The Long-Forgotten Winter King (The Guild Codex: Unveiled Book 2), page 5
“Answer first so I can decide how much I want to watch you bleed out all over this rock.”
He tilted his head up, exposing more of his throat. “Go ahead, then.”
I stiffened, caught off guard. He gazed at me, unflinching, his expression cool, almost disinterested. His arms were slack at his sides. He wasn’t even trying to defend himself.
“If you want to kill me so badly, do it,” he said. “Slit my throat.”
A quiver ran through my hand, my knuckles white around the handle. I should. Just cut his throat, shove his bleeding body into the water, and swim for shore while his death throes distracted the merfae.
“Kill me.”
“Don’t act like a guilt-ridden martyr,” I spat. “I’m not buying it.”
“I’m not acting like anything.” His hand rose, and he curled his fingers over mine so we were both holding the switchblade. “I know you won’t do it.”
“Don’t underestimate me.”
“You killed someone to save my life, Saber. You don’t want to kill me.”
I stared down at him. His water-speckled skin stretched taut over hard muscles, his curved biceps flexing. The flat planes of thick pectorals met the smooth ridges of his abs. Every line of his body spoke of strength and power.
This deeply masculine adult man overlapped in my mind with the slimmer, softer teen boy I’d first met, and the longer I looked at him—at them—the more I felt myself unraveling. The past and the present were colliding in front of my eyes. Two unreconcilable beings, the boy he’d been haunting the man he’d become, both looking at me with the same green eyes.
They were both hurting me. The past and present, gouging out my heart.
“I want to.”
The words were a hoarse whisper. My hand shook in his hold. He wasn’t stopping me from pushing the knife into his throat. The only thing stopping me was myself.
“I want to kill you.”
This time, I gasped the words. My whole body was trembling. On this stupid rock in the ocean, trapped and surrounded by fae who wanted to drown us, I told myself to just do it. Just kill him. Just end it forever. End this tearing, shattering pain I felt.
“Why can’t I?”
I hadn’t meant to speak those words. Hadn’t meant for them to scrape from my abused throat. Hadn’t meant for him to hear them.
His enigmatic eyes watched me, unreadable and unfathomable.
White wings beating, a hawk swooped down out of the sky. Ríkr circled over our heads in a tight arc.
What is this? he asked sharply. Why are you at sea?
“Where have you been?” I barked, withdrawing my knife from Zak’s throat.
Fetching the druid, as you requested. The other druid, he added.
Startled, I looked toward the shore. Standing on the rocks beside my pile of clothes with her arms folded was Josephine. Even at that distance, I could see that her eyebrows were arched.
Can you do something about the merfae? I asked Ríkr silently.
I’m afraid I cannot, dove.
My frustration reignited. Why not?
I dislike getting wet. He swooped another circle. Also, I am not well suited for aquatic combat.
Suppressing an aggravated snarl, I looked back at Josephine.
“Need help?” she called from the shore.
I hesitated, then shouted back, “There are merfae.”
Her short laugh echoed across the water. “My familiar will distract them, so go ahead and swim back.”
Her familiar? I couldn’t see or sense another fae. Come to think of it, I couldn’t detect Lallakai’s presence either. Was she not nearby protecting her druid?
I glanced at Zak. Since the alternative was staying on this rock with him, I swallowed against the painful burn in my throat and plunged into the salt water. The cold shocked my system all over again.
No merfae appeared as I swam for shore, but the short distance exhausted the last of my strength, and I was breathing hard as I pulled myself up onto the rocks. Water sluiced off me as I stumbled to my feet. Josephine caught my arm, steadying me. The druid was in her late-thirties with a warm, golden-ochre complexion, expressive full lips, and bold eyes that, with a mere glance, evaluated me on every level—and revealed nothing of her assessment.
“Looks like you were having fun out there,” she remarked.
Drawing on long years of practice, I dredged up my “nice Saber” smile in response.
With a splash, Zak climbed onto the rocks a few yards away. He straightened to his full height and fixed a green-eyed stare on Josephine.
“Tempest Druid,” he rumbled.
“Crystal Druid,” she replied frostily.
I glanced between them. “You two have met?”
“No,” they replied in unison—and with equal hostility.
What’s their problem? I silently wondered.
Ríkr landed on a boulder beside me. Druids are territorial, dove. They rarely rejoice in encountering another of their kith.
Josephine raised her eyebrows slightly—and a sudden gale tore across the shore. From the shimmering wind, a figure materialized. The tall, slender fae wore gray and silver robes that trailed thin black ties, the silk ribbons snapping in the gusts. Long, pale lilac hair swept around him, his androgynously beautiful face dominated by large, pupilless opal eyes.
Threads of glowing silver magic spiraled around his delicate fingers as he raised them toward Zak.
Zak gave the fae a dismissive glance. Despite being shirtless, shoeless, unarmed, and as far as I could tell, completely alone, he seemed unconcerned for his safety. As he turned toward the Tempest Druid, I glimpsed the tattoos on his left forearm. Each of the five dark circles contained a colorful magic rune.
“Are you sure you and your wind master want to pick a fight with me, Tempest Druid?” he asked coolly.
“Why are you back?” she demanded. “You abandoned your territory.”
“I took a vacation.” He smiled without humor, showing his teeth. “And this isn’t your territory either.”
“Can we call it neutral ground, then?” I asked with a hopeful smile. Zak glanced at me, then did a double take when he saw my pleasant expression. “I’d like to speak with you, Josephine. If possible?”
The Tempest Druid frowned in answer. Still smiling, I tilted my head toward Zak—and out of her line of sight.
“Fuck off,” I mouthed silently.
His eyebrows shot up. A faint smirk crossed his lips, and without comment, he picked up his shoes and shirt, discarded on the rocks where he must have pulled them off before jumping in the water to save me from the merfae. I belatedly noticed that his stab wounds from a week ago, courtesy of my knife, were completely gone. He must’ve found a healer in the past few days.
Which of us was more twisted—me for stabbing him only to save his life shortly afterward, or him for saving my life after I’d stabbed him?
Belongings in hand, he walked into the trees. I watched him go with narrowed eyes.
“Hm,” Josephine mused, also observing Zak’s silent retreat. “He’s not what I expected.”
Saying nothing, I turned to grab my clothes—and found myself facing her familiar. Or was he her consort? His fathomless opal eyes flicked across my face, then a salty breeze rushed off the water, and with it, the wind fae disappeared into shimmers of air.
Perched on his rock, Ríkr ruffled his feathers in irritation.
I yanked my clothes over my wet skin, then hastily turned back to Josephine. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to ask you … about my mother.”
“Mairead,” she said. “You look just like her—except taller. Much taller.” She pursed her lips. “I heard that Mairead passed away.”
“Yes, eighteen years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She offered her hand. “Should we introduce ourselves? I’m Josephine Pisk, the Tempest Druid, but my friends call me Jo.”
I shook her hand. “Saber Orien. Should I … call you Jo, then?”
“If you want.” She smiled. “I considered Mairead a friend, and I think she felt the same way. Who knew she had a daughter! What—yes, I’m asking her. Don’t distract me.”
I blinked in confusion.
“Sorry. Niavv likes to natter in my head while I’m having conversations with people.”
I peered around the rocky shoreline, but I couldn’t see the wind fae, not even when I focused my vision on the misty fae demesne.
“He’s adept at concealment,” she added, watching me with amusement. “He wants to know your druid name. He’s convinced he knows all the druids in the area, and he’s frustrated that he doesn’t recognize you.”
“I don’t have a druid name.”
Her full lips quirked down. “Are you a practicing druid?”
I hesitated, unsure how much I wanted to reveal. “No.”
“Oh. That’s a shame. I really admired the Meadowlark Druid, and I bet you’d be just as talented.”
My gut dropped, and I felt like I was underwater again, my lungs empty and my mind spinning from lack of oxygen. “The Meadowlark Druid?”
“She was something else,” Josephine mused, gazing out at the water. She hadn’t noticed my reaction. “The way she sang … unbelievable. I’ve never heard anything like it before or since. Fae would stop whatever they were doing to listen. Mairead was truly gifted.”
Her voice sounded very far away, her words sliding through my ears, scarcely heard.
As soon as Ríkr had revealed I was a druid, I’d wondered. Either my parents hadn’t been my parents at all, or one of them had been a druid too. And when Josephine, a druid, had called me by my mother’s name, I’d suspected I knew which parent.
Now I had confirmation—and it rocked the very foundation of my world. Every memory of my mother shifted, cast into a different light. I remembered her gentle smile, her blue-gray eyes just like mine. I remembered her voice and the way it flowed through every molecule of my body when she’d sing.
The Meadowlark Druid. My mother had been a druid.
My hands shook and I curled them into fists. “How did you know her?”
Only after I’d spoken did I realize I was interrupting Josephine. She glanced at me, concern pinching her eyes. She opened her mouth, then reconsidered whatever she’d been about to say.
“We met … the year before she died, I guess it would’ve been.” She clasped her hands together. “I’d just started bounty hunting, and I was tracking a black witch who’d been killing fae on Vancouver Island before fleeing inland. He was heading for Kamloops, but I lost him in the Coquihalla Pass.”
She smiled ruefully. “I was bumbling around, drawing all sorts of fae attention, and Mairead showed up to find out what young, idiotic druid was kicking up such a fuss.”
It was so easy to imagine: my mom would’ve crossed her arms, one hip cocked, and arched her right eyebrow in that lofty, knowing look that always meant someone—usually me or my dad—was about to get in trouble for doing something foolish.
“When I explained what I was up to,” Josephine continued, “she offered to help. The rest of the story is pretty mundane. It took us a week to catch the guy, and I learned a ton from her while we worked together.”
The ache inside me deepened. It seemed territorial druid instincts didn’t preclude any possible friendship between druids. Josephine’s hostile reaction to Zak probably had as much to do with his dangerous reputation as his druid status.
I brought up another false smile, thankful I had so much practice hiding my real face. “Did my mother ever mention me or her family?”
“She didn’t, but that’s no surprise. Druids are often very private—or secretive, depending on how you look at it.” She shrugged. “I’m not fussy about secrecy, myself. It’s hard to be a bounty hunter and not earn a reputation.”
Zak, too, had kept his druid identity a secret. I remembered from his bounty listing that his rogue alias and his druid name had only recently been connected as the same person.
“Mairead didn’t tell me where she lived,” Josephine added, “though I assume her territory was somewhere nearby. Again, typical for many druids.”
I nodded as though I were familiar with the ways of druids. Keeping my pleasant mask in place was a struggle as the pillars of my existence quaked and crumbled.
“This might be an odd question,” I began haltingly, “but do you know why a druid might raise their child as a witch?”
“Some druids will register as witches with the MPD to protect their identities. Fae predation is our biggest killer, but there are territory disputes with other druids, conflicts with other mythics, abduction, enslavement—yes, Niavv, I was about to tell her that many druid lines live in complete secrecy. Only the fae in and around their territories know who and what they are.”
Understanding trickled through me. My mother must’ve raised me as a witch to protect us. Children didn’t understand secrecy, so it was safer to wait until I was older to tell me the truth about what I was.
Except she’d died before she could.
My parents hadn’t made any arrangements for me in case of their deaths, or none that the MPD had discovered. Aunt Ruth had been my only living relative—and not even a blood relative. She’d been married to my father’s older brother for three short years before he died, and she hadn’t kept in contact with her in-laws. The first time I met her was the day she picked me up from MPD foster care.
Pulling myself from dark thoughts of the past, I offered Josephine my hand. “Thanks for answering my questions. I appreciate your time.”
“Sure thing.” She shook my hand, but her expression was oddly critical. “Feel free to tell me to butt out, but your aura is a mess.”
“My aura?” I repeated blankly.
“It’s your choice if you want to practice druidry or not, but you should at least utilize basic aura reflection. Who did you appren—no way, Niavv,” she said abruptly, interrupting herself.
“No way what?” I asked.
She grimaced in embarrassment. “He asked if you’ve had any training at all. Rude, I know.”
My false smile stretched my lips. “I guess I’m just rusty since I don’t practice.”
She frowned slightly, then cleared her expression. “Fair enough. Just be careful in less urban places like this—and watch out for the Crystal Druid. Again, none of my business, but he’s Trouble with a capital T.”
“Why didn’t you try to capture him?” I asked curiously. “Since you’re a bounty hunter?”
She snorted. “Because I don’t want to die today. I’m good, but I’m not that good—which means he could rip you apart.”
I held my smile with effort. Little did she know he already had.
CHAPTER SIX
Standing at the edge of the water, I watched the amber sunset dim, the sky darkening to shades of purple and indigo. Every breath scraped my raw throat and the broken shards inside me cut at my lungs.
I sank my hands into my damp hair. My fingers curled, nails dragging over my scalp. Tilting my head back, I drew in the deepest breath I could, and with it I gathered all my uncertainty, my fear, my grief, my hurt, my loneliness. I filled my lungs with everything I felt until my chest was about to burst.
Then I unleashed it all in a scream.
The sound split the quiet evening air and tore through my throat. I embraced the pain as I let loose the storm inside me in the only way I could. I screamed until I ran out of air, then I sagged forward, still clutching my head as though I could hold myself together.
My anguished cry echoed across the water, softly fading, and part of me wished I could fade away too.
I’d wanted answers about my parents, and now I had one—but knowing my mother had been a druid was worse than knowing nothing. My parents, my childhood, my past. Nothing was what I’d believed. I didn’t know who I was, who I should’ve been, or what the hell I was supposed to do.
Everything was spinning inside me like a maelstrom. The boy who’d betrayed me, back again. Memories I’d lost, returned. My magic, a ticking timebomb threatening to explode the life I’d built. The threat of losing my place at the rescue, of the MPD and the new guild Morris was arranging for me. Zak. Ríkr. My mother. Lies and betrayals and secrets.
A tremor ran through me. I couldn’t handle all this right now. I had to go home before I lost it.
I hiked swiftly along the shore in the fading light, and by the time I reached the path, a white coyote had joined me. He hadn’t been far. Ríkr might struggle to understand my human emotions, but he’d always had good instincts for when I needed space.
The parking lot had emptied while I’d loitered on the shore, and there were only two vehicles left: my old truck and a newer black pickup. I angled toward my truck with long, desperate strides, but as I reached the driver’s door, a prickle ran along my spine.
A faint but familiar sensation of otherworldly power teased my senses.
Coming to an abrupt halt, I looked again at the black truck twenty feet away—and saw what I’d missed the first time.
A dark figure leaned against the door, dressed in black clothes, arms folded.
No. I’d waited this long so he’d be gone. So I wouldn’t have to face him again while I was so unbalanced—but here he was anyway. Waiting for me. Forcing his presence on me. Making me relive the past. Making me hate him and hate myself and hate everything just like I had ten years ago.
“Why are you still here?” I asked hoarsely.
He pushed off the truck, watching me. Seeing me fragile. Seeing me weak. Seeing me on the verge of breaking.
“Why are you here?” The furious question burst out of me. “You’re right, okay? I can’t kill you. You deserve it. You fucking deserve it, you coldhearted bastard, but I can’t do it.”
My tormented shout filled the parking lot, absorbed by the quiet forest. The boy who’d broken me was standing right there, right there, and even though everything inside me wanted to hurt him, to destroy him, I couldn’t.
“I admitted it!” I flung my hand out. “You win! You fucking win! So leave me alone! Just go and never come back and leave me in peace.”
