The life line dropped lower as Thalia wept. Raff pulled her to him as their bound wrists allowed, and silently cursed whoever had murdered Lileth. If he hadn’t understood the stakes before, he did now. Sure, they had talked a lot about loss of land and forces arrayed against them, but that was all abstract, theoretical harm. Real damage was the blood slowly trickling out of Lileth’s eyes, her mouth, her ears, and her nostrils.
“She’s a martyr,” Thalia was whispering.
“What?” Not a smart question, but he was so fucking tired and hungry that his brain wasn’t working its best, and even in peak conditions, it wouldn’t be his strong point.
Rage boiled up to the point that it was getting hard to be gentle. Raff wanted to go wolf and bite somebody’s face off over this. Their wedding might not have been romantic or born of mutual love, but he’d meant those promises, and some asshole had the nerve, the fucking nerve—
“In our faith, it’s said that if someone dies with a pure heart, pure sacrifice, she will take her place at the Mother’s side for all time. Blood tears are one sign of martyrdom.”
“She’ll become a goddess or something?” He wasn’t clear at all on Eldritch theology.
“A saint, perhaps, if other portents appear. She’d laugh at the notion.”
The line flattened out completely on the medical machine and the tone of the alarm changed, dropping from a klaxon’s blare to a mournful drone. No mistaking what it meant. Thalia collapsed against him, sobbing so hard he feared she might be sick. She gave him all her weight, and it was no burden to hold her. Her body was so slim and light that her bones might be hollow, like the bird-kin Animari up in the Aerie.
Raff barely heard the doctor call time of death. He looked away as the nurse drew the sheet over Lileth’s face. The blood on her cheeks soaked through, lending her death linens the grim look of abstract painting done in blood.
“Go,” he said sharply. “Give us some privacy.”
The medical staff left, making him think he had some authority here. Unexpected. Looks like I’m not entirely a paper tiger.
With his right arm, he supported Thalia and with his left, he held onto her hand, otherwise, she would be tearing at her own skin. He’d never seen grief like this, never imagined the icily contained Eldritch princess had that much fire below the skin, like a molten river running beneath snowy tundra. He didn’t tell her to calm down or hold it in. It felt like it meant something that she was breaking down in front of him. Even when she screamed and scratched him, he let her rake those welts and shrugged off the blood she scraped from his skin. The wounds healed so swiftly that it hardly mattered.
A courier knocked on the infirmary door, and Raff took the tablet he proffered with an impatient gesture, guarding Thalia with his body. Her people shouldn’t see her like this. He played the message because she couldn’t.
Only a few words from that bastard Gilbraith: “I told you you’d be sorry.”
Eventually, Thalia cried herself out and pulled out her phone with trembling hands. He didn’t know who she was calling, but her steady words sent chills down his spine. “Lileth d’Aquitane of House Talfayen, last of her name, has passed from this world. Begin the funeral rites. Her death anniversary is also my wedding day, and as the All-Mother is my witness, I will not rest until Ruark Gilbraith’s head is mounted on a pike.”
11.
Thalia couldn’t remember the last time someone else had washed her face. Painted it, certainly. She routinely sat so that Madu could render her suitable for some formal occasion. Afterward, she was always alone in wiping her skin clean, alone to see the vulnerability reappear as if by magic. Cosmetics were like armor in a sense, or perhaps more of a mask that permitted her to reveal only what she chose.
Not today.
Today, Raff lathered her face with one clumsy hand, splashing her clothes and scrubbing with an enthusiasm that could double as an exfoliant. Afterward, he patted her face dry, and she wondered why she hadn’t protested. Numbness only went so far as an explanation; she needed to step up, demand answers. Somebody had to pay. If she didn’t take swift action, it would undercut her ability to lead. The people would remember this crisis and the way she’d folded like a paper flower.
“I should—”
“Ferith is on top of things,” Raff cut in. “You haven’t slept well since I’ve been here, and you just lost someone dear to you. Part of being an effective leader is knowing when to delegate, so you have the strength to carry on long-term. If there’s any new information, they’ll notify us.”
“I wish we had the kind of surveillance tech here that they used in Ash Valley.” After she said it, she realized the futility. Didn’t Gavriel have the ability to circumvent such equipment? If his gift had manifested so, someone else’s might have, too.
“That would help, but your Noxblades know how to get answers. Trust in them and rest. Tomorrow, the funeral will be taxing enough.”
Thalia sighed and gave in. She lacked the fortitude to drag him along to question the kitchen staff, who would be more likely to offer honest answers to Ferith. Thalia’s presence tended to end in stuttered answers and hasty, repeated obeisance. Few of her people knew her as more than a symbol of resistance to her father’s adherence to the old ways, where bigotry and isolationism prospered.
“We haven’t talked about where we’ll sleep while you’re here,” she said.
“Tavros is packing my things. I’ll vacate the rooms you set aside for me, so Janek and Tavros can share it. Magda’s quarters are empty now, so Skylett and Bibi are moving there. That should provide some relief from the tension between your guards and my people.”
“Nicely resolved. Was there a lot of friction?” she asked.
“Some, but that’s to be expected. It’s late, let’s get ready for bed.” Raff punctuated that comment by turning down the covers and leading her over to the light switch. The room was plunged into darkness.
She had no idea what time it was, but they’d sat for hours on Lileth’s death watch, so it was probably getting on toward midnight. “I hope you’re not offended but I’d rather…” There was no polite way to say she was in no mood for bedsport. Even under better conditions, the necessary consummation would be awkward.
“I’m a wolf, not a demon. I’m not trying to get between your legs tonight.” He tugged gently on the cord that bound their wrists. “What do you usually sleep in?
“Nothing,” Thalia said. “If you close your eyes and move your arm as I do, maybe I can get undressed.”
If I can’t, I’m taking this damned knot off and a pox on your pack customs. There’s no way I’m sleeping in this dress.
His obedience almost made her smile, despite the steady thrum of grief that beat through her as regular as her heartbeat. It took a little maneuvering, but she managed to get out of her dress without destroying it, thanks to the many buttons in back and sleeveless design. There was no way for Raff to disrobe without ruining his suit, but he didn’t seem to care. He looked away until she climbed under the covers and then he flopped on top, fully dressed. His groan echoed her own sentiments perfectly.
Folding his free arm behind his head, he kicked off his shoes. “I could sleep for a week.”
“We can’t, unfortunately.”
“Do you ever think about running away from it all?”
“Never,” she said.
“Me either. Hardly ever. Only like six or eight times a day.”
Thalia laughed. Unbelievable in this situation, and she felt immediately disloyal. “You make it sound as if you’re a figurehead in Pine Ridge, and I know that’s not true.”
“How?” he asked.
“Would you think it’s uncouth if I admit to acquiring certain intel on you?”
“I suppose that depends on the nature of what you’ve learned. Do you have any naked photos? If so, I hope they’re flattering. Or perhaps you’ve got a sex vid? I had been thinking of making one, so you can save me the trouble.”
&nbs
p; She opened her eyes wide, conscious that he was being absurd to leaven her spirits. It seemed he didn’t mind mocking himself for her amusement. “I don’t have anything like that,” she said softly. “As for what I do have, I suppose you must wait and see.”
“Ah, secrets and intrigues. You exhaust me with such innuendo.”
“You pretend that you aren’t clever, Raff Pineda, but I find that you know what people need exceptionally well.”
He propped up on an elbow to stare at her in the dark. “You think I’m clever and striving to hide it?”
“Not very well,” Thalia muttered. “Yours is a rare gift, for the hearts of men cannot be calculated or reckoned with pure intellect.”
She sometimes feared she was too much her father’s daughter to be a good leader. Not an effective one, nobody could argue that she got results. But goodness? That was a separate issue entirely. Thalia had learned too much about subterfuge and deception at her father’s knee, not enough about personal warmth.
“You say the strangest things,” Raff mumbled.
“I applaud the tactic. It’s best if people underestimate your prowess. Such poor assessment leads to overconfidence, and that generally ends in abject defeat.”
“Go to sleep, Thalia. It will be another long day tomorrow.”
Since he was right, she tried her best, but her mind wouldn’t shut down until he set a hand on her stomach, blazing warm even through the covers. “Stop rolling. It’s like sharing the bed with four restless pups.”
A grumpy admonition, but it settled her down nonetheless. And then she slept.
In the morning, she woke much later than she’d planned. Late enough that Raff had untied the knot binding them. It’s been twenty-four hours already. She found a meal waiting for her, toasted bread with melted cheese and a dish of sliced fruit. Thalia ate quickly and washed up, then she donned simple black mourning clothes. Lileth wouldn’t care if she wore formal attire, after all.
The door opened as she was pulling on her boots, militant, not fashionable. “Good morning,” she said.
“Everything is set for the funeral. Are you ready?”
Not for this. Not ever.
“Of course.”
Raff’s four wolves waited outside, along with Ferith, Tirael, and some young Noxblades who had probably been promoted from their apprenticeships. Ferith needed to choose some likely children to begin training, or the numbers of capable agents in the field would diminish, a disastrous outcome with House Talfayen hovering on the brink of war.
She led the procession, all stately poise, but she might have stumbled if not for Raff’s arm beneath her hand. Everyone was already assembled in the hall, swiftly repurposed to honor Lil’s passing. They had no furnace here at Daruvar, so her body must burn the old way, in a fire built by hand. It was a sin that she should be laying Lileth to rest under such circumstances. Ruark Gilbraith had taken credit, but the one who had done his evil bidding was still roaming free. To make matters worse, Gavriel wasn’t even here to sing, so Tirael was filling in, but her voice was light and thready, lacking Gavriel’s resonance.
Offering Lileth such a second-rate Song of Death broke Thalia’s heart.
Raff had never attended an Eldritch funeral before. Among the pack, the ones who loved the deceased best would be singing and telling stories. This affair was quiet, after the eerie chorus. Thalia blew out a candle and moved about with a censer of heated oil and made a sigil on everyone else’s forehead. Then, a company of Noxblades took the linen-wrapped body out to a bonfire they’d built in the courtyard.
The wolves had been asked to move their vehicles to one side, making space, but he didn’t know why until now. With great ceremony, they consigned Lileth to the flames. It all seemed short and simple, but he didn’t ask about the reasons behind their rites. It didn’t make sense to ask about battle strategies in the middle of a fight, and the same principle applied here.
The mourners all threw something into the fire. Some had herbs, others had books or household articles, and Thalia dropped a whole dress on the fire. He would’ve liked to ask Janek about it, but the old wolf was out of earshot. That would’ve also meant letting go of Thalia, and she had such a desperate grip on him that her fingers might leave marks.
Another first.
“You’re probably wondering about the death gifts,” she said softly.
He glanced at her in surprise, hesitant but interested. “I am, but don’t let my curiosity distract you from proper reverence for the occasion.”
“Lil wouldn’t mind. We’re offering her favorite things in life. We believe that by burning them, she can have them with her in the afterworld.”
“Then she’ll be wearing that dress you sent and reading that book that Ferith gave her at the All-Mother’s side.”
“You learn fast,” Thalia said.
That wasn’t something that Raff had heard a lot, before. Here in Eldritch lands, it seemed like Thalia said it every other day. If she kept it up, he might start believing it. Come that, he had always learned better from interaction than books or classroom teachings.
Frowning, he muttered, “I don’t have anything to give her.”
“Here.” She pressed a square of cloth into his hands—white linen embroidered with blue flowers. “She made this for me when I was small and crying for my mother. I’d like for her to have it back.”
After the myriad struggles of this life, Raff hoped like hell that there would be no tears in the afterworld, but he took the handkerchief in the spirit in which it was intended. He joined the queue of those waiting to drop their offering in the fire and found the orderly array interesting as well. The blaze was big enough that twenty people could’ve chucked things in, but that would also probably be disrespectful, if you imagined Lileth on the other side, collecting her tribute. In life, you wouldn’t want folks chucking stuff when it was supposed to be a special occasion.
He moved up in the line and heard Ferith whispering, “May you be well with our dear Mother. You pass from our sight, but you do not travel alone. Our love goes with you and will carry you to our beloved dead. Pass from love into love.”
Simple and heart-wrenching.
Raff repeated, “Pass from love into love,” as he dropped the handkerchief into the crackling flames.
After he returned to stand with Thalia, he kept watch on the fire. His eyes watered from the excruciating smell of burning flesh, and the rest of his wolves did no better. The Eldritch tolerated it, but they lacked the enhanced senses that came with being Animari.
Thalia touched his arm lightly. “If you want to go in, you don’t have to stay until…” Her voice broke, and she tried again. “Until it’s finished. That’s my role.”
He heard what she didn’t say. Until Lileth’s gone. As he hesitated, Bibi made a noise in her throat. It wouldn’t do Thalia any good if his people got sick in the middle of the service. Making a quick decision, he beckoned to the wolf guards.
“We’ve paid our respects. Let’s withdraw.”
The smell was more bearable inside the fortress, thanks to sturdy stone walls. Raff herded the group to the room the wolf women were sharing, formerly allotted to Magda. Can’t believe she hasn’t called, not even once. Faithless cat. While his romantic pursuit had been singularly unsuccessful, he’d thought that they’d become friends, at least.
Bibi made a hot, strong tea to wash away the smell of death that they all had in their nose and throats. They settled with cups in the sitting area, and Raff let them drink a bit in silence. Nobody seemed to know exactly what to say; he’d already heard and overruled their objection to this marriage, and now an Eldritch elder was dead. Given half a chance, Bibi would talk more about the dark portents she’d seen in her dreams.
“They’ll be at it all day,” Janek said. “Maybe into the night as well. It’s fearsome slow, burning a body down to ash in such a way.”
“I could help them fell some trees. They’ll need plenty of wood,” Tavros offered. br />
The young wolf always had far too much energy, but it seemed harmless enough, so Raff said, “Speak to Ferith once we’re done here. I wouldn’t know if they need aid.”
“Grunt work is all he’s good for,” Skylett teased.
“At least he’s good for something,” Bibi said. “Exactly what you have you contributed since we’ve been here?”
The seer valued her privacy and sharing a room must be making her cranky. Raff cut off the conflict before it could escalate. “Let’s not debate who’s most useful. Instead, I’d rather find out what you’ve learned.”
“About what?” Tavros asked.
He stifled a sigh. It had seemed like a good idea to bring someone guileless, but the young wolf might be too green to realize if he heard something important. Fortunately, he also had Janek, Bibi, and Skylett to serve as his eyes and ears.
“The murder, you dolt.” Janek rapped his knuckles lightly on Tavros’s head.
Raff went on as if people hadn’t interrupted. “That or anything related to House Gilbraith. I haven’t mentioned it to Thalia, but she must have a traitor inside these walls.”
Bibi nodded. “Someone with kitchen access. My dreams aren’t clear, but you’re right, Raff. It’s someone close to her, closer than she knows.”
Closer than she knows? What does that even mean?
“Is there anything you can do to make your visions more specific?” That earned him a poisonous look from the seer.
“I don’t have a magic mirror,” she snapped. “Nor can I pull answers from the ether.”
“Well, it narrows the list of suspects,” Skylett said thoughtfully.
The old wolf rose and clapped Raff on the shoulder, then headed to fetch the teapot for a refill. “Hell of a thing, packmaster—and on your wedding day, no less.”
She’ll always remember Lileth’s death on our anniversary. Since they weren’t a normal couple, maybe that didn’t matter, but it gnawed at him along with Bibi’s fearsome whispers and the hints of a dark fate that they couldn’t avoid. Yet it pissed him off to think that in such a modern age, people were still against inter-marrying on principle.