Page 13 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
Several noncommittal grumbles answered.
Eris sighed, wanting to step in himself. But hard decisions were part of a king’s job, and Tyghan had to make one. “Not yet.”
“Miss Keats is doing quite well on her own,” Dahlia added.
And she was. In the face of her mother’s dangerous demand, Bristol was strangely steady. Or maybecompelledwas a better word. Her resolve to go had come swiftly, taking them all by surprise. Eris wondered what was going on inside her head. Deftly disguised terror? Guilt? Revenge? But he suspected it was more than that. Kasta had told them everything that transpired at Queen’s Cliff, including Maire’s order to kill her own daughter. Eris was certain that played into Bristol’s rushed decision to go.
“Perhaps she’s in denial that her mother actually beheaded Glennis?” Dahlia suggested.
“Maire did it, all right,” Quin answered.
Dalagorn agreed, and they mulled over fit retributions as Tyghan and Bristol wrestled over her decision.
Maire’s demand was perplexing. She wanted tomeet with her. For what purpose? To take her daughter prisoner? To remove any possibility of Bristol helping them? To confirm that she actually was her daughter and not a trick? What role was Kormick playing in this? Why hadn’t the note come from him? And threatening to kill Cael? He was Kormick’s leverage, to keep Tyghan from even attempting to take the throne. What kind of trickery was he up to now? Why would he even allow—
Unless Maire was acting on her own, without his knowledge? The questions and conclusions came in a flurry as Eris, Dahlia, and the others waited from afar. There wasn’t time to convene in the rotunda to properly evaluate their options, as Eris would have preferred. He hated rushed decisions.
He leaned close to Dahlia. “If something happens to her, we have no hope of closing the Abyss door.”
Dahlia’s lips pursed as if weighing some other thought. “Removing the tick may kill her anyway, and there is still no certainty she will be successful in closing the door. But we know with certainty, Cael will die if she doesn’t go. Let’s just hope that when Maire meets with Miss Keats, she is more mother than monster.”
Hope. It was not something Dahlia turned to. Hope had no formula or magic spell. There were no chapters in the vast library of grimoires that included it. She was High Witch, after all. Her sights were always set on reliable outcomes, tried and true spells, developing wards that could trip up armies and mists that could blind them. In her position, it was who she had to be. And now she was placing hope in the Darkland monster? Everything about their world seemed upside down, and Eris wondered if it would ever be aright again.
Tyghan turned, irritated by the tug on his arm. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Quin, you’re about as welcome as a rash right now. I’m busy.”
Quin nodded. “I know. But you need to let her go, Your Majesty.”
Quin never used his formal title, and Tyghan knew it was a reminder that he needed to make a king’s decision, not a lover’s. His oath bound him to use every possible opportunity to save his brother—the rightful king—and this was a chance. He turned back to Bristol. If she were anyone else, they wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. He would stop wasting precious minutes arguing and be preparing her to leave instead. But she wasn’t anyone else, and he was afraid she would never return, at least not alive.
He stared at her. The details. Her eyes. The firm set of her mouth. Her decision was made.
“She’s my mother, Tyghan. She won’t hurt me.”
There was no changing her mind. She was going. Not just for Cael or Danu, but for herself. Maybe mostly for herself. Just as he had been plagued by demons, she had a demon of her own: a history with her mother he didn’t fully understand. But neither did Bristol. The encounter with her mother at Queen’s Cliff had unmoored her. Bristol had finally seen the Maire that the rest of them knew, not the mother but the monster. Something inside her was floating loose and wild, and she needed to secure it again. But at what cost? Maire had brutally murdered Glennis and made a heartless show of delivering her head.
“I’ll go with you,” he said, desperate to find a compromise.
“The king of Danu? Are you crazy? You’ll only put us both at risk if you do. She saidalone. Not to mention, you’d be too great a prize not to capture. I’d be worrying more about you than myself. Dammit, Tyghan, don’t make this harder for me.”
But he wanted to make it harder for her. He wanted more time to think. Except Maire had robbed him of time too. “If anything happens—” He already felt himself breaking his promise to Bristol. No arrow would be spared when it came to Maire. She was a dead woman.Dead.
“She won’t hurt me,” Bristol repeated more earnestly.
Kasta stepped forward. “Listen to her, Tygh. Maire let her go last time. She will again. Her fellow recruits will accompany her as far as the Mistriven border and wait for her there. It’s not that far from the base of Queen’s Cliff. They’re all well trained, and so is she, plus there is a strong bond between them. They’re good together. Quin and I will take it from here.”
Instead of letting her go, Tyghan pulled Bristol into his arms. He buried his face in her hair. “Come back to me, Bri,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
Her lips were warm against his cheek. “I promise. I’ll come back to you.”
He shifted his hold and brought his lips to hers, his mouth hovering against their softness, pressing a seal to her promise.
“Tyghan,” she whispered against them when his grip remained tight. He let go.
Quin and Kasta wasted no time whisking her away to the barn, where Reuben was waiting to outfit her, the recruits, and their horses with every possible amulet and ward, in case there was an ambush along the way. Tyghan started to follow, but Melizan appeared and intercepted him.
“Whoa,” she said, putting her arm out to stop him. “There’s another urgent matter that you need to address.” She and Cosette stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces flushed. Their clothes were soiled, their boots muddy, and their hair windswept like they had just come from a battle.
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked.
