Rift

Caber kicked the stall door again and she forced a smile. “He’d like to go with you. But I’m not allowed to leave the keep yet.”

  “That’s probably best.” Barrow led Toshach a few more steps along the stalls. “If you’re feeling up to it, the healers could use your help. There are many injured after the Dorusduain mission.”

  Ember stared at him, disbelieving that their conversation would end so abruptly.

  “I was relieved to hear that you weren’t injured at Dorusduain,” she said quietly.

  He was silent for several moments before saying, “I wasn’t there.”

  Ember didn’t know what to say. She’d simply assumed he’d been with the Guard. Alistair hadn’t mentioned Barrow in his accounts, but Ember knew Alistair didn’t like talking about her mentor, so she hadn’t asked him. She’d waited to ask her nurse if Barrow was among the injured. Part of her was shocked that Barrow would miss such an urgent and dangerous mission. Another part was disappointed because Ember had somewhat assuaged herself by imagining that the attack on Dorusduain and subsequent plotting within the Guard had kept him from visiting her.

  Before she could speak again, Barrow stopped Toshach and turned to face her. “There’s another matter I must discuss with you.”

  Ember didn’t know why her stomach twisted, but she suddenly felt sick.

  “After much consideration . . .” Barrow’s jaw was tight, as though he had to force his words out. “I’ve decided that I’m not the best person to serve as your mentor.”

  “What?” It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

  “Strange things are stirring. Dark things. I don’t know what is coming, but I fear it and I can’t suffer distraction. I must focus on my own role in the Guard rather than yours.” Barrow twisted Toshach’s reins in his hands. “Sorcha will take my place. I’m sure you’ll find her an exceptional teacher.”

  Casting her eyes downward, Ember blinked hard. Was that all she’d been to Barrow? A distraction? The tears that burned in the corners of her eyes were as unwanted as this news. She wanted to ask him why, to demand an explanation. But she was too frightened of the reasons he would give. If Barrow no longer wanted to guide her steps as she progressed to full status in the Guard, it meant that somehow she’d failed to meet his expectations.

  What had it been? Where had she fallen short? She bit her lip, wanting to do anything to keep from crying in front of him. Her tears would surely only earn more of his disdain. All she could guess was that their trip to the Black Forest had somehow provoked this new poor opinion of her.

  And hadn’t she disobeyed him?

  Barrow had instructed her to watch the other knights, to be cautious on her first mission and not enter the fray. But she’d done just the opposite, throwing herself at the striga when it attacked Alistair. As a result she’d been carried off while the rest of the Guard were embroiled in their fight against the remaining creatures. And hadn’t it been Barrow who’d spent an entire night searching the forest for her?

  What she’d thought had been concern and devotion to her must have instead given Barrow reason to doubt her skills. Now he wanted no more to do with her.

  From where he stood, still holding Toshach, Barrow said quietly, “If you should need my assistance, I will always help you, Ember. I am still your friend.”

  Ember didn’t answer. She couldn’t bear to look at him. His attempt at pacification only made things worse.

  Toshach’s hooves clopped on the ground, slowly fading away. Caber gave a shrill whinny, calling after the other stallion. Feeling rather numb, Ember searched out the grain bins. She returned to Caber, opening his stall door and slipping inside.

  The stallion greedily ate the grain from her palm, swishing his tail in contentment. When the grain was gone, Ember brushed off her hands and began rubbing down Caber’s fine coat. He submitted happily to her ministrations, occasionally flicking his ears in curiosity at her silence. No longer able to contain it, Ember choked out a sob. When she twisted her fingers into Caber’s mane and let her tears drip onto his withers, the stallion craned his neck around and bent his head, snuffling comfort into the crown of her hair.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  EIRA BID THOMAS good night, closing the door as she left his room. The meeting had gone as she’d expected. Ever the philosopher, Thomas would spend eternity wringing his hands over Conatus’s dilemma: obedient to the Church yet enmeshed in those dark mysteries it abhorred. She’d doubted the eldest member of the Circle would be amenable to her suggestions, but she had to try. She expected she’d earn the same result when she spoke with Fionn. The scholars were tediously predictable.

  Claudio had been a surprise. With his cautious nature, Eira had expected him to reject her offer outright. Instead he’d peppered her with questions, his desire for security proving to outweigh his sense of loyalty to the Church.

  Next she would work her way through the Guard and the clerics. Gaining supporters among the knights and magic workers was essential. Time urged her to haste, while the need for secrecy held her back. If her bid was to be successful, she couldn’t delay forever. Now was the perfect time for this shift in power to occur. If all went well, it could happen swiftly and without too much disruption. One by one they would fall into line. Even those who doubted her initially—when they saw what she’d seen, understood how much their lives would change for the better if they followed her—surely then all resistance would fade.

  Stopping only to retrieve her heavy riding cloak from her room, Eira made her way from the manor into the courtyard as the sun vanished behind the hills of Glen Shiel. She was halfway to the stables when a shout stopped her.

  “Eira!”

  She turned to see her sister running across the courtyard. Like Eira, Cian was dressed for a night journey—heavy cloak covering her riding garb.

  Cian smiled when she reached Eira’s side. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  “Why?” Eira’s sharp tone made Cian step back.

  “You’ve made so many of these night trips alone,” Cian said, keeping her tone gentle. “I thought you might need company. And after Dorusduain—”

  “You think I need you to watch over me?” Eira laughed. “When was the last time you bested me on the practice field?”

  “I meant no insult.” Cian’s brow furrowed. “Only that with the reports we’ve been receiving, it seems unwise for you to scout on your own.”

  Knowing an argument would only make Cian more stubborn about accompanying her, Eira worked her mouth into a smile.

  “Forgive me, Cian. You didn’t deserve my harsh words. I only worry because you were so recently ill.”

  “But I’m well now,” Cian said, blushing. She’d been startled and ashamed when she’d woken in her bed and was told she’d succumbed to fever in the midst of battle. “Let me come with you.”

  Eira took her sister’s hands. “Please. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. The truth is I’ve been unable to sleep since the abbot’s visit. I use the night rides to clear my mind. It’s hard to stay within the keep when I feel so often like it’s a prison and Abbot Crichton holds the keys.”

  She squeezed Cian’s fingers, waiting for her reaction.

  “I think we all feel that way right now,” Cian said carefully. “But it doesn’t give you leave to behave recklessly.”

  Dropping Cian’s hands, Eira took a deep breath as she struggled to keep her temper in check. “Of course you’re right, Cian. But you have my word that my patrol is merely an excuse for a night ride. I need time alone and away from here.”

  She began to turn away, but Cian ran past her, blocking her path.

  “I know you still see me as a child,” Cian said.

  “A child?” Eira laughed. “Neither of us are children—we haven’t been for a long time.”

  “Then stop dismissing me like I’m only your younger sister and listen to me as you would another member of the Circle,” Cian said. “As I am.”

  “Cian, please hear me as your
elder sister, as your friend.” Eira felt desperation creeping into her voice. “I need this time alone.”

  Cian gazed at her, frowning, and suddenly Eira thought she was looking at the little girl who’d been at her side every day of her life. Within the depths of her sister’s eyes she saw trust, and guilt tried to worm into her heart. Eira broke eye contact.

  “You have to let me go,” she said. “Alone.”

  Stepping to the side, Cian said, “You know I won’t stop you.”

  Eira began to walk away without looking at her sister. Her chest cramped when Cian’s voice followed her:

  “Be careful.”

  Though her heartbeat had set off at a gallop, Eira kept Geal at a slow pace for the duration of the climb into the hills. Her mind was too full of thoughts, questions, and doubts. She needed time to think, to be sure that she remained in control of this odd arrangement she’d entered into with Bosque Mar.

  Spring showed its true tempestuous nature this evening. Gales shrieked over the slopes, burning Eira’s cheeks and whipping her cloak about. She rode on, impervious to the elements that attempted to deter her from this journey.

  When she arrived at the cairn, she tethered her horse. Despite the many visits she’d made to this place, Geal had never adjusted to Bosque’s presence. She couldn’t trust that her mount wouldn’t flee upon his arrival.

  Eira drew her dagger, gazing at her palm. The pale flesh was whole, unmarked. No matter how many times she cut into her hand, drawing the blood that was necessary to summon Bosque, his healing power left her palm perfectly intact. No scars. No pain. His power had saved Cian’s life.

  The ritual of calling him with her blood only to offer up her hand for him to heal had settled deep in Eira’s bones. While she wouldn’t describe it as trust, she did sense a change in her regard for him. She felt an assurance in his company, a stilling of the restlessness she suffered behind the walls of Tearmunn. An easing of the worries that had plagued her for so long.

  As the blade sliced her flesh, she noted the way her pulse slowed. Her breath eased.

  “I’ve missed you.” Bosque’s long form slipped from the cover of mist.

  Eira didn’t answer but lifted her palm, which he took into his hands.

  “How is your work progressing?” he asked as he closed the wound.

  Though the cut was healed, he continued to press her hand between his. Eira didn’t try to pull away.

  “As I expected,” she told him, “there are those who will easily be swayed. And those who will not.”

  With a brief smile, she asked, “And how are you finding your new home?”

  “Quite pleasant.” He laughed. “The abbot spared no expense appointing his manor.”

  Eira cringed, saying, “I’m too familiar with that truth.”

  He shrugged. “I’m happy enough to reap the benefits of his greed.”

  “How is the abbot?” she asked.

  “Still groveling.” Bosque released her hand, and Eira was startled by the sudden cold that poured over her. “He will never pose a threat to you again.”

  She felt the same thrill that lit her blood when the abbot had been in the throes of torment, held captive by Bosque’s wraith. “Good. And his household?”

  “Those who resisted have been dealt with,” he told her. “The rest have wisely submitted themselves to my service.”

  She nodded. “We can’t afford for anyone to know things have changed for the abbot. Not yet.”

  “I will act as you see fit,” he said. “But the longer you delay, the less likely you’ll be able to maintain the element of surprise.”

  “I know.” Eira frowned.

  Bosque walked around her in a slow circle. “Those of your people who are resistant . . . what would it take to spur them to action?”

  She licked her lips, thinking. “A greater threat than what the abbot represented. Something more immediate.”

  “Something like Dorusduain?” Bosque asked, smiling slowly. “Or perhaps something even more frightening?”

  Eira’s pulse skipped into a faster rhythm. “An attack?”

  He didn’t answer, but continued to smile.

  “It would create alarm,” she mused. “Urgency that might outweigh caution.”

  “What about an enemy they cannot defeat?” Bosque was behind her, murmuring into her ear. “Save for your assistance?”

  Shuddering, she whispered, “Your wraiths?”

  “No man can destroy them,” he said. “And I can place them at your command. To use as you see fit.”

  Her breath was coming hard. “Yes.”

  “It should be soon,” he said quietly. “And costly enough to provoke them—only true sacrifice births the hunger for retribution.”

  “True sacrifice.” Eira closed her eyes.

  “And if we make this pact, it requires something of you.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Something more than what you’ve already given.”

  She tensed and his laugh was low, with a cutting edge.

  “My lady, it is not what you’re thinking,” he told her. “My wants are not like those of other men. I desire your love and loyalty, but I do not ask for your body.”

  Eira turned to face him. “What must I do?”

  He took her chin in his hand. “If you wish to command my servants, which is to truly share in my power, you must be loyal to me and only to me. Swear your allegiance and I will serve you always. Each decision you make will be supported by all I have at my command. Any who oppose you will fall.”

  Despite the darkness Bosque’s eyes were bright as molten silver.

  “Tell me how I can bind myself to you.” As she spoke the words, Eira thought she heard Cian’s voice.

  Be careful.

  But what other choice did she have? Eira knew this creature called Bosque Mar was dangerous. But if his existence on earth was tied to her, he would only do her bidding. All she was doing was opening a door of opportunity for her allies. Yes, she stood to gain from the arrangement. But if she had such power at her command, she would use it to punish evildoers. She would establish a new order. A better way of life for Conatus. A life in which they led rather than served, where none would have to accommodate the vices of men like Abbot Crichton.

  Bosque stepped back. “A blood oath. And these wounds must remain—a mark on your body that symbolizes your fealty. I will not heal you.”

  “I understand,” she told him, though she’d begun to tremble.

  “There is another matter.” He brushed his hand along the length of his body. “This is merely a suitable shape for me to take in this world. But it is not my true self.”

  Eira drew a shaky breath. “Are you a man?”

  “You know I am not,” he said, holding her gaze. “The oath, if you swear it, must be made when I have taken my true form. Made to the world that is my home. Only then can you draw on its power.”

  The wind screamed as Eira spoke. “Can you tell me what you are before I swear my allegiance?”

  “You have no word for what I am,” he told her. He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “If you are afraid to look upon me, you may turn the other way when you speak the words. I am from another world, one that would be strange to you. I take no offense if you wish to see me only as the man I appear to be now.”

  It meant a willful act of self-deception. Eira knew that. If she made the blood oath to the man who was not a man, she would remain blind. But she clung to his offer out of the fear that seeing what lay on the other side of his human mask would drive her from this path. Too much was at stake. She’d glimpsed a future that she couldn’t bear to let go.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He smiled, the silver of his eyes flaring like a lightning bolt. “Kneel.”

  Eira turned her back to Bosque and knelt.

  “Remove your cloak and your shirt.”

  With the wind tearing over the hill, Eira expected to find herself shivering as she exposed her bare skin to the el
ements. But instead she felt warm, as though she was cocooned by Bosque’s presence, protected from the cold.

  When Bosque spoke again, she recognized his voice, but the words were clipped by a strange clicking noise.

  “Have you called me here of your free will?”

  “Yes,” Eira said. She gasped when something sharp, but not metal, pierced her skin.

  “Do you invite me into this world, binding me to you with your blood?”

  “Yes.” Tears slipped down her cheeks as a cut slowly opened from her shoulder to her lower back.

  “Do you swear your fealty to me, by the blood spilled today?”

  “Yes.” She dropped onto all fours as another diagonal wound sliced the length of her back.

  The wind suddenly ceased its howling, leaving an eerie silence. Shaking, Eira curled over. Her back burned with pain. Rain took the place of the wind. The cool water mingled with the hot blood running down her skin.

  “Rise, Eira.”

  She was afraid to lift her head, but the hand that touched her shoulder was warm. Human.

  Moving stiffly due to her wounds, Eira donned her shirt, tabard, and cloak. When she turned, Bosque—looking just as he had the first time she’d seen him—gazed at her with sympathetic eyes.

  “I am sorry I have to leave you in pain.”

  With a tight smile, she said, “It was my choice.”

  His silver eyes flared again. “Yes. It was.”

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “We incite your companions to action,” he told her. “It is time to reveal to them what is truly at stake. Gather your allies. When and how we move forward lies with your will. I exist only to serve you.”

  Eira nodded, lifting her face so the rain washed away the last of her tears. She stared up into the dark heavens, where stars were masked by clouds.

  “Eira?”

  She blinked away the raindrops and looked at him. “I know what must be done.”

  Hours later, while most of Tearmunn slept, Eira stole into the barracks. She climbed the stairs and crept past the cell doors until she reached the room she sought. Knocking as quietly as possible, Eira waited a few minutes before the door creaked open.