Fire and Bone Page 3

  THIRTY-SEVEN FAELAN Aelia gets everything set up in the living room in the main house for the new spell. The freshly mopped marble floor glistens. She had the servants rearrange the couches to make more space and created her circle on the floor out of a mixture of salt and chalk dust, rose petals sprinkled around the rim for an extra guard. One of the side tables is set up as an altar, and she’s arranged bird bones and marlstones in a lunar pattern for the gravity of the spell to hold, all around a rye candle to center the energy more effectively. Aelia may be a flake in most things, but in her magic a spark of genius shines through. She has the small scroll laid out on the couch, the tiny Gaelic script covering every inch of the vellum. She refers to it, and then motions to me. “You can’t be in the area of the spell, Faelan. Your energy will muck with the weaving. Go stand over there.” She points to the French doors near the kitchen. I do as she says, standing in a spot where I can st

  THIRTY-EIGHT SAGE My mind races back and forth, back and forth, trying to figure out what happened when Aelia was doing that spell. As soon as she started speaking in the strange language, I couldn’t get out of that circle fast enough. Okay, if I’m being honest with myself, from the second Marius handed me the scroll, I felt odd about the spell. Still, it was the right thing, the safest thing. And I wanted to be free of it. I did. But now . . . out of nowhere . . . I’m unsure about pushing these memories away. I think something shifted inside me last night when I held that glass owl. I want to understand what it is. Which terrifies me. Because what if Faelan’s right? What if I really am being tricked? We still don’t know who put these memories inside me, or why. What if it was Kieran? What if it’s supposed to make me choose something that could destroy me? That doesn’t feel true, though. All I have to go on right now is my gut. And for the first time in my life, I don’t want to run awa

  THIRTY-NINE FAELAN “You’re sure you don’t feel anything weird?” I ask, looking her over more closely. I try to ignore my body’s reaction to the scattering of freckles on the soft skin of her bare shoulders, the shape of her legs in those heels. Kieran’s a prick, but he’s right; she’s going to be the death of me. “I’m fine,” she says. “Bored to tears, but fine. What do you mean, a spell?” “I think we should leave.” The faster we get out of here, the sooner I can relax. Something’s up with Kieran. After Sage left us, he leaned over and told me I shouldn’t have brought her. When I asked him why, he just growled at me to be better at my job as he walked away. “Fine with me,” she says. “The sooner we get out of here, the better. Shouldn’t we find Aelia, though?” “I’ll text her. She can get a ride with one of the girls in her coven.” We stand and make our way back through the party, heading for the entrance. I watch the crowd, looking for a hint of why things feel so off. Then it hits me. Ho

  FORTY SAGE I close my cottage door and sigh, feeling lighter than I have in forever. In spite of everything, he was there. Again. He had my back. I think I’ve totally let myself fall for the guy. It’s so dumb. I peel off my dress, wash my face, and pull on a pair of stretch pants with skulls on them and a baggy Nirvana shirt. I smile to myself, thinking of how I felt his breath catch when I kissed his cheek. I climb into bed, curling onto my side, hugging my pillow, and marvel at his steadfastness. Then my fingers touch something cold. And I remember. I pull the glass owl out from under my pillow, and all thoughts of Faelan slip away as I roll onto my back, holding it up, studying it in the bright moonlight that’s coming through the window. My little Fionn. Thoughts of the evening float away as I run my fingers over the bird’s face, tracing its features, its speckled feathers. And then I grip it in my hand, pressing it to my chest. Thinking of the comfort of a cold mountain keep, the c

  FORTY-ONE FAELAN Only two more days. Two more days and she’ll decide. I wish I could say for sure that she’ll choose to stay with her blood House, but I can feel a piece of her holding back, as if it’s waiting. I just wish I knew what she needed. She hasn’t seen Kieran since the hunting party, and she doesn’t seem to care about it. So that’s a relief. I was sure these dreams would somehow draw the two of them together, but only his gifts arriving every morning say he’s still in the game—there’ve been no personal appearances. The sun is a quarter of the way across the sky by the time she emerges from her cottage. I’m finishing up my morning swim. I climb out of the pool and grab a towel, hiding a smile as I look at her T-shirt. It says “A druid is my homey” and has a picture of Aelia’s face on it. Sage sees me noticing. “My tribute from Lia,” she says with a stiff grin. “Don’t judge, it’s really soft cotton.” She follows me into my cottage and settles under one of the trees next to the

  FORTY-TWO SAGE I listen to the splashing of the water and watch it swirl in small eddies in front of me, lost in a sudden rush of anxiety. As soon as Aelia mentioned that Kieran hasn’t been seen since the party, my gut sank. A very real fear for him bubbled up, and I have no idea what to do with it. How can I feel any sort of worry for Kieran? “You good?” Faelan says. I turn toward his voice. He’s treading water two feet away, hair slicked back. Sunlight bounces off the water, glittering around him, shimmering in his green eyes, the water thickening his lashes. This is the guy I want. Not Kieran. I should be glad for the dark prince to disappear. “Uh, yeah,” I say, absently. “It’s all good.” He squints at me like he’s trying to figure me out. “You sure?” he says. “I could get you something to eat—” “No,” I say quickly, not wanting him to worry about me. “I’m just tired, that’s all.” I step out of the pool and walk over to grab one of the towels folded on the chair. “I know something’s

  FORTY-THREE FAELAN I can’t believe that I let it happen again. I kissed her, I touched her, I let myself want her more than I’ve wanted anything. And it’s no longer under my control. If it wasn’t for the torque, I probably would’ve let her consume me as she fed. That’s how far I’ve let myself fall. Something changed when I saw Niamh’s mutilated body. Something twisted in my gut, shifting reality for a moment. And it was Sage I saw, broken and bloodied. But unlike the last time I thought we’d lost her, this time I was only thinking about myself instead of my master. I was thinking how I wouldn’t get to hold her again. How that smile in her eyes would flash out. And I knew I’d be lost if that happened. It’s more than the protector bond now, more than duty. Somewhere in all the madness my heart’s become hers. “Niamh’s dead because of me,” she says, breaking into my stunned thoughts. Torment fills her words. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Sage.” “But—” “No.” I take hold of her arm and

  FORTY-FOUR SAGE I’ve just finished showering and dressing when Faelan calls from outside my cottage. “If you’re coming, Sage, I’m leaving right now. Meet me out front.” I hurry outside, trailing him to the car. “Where are we going?” I ask as we pull down the driveway onto the main road. “Romania,” he says. Because that’s completely normal. “Like, the country?” It turns out that the poison was made in Romania of all places. Faelan explains that Marius knows a guy in Bucharest who we can contact. Apparently, he’s the only druid in the area who makes that specific species of poison. When I ask how we’re going to fly to eastern Europe and back in a day, since I’m guessing he doesn’t want me to miss my own Emergence ceremony, he says we’re not flying. “Swimming takes a lot longer than a day,” I say. “What. Are we teleporting?” Not much more could surprise me at this point. “In a manner of speaking.” And there you go. “It’s a passageway,” he continues. “There are different passages that go d

  FORTY-FIVE SAGE I open my eyes. The smell of smoke lingers in the air. The familiar dark canopy of my bed hangs above me, curtains a sheer red. I turn toward the king. But the bed is empty. He was just here. Wasn’t he? I sit up, disoriented. A trickle of unease fills my chest. Where is he? “Hello?” I ask the silence. But wait. When I fell asleep, I wasn’t here; I wasn’t in the keep. I was with the king in the wood, under the rowan tree. I was . . . why can’t I remember? Something was wrong before I closed my eyes. The king had called to
me, drawing me into the wood, and I’d found him resting under the rowan tree. He said there was something we could do to hide ourselves, hide our secret. Something that would save us from her. We argued because his plan was terrible, it was horrifying what I would have to do . . . but . . . Confusion rolls over me again. Why can’t I remember? I rise from the bed, wandering over to the fire. The embers have faded to nearly nothing. I snap my fingers, sen

  FORTY-SIX SAGE “I need lavender,” I say, stepping up to the fireplace. “You don’t have to do this, Sage,” Faelan says, his voice unsteady. He’s afraid. His goddess has been silent for hundreds of years—most of his life. And now I’m going to draw her closer. I hope. There’s so much that I need to know, that I need to understand. The old me of two weeks ago would be baffled by what I’m about to try, but in this moment I have a deep assurance. As a Daughter of Fire, this is what I would do. And I want to feel this. I want to understand. To know why . . . why she just abandoned me to that horror of a life. Kieran holds out a bowl of lavender buds as if he’d known I would need them. “Is this all you need?” he asks. I nod, taking some between my fingers. “Marius should be here,” Faelan says. “As leader of the House of Brighid.” “He’ll understand,” I say, even though I’m not sure of that. “It may not even work.” “It’ll work,” Kieran says, very sure. When I glance at him, he adds, “Why do you

  FORTY-SEVEN FAELAN I burst through the French doors of Marius’s house. Screams fill the air around me, coming from upstairs. Two females, from the sound of it. I take the stairs two at a time, pulling out my dagger. When I get to the landing, I slow, trying to catch a scent in the air that might tell me what I’m walking into. But I don’t sense anything odd or off. There’s soap and old perfume. One of the females is Aelia, I think. The other is a human, likely the mother, but it could be one of the servants. I move along the hallway, aware now that the arguing is coming from Aelia’s room. I pause outside the door, peek through the crack, and push the door open while trying to stay back. My thundering heart stops. Marius is on his hands and knees on the floor, the hilt of a dagger sticking out of his back. He’s gasping, gagging, trying to reach out for someone, trying to speak, but he can’t. Blood is coming from his ears, his nose, his lips, dripping onto the wood floor. Aelia is shoving

  FORTY-EIGHT SAGE “Do you hear that?” Kieran whispers as we cross the field. My feet slow a little, anxiety trickling through me. I scan the trees, seeing only shadows. Before I can tell him no, one of the shadows moves. A large one. Just slightly. I freeze. Kieran grabs me, pulling me to the side, ducking under a fallen tree. “Stay here, don’t move.” He brushes his fingers along the scar on my neck. “And trust that I’ll be watching you.” Then he poofs away. Seriously? I peek over the tree, searching for the spot where I saw the movement, but I can’t see anything now. It’s all a thick wall of tree limbs and ivy. I don’t even know if what I saw move was a threat. For all I know, it could’ve been an animal. Like a really big raccoon or something. Are there raccoons in this forest? Bears? We’re in Scotland, right? What sort of animals run around in the land of plaid? There aren’t monkeys, obviously, but maybe— “What are we hiding from?” whispers a voice beside me. I twist to look, nearly f

  FORTY-NINE SAGE “There she is.” Astrid smiles as I move away from the rock. “I thought I smelled you, newblood. How did you like the show?” “A bit melodramatic,” I say, hoping my voice isn’t shaking. “Sage,” Faelan says, sounding helpless. He shakes his head. “Just run.” “Oh, she can’t leave her crush,” Astrid says. “She’d ruin the story.” I give her a plastic grin. “I’m so going to hurt you, bitch,” I say. “Lots of pain.” And I mean every word. I’ve never in my life wanted to strangle someone so badly. I think this is what it feels like to be willing to kill. I’d be very okay with her not making it out of here alive. “Aren’t you precious,” she scoffs. But her lip twitches like she’s bluffing. “It’s so good of you to join us.” “Get your ass off him,” I say. “Now.” “Are you going to smite me, fire whore?” Her eyes fall to my chest. “No torque,” I say. “You picked the wrong day to mess with me, bitch.” But she laughs, like she’s got the upper hand. And then she places her palm on the gro

  FIFTY FAELAN “I died?” I ask, the shock from Sage’s words rolling through me. I woke up in Lailoken’s tree, Sage at my side. I didn’t even get a word out before she was tackling me and hugging me, sputtering out everything that happened after I passed out. Saying that Astrid killed me, let me bleed out—the one thing that would ensure I wouldn’t come back, since all I have left from my father is the power in my blood. Lailoken comes into view behind Sage. “Oh, it was amazing to watch! So much tension and knots in the stomach.” His brows go up and down. “And then you were totally kaput!” He throws his hand in the air. “Who would’ve thought Mr. Shadow would be so quick to help Mr. Winter? But our tale even surprises me at times.” His smile becomes whimsical. I’m at a loss. I sit up and give Sage a questioning look. “Kieran brought you back.” She motions to someone across the room. I turn my head, and a shadowed Kieran is leaning on the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, foot propped o

  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. Ma

  FIFTY-TWO SAGE I sit under the trees by the pool and watch the sun rise on the day of my Emergence. The sky is silver as the birds begin to stir. It shifts to pale blue, then a wash of pink emerges as the first rays of sunlight hit the ocean. The dew clings to my skin. The dream from the night before lingers, and an ache has settled in my rib cage since I opened my eyes. Now I know how it ended. Lily didn’t kill the king, not really. I have no idea what to do about it. Especially today of all days. Today I choose my path. Last night I packed a bag, in case the path I choose to follow is not to pick one of the Houses at all but to walk away altogether. To become a child of a goddess in hiding. When I packed the bag, I wanted that option in front of me. But once I woke up, the vision of my king’s death vivid in my mind, I realized I couldn’t go anywhere. I look down at my hands, knowing they’re not Lily’s. But I feel like I can still see the blood of my lover on them . . . so much blood

  EPILOGUE KIERAN What was she thinking? Fool girl. I hurry down the hall toward the library, breaking the lock and opening the door with a wave of my hand when I’m still several yards away. Mara will return any minute with her entourage in tow, feeling vindicated, thinking she’s won. I’ll need to take precautions, begin to change my plans—to what, I have no clue. But I certainly can’t start a war in the House now, not with Sage in the crosshairs. I’m going to throttle that bastard Faelan for giving the girl so much bloody free will. Once I’m in the library, I shut the door behind me and call out, “She’s gone and done the unthinkable, brother.” The raven swoops down from above, landing on the desk lamp. It screeches and pecks in my direction. I know my brother is in there somewhere behind those black eyes. I haven’t managed to find a way to understand him since Mara found him three months ago and held him here, but I’m hoping he’ll finally understand me. “I broke the spirit tether,” I sa

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Every story has its own process. And
along the road there are countless angels to help a tale find its way. This novel certainly had its fair share of heroes. I’m so very grateful to my agent, badass Rena Rossner, who reminded me more times than I could count that I could do this. You’re a fighter and a miracle worker, lady! And I’m beyond thankful to have you walking alongside me on this perilous journey of publishing. To the team at Skyscape, who make this publishing thing seem painless and work hard to let it be the great adventure I always dreamed it would be. To Adrienne—I’m so thrilled that you believed in this one, and I’m really hoping it’ll make you proud. To Marianna—you’re a visionary, lady! Thank you so much for bringing clarity to the crazy that I send you. A million hugs and boxes of chocolates to my writer friends, Merrie, Becky, Paul, and Mike, for your ready ears and red pens. Panera memories are the best memories. We’ll still be meeting in a booth when

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo © 2014 Rachel A. Marks Rachel A. Marks is an award-winning writer, a professional artist, and a cancer survivor. She is the author of the Dark Cycle series, which includes Darkness Brutal, Darkness Fair, and Darkness Savage, and of the novella Winter Rose. Her art can be found on the covers of several New York Times and USA Today bestselling novels. She lives in Southern California with her husband, four kids, three chickens, two precocious pups, and a cat. You can find out more about her weird life on her website at www.RachelAnneMarks.com.