Posey
It’s a silent hunt for any books related to alchemy, metal, and forges. I find a few texts about old methods of ironsmithing I’m sure will be useful. Most of the alchemy books are tarnished, faded, and damn near useless at this point. Back when the skill was openly taught to anyone who brandished the powers, a different language was used. I don’t know it. Aris is just as puzzled, but he gathers old books in his arms nonetheless, his original hesitation shifting to curiosity as we walk the stacks together. He lights the old lanterns with his shimmering powers, and his shadows stretch all around us, dancing in the grainy light. I’m sure, when he’s like this, drenched in his own magic, most people would find him intimidating. I think he’s glorious.
“What are you going to do with the fawn?” I ask when the silence becomes too much. I slide another heavy book into his hands, this one about apothecary remedies, hopefully old enough to have something for the use of alchemists within its yellowed pages.
“I don’t know,” he says with a heavy, slightly defeated sigh. “She’s so small. I can’t bottlefeed her like this and then thrust her back into the wild.”
“You’ve been feeding her? I thought it was the spirits.”
He bites back a small smile. “I kind of enjoy it–taking care of her. She’s cute. Little. She likes me, I think. At least one thing in the house does.”
I like you. “Have you named her?”
“No, not yet. She’s a deer. She doesn’t understand us.”
“You’ve never had a pet, have you?”
“I’m a wolf. I’m my own pet.”
Somewhere in the recesses of the shadows, a thud echoes toward us. I shiver, stepping closer to Aris, who’s squinting into darkness of his own making. His shadows funnel toward the sound.
“I caught a bat when I was little. I kept it in my room.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I was alone most of the time if I wasn’t with Roman, or you, when we used to visit. She liked it there. I’d leave my window open for her so she could come and go at night.”
I notice the way he places his hand on my waist and carefully pulls me toward him, positioning himself between me and the shadows.
“There’s a group of wolves hunting in our sacred forest. They’re the ones that got her mother, and until I know who they are, the fawn is staying with us. Come spring, I’ll build her a little enclosure in the garden. Something small, likely next to the greenhouse I’m planning for you and your herbs, or whatever.” He’s still looking into the shadows with narrowed eyes, rambling, likely unaware of the promise of the future we don’t have lacing through the stale air between us.
“What is it?”
He makes a very male noise–a grunt–before replying, “I have no idea. A spirit, probably. Or the shelves are starting to collapse under the weight of all these books. Arthur should do something about it.”
“The ghost or the ancient wooden shelves?”
A crash rattles the nearby shelves, and Aris tugs me against his chest. I gasp, whirling as if in slow motion, tucked in the folds of his cloak. The books in his arms fall to the ground. I feel his muscles jerk and flex as he raises his hands, his bracelets shining, and the space around us suddenly glows with silver. He vibrates with power I can feel in my bones. I wrap my arms around his waist and steal a glance over my shoulder, biting back a gasp as books lift off the ground and his shadows dance in the shape of… wolves.
“Aris?”
A roar rips from the darkness. I can’t choke back the scream of alarm that escapes my throat, especially when Aris whirls around, shoves me into the shadows, and disappears in a gust of silver smoke. He’s completely invisible. A shadow.
And then… the battle ensues.
***
“You need to explain why,” Aris snarls, his hands braced on Arthur’s cluttered desk, “why the fuck you had a hellhound hidden in the archives!”
Arthur stares at him over the rims of his half-moon spectacles, so thick his eyes are at least ten times their actual size, totally unperturbed. “I don’t remember putting it there.”
“Well, it was there. It nearly took my hand off. Does my grandfather know about this?”
“I doubt it. He won’t go down there. She’s the only person who’s been brave enough to venture down that far.” He points at me, seemingly impressed. I blush. I can’t help it.
Aris, meanwhile, is scowling at both me and Arthur. He has smears of blood on his cheeks and his eyes are still wild and wolflike. He shakes his head, hissing a curse, and points at Arthur. “Enough. Close it off to everyone. Is there anything else down there I should know about?”
“Hopefully not, but in my defense, I haven’t been down there in a century or two.”
My brows arch against my will. Aris slowly straightens, fuming. He grips my upper arm, nostrils flaring, glaring at Arthur before turning on his heel and marching us out.
“Are you okay?” I meekly ask. He’s not. I’m having a hard time myself after what I witnessed less than twenty minutes ago. Aris, shifting between his wolf form and a shadow of the darkest black fighting against a creature I’ve only ever read about. He tore it apart, limb by limb, until the creature croaked and literally disintegrated into ash.
I don’t think my heart beat a single time during the entire three minute ordeal.
His jaw clenches, and he makes a small noise in his throat, nodding tightly, his eyes on the snowy landscape ahead of us while he tromps through thick snow. It’s still snowing, and even for midmorning, it’s dark, the mountains cloaked in clouds and sheets upon sheets of pure white. Snowflakes stick to my cheeks and eyelashes, and his too, softening the furious expression etching shadows across the plains of his face.
“Aris?”
“You were down there by yourself with that thing.”
I stop walking. He stops, too, but doesn’t face me. His hands are clenched into fists.
“Aris, it didn’t–it never bothered me. We were at least three floors below where I normally set up my study station.”
“You have no way to protect yourself. I told you this summer–” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Don’t ever go back there. Not without me!”
“I’m fine. I was fine!”
“Do you realize how close you came to dying today? If I hadn’t been there–”
“You don’t need to worry about me–”
“I love you.”
I startle. The world around us fades until it’s just me and him and the pearly white snow all around us. Aris is looking at me so intensely I feel him in my soul, rewiring my brain chemistry.
“I love you, Posey, for fuck’s sake, I’m in love with you, and the idea of you being hurt–being killed by a fucking hellhound in my fucking territory…” He looks down at his boots, closing his eyes.
“Aris, I–” I reach for him. I just need to touch him. I’m on the verge of tears when he holds up a hand to stop me.
“Go home.”
“Please–”
“Go home. I have shit to handle.” He disappears, his silver-flaked power riling the snow. It falls in heaps at my feet, his body replaced by mist, then… nothing.
My cheeks are wet with tears when I press my chilled fingers to my skin, sniffling. An icy pain radiates through my chest. I look up and see a slightly familiar woman standing in the snow, staring at me.
She ducks her head and hurries into the storm, her body disappearing against the heavy snow.
I don’t go back to the castle right away. I wander, letting my mind go blank. A group of kids in heavy snowsuits pass me on a makeshift sled made of cardboard, their father, or perhaps an older brother of shifting age, in his wolf form pulling the sled as fast as he can to the delight of the little boys screaming in glee. Every shop is lit up with Solstice lights that glimmer like gems against the wintery backdrop. I can’t remember the last time it snowed like this in Veiled Valley. It’s normally so warm, eternally tropical. This is a treat for everyone.
In another life, I imagine Aris and me shopping for gifts for his enormous family. I’d find something silly and girly for Willow, who loves the aetherial fashion of Veiled Valley, and we’d sit on a bench, happy, our fingers entwined.
It’s a stupid, useless dream that carries me back to the castle.
I close my eyes the second the heavy doors close behind me, blocking the view of the foyer. My breath comes in a shallow rasp while my numb fingers stumble over my cloak clasp. Ice clings to my lashes. I open my eyes, wondering why my vision is so hazy and pink, but then I’m knocked sideways by a force so strong I barely have time to feel the floor biting into my shoulder when I land hard.
“You conniving little bitch!” Morgan roars.
My cheek prickles with a searing heat, throbbing and puffy. I reach up with a gasp and touch my skin where a swollen imprint of her fist is now engraved in my face. My fingers are wet and crimson when I draw them back.
“You!” she screams, her dark hair falling like a curtain over her face, hiding her wild, furious eyes from view. She grabs a handful of my hair and pulls until I screech in pain. “You little slut! Aris is my fiance! I’m going to be Luna of Veiled Valley, and you’re not getting in my way!” She yanks my hair so hard I feel a chunk leave my scalp. “I didn’t come to this disgusting castle for nothing!”
“He knows about you and your guard,” I grit out, grabbing her wrist, her jingling bracelets slipping under my palm. Gold. Plated gold with something underneath. I just need to find its resonance–I scream in pain when she kicks my thigh with her pointed-toe heel, but then she’s crying out, letting me go, and stumbling backward holding her wrist.
Burnt skin spices the air.
“What did you do!” she shouts, sniffling. “What did you fucking do!”
A whoosh rips through the foyer. The lights flicker out, and a groan sounds, gusting through every now pitch black hallway.
“What the fuck was that?” Morgan bellows, panting. She looks up at the chandelier, which rattles violently, and her glossy brown eyes meet mine in horror. “STOP! What are you doing! Witch!” She sprints toward me, her pink satin robe flaring out around her like wings, but then she’s knocked on her ass and dragged by her hair by an unseen force, and her screams of terror and rage fade after a few seconds, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut somewhere in the recesses of the castle.
“Thank you,” I croak, wincing. I bring my shaking fingers to my face. The female spirit’s presence envelopes me in a warm, worried embrace, and after a few moments of encouragement, I rise and hobble into the dining room, then through the door leading downstairs, to the kitchen.
I drop like a dead weight in front of the stove. The fawn bounces toward me, jumping on and off my thighs, her little hooves pinching my skin but I barely feel it. Blood rushes to my face and fingers while I stare aimlessly at the cabinets. My brain refuses to function from the shock of my homecoming, and honestly, I’m thankful for it.
Heavy boot tread echoes, then stops. I don’t look in Aris’s direction when he rounds the kitchen island and crouches next to me.
“Am I bald?” I ask weakly, closing my eyes when I feel his touch on my chin, his thumb grazing what I think are three deep claw marks across my cheek.
He doesn’t say a word and leaves as quickly as he came.
The next morning, I watch Morgan, her guard and likely future baby daddy, and her trio of covert spies–also known as maids–hustle out into the snowstorm dragging her luggage behind her. She doesn’t look back at the castle. Not once.