Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2) (53 page)

“Yes.” She turned her gaze toward Finn, who didn’t seem even half as put-out by her disappearance as Bren. “He told me why I continue to fail at this task and what needs to be done in order to prevent that from happening.”

Withdrawing her stare from Finn, she reached across the table and began layering food onto her plate, far more food than she would probably ever eat, but clarity made her hungry. It was as though all that time she’d refused to eat over the last few weeks, all those meals she’d been unable to stomach, finally caught up with her and she was starving.

“It was nothing we don’t already know,” she shrugged and dug her fork into a fluffy pile of bright, yellow eggs. Lifting it to her lips, it hovered just beyond reach as she added, “We all have to stay alive. What needs to be done can’t be done alone.”

“All of us?” Brendolowyn’s brow furrowed.

“All of us,” she nodded. The seer hadn’t said that, and maybe it wasn’t entirely true, but she didn’t care. She wanted both of them on her side, with her until the end, and the only way that was going to happen was if she kept them both alive. She honestly had no idea how she was supposed to do that, but she was damn sure going to try.

“We already knew that much,” Finn pointed out, filling his plate. “It was the point of our whole pact last night, remember?”

“Did he say anything else?” the half-elf asked as he fell back into his seat. He leaned almost casually against the back of it, bringing one leg over to cross atop the other and perching his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“Not really. Only that they are packing us provisions and we are welcome to take rest here on our return journey.”

“Too bad they don’t have a magic portal that will whisk us back to Dunvarak when this is over,” Finn lamented.

“Who knows,” she shrugged. “Maybe they do.”

They both looked toward Brendolowyn for confirmation, but the mage was distracted and hadn’t been paying attention. While Finn went on making jokes, eliciting a few rare laughs from her that encouraged him to go on kidding around, she found herself occasionally glancing toward Bren, watching him push the food around on his plate. He seemed, at times, to eat less than she did, and she couldn’t remember a single instance in which he’d actually slept.

He excused himself shortly thereafter, leaving her and Finn alone at the table. Her companion waited until the mage was gone before he leaned across the table and asked, “So, what did the seer really say?”

“I’ve already told you what he said,” she shrugged. “Nothing secret for me to confide in you that I couldn’t tell Bren.”

He regarded her suspiciously, drawing back in the chair and squaring his shoulders. Cocking his head to look at her, a rogue slip of black hair fell in across his cheek and she found herself almost overwhelmed by the urge to reach out and tuck it away. “So we all have to stay alive?”

“No matter what.”

“I hope we can do it this time,” he sighed, a heaviness furrowing his brow she’d seen more and more often of late. She found herself picking up on the resemblance between him and his brother when he grew worried in that way. “I gotta tell you, I’m not real keen on dying.”

“You’re not going to die, Finn.”

“No?” The barest hint of a grin drew at the corner of his mouth. “Are
you
gonna save me, Princess?”

“You better believe it.”

He chuckled, his eyes alight with intrigue just moments before he started bantering with her over who would wind up saving whom before all was said and done.

For once, she didn’t mind the argument; she took it in stride, even enjoying the playfulness of it as they sat through a casual brunch before heading up to their rooms to finishing packing their belongings so they could head out.

That one conversation with Gwendoliir changed everything, and she knew it. His explanation of the mate bond made her feel less obligated and more willing to give her heart to Finn—after all, it already belonged to him. She already belonged to him, just as he belonged to her, and to deny them what the gods intended for them both would be cruel. She could choose someone else, yes, but she didn’t want to. A part of her understood that though she might find happiness, perhaps even a little love with someone else, no one but Finn would make her feel complete.

Turning her back on her mate would be like turning her back on herself. He was a part of her, for better or worse, and he always would be—even in death. They were one soul, separated by their maker and sent into the world to search for each other. Pausing outside her door as they parted ways, she turned back over her shoulder to watch him. He glanced over, as if he felt her eyes on him, smiled at her and then disappeared. How had she not realized before just how lucky she was to have found him so easily?

She could not let him die, not under any circumstances, and not just because she needed him to help her defeat the Tid Ormen. It was coming to a point where she couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. A future without Finn was not a future she wanted to be a part of.

He turned toward his door, hand reaching to open and push it forward, but Lorelei took several steps across the hall until she arrived behind him and said, “Finn…”

Turning into her, the space between them was so slim she suddenly couldn’t tell where he began and she ended. She surged upward, put her arms around his neck and kissed him, knocking him two steps backward and into the room behind them.

“Whoa.” One tentative hand braced her shoulder, the other eagerly pressed into the small of her back, holding her body closer to his. “Whoa, what’s this?”

“I…” She ducked her head down sheepishly, the heavy lids of her eyes cast over her gaze as she focused her attention on the buckle of his belt. “I just… I love you.”

“You…” he loosened his hand from her arm and brought it up to lift her chin so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “You love me?”

“I do.”

“Since when?” he laughed. “What did the seer really say to you?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know in my heart. He just helped me see it more clearly, that’s all. I need you.”

Lowering his forehead to rest atop hers, he closed his eyes and let a slow breath escape through his nose. “You have me,” he muttered.

At her back, she heard a door open down the hall and did not need to look over shoulder to see Brendolowyn had emerged from his room. She felt his gaze on her, endured the unspoken bitterness their proximity incurred. She didn’t understand why; she only knew that was the way it had to be. She’d chosen, and no matter what happened, she would never, could never change her mind.

She loved Finn. He was a part of her in ways no one else would ever understand, and that was that.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Alanuuin awaited their descent in the foyer on the first floor of the seer’s estate. Brendolowyn stood with him, both of them silent. Lorelei was first to join them, loading food and provisions into her pack while they waited for Finn to come down.

“My master offers his personal carriage to see you to the other side of the city,” he explained as the U’lfer joined them, still slinging his heavy pack over his shoulder as he hopped down the last stair and stalked across the marble-tiled floors to join them.

“What’s on the other side off the city?” Finn asked, arriving to stand beside Lorelei.

“The catacombs,” he explained. “I will lead you through them and into the glen where your horses wait. It will take several hours to navigate the catacombs, but if we make haste, you should be able to endure a few hours travel before darkfall.”

The word catacombs set her teeth on edge, and though she didn’t say as much, the child seemed to feel her claustrophobic anxiety rise to the surface. As they made their way outdoors to the carriage, she confessed the catacombs beneath the palace temple in Rivenn were a haunted place she and her sister avoided as children playing reckless games of hide and seek in areas of the palace they weren’t permitted to endeavor.

“We needed no warning about the catacombs,” she shuddered. “The smell wafting from them was enough to deter us, and Mirien swore she heard the dead moaning from the place more than once.”

“We do not keep our dead in the catacombs,” Alanuuin assured her. “They are simply a means to the outside world and there is nothing to fear there. Occasionally large spiders make their home within, but beyond that…”

“Spiders?” Finn took a step back, his eyebrows warily pressing downward as he squinted.

“Large ones, yes,” the boy nodded. “Deep within the catacombs, but our scouts travel through frequently and they do not often trouble us. They are nothing to fear.”

“I’m not… How large?”

“Some large as men.”

Brendolowyn didn’t know why, but the gulping sound of the U’lfer’s unspoken horror brought him a sense of satisfaction he could never put into words. It was nice to know there was something the reckless idiot feared, and for reasons he could not begin to comprehend, it made him seem more redeemable, less arrogant—even if only slightly.

“I’m not keen on tight spaces, and ghosts terrify me, but spiders are no issue for me,” Lorelei shrugged.

“Good, then you can fight them while I cower in the corner and cry.”

She laughed at him, but he was not amused. “Really? Spiders? Of all the things I thought you’d be afraid of…”

“I’m not ashamed.”

“There is no shame in confessing weakness,” Brendolowyn shrugged, the statement garnering a glower from Finn that only served to intensify the sense of satisfaction he felt in enjoying the other man’s vulnerability. “Nevertheless, let us away. Loathe as I am to journey forward, lingering here will do no good.”

“As you will,” the boy nodded compliance and led them outside to the waiting carriage.

She hung on the open window of the carriage as they passed through the streets, taking in every sight and wonder with amazement she made no attempts to hide. She asked endless questions, their guide answering them to the best of his ability while Brendolowyn only stared at the streets beyond and listened to the sound of her voice.

Everything intrigued her, made her seem that much more alive and filled with wonder. Her amazement touched him in ways there were no words to express, and yet he knew he should not even try to express it. He did not know what happened between her and Finn, but something definitely changed. It was for the best, he was sure, but it did not hurt any less to accept it. If anything, it made him loathe himself, his weakness stirring untold anxiety inside him he feared would be his undoing before all was said and done.

“And that is the palace of the King Under the City?” she asked. “I do wish I could have met him while we were here.”

“It is a rare thing for an outsider to gain audience with the Silver-Tongue,” the boy told her.

“I imagine it would be,” she leaned back in the carriage and glanced over at their guide. “I would still like to meet him one day. All my life I overheard the king mention that name with such grief and anger. After all the things I’ve learned these last weeks, it would be no small wonder to meet your King Under the City and draw my own conclusions.”

“I have no authority to speak on his behalf, but I feel he might be equally interested to meet with you as well.”

“Only if he thought she held some sort of sway with the king of Leithe,” Brendolowyn smirked.

The child turned narrowed, glaring eyes toward him, but he said nothing to contradict Bren’s claims. That glare was meant to chill him, the unspoken insult of his half-elven heritage a gesture that should have disturbed him, but it brought him an odd sense of comfort.

“The world above fascinates him,” Alanuuin went on as though Bren hadn’t spoken at all. “He and my master both remember a time when the world was ours, when we walked free. They are always eager to meet those who might wish to see our people returned to the sun.”

“I think everyone deserves to walk in the light,” she said, and though he respected her for saying it, he couldn’t help but feeling she was still so very naive.

“Perhaps when we return from Sorrow’s Peak, I can meet him.”

“Perhaps,” Alanuuin agreed.

Brendolowyn kept to himself that she was probably better for not having met Jonolov Silver-Tongue, but he sensed the boy could read his thoughts for his glower only continued to grow and remained focused on him as they continued through the streets.

In past visits, they allowed him to explore the city, but it never failed to astonish him just how large a place it was, how much magic was required to maintain the facade. His companions marveled at the sights, even Finn, who hadn’t made much comment one way or the other on the astonishing feat it must have been to build so vast a city below ground. The road before them stretched for miles, Lorelei remarking it rivaled even Rivenn in size, at which point Bren explained to her, “It is actually larger than Rivenn, stretching below the port itself and all the outlying villages.”

“Wow,” she astounded, shaking her head.

She didn’t have to say the words for him to understand how homesick she suddenly felt. The pride and glory of Rivenn had always been its delicate, but powerful Alvarii architecture. The carved latticework decorating doors and windows were not so different than the ones she’d grown up admiring form the castle towers.

For a long time after that the carriage was filled with a never ending stream of questions he didn’t always have answers for. Alanuuin was all too happy to entertain her curiosity.

By the time they reached the temple of Alvariin and the lyceum tower looming over Nua Duaan in such a way it almost seemed out of place, she’d exhausted herself asking questions and grew respectfully silent in the shadow of the lyceum rising like an erect phallus behind the temple. Golden flags boasting Alvariin’s symbol wavered casually in the breeze, hiding and revealing that symbol with every rippling snap.

The carriage stopped before the temple, and she marveled its glory as the boy led them inside. Through the lonely halls they barely garnered the acknowledgment of the priests and acolytes entranced by their daily meditations and prayers to the goddess Alvariin. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of the temple a chorus of voices rang out Alvariin’s praises, a haunted melody that both soothed and gave the mage chills as he followed the boy and his companions to the gated catacombs in the bowels of the temple. He could still hear the distant voices, carrying with them the illusion of grace and peace that embodied the spirits of a people who’d made the most of what they had.