Page 78 of A Touch of Shadows
Her attention snapped away from Roland and straight to the girl. Two no doubt well-meaning knights were trying to help her with Finn but Wren wouldn’t see it like that. Even now Elodie could see the flow of power between them, the way the girl had tangled herself with the life essence of the young man she clung to. And she was right. If the idiots tore them apart, they’d break the spell. They would kill him. Nothing was keeping Finnian alive except for Wren’s erratic magic.
Their eyes met and Wren’s face fell to desperation. ‘Elodie! Help!’
The newmade sword was still at her feet. She could fight her way out if needs be. Their weapons were old in comparison. Hers was newly forged Aurum steel, made from the manacles but purified by the light she’d poured through it. It was strong and beautiful, a blade for a hero. Not for someone like her. But all the same she would use it, even against him, even against her own knights, and she would escape.
But it would mean leaving Wren when Wren needed her most.
And Elodie knew, with a cold and terrible realisation, she could never do that. Not under any circumstances.
How could she have even dreamed that was possible after all these years?
Elodie abandoned the sword and sprinted into the stone circle. It was dormant now, the magical power engendered by the darkness drained away with the dawn, leaving only traces behind. She could still feel the potential rippling through the ground and the air. It shook through her, stirred up by Wren’s use.
The two knights stared at her in abject horror. They were young, so very young. They looked like boys. ‘Get back from them, you idiots. Are you trying to get him killed? Stand down.’
They glanced over her shoulder and she was certain that, behind her, Roland caught their eyes and nodded in that slow grim way of his.
Still, they hesitated. Probably more out of fear than anything else. They’d seen what she’d done. They might even suspect who she was.
She didn’t want to think about that. It was a problem for later.
‘I won’t say it again. Get away from my daughter!’
The world seemed to freeze around her and tears stung her eyes, vicious little pinpricks that tormented her. Wren looked up at her, the girl’s dark eyes glistening, and she held out a hand.
Her daughter… her child…
Elodie dropped to her knees, wrapping her fingers around Wren’s and pressed her other hand to the wound in Finnian’s chest, willing the flesh to reknit itself, and the internal damage to heal. She even forced the shredded metal to get out of her way so she could heal him.
It was a working of pure force, without subtlety or charm. She didn’t have time for that. The light flowing through her came from the old magic itself, threading through the earth and the sky, the light that fuelled the Aurum and allowed her to work wonders. The boy was already touched by it. Wren had chosen him over and over, and she had all but anointed him already. He was more of a Paladin than half of the men standing around them. Perhaps more so than anyone but Roland himself.
What that might mean, Elodie didn’t want to think. An Ilanthian, of the House of Sidon, Evander’s nephew… blessed by the Aurum, light flowing through his veins like quicksilver. It was an anathema to everything she believed in. And yet, here she was.
When Elodie was done, and the light faded, Wren rested her face against her chest, sobbing so quietly. As she released Finn, Elodie wrapped her arms around the girl, holding her close like she used to when Wren was tiny and the nightmares had been the worst.
‘It’s all going to be all right, little bird. I promise,’ she murmured, not even able to believe her own lie. But she had to say it. She had to say something. ‘It’s going to be all right.’
When she looked up, every man there was gathered around them. They dropped to their knees, heads bent, and Elodie knew what was coming next.
Roland was the only one still staring right at her, fixing her with that dark and endless gaze, the one she had once fallen into and never really found her way out of.
Then slowly he drove the point of his sword into the ground and dropped to one knee before her.
‘Long live Queen Aeryn of Asteroth,’ he said, and the knights all took up the cry.
Elodie hung her head and hugged Wren close. My daughter, she had said, for them all to hear. My daughter. And Roland had heard her too.
The one thing she had never wanted to happen. And here she was.
Finally trapped back in her nightmare of twenty years ago. And this time she didn’t even have Roland to support her. Not anymore.
This time, Roland was her captor.
CHAPTER 46
WREN
The worst part, Wren decided, was sitting there in the infirmary. How Finn had done it while she had been unconscious, she didn’t know. But he slept easily, his chest rising and falling slowly, and she could almost believe that it had all been a nightmare, that she hadn’t seen that same chest torn open by the black blade of Leander’s sword, the armour curling away like the flimsiest tin. That she hadn’t felt Finn’s hot blood on her hands, or heard the Nox make its promises and threats. That she hadn’t felt him die.
