Chained Soul by Eva Chase
20
Talia
I’ve usually enjoyed carriage rides—the rush of the landscape sweeping by, the wash of the breeze. Today, every tiny hitch of the vehicle with the shifting currents in the air sends a splinter of pain through my ribs or my gut.
It hurts more if I’m holding myself at all upright. My mates created a sort of nest for me out of pillows on the floor of the carriage, where I can sit with my back resting against the bench by the stern, totally cushioned and out of the reach of the wind. I don’t really like being down here where I can’t see much except the sky and the upper branches of any trees we pass, but I like the pain even less.
I know there are two other carriages around us even though I can’t see them. Sylas is directing one and Corwin the other. Each carries the skilled healers my arch-lords already assembled for my care as well as several warriors in case we need their protection. August and Whitt are in charge of the vehicle I’m in, which also holds Madoc and his now-typical contingent of four guards, as well as a couple of others who are scanning the landscape around us rather than the Murk man.
August has spent most of the ride sitting on the bench opposite me while Madoc and Whitt consult on our exact course. We’re heading to the area of the fringelands that contains the portal that connects to the spot closest to the Refuge and the Murk Heart. Madoc hesitated to give full directions ahead of time, even though there are dozens of other portals in the same area and no way for us to know which is the key one without him specifying.
He was probably afraid that my mates would change their mind about their current strategy and attempt an invasion instead. I’m not sure he was wrong to worry about that. The wary alertness in August’s glances around us suggest he’s prepared for a battle.
But mostly he’s focused on me. He’s set his legs to one side of me so I can lean my head against his knee, appreciating the warmth of his body. Any time I wince, he tenses. He brought a sack full of delicacies that he put together in the kitchen before we left, but I haven’t had any appetite. My stomach feels like it’s stuffed full already—with needles and jagged gravel.
“We would have done this back in Hearth-by-the-Heart, but we didn’t want to drain whatever power Madoc has left if it didn’t work there,” he says with a note of apology in his tone. “We might only get one real chance. We won’t risk bringing you right through to the human world, and there our magic might not be up to the challenge anyway. But Madoc’s component is the most important since he’s the only one who can tackle the Murk aspects of the curse. He says he should be able to draw a little on their Heart just being close to the portal.”
I nod. Most of that my mates have already explained to me in bits and pieces—or maybe more coherently, and I just haven’t been able to hold my attention well enough to realize. How much is August reminding me to reassure me and how much for himself?
“Do you really think there’s much chance it’ll work?” I can’t help asking, studying his expression. August is the most earnest of my mates; he isn’t in the habit of using subterfuge. I’ll get the most accurate sense of the odds from his reaction.
He smiles, and it looks genuine enough to lift my spirits despite my discomfort.
“I think it’s the best chance we’ve gotten,” he says. “We should have tried it earlier—if it didn’t rely so much on Madoc’s contribution… But mingling magical affinities is a longstanding if not all that common practice. There are lots of accounts of it working. We just need to get the balance right and to give him enough of a boost of energy to work through the trickier parts of his king’s magic.”
I thanked Whitt earlier for being willing to work together with our Murk ally, and now he’s taken that alliance a step farther. I don’t totally understand the magical theory of how it all works, but they’re going to combine August and the other healers’ medical magic with Madoc’s Murk-based power to try to unravel the curse. The way Whitt described it to me, they’ll be able to construct an effect kind of like the bunch of them are actually one super powerful Murk healer.
If this strategy doesn’t work, I can’t imagine what would… other than managing to destroy the Murk Heart itself. Which we’ll probably still have to do to end the other curses afflicting the Mists. But I know as well as my mates do that it’s going to be difficult fighting Orion on his own turf. I may not have enough time left for them to save me by winning that war.
My view may be too restricted for me to see much from my nest of pillows, but I can tell we’re getting close to the fringes from the rising humidity in the air, turning it hot and sticky against my skin. My head starts to burn as if the weather has provoked a fever. August murmurs a cooling spell over me that provides a little relief, and then Whitt calls him over to discuss something.
As I lean back on my cushions, gazing up at the sky that’s now streaked with clouds, Madoc picks his way across the benches to join me. He moves tentatively, as if expecting to be called back by the guards at any second. Was he waiting until August left to come over to me at all? I guess it’d make sense that he wouldn’t feel terribly welcome around my mates.
No one hollers at him, though. He stops for a moment when he reaches me, the wind licking through his pale hair and turning it even more tousled than usual, and then sinks down on the bench next to where I’m leaning. He’s careful not to sit too close, leaving enough space between us that we don’t touch.
The pensive look on his face makes me want to reach out and squeeze his hand, to reassure him that I’m happy to have his company even if the other fae are still unsure of his loyalties, but I’m afraid of the reaction that large a movement will provoke in my body. So I simply adjust my position a little so I’m angled to face him, still tucked against my pillows.
Even that small movement provokes a wince, and Madoc flinches as if he feels responsible. “It’s gotten worse again, hasn’t it?” he says, looking me over.
“I’m managing,” I say automatically.
He gives me a tight smile. “You’re good at covering it up, but I’ve had a lot of practice at keeping things hidden myself. I can recognize the signs. You don’t have to hide it with me to spare my feelings.”
A sigh tumbles out of me. “What if it’s easier for me to deal with it if I’m pretending it’s not so bad?”
“Then that’s fair enough.” Madoc pauses, his gaze lifting to the landscape around us. “Do you want to be left alone, or would talking help too?”
I’m not sure how much talking I want to do, but listening to him could be a welcome distraction. Not just from the pains of the curse, but from all the other worries hanging over us as well. I look up at the Murk man, thinking of the glimpses of his life I got in the Refuge, the pieces he’s shared with me since, all the weight I know he’s carrying.
I want to know him—know what drives the complicated but brave and devoted man I’ve slowly come to understand. But I don’t think I can handle anything too serious right now.
“Tell me about the things that’ve made you happiest in your life,” I say. “I want to hear about something good.”
Madoc blinks as if surprised by the request or maybe by the idea that anything in his life has been all that happy. But then he settles more solidly into his seat, his heavy-lidded eyes going distant with thought.
“I told you I spent most of my childhood in an orphanage,” he says. “That one was under a street that had a popular candy shop on it. Once a week, the fae running the orphanage would let us go up in the middle of the night while the shop was closed and pick one treat to eat then or save for later. I think I ended up trying just about everything that store carried, getting a little thrill out of what flavors I’d stumble on next week by week.”
The curls of my mouth twitch upward. “So that’s how you got your taste for human snacks.”
“It must be, although they had pretty different types back then. The best night, though, was when we found the shop had held some kind of party and no one had cleaned up yet. There was part of a cake left, and streamers and fancier snacks—we romped around like it was all of our birthdays at once. It felt like some higher power must care what happened to us, if it’d give us a gift like that.”
The bittersweet thread that’s crept into his voice tells me he doesn’t see the joyful night that way anymore, but it’s clearly still a fond memory. It’s hard to imagine the man next to me as an excited child, delighting in something so simple that I’d have taken for granted when I was little.
“What else?” I nudge.
He hums to himself. “The first time I drew a star chart and really saw the meaning in the patterns there—that was exciting. There was an old Murk woman who taught me a lot of the skills, and I always enjoyed going to see her. She had a voice like crisp autumn leaves. It could spark images right in your head if you listened right.”
“You’ll have to show me how it all works sometime.”
He glances at me, startled, and then smiles. “I’d like to see what you make of it. And there’s also…” He draws in a breath and hesitates.
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t go on, flicking my hand to tap his lower leg.
Madoc’s smile twists. “A lot of my happy memories aren’t things you’re likely to be happy hearing about. Meeting Orion, taking in the power of his Heart, realizing that there was a real chance the Murk could get the home we deserve. Seeing the same hope in so many others around me. Taking steps to get us closer to that goal, knowing I was helping make up for all the things so many of us have lost…” He trails off, a shadow crossing his face.
My throat tightens. “I can understand why those things made you happy. I know… I know everything you’ve done with Orion has been because of how much you care about the rest of the Murk. I like that you care so much about them and that you’ve worked so hard to make things better for them, not just yourself. It’s only the way Orion wants you to get your home back that’s a problem.”
“His way used to be how I wanted it to happen too, so maybe you’re overly generous.” Madoc lets out a rough laugh, his gaze drifting away from me again. “I just was so caught up in the dream of having all the Mists for us to roam freely through, and so angry with the fae who ran us out—”
He meets my eyes again. “The anger clouded my vision, and even when I was out there watching to see how you fared, I didn’t really see. I should have realized it wasn’t right, the way he was using you. I should have warned you sooner, not dragged you off to put you under his power even more.”
The anguish of his admission turns his voice even hoarser than usual. I rest my hand against his leg again, an ache closing around my heart. “It probably wouldn’t have made any difference. It might even have been worse that way. I don’t know if any of us would have believed how much power he’s built up if I hadn’t witnessed it myself. No one would have trusted you at all. And he could still have triggered the curse in me. It’s not like you could have saved me from that.”
“I guess not. But all the same, I’m sorry.” Madoc’s throat bobs. “I’m not sure you even should forgive me. I’ll do whatever I can to reverse the damage I helped him do to you, today and every day after.”
I don’t know what to say to answer the emotion in his words, and then a sharper pain shoots down my spine. A gasp escapes me. I pull my legs closer, hugging them, bracing myself to ride out the next onslaught of agony.
It doesn’t escalate just yet, though. I close my eyes, but I feel Madoc’s fingers brush over my hair in the lightest of caresses.
When I don’t pull away, he repeats the gesture of comfort a little less cautiously. His touch sends a pleasant quiver through my nerves that I can’t look at too closely right now. Not when another jab of pain slices through my stomach. I grit my teeth.
Then the carriage eases to a halt. Madoc stands.
August’s voice reaches me as if from much farther away. “The others are going ahead to make sure the area is safe. We’ll join them in a moment.”
He comes over to me, but Madoc doesn’t move away. I’m aware of him still standing over me as if guarding me as August crouches in front of me. “Will you need me to carry you over, Sweetness?” my mate asks with heart-breaking tenderness.
The pain has subsided a little. My thoughts have jumbled, but I know that I want to stand on my own two feet as long as I can. “I’ll be okay,” I murmur. “I might just need a little help getting out of the carriage.”
“Of course.”
While we wait to follow the others, there’s a span of time where my thoughts are blurred by another pain that’s not as sharp but digs in deeper, longer, with an insistent throbbing. I’m starting to think I won’t be able to walk after all when Whitt calls over, “There’s the signal. Let’s get over there and begin.”
The fae guards disembark around me with thumps of their boots hitting the ground. Madoc stays with me, steadying my balance with August as the two of them guide me out of the vehicle. As the Murk jumps down beside me, I sway and catch his arm to stop myself from falling—
And a harsh cry rings out up ahead where the fog is thicker between the trees. Footsteps thunder; bodies dart through the haze.
“Everyone, to me, now!” Sylas shouts from beyond my view. “We’re under attack.”
