Page 24 of A Heart of Crimson Flames
I wanted to say yes immediately, but Grae jumped in first. “We will, of course, need time to discuss this privately with our council.”
“Of course,” Verena replied with a bow.
I wanted to scream and pull my hair out with frustration even though logically I knew Grae was right. I was willing to do anything to get Briar back, make any allegiances necessary, sell my soul all over again for a little more magic to help me. I didn’t know if I trusted Verena, but whatever her terms, I would take them. For too long Briar had been a trophy, a pawn taken by every power player in our realm, and I refused to leave her behind. We were destined for better lives now. Both of us.
Grae snapped a finger and two guards came forward. “Why don’t you have a tour of the gardens while we discuss this privately. We can finish this conversation over lunch.”
“Wonderful, thank you.” Verena turned, leading her miniature pack back toward the far doors.
“Your brother,” I called, making them all stop and turn back to me halfway across the room. “Why did you think he was a piece of shit?” I knew I had my reasons, but I wasn’t his family. I needed to hear the truth directly from her.
Verena’s eyes darkened. “He felt entitled to do whatever he pleased. He would use and hurt and take from anyone just because he knew he could—a trait he shared with many Wolf rulers.” I knew from her tone there was more to her words than what she was saying, hated the thought he had taken from her and everyone with impunity.
“And Ingrid?” I asked. “Why do you hate her?”
“Because she let him,” Verena said. “Ingrid’s belief in supporting women in power stopped at the tip of her own nose. The only person she wanted to save from the cruelty of our rigid world was herself.”
I inclined my chin. “And you won’t be the same?”
“I know what it feels like to give someone a leg up and to have them then turn around and pull the ladder up behind them,” she admitted. Her eyes dipped to the golden fissures that snaked over my collarbone and up my neck. “I believe you and I are here to break the curses of evil men and the women who uphold their tyranny. I believe you and I have the courage to be different than our predecessors. I believe you are like me, merem. I don’t see worlds of men and women, Wolves and humans. I only see one broken world that needs mending and I’m not prideful enough to believe I know how to mend it alone.”
With that, she turned and followed the guards out, and it took all I had not to follow her and pledge our support there and then.
Briar
WHEN I SPILLED THE FLOUR OVER THE COUNTERTOP, I CRIED. Then I burnt my fingertips on the stove and laughed as tears streamed down my cheeks. With no one to bear witness to it, I let the storm take me. My emotions seemed to swing violently back and forth between hope and sorrow, shock and grief. I hadn’t requested that horse. I hadn’t left despite my fears. This strange determination was growing in me that maybe if I remained stalwart, Maez would find her way back to me.
So far that glimmer of hope hadn’t killed me as Maez promised, even if it festered. I would be of no help to Calla as a crying mess on the castle floor. I wasn’t a war strategist nor a soldier. But if I could put a crack in this sorceress’s armor, that would be the most good I could do for my court.
So I busied myself in the kitchen, crying over spilled flour and laughing at the ridiculousness of my runaway fate. The castle kitchens were enormous, rooms upon rooms, nothing like the cozy one we’d made for ourselves at our cottage in Olmdere. I had to rifle through three different pantries to fetch the salt and return it to the stove, but still, it gave me something to do.
Cooking had always been a surefire way to Maez’s heart... well, that and something else, but I wasn’t about tosleepwiththis newfound person—someone who didn’t even see the point in having a mate.
I swept the flour off the table and into my cupped hand, placing it back in the bowl. The kitchens were incredibly well-stocked for a holiday home that was frequently empty, and I wondered if Maez had magicked the food there just for me. When I found a punnet of fresh blueberries in the second pantry, I swiftly snapped them up, knowing that I would make Maez’s favorite blueberry muffins with brown sugar crumble on top.
It felt strange to have seasonal berries on hand with the frozen winds lashing the windows. I wondered if they’d even go bad—if Maez’s magic would hold them frozen in time until we were ready to eat them. Could she do that for us, too? Frozen in this liminal space between enemies and mates, stalling until we could decide which we would be to each other.
There was so much I still didn’t understand about this dark magic. Dark magic... that felt like a bit of a misnomer. Conjuring blueberries in the winter didn’t seem like dark magic, but then again, maybe she was just trying to lure me into submission, maybe this wasn’t a kindness but rather a game. I’d always known exactly what Maez was thinking, and even if I didn’t, if I asked, she’d have told me. This new person—this stranger—was opaque to me, just as hard to see through as the frost-covered glass surrounding me. I tried, I strained, but I couldn’t see beyond it, and yet I knew it was there just beyond my grasp.
I toiled away with my thoughts hanging over me like an ominous storm. I needed the work, something to do with my hands. It kept my mind from completely spiraling out. When I finished the muffins, I put them on a ceramic serving platter and went in search of Maez.
The castle was an absolute labyrinth of gray and white stone. I knew it would take me a lifetime to memorize the layout. Door after door, floor after floor, I searched for the sorceress, but she was nowhere to be seen. Had she left? Was she magicking herselfto new corners of the realm for new misdeeds? Did her power compel her to?
I resigned myself to go sit by the already lit fireplace in the sitting room on the third floor. In some ways, this magic felt strangely familiar. I’d grown up with faery magic. Vellia had made our meals appear with the flick of her fingers. We never had to wait for a bath to be drawn or a fire to be lit. But unlike Maez, Vellia had loved us; this... this felt more like being a magician’s pet.
I was about to sit on the armchair by the window and stuff my face full of muffins when the door behind me creaked. I turned and found Maez leaning against the doorjamb, watching me with sharp hawklike eyes.
My mouth went dry at her intense stare. When her eyes dropped to the tray in my hands, my cheeks flamed. I’d been a silly heartsick fool to think a tray of muffins would do anything to the sorceress standing before me. The way she carried herself, the stillness with which she moved was entirely new. My Maez had been playful and boisterous and heroic; this sorceress seemed cold, aloof, reptilian, more of a beast than even the most feral of Wolves.
“Hi.” I felt incredibly pathetic the moment the word squeaked out of me.
Maez raised an amused brow. This wasn’t me. I was supposed to be poised and regal, not a helpless puppy. I cleared my throat, rolling my shoulders back and lifting my chin, trying to mold my body into the picture of the queen I was trained to be. “I have decided I will extend my stay until the storm has passed,” I announced. If Maez was surprised by this statement, she didn’t show it. “I would like to send a letter to Calla, though, at your nearest convenience.”
“At my nearest convenience?” Maez asked, a slight curve to her lips. She jutted her chin to the side, and I looked to see a stack of paper upon the low table along with a quill and inkwell.
“And a pigeon to deliver it?”
Maez’s smile stretched. “Or with a flick of my wrist it could appear in their palace, hmm?”
