‘He must have hit his head when hunting.’

  Fàaran shook it in disbelief. ‘Insufferable.’

  Both women laughed underneath their breaths. Fàaran pushed off on the logs with his hands and walked further away, seemingly unbothered by the cold.

  Mahena whispered with a wink, ‘So touchy.’

  ‘I can hear you.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to be discreet,’ she echoed back. When the sound of his boots faded and she finally found herself alone with Emmerentia, she got up and sat next to her. The twin squinted, almost shuffling off the log.

  ‘So, this is truly the start, isn’t it?’ Mahena said. ‘I need to ask.’ She hesitated, fidgeting with her fingers. ‘I was honest with you at the Inn. I am happy to say more. I can’t wrap my head around why you are willing to do this. I mean, I get that you might feel robbed, but…what we might have shared could be a simple smile in passing, you know? You guys could get killed.’

  Emmerentia left before answering this question last time. Out of consideration, Mahena hadn’t pushed for an explanation. But after seeing the expression on Emmerentia’s face when she had stepped back into the Inn in the morning, it had to be bad.

  The twin grabbed her arm, squeezing slightly. She looked her over with a frankness that made Mahena uncomfortable and she shifted her arm away. Three days were enough to ponder over your past, to lick wounds that wouldn’t heal.

  Whatever Emmerentia saw in Mahena’s eyes seemed to help her decide something, and she shrugged. ‘I feel drawn to you. To...protect you. I loathe magic, that is true, and my natural answer to this situation would be to turn a blind eye and leave. But when I think about it, something stops me.’

  The words didn’t quite reach Emmerentia’s eyes. As though she was masquerading her true feelings with layers of logic. For a second, her eyes drifted towards the cloudy sky above, into the horizon far ahead of them. ‘My guts never disappoint me.’

  Mahena angled her head in turn, mulling over whether she should tell her about the Child-Witch encounter in the end, or keep it to herself. ‘Could you tell me more about Vassalis?’

  ‘There is very little known about them. They have kept their kingdom extremely private. They are Scholars, deep into the understanding, experimenting, and analysis of the world’s inner workings. Their libraries crumble under the weight of hoarded knowledge.’

  ‘What about the disappearance of magic?’

  ‘It just vanished. One day it was there, then it wasn’t.’

  ‘Do you think I am involved? With magic, I mean.’

  Emmerentia shrugged. ‘I think something has happened to you. And I think that you should tell no one of what we know so far.’

  Silence settled over the campsite, their close proximity to each other suddenly…strange. Mahena wisely kept away from even brushing against the twin. Emmerentia stood up and grabbed her daggers that lay discarded next to her bedroll. When she came back, she sat on the opposite log, not bothering with eye contact. Mahena toyed with Emmerentia’s words, with her confession. ‘I feel drawn to protect you.’ It made all of this nonsense a little more real, as though it anchored a part of the reason why she landed with the twins.

  The wind shifted, brushing scents of pine and ash and something rich and sweet she couldn’t describe, a mixture of luscious desire and midnight spices. She glanced back at the twin beneath lowered lashes, unsurprised to find her unceremoniously cleaning her nails with one of her twin daggers. A flame flicked upward, casting her eyes in the shades of a molten ocean, reflecting off the red of her hair as it waved freely with the breeze. It darkened her face, offsetting the fine lines of it with a sort of wildness.

  She was not a dazzling beauty, not in the common sense of the word. Picked apart, none of her features were special. Together, they formed a whole that was agreeable to look at but would not turn heads. Yet, the aura of mystery surrounding her turned the twin into something more. It did not matter, not when it came to her. Mahena knew she had learned to play the game, learned to dress herself in arrogance and smiles and confidence. Emmerentia hid it well, but it poked through the shield from time to time.

  In thi
s light, she looked so mysterious it tugged at a strand of curiosity in Mahena that she tried to bury. And maybe she was high from the smoke, but Mahena stared right into the eyes of her companion and asked, ‘Where does the limit of your darkness lie?’

  B

  The past days riding in silence gave Emmerentia time to stiffen the burning rage over having heard his name brought back to the surface. And when she had succeeded in locking it away in the corner of her mind that served as its guardian, she found she could speak to Mahena without wanting to hiss at her for what she had brought into their lives.

  And she had now confessed to the truth.

  A link. A connection. And she couldn’t help it, gods burning.

  How had her life spun out of control so rapidly? She hated the silent tranquility of the farm, yet this turn of events had been sprung on her. The twin had had no control over her life for the past two and a half years.

  No more.

  She’d fled far enough, crouched in the shadows of nothingness for years for her name to disappear from any mouth. The rulers of Machize had other worries than to remember her exploits. Hopefully, the rest of the world would have forgotten her by now, too.

  Emmerentia avoided the occasional glances the girl shot her across the fire. She hadn’t been able to handle such close proximity at that moment. Perhaps it had hurt Mahena—she told herself she didn’t care, really. But occasionally, when she knew Mahena’s gaze was absorbed by the flames, Emmerentia glanced at the woman who had shared her miserable existence for the past month or so, smiling despite herself. She had missed female companionship. But there was a line, an extremely thin and tangible line on which danced intuition, always vacillating. When she looked at the woman, she couldn’t decide what she was. As though in one body lived two souls, one trustworthy and the other foul.