Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) (7 page)

“It’s beautiful here,” she said, staring up at the twinkling stars through the trees. “I can see why Maerwynn calls it, ‘Haven’.”

“You must be careful here,” I told her. “It may seem like a paradise to you, but I need you to be on your guard. Maerwynn is not all that she seems.”

“You and she have a history together.” Ada looked as if she wanted to say more, but she didn’t.

“We do.” I put my hand to my lips. “Please do not ask me about that history. These are the last moments we have together, and I don’t want to taint them. Besides, I don’t feel as if it’s my story to tell. Perhaps Maerwynn will. She’d probably delight in it, but I wouldn’t ask her, either.”

“You’re being very mysterious. What did you speak of with her this evening? You both looked so serious when you came to the fires. If you just tell me, I’ll be better able to protect myself from her.”

I shook my head. “I cannot speak of it, Ada. You must trust me. I don’t like to keep you in the dark, but the less you know, the better.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I turned away from her. I didn’t want to look at her face when I said it. “Because there is a price on your head. If the worst should happen, and you are captured in Lord Benedict’s Great Hunt, you will be tortured by men not as kind as I. If I tell you nothing, then you will have no information to give. The ignorant cannot succumb to torture.”

I heard her gasp. “I … didn’t think of that.”

I turned back around, my chest tightening as I saw the fear on her face. I cupped her cheek in my hand. “Oh, my love. Forget I said anything. That’s not going to happen. I will protect you, just as I have promised. I’m an old warrior, and I must always look at the worst possible outcome. I’m responsible for more than just your life, now. Maerwynn’s secrets are in my hands, too. I cannot take that responsibility lightly.”

A tear rolled down Ada’s cheek. “I just don’t like being in the dark.”

“Neither do I, my love.”

I closed my eyes, and a weariness washed over my body, the aftermath of our lovemaking. I wanted to hold the memory of her beautiful body writhing in ecstasy, keep it close to me. It was a much more pleasant thought to fall asleep on than that of torture and death.

Ada fell asleep quickly, her head resting in my armpit, her beautiful body curled around mine. I stared at the ceiling. Even though my body ached for rest, I could not sleep. For now the task that lay before me settled upon me with creeping darkness. It would be easy to find my father, but to kill him? Rotstrom castle would be heavily guarded, and even if I did find my way through, when I faced my father, would I truly be able to take his life? Could I force myself to commit such an abhorrent act as patricide, even if it was to protect Ada?

I did not know how I would do it, only that it must be done. But even when I had killed my father, I would still not be free. Not until Clarissa was also dead and the blood oath she had forced on me was broken, and the price had been taken off our heads.

I heard a creak, and I whirled my head around to face the door. The heavy wooden door creaked open on its hinges, swinging toward me while the moon cast a long shaft of light across the bare dirt floor. As I watched, a shadow passed over that shaft, a halo of white hair glowing around it like an aura in the moonlight. I could just make out the glint of Maerwynn’s eyes. She beckoned me with a long finger.

I rose from the bed, slipping my arm out from beneath Ada’s cheek. Maerwynn ducked under the door frame, and turned to check I was following. I thought to grab my breeches, but decided against it. Maerwynn wasn’t used to seeing me naked, so maybe it would unnerve her a little.

I followed her out of the cabin, down the winding path, and on to the rock shelf where the empty fire pits sat, the ashes turned over- ready for the next meal. Maerwynn turned to me, a vicious grin spreading across her face.

“You look as if you’ve been having a pleasant evening,” she said.

“That is none of your concern,” I growled.

“It
is
my concern. Or have you forgotten my rules? Men are not to sleep in the cabins.” She pointed to three open hammocks handing from the trees beside the lake, where her three male servants snored loudly.

“Where’s Tjard, then?” I demanded.

Maerwynn pointed up the hill, at a cabin I recognized as belonging to the coven’s moon priestess, Gussalen. A loud yelp came from within, followed by a guffaw and a pearl of high-pitched laughter.

“He hasn’t finished his revels yet.” She smirked as she stared down at my naked body, her eyes flickering over my now limp member. Maerwynn gave a little nod of appreciation.

“Even when your snake is cowering, he is still impressive,” she said. “I can see what had my sister so entranced—”

“What did you bring me out here for, Maerwynn.”

“You have said your goodbyes. It is time for you to leave.” She flicked out her wrist, and I saw that in her hand she held a small, straight blade.

“What’s that for?” I nodded at the blade.

“Hold out your hand,” she commanded. I shook my head. I wasn’t having any more oaths sworn. My palms were already cut up enough.

“Ulrich, this is for your own good.” Sighing, I did as she asked. She pressed the handle of the blade into my hand. The double-edged blade gleamed in the moonlight.

“This is the knife he used on Ellyn,” she whispered. “I have kept it all these years, so that it might taste his blood also, a fitting revenge for what he has taken.”

“I don’t need a blade. I have my sword and—”

“You need
this
blade.” Maerwynn whispered, her eyes blazing. “Over the years I have poured all my rage into this knife, all my hatred and hunger for revenge. It drips with malice, it calls to him, Ulrich. It wants to be united with his flesh. This blade will be your ally, and you have precious few of them.”

Maerwynn looked up at me, and an understanding passed between us. Memories flooded back to me, of all the times I had stared at those cold eyes while they watched me walk away, of the way they burned into my skin as she watched the fire devour Ellyn’s flesh. I knew she hadn’t changed the way she felt about me, but when she looked at me, she saw her own sadness, her own regret reflected there. She wanted my father dead just as much as I did, and she trusted me to do it. We were united by my task. “Here,” she whispered, turning away and pressing the handle into my palm.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle, feeling the weight of the blade. It was strange, but for such a small knife, it felt oddly heavy, as if it were carrying a weight much heavier than the thin metal blade.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You can thank me by gutting him like a pig,” she whispered fiercely, “and by bringing me that ring.”

I nodded, sheathing the blade. I gestured back to the cabin. “I’ll need to get my things. Can you bring my horse?”

“Of course.”

Back in the cabin, I leaned over Ada, watching her chest rise and fall with each rhythmic breath. I wanted to wake her, to hold her in my arms and whisper all the things I would do to her when I returned. But she looked so peaceful, so serene and beautiful with her eyes closed and her golden hair fanned out around her like a halo. I wanted to remember her like this, and not as the weeping mess she would be if she saw me leave. I had told her everything she needed to know. And if I woke her now, she would beg me to stay, and I wouldn’t be able to resist those big, wide eyes.

I got up slowly, gently shifting Ada’s body and bundling up the furs so she would not notice I had left. I pulled on my clothes, and grabbed my sword.

“Goodbye, my love,” I whispered the words, and pressed my lips against her forehead. She whimpered, but did not wake.

My chest felt tight, the pain of leaving her like this real and tangible. Sighing, I followed Maerwynn and Willow out into the night.

I
awoke in the night
, my skin clammy with cold. I threw my hand over the other side of the skins, expecting to feel the warm, hard flesh of Ulrich’s body. But instead, I grabbed at thin air. My eyes flew open and I took in the cold, rumpled furs next to me, and the open cabin door.

The candle beside the bed was still lit, nearly burned down to a stub. I picked it up and cast the glow around my cabin, searching for some signs of Ulrich’s presence. But everything of his was gone. His sword and scabbard that leaned against the back of the door had vanished, as had his tunic and the breeches draped over the chair. Even the scent of him on the wool blankets had faded. He must have been gone for hours.

Ulrich’s gone. He left me.

My chest clenched with fear, my heart felt as if it were tearing in two. I knew he was going, but I had thought I’d be able to say goodbye. There was so much he hadn’t told me. How could he just leave like that? Did I not matter at all to him?

I felt tense, panicked. I pulled my cloak over my shoulders, grabbed the candle, and ran out into the night. A cold breeze below up from the river, and my skin broke out in gooseflesh. “Ulrich!” I called out, my heart pounding against my chest. I swung the candle around, searching the twisting trees for his shadow. “Ulrich, where are you?”

But all that answered me were shadows and silence.

I walked down to the edge of the water, where we had eaten our meal that night, and the women had danced skyclad around the leaping flames. I remembered how Ulrich’s eyes had watched me every moment, following me as I went to fill my plate again, or moved to talk to the women. Now the fires were dark smudges of ash, the only sound the lapping of the water against the stony shore. A tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another. And soon my whole body shook with sobs. Ulrich was far away now, he had left me alone here, and I felt an intense fear deep inside that I would never see him again.

“What are you doing?” A harsh voice stabbed into the darkness. I whirled around, dropping my candle. It flickered and went out, but not before the light caught the fury in Maerwynn’s eyes.

I sniffed back my sobs. Maerwynn bent down, and picked up the candle. She ran her finger over the wick, and a bright yellow flame burst from thin air. The light flickered across her features. She looked furious.

“It’s not safe for you to wander around the forest at night,” she said, her voice harsh. “Especially not when you yell the name of a witch hunter at the top of your lungs.”

“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I was looking for Ulrich. He—”

“Ulrich is gone.”

“I know … but why?”

“He could not stay here,” Maerwynn said. “It was his time to leave.”

“But …” my stomach twisted. “He didn’t say goodbye.”

“He has been saying goodbye to you all evening, in his own way. Perhaps the words themselves were too painful for him,” she said simply.

“Why would words be painful?”

“You are young, and have little understanding of the minds of men. This is obvious from this ridiculous outburst.” Maerwynn frowned at me, and I felt shame burning on my tear-soaked cheeks. “Ulrich is going to kill his father, Ada. You have not encountered Damon of Donnau-Ries before, so you cannot possibly understand what your lover faces. But you should know that to take the life of the one who gave you life is a deplorable act, even if committed for the most noble of reasons. Ulrich is disrupting the order of things, the great chain of being that binds us all together. And when someone breaks the chain, the goddess is charged with putting it right again, and usually, that is by taking back what has been stolen. Even if Ulrich succeeds in killing his father, which is unlikely, he will probably not survive. The Goddess won’t allow it.”

“But—” I gulped. Ulrich had never talked about his mission as dangerous. He’d made it sound as though finding his father were easy, as easy as all the other brave acts he had committed in the past. In my head I saw Ulrich’s father as a stooped old man, slow and arthritic and easily overpowered by his strapping son. But the way Maerwynn was talking, Ulrich would be lucky to escape with his life.

“Oh yes, Ulrich learned everything he knows from that man. The same strength that pulses in his veins also fuels Damon’s fervour. But Ulrich is weak, because he
feels
empathy. Damon does not make the same mistake. His purpose is clear, his soul focused on one task and one task only – to rid the world of witches and those who harbour them. He will not hesitate to kill his own son if he felt it the righteous thing to do. Damon does not fear divine justice, for he knows that his God supports his grisly work.”

“Why did Ulrich not tell me this? Why did he leave me alone here, if he did not think he would come back?” I could feel a sickening panic rising in my stomach. My voice grew shrill.

“He left you in my care because I know how to draw out your power, and being able to harness your power is the key to yours – and Ulrich’s – survival.“ Maerwynn blew out the candle, plunging us into deep, unsettling darkness.

My heart sank. I was already afraid of Maerwynn. I didn’t want to be alone in the dark with her.

“Light the candle.” Maerwynn’s voice commanded from the gloom.

“Excuse me?”

“You are a witch, yes? Ulrich told me about the fire you summoned from your fingertips. This means you are a flame witch, just like your aunt Bernadine. You can create the spark that ignites a fire. So do it. Light the candle.”

“I don’t know how. I can’t really do magic. All I can do is make potions to heal. The fire was… an accident. I was so worried about Ulrich, and I—”

“There are no accidents in the craft. Now, light up the darkness, little Ada. Show me that I am not wrong about you.”

I placed my hand over the wick. I tried to clear my head of all thoughts, to focus on the image of a bright light rising out from the wick. But, I was too nervous. I could feel Maerwynn’s eyes boring into me through the darkness. I raised my hand and pointed my fingers toward the flame, but instead of feeling the hot surge of power run down my arm like I had before, I just felt awkward and silly.

“You’re not concentrating,”

“It’s hard,” I cried.

“If it was easy, everyone would do it, and the candle makers would go out of business,” said Maerwynn.

I sighed, and raised the candle once more. This time, I cupped the wick with my hand, staring in on it so that I could no longer see the outline of Maerwynn against the thin moonlight. I closed my eyes, picturing the candle in my mind, and behind it, Ulrich’s face, his strong jaw set in a look of determination as he rode Willow hard through the woods, returning to his father, travelling to his doom.

My stomach twisted as I pictured Ulrich’s body lying dead on a plinth, his body bruised and beaten- those hands that had given me so much pleasure mashed and torn from the torture devices. Rage burned inside of me. His father did this. His father
will
do this.

I took that rage and balled it up inside of me, and I
pushed
it from my stomach, along my arms, and up through my fingers. My eyes flew open and I saw the bright orange flame flicker up from the wick.
I’d done it!
I’d actually worked magic with intention. I had willed a flame into being and it had sprung to life.

My hands trembling with excitement, I held out the candle to Maerwynn. I couldn’t stop beaming. Maerwynn took the candle and turned it in her hand. “Very good,” she said, and I detected the faintest hint of a smile in her voice. “We will make a witch of you yet, Ada.”

I grinned in reply.

Maerwynn waved her hand at the cabins up the bank. “It’s been a strange night for both of us, Ada. Perhaps we should retire to sleep again?”

Although it was phrased as a question, it was a command. I nodded, and followed Maerwynn as she ascended the stone steps cut into the bank. She walked so quickly I had to jog to keep up.

“Maerwynn,” I huffed as I stepped alongside her on the path. “Can I ask you a question?”

She lifted her chin, her eyes boring into mine. “Yes?”

“Why do you hate Ulrich so much? What happened between the two of you in the past?”

“I do not hate him,” she whispered. She opened her mouth to say more, but seemed to change her mind, snapping her mouth shut, then turning away, her long braids whipping around her head as she darted back into her own cabin.

I stared down at the candle in my hand, the dancing flame casting a long shadow across the ground. I wasn’t certain what I’d said that had upset Maerwynn’s cool indifference, but I had a sinking feeling it was vital to my future safety to understand her actions.