FIFTY-ONE
SAGE
A wash of affection rolls over me as we say goodbye. I smile and kiss Lailoken’s wrinkled forehead. I feel more connected to him than I have to anyone in my life, and even though he knows me, I’ve really only just met him. But he raised me for a time, he cared for me. I can’t hold it against him that he left me with Lauren. He couldn’t have known what she was. “Thank you, friend,” I whisper.
Color rises in his cheeks. He grabs the nest from the table and plops it back on his head.
“Don’t fret,” he says. “The boy will bring you back to me for more adventures. Won’t you, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Faelan says. He hesitates and then asks, “I wonder . . . do you happen to have an antidote for Sagitta Anathema?”
“Oh my. A sharp dart, that one.” He frowns, then looks through the bottles on his table. “I think some of this.” He hands Faelan a blue bottle. “Mixed with this, equal parts.” He hands him a milky bottle too. “Along with three pixie tears, a pickled robin’s egg, and fennel. Maybe an onion, if you like.”
Faelan gives him a doubtful look. “Fennel and onion?”
“Helps with the smell.” The old man shrugs. “But be sure to give it when the moon is highest or it won’t work.”
“Thank you,” Faelan says, hope filling his voice. He tucks the bottles into his pocket. “I’ll be waiting for you outside, Sage.” He slips out the door, into the green, leaving me with the old monk.
He must be able to see that I’m not quite ready to say goodbye. There’s so much still inside me.
“Thank you for everything,” I say once the door closes. When I was a kid, I always wondered how it felt to have that person, the one soul who cared where you were late at night, or wanted you to get good grades in school. The person who gave a damn. I never thought I’d have that. But he’s been here the whole time, waiting and wondering where I’d gone. And a tiny piece of my heart has locked back into place. “I’m really glad you finally found me.”
He nods, tears glistening in his eyes.
“I’ll come visit after the Emergence,” I say. A twinge fills my chest as I realize how close I am to the moment, so I add, “I’m going to be okay.” It’s almost a question, but I need to speak it and make it true. Like a spell.
“You’ll shock them all,” he says, a mischievous smile growing on his face.
“Thank you,” I say again as I step toward the door. “Really.”
“No more of that now,” he says, shooing me. “You’ll have my head as big as a pumpkin.”
“Just take care of yourself. And that squirrel.”
“Yes, yes.” He pats my arm. “And don’t forget to eat your vegetables. And be careful playing in the hedges.”
Outside, I find Faelan waiting a few feet away in a patch of bluebells, watching bees gather pollen.
I stand beside him and look out at the meadow. “It sure is pretty here.” I see why Lily longed to come back.
“It is,” he says absently, but when I glance at him, he’s looking at me and not at the woods.
“Are you all right?” I ask, sensing he’s conflicted about something. I don’t like seeing that shadow in his eyes.
He watches the forest ahead, staying silent until we’ve left the field of flowers behind and entered the trees. But when he speaks, his words aren’t what I expect.
“I was ten years old when my mother died,” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear him over the crunching of our steps in the underbrush. I’m unsure why he said it. But there’s a determined quality to his voice, as if he needs to speak the words, so I don’t ask questions. He continues. “They told me she’d fallen into the river and drowned. But later, after—a long time after—I asked the river for the truth and learned that it wasn’t an accident. She’d killed herself, placed rocks in her skirts and tied a stone to her ankle.”
My throat tightens in pain. “I’m so sorry,” I say, his childhood sorrow very real to me. He was a boy alone in a difficult world. I understand that life better than anyone.
“It was Astrid who taught me how to hear the river,” he says, pushing aside a branch and letting me duck under. “Later, after I understood what the water’s current was telling me, it was Astrid who helped me heal. At least for a little while.” He looks at me like he needs me to understand. “It’s why I forgave her so much all those years.”
I nod, unsure what to say.
There’s a weight on him as we walk, his body tense like he still feels the pain of the past in his skin. “My mother drowned herself because she was ashamed,” he says. His voice falters and his pace slows. He stares out at some distant point, a lost look in his eyes. “She was ashamed of how I was conceived.” He turns to me again. “I wasn’t born of an encounter made of love or lust, but of violence, Sage. My father, a god of virility who could have enticed most any woman, saw what he wanted in my mother and chose to take it from her by force.”
Chills rake over me. “Oh, God.”
“I was born of that sickness. It’s a part of me.”
Urgency fills me at the tormented sound of his voice. “Faelan . . . that’s not true.”
But he doesn’t seem to hear me. “After I learned the truth, I was overwhelmed by the lie my life had become. So I abandoned my House—I broke the vow I’d made at my Emergence. I couldn’t be loyal to a father who would be so vile. I couldn’t stay under my brother’s rule—I’d quickly realized that his nature was as debased as our father’s. And I was terrified I would become just like them.”
I can only shake my head, disgusted, words failing me.
He stares at the ground, like he’s ashamed. I want to touch him, to comfort him, but I know he’ll push me away.
So instead I say, “You’re nothing like that, Faelan.”
“I made sure I never would be,” he says, his voice tight. “In order to leave, there was a payment to be made. A demi doesn’t just break a vow on a whim. I had to give things up, to sacrifice. So I severed the link to my father, allowing for a majority of my power to return to the gods, keeping only my secondary gift and locking away my healing ability in my blood so that I wouldn’t have immortality anymore.” His brow pinches. “But I also forged a soul vow with the Cast to remain celibate, to sever that part of my life. And if I break my vow, I’ll be forced to return to my brother. It was the easiest choice in the world when I made it. Until . . .” He turns to me, searching my face. “I find myself regretting my choice now.”
His words settle in the air between us like a question.
The forest around us creaks, waiting.
“I find myself wishing for another man’s life when I’m near you,” he says. “I feel a hundred things for you that I can’t feel.”
I let his words sink in. And I understand, finally. He hasn’t been keeping his distance for the reasons I assumed. He’s been tormented, broken, in ways I could never imagine. He’s had to face more sorrow than I could ever carry. And yet he still sees me as I am, and cares about me, cares for me. It feels like it’s too much.
I move in front of him, unable to hold back from comforting him now. I want to take away that haunted look in his eyes. I want to say a million things, anything to help him carry the burden of those horrors, let him know that I’ll never think of him as a monster, that it doesn’t matter what he can give me; I’ll take it.
Instead I reach out and slide my fingers through his, then ask under my breath, “What about this? Is this against the rules?”
He studies me, his features softening. “No,” he says.
I could tell him that I feel sorrow for him, that I want to relieve him of his pain—but I’d rather just push the darkness back. I need him to understand that I don’t see him like his nightmare. Not even a little.
So I step closer. “Because this is nice,” I say, “standing with you in the trees.” He seems relieved at my words. The scent of his energy envelops me, fresh mint tingling in my throat like he’s seeking me out. I feel my power stir in response, but I hold it steady—easily, the control second nature now. And I let myself whisper, “I think I’d like to kiss you. Is that all right?”
He nods slowly, brushing his fingers over my jaw as the space between us shrinks. “You’re an amazing one, fiery Sage,” he says.
“Too true.”
I smile, rising as he bends, and our lips touch, gentle and delicate. I take in the smell of his skin, the taste of his breath, fresh and alive, then we pull away and continue walking, his fingers still woven through mine, as we listen to the life in the trees, the song of the birds and the rustle of the leaves. Leaving behind the weight of what came before.
After a while I say, “Astrid was right about one thing, you know.”
He frowns, giving me a sideways look.
I grin at him. “You were my first kiss.”
I find my king in a small thicket, resting under a rowan tree. His head leans on the dark, twisted trunk, eyes closed, the limbs above him heavy with red berries. His raven, Bran, announces my arrival with a screech as I come through the ferns. He hushes the bird with a cluck of his tongue.
“Why did you draw me here, my love?” I ask, kneeling beside him in the clover. “I thought you were in Constantinople.”
He reaches out, brushing his calloused fingers along my jaw. “I wanted you here in this moment, to be home where you feel safe.”
The pained look in his eyes stills me. Something’s wrong. “What’s happened?”
“My sister.”
“Mara again? What of her?” His sister is always a nuisance, trying to pull his strings, to manipulate me as well. But what could she have done to create that torment in his eyes? There’s never been any true danger from her.
“She’s done the unthinkable, Lilybird.” He takes my hand, weaving our fingers together. “She’s set to destroy you, to steal your heart, your soul if need be. And I’m afraid she’s come too close this time. We weren’t wary enough of her.”
“What do you mean?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls something free. “I am poisoned.”
I go cold, the warm summer air of the wood no longer soothing my skin. “Poison? But you . . . what are you saying?” It doesn’t make sense.
“I had to be sure,” he says. “I felt the effects of something, but I didn’t realize what it was. I discovered her trickery last night.” His palm opens, and I see my torque cradled in his fingers.
I look at it, trying to understand why he’s showing it to me. “I haven’t worn that in centuries.”
“I tucked it away long ago, when you first came to me, and now I carry it with me when I’m away from you, so that it’s always near my heart.” I reach out to take it, but he closes his fingers, hiding it in his fist again. “She somehow had it soaked in an insidious poison. It’s very powerful. I’ve never felt anything like this. I’ll be lost to it soon.”
A sharp pain pierces my chest. “No,” I say, very sure, “you can’t be seeing this right. It can’t be true.” My love cannot be lost from me. Not my king. He is death. He is forever.
“I’ve asked your monk, and he’s revealed the truth for me,” he says. “It appears to be a poison from a Chaldean sect. I have little time before it eats away at my mind. I’ll be useless within a fortnight, and there’s no antidote. Not even your monk knows of one.”
“No,” I say again. His words won’t settle in me. This can’t be real. I saw him last moon before he left on his journey to the east; he was well, strong.
“It’s why I called you to this wood,” he says, ignoring my protest, “where my sister’s eyes can’t penetrate. We must act now or it’ll be too late. I won’t be able to instruct you on how to destroy me.”
“Stop,” I say, rising to my feet. “Enough. You’re talking nonsense. I’ll speak to Lailoken, he’ll know what we can do. We should have your younger sister call on your mother—”
“Silence,” he growls, struggling to his feet, leaning on the tree. “Hear me, Lily. I’m telling you, there is only one thing to do if we’re to salvage this and protect what we’ve created.”
I stare at him, shocked by his weakness, even as I feel his wrath filling the trees. The raven screeches, then spreads its huge wings, lifting off the ground to settle on a branch above.
“It is a very old magic,” he says, his voice shaking now. “It is very delicate. But it will allow us to hide, to bide our time.” He coughs and blood stains his lips; he wipes it with his sleeve as if it were nothing. “We will create a story. It will go before us, and when we’re able to complete the circle, we can find our way back. It’s the only way.”
Fear crawls through me. “What magic is this?”
“We sever our spirits,” he says, “leave our vessels behind us.” When I only stare at him, he continues, “You will hide yourself in Fionn, and I will hide in Bran.” He glances at his raven, determination in his eyes. “We’ll ensure that your demi body is preserved for a while so that you can come back first, when the time is right. My body will need to be destroyed, however, because of the poison—and it must happen tonight before we leave this wood. I trust you will find a way to pull me from Bran and place me in a proper vessel soon after your own rebirth.”
It’s impossible to breathe. My whole body shivers as I listen to him, my fire stirring in my skin. Tonight? He will be lost to me after tonight?
I can only shake my head.
“Once Mara believes we’re lost forever, we’ll be free to find our window to destroy her.” He leans back against the tree and stares up into the branches. “When I have my strength again, I’ll gleefully rip her spine from her body with my bare hands.”
“Goddess be with us,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. My teeth chatter as my insides quake.
He reaches out to me, pulling me closer, into his embrace. “You mustn’t allow her the victory of your tears. Be strong, Lilybird.”
“I won’t be anyone when you’re gone from me.”
“Nonsense,” he says, kissing my brow. “You are the Daughter of Fire. No man or woman will touch you and come away whole.”
We sink down, resting in each other’s arms beneath the tree, the roots and moss cradling us.
“Mother has spoken of a sister for me,” I say, thinking of my prayers last night. “A new daughter will come into the fold. Perhaps, in time, she’ll aid us.”
“I’ve left a message for Kieran to find once he’s ready,” the king says.
I clutch him tighter, burying my face in his neck, unable to consider letting go.
“I will find you, Lily,” he says, his chest vibrating against my temple. “I will always find you.” He pulls back, tipping my chin to meet his gaze. “Look at me and see the truth. I am yours and you are mine.” His silver eyes search my own. “Nothing will destroy that. Neither time nor death will sever us.”
He leans in, his lips brushing my cheek, kissing away my tears, as he whispers promises into my skin that I cling to. His hands grip me tight, holding me to him, bruising me, pulling me down beside him, insistent, urgent. Until we’re cradled in the roots, twisted together in the clover, clutching, grasping for an escape. Moving to the sound of our breath. To the beat of our hearts.
Saying goodbye.