Silver in the Bone, page 25
I blew out a harsh breath through my nose, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. “Why is it so hard for them to accept the truth of what they’re up against?”
“You’re not telling them anything they don’t already know, Tamsin. They’re just trying not to let it crush them.”
“But what are they doing about it?” I asked. “What are they actually doing to reverse any of this?”
“Maybe that’s why we’re here,” he said. “Maybe Neve’s right and it’s our job to figure it out for them.”
“That’s absolutely not why we’re here,” I told him, “and you know it. How are you going to explain this to Madrigal?”
“Still working that one out, but I’m sure there’s another rare bauble or weapon she’ll want.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hopefully.”
“Did Madrigal ever tell you why she wanted it?”
I don’t know why I asked him; he hadn’t been forthcoming about anything before now.
Emrys frowned, absently trying to twist his missing signet ring. “No. Neve has no idea either?”
I watched him a moment longer, trying to sense any trace of deceit. “Neve’s had limited contact with the Sistren.”
“Makes sense” was all he said. It was like watching a fox slowly retreat into its burrow. His face was carefully blank. That wall inside me added another layer of stone.
“Why did you take the job from Madrigal?” I asked him again. “And why can’t you tell your father about it?”
“There’s no story there, Tamsin,” he said. “At least nothing like what you seem to be thinking.”
“Yeah?” I shot back. “And you know my thoughts?”
The look he gave me blurred the world around us. “I know you.”
My gaze met his for a long moment, and like everything between us, it became a fight—a refusal to be the one who looked away first.
A startled cry shattered whatever feeling had kept me rooted in place. Several people rushed past the garden and around the tower. Emrys and I exchanged a look, and then he was jumping over the wall and we were following them to whatever awaited us ahead.
A small crowd had gathered just at the base of the steps leading up into the tower. They were murmuring, not with worry or concern but excitement. As we wove our way up through them to the front, I took in their awestruck, reverent faces with a growing alarm. A few dropped to their knees, bowing their heads. Even Emrys stopped suddenly beside me, his face transforming with wonder.
“It’s singing,” he whispered.
I turned back toward the steps and saw it.
A single white rose, risen through a split in the stone step, its lovely, delicate face full and laced with tendrils of white mist.
That evening felt like a basilisk venom dream—dark and illusory. My mind drifted between sharp moments of awareness and the shadows of my own thoughts. The great hall was a blur of motion and candlelight around me, but I couldn’t stop staring at it.
The rose.
The priestesses had placed it in the pale, upturned palms of the Goddess’s statue. The pale flower stayed there throughout the evening meal.
“Okay, what’s wrong with you?” Neve’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You look even more irritated than usual. Like an angry toad.”
Cabell snorted, but at my look, he wisely kept his thoughts to himself.
“Angry toad?” I repeated, mentally comparing my features to the warty little beast that had shown up to collect the Sorceress Grinda’s locket. It was strange to think that had been less than a week ago—the memory felt so distant, it might as well have been a past life.
“Trust me, you don’t want to meet one,” Neve said, taking another sip of her wine. “They are very rude.”
Her dark eyes were glassy. In fact, she looked incredibly relaxed despite the suspicious stares still fixed on her from all over the room. As she brought the goblet to her lips again, I put a hand over it and gently guided it back down to the table.
“Can’t you be happy just this once?” she asked, clutching my arm dramatically. “It won’t kill you. Olwen says a rose hasn’t bloomed in Avalon since the Children appeared. They think it could be a sign the isle is healing.”
I almost told her then, but what would I have said—I dreamt it would come?
“Even Sir Bedivere seems to think it’s a sign,” Cabell offered.
“Not you, too.” I glanced over at Emrys, but he was looking at the rose himself, contemplating it. “Is it still singing?”
“Singing?” Neve’s eyes lit up. “What was the song? Did you recognize what it was saying?”
He scratched at the stubble along his sharp jawline. My gaze drifted toward his mouth as he spoke. “It was more of a humming, but…it’s fading now that they’ve cut it.”
Emrys turned toward me, brows raised as he caught me looking. His eyes glittered with recognition that felt instantly dangerous.
I flushed, grateful for the hall’s shadows as I threw back the last drops of my shallow pour of wine. The Avalonians around me conversed animatedly, and there was a palpable but almost hesitant sense of ease about them as they started in on the watery broth of barley and dried meat.
Everyone had been given a small round of bread that reminded me of a soul cake; the one in front of me was spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, with a star cut into its top. It was the best thing I had eaten in days—and judging by the empty plates around me, the feeling was unanimous. Dilwyn, our elfin cook, beamed with pleasure at the compliments she was receiving.
A harpist sat at her instrument beside the Goddess’s image and began to play. After a moment, the other Avalonians sang, too, their voices naturally flowing together in a stream of emotion.
Born of the spring that ever comes new
Born of bright starlight, undying and true
Born of the mists, the mountains, the dew
Fair isle of her heart, I sing to you
As the bud blooms to flower
As the moon passes to mark the hour
As Lord Death rides upon his cold power
So the Goddess built the tower…
“Is there a moon here?” I whispered to Neve as the song continued. “Or a sun, for that matter?”
“I read in one of the library’s books that the sky here is a mirror of our own,” Neve said. “Reflecting the heavens above the land it used to occupy in the mortal world. Though I don’t think they’ve seen any celestial bodies since the Children appeared.”
“They haven’t,” Emrys chimed in. “You can feel it in their vegetation and soil. Any sunlight they’re getting is provided by magic, and it’s a pale imitation.”
“Oh!” Neve nearly knocked over both of our goblets as she turned to him, her face lit with excitement. “Did you talk to the others more about turning part of the courtyard into a garden? I can help you find mushrooms around the tower—”
At the word mushrooms, I turned back to face the statue.
The Nine were gathering around the image of the Goddess. They chanted quietly, laying down offerings of herbs and filling the bejeweled chalice that sat near the Goddess’s foot with glowing water from the sacred springs. All were focused on their task, save Caitriona, who was watching us.
Not us.
Neve.
Catching my eye, Caitriona whirled back around, body bracing as if for a strike.
“You do seem upset,” Cabell said quietly from my other side. “Everything okay?”
I gave him a look. “When was the last time anything was okay?”
There weren’t many things I didn’t tell him, but this—whatever this was—felt like more trouble than it was worth.
“Just tired.” After glancing around to make sure no one was watching us, I lowered my voice to add, “Emrys thinks he found something and wants us to meet tonight.”
Neve had been swaying dreamily in her seat to the ballad, but that caught her attention. “I told Olwen I’d meet her in the library for more research. I’m worried she’ll get suspicious if I back out.”
“And I told Bedivere I’d walk the wall with him on tonight’s watch,” Cabell said, his expression all apologies. “You got this one?”
If I said no, I knew he’d come with me. I also knew we needed what information we could get out of Bedivere. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Let’s catch up in the morning.” Cabell eyed Emrys like a crow did a worm. “Behave.”
Emrys ignored him, leaning back around Neve to whisper, “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”
I raised my goblet, only to remember it was already empty. “Great.”
* * *
After the light and song of dinner, the shadowy great hall seemed brooding by contrast. The long tables were barren now and only the candle at the center of the Goddess’s idol was still burning. The white rose, with its creamy petals, beckoned from the heart of her palms.
I moved toward it slowly, my hand reaching for the achingly perfect petals. The candle flame shivered, causing the statue to glow as if it were alive.
“It’s the Rosa × alba.”
Emrys peeled away from the shadows near the hall’s entrance. I jumped, bumping the offering table hard enough to splash myself with the bowl of springwater.
“Do you make a habit of lurking, or is it a special thing you save for me?” I hissed.
“Only for you, Bird,” he said, slinging his workbag over his shoulder. “Got to say, I didn’t take you for a flower type, but you’ve spent all night watching that rose like it’s about to burst into flames.”
I sidestepped that and asked, “Where’s this thing you just have to show me?”
He brushed his hair out of his eyes with a secretive smile. Without another word, he looked back over his shoulder, searching the entrance for any movement on the steps or in the courtyard. Satisfied, he moved past me, toward the statue.
“Where are you…,” I began, trailing after him.
There was a small space between the altar and the back wall, just enough for him to crouch down. Pressing both hands to one of the wood panels on the statue’s platform, he slid it to the right, revealing a hidden set of steps leading down into darkness.
“God’s teeth,” I whispered, crouching to stick my head through the opening. It was impossible to see what was below. Behind me, Emrys donned his head lamp and clicked it on.
“I knew you’d like it,” he said with an infectious grin.
“I have been known to appreciate a hidden passage from time to time,” I allowed. “Provided there aren’t curses trying to behead me along the way.”
“I swear on the sainted soul of my grandmother that your pretty little neck is safe,” he said. “After you…”
“Necks aren’t pretty,” I said after a too-long pause. “How did you even find this?”
“I saw someone go in,” he answered. “And naturally I had to follow the mysterious cloaked figure to see if they were up to no good.”
“A cloaked figure? What a cliché,” I said. “You didn’t see a face?”
“They had a hood up,” he said, crawling in behind me. The smell of green life and pine still clung to him. “Like I said, it was mysterious, and I don’t particularly enjoy mysteries.”
Ironic, I thought, given that you are one.
The door scraped shut behind him, trapping us in the shadows. I took my own flashlight out, thumping it until the batteries rattled and the beam stopped flickering. It was a tight squeeze those first few steps down, but the deeper we went, the more breathing room we gained. The air bore the stench of age and something like damp mulch, but the source didn’t reveal itself until the last of the steps.
Heavy roots spread over the ground, gripping the stone like straining fingers. The hallway was cocooned in them; they knotted and wove through one another, some as thick as my arm, others no wider than a string of yarn.
I looked to Emrys, eyes wide.
“I know,” he said. “And this isn’t even what I wanted to show you.”
“Are we really deep enough in the ground to see the Mother tree’s roots?” I asked, carefully stepping onto the roots.
“I’m guessing these are secondary roots,” Emrys said. “They feel younger to me—they’re probably attracted to the damp down here.”
“You’re guessing?” I shot him a narrow look. “Shouldn’t they be telling you the secrets of the ages or something?”
“I wish,” he muttered, reaching out to steady me as my heel slipped on a root. “They’re not speaking a language I can understand.”
I squinted at him in the dark. “How is that possible with the One Vision?”
“Because like the rose, it’s more of a humming…” He hummed a melody to imitate it, the depth of the notes strangely appealing—and somehow familiar.
“Come on,” he said, “it’s still a bit of a walk.”
We followed the trail of roots until they thinned. I backed up several steps, aiming my flashlight at a spot on the wall where the roots were so thick, they formed a solid mass. I took another step back, dropping onto a knee to see it from a different angle.
“This is another hallway,” I told Emrys, shining the flashlight where just a sliver of the joint in the paths was visible. “The roots seem to be coming from down there.”
I brought a hand close to one of the roots, letting my fingers run along its rough skin. It throbbed, sliding forward.
I jumped back, knocking into the solid warmth of Emrys’s chest. He reached out from behind me, touching the wall of roots himself. They twined around his fingertips, his wrist. He tilted his head, as if listening to something. Glimmers of cerulean light laced through the roots.
Emrys’s eyes lost their focus and his smile fell away. A single root slithered up his sleeve, winding itself around his skin.
When Emrys didn’t pull away, I did it for him, tugging him back by the elbow. “What are you doing?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, I just—we can’t go that way. We shouldn’t.”
“Good,” I told him, “because I don’t want us to go that way either.”
Any bit of wildlife that had survived the isle’s darkness had likely only done so by absorbing its malevolence.
There was an odd look on Emrys’s face, as if he hadn’t fully rejoined me in the present.
“Seriously, are you all right?” I asked him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Clicking his tongue, he nodded toward the main path. “This way.”
As the roots thinned and our boots found the stone floor, some of the tension bled out of me. But now and then I looked back, aiming my flashlight behind me. Just to be sure—completely sure—that the sound I was hearing was the scuff of our footsteps and not the slow slide of roots trailing after us like an obedient servant.
Or the most patient of hunters.
We’d been walking the tunnel’s winding path for so long that the chamber startled me with the suddenness of its appearance.
Emrys pushed the heavy oak doors open a crack, using his head lamp to peer inside before propping them open for me. I swept my flashlight beam over the cavernous space. It was vast but cluttered with furniture, rugs, and stacks of trunks that had been left down here and—intentionally or not—forgotten.
“You’ve brought me to…basement storage?” I asked.
“This is where the cloaked figure came last night,” Emrys said. “I managed to hide behind one of the doors while they were inside, but I couldn’t see what they were doing, and I didn’t want to risk coming in alone in case I got locked in.”
“Dying alone down here where no one could hear you scream would be a drag,” I noted. “Were they looking for something?”
“No, that’s the weird part,” he said. “It didn’t sound like they were rummaging around, and they weren’t holding anything as they came out. All I heard was the sound of stones shifting.”
“Were they building something?” I asked, touching the dusty top of the nearest trunk. Silver stars were inlaid in the wooden lid, but it was otherwise in shambles. The damp air was drowning in the stench of rot.
“Or they were moving something out of the way,” Emrys said, scratching at his chin. “I think there could be another passage or doorway hidden in here.”
I whirled around. “A doorway out into the forest?”
Now I understood his request to bring Ignatius.
Putting my flashlight between my teeth to free up my hands, I retrieved the bundle of purple from my bag. Darkness wove through my thoughts like ink in water.
Clutching the Hand of Glory in one fist and returning my flashlight to the other, I asked, “Are we even outside the tower’s walls?”
“That’s the question,” Emrys said. “It feels like we should be, right?”
“Let’s hope not.”
“And why is that?” he asked.
“Because why would someone need secret access to the forest when it’s overrun by Children?” I said. “There’s nothing out there—no crops, no fresh water, no animals—that they would need to risk their lives to get, especially while it’s dark out.”
“You never disappoint, Bird,” Emrys said, shaking his head. “You always find a way to make things even more terrifying.”
I ignored him. “I think we can all agree that what’s happening here is some kind of curse, but why did it only rear its head two years ago?”
“It might have been cast to start on an anniversary of something,” Emrys pointed out. “Or someone might have accidentally triggered it.”
“Accidentally?” I scoffed. “What’s more likely—that, or this curse being an inside job?”
“You think someone in this tower cast the curse.” Emrys turned toward me fully, all traces of humor gone from his expression.
“Don’t tell me that thought didn’t cross your mind,” I said.
“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t,” Emrys said. “But what’s missing is the why—because they were sympathetic to the druids? Or secretly worship Lord Death? We don’t really have proof of that, do we?”
