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Afton
Afton bathed, cleansing her body of the journey, and struggling to wash the memories of Ragan ... Thorin ... into oblivion. As she scrubbed and scrubbed, she only became more irritable at the thought of Thorin, of his deception.
Too soon the water was cold, and Afton left it with a sigh. After drying herself, she dressed in a simple nightgown and sat on the edge of the bed. She combed the tangles from her wet hair, wondering how her sister was faring back at home, when a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
She grabbed her mace and opened the door to find a tray of fruit and wine in the deserted hallway. Afton snorted. If Thorin thought she would eat a mystery dinner, then he didn't know her at all.
Shutting the door on the food, Afton pulled out her own apple and jerky from her trunk. She wasn’t hungry, but she shoved down as much as she could and let time pass.
No one else came to her door. Not Javan, not Shani, not any of the guards or servants, nor Thorin. He hadn’t even slipped a letter under the door like he used to. She didn’t know how to feel about any of this.
The castle remained quiet, too quiet for her liking. Afton had expected to at least hear the pitter-patter sounds of servants passing through the hallway. Without a drop of magic at her disposal, Afton felt naked, exposed, so she clutched her mace like a lifeline.
She leaned against the headboard, watching the candle flame lick its way down the wax—only a little light remained before the room would be bathed in darkness. Afton wondered if Keelen had drunk from the vial she’d given him. The tonic had come from Willem’s collection and was one of the reasons she’d asked Silver to step outside. Afton had waited until she’d heard Midnight’s hooves stomping away, then she’d asked Aris for a vial of the tonic.
She knew Keelen had to have memories buried somewhere within himself. At first, she thought he could be lying about not remembering who he was, but then she saw him, studied how he watched Silver. A sort of protectiveness in those few moments, even if he hadn’t realized it, and that was why he would make the perfect guard for her sister. With the friendship they’d shared in their past, he could be a better guard for Silver if his memories returned. Besides, if he ended up not being trustworthy, Silver was strong enough to rip him apart. If she didn’t, Afton would. But if he hadn’t taken the tonic by the time she got back, she would just have to force the liquid down his throat.
A dull throb drummed inside her. Or she thought it had... For a brief moment, she could have sworn there was the familiarity, that stirring of magic. The grassy, smoky scent of the castle permeated the air, stronger than before.
But then the brush of what she imagined to be tiny fingers poking at her insides roused again. She pushed herself from the bed and stood. A slow hammering through her veins traveled upward, connecting to every inch of her before ceasing under her rib cage.
Her heartbeat quickened its pace, and she pressed one hand to her chest. She then grabbed her mace and patted the dagger hidden in the pocket of her nightgown. Whatever this was—this touching, stroking, squeezing—it wasn’t like the gentle hum of magic from Ketill. It was more sensual, ferocious. And as the energy swelled, it was nothing like the dark magic she’d tapped into when she’d killed her parents—it was worse. She’d traveled across Enare when she was younger, and the magic throughout the lands had always been the same as Ketill’s.
Was this what Thorin wanted her to wait for? This pit of tarnished energy?
A thrashing of wings sounded from outside. Afton rushed to the window and yanked the heavy curtains to the side. Dust swirled as Afton peered out the grime-covered glass and into the night.
Silvery moonlight illuminated a lone figure standing in the garden. Thorin. He was waiting for her, just as he said he would.
Afton narrowed her eyes and released the curtains. Why hadn’t he just asked her to meet him somewhere in the castle instead? She plucked up her mace and tugged on her boots before leaving the room.
Candles lit the empty hallway, their waxy smell filling the dusty space. A door opened, startling Afton, and she raised her mace. Her shoulders relaxed as she met Shani's gaze.
Afton pressed her finger to her lips for Shani to keep her movements quiet. She didn’t want to have to deal with Javan hearing and trying to intervene.
Shani blinked, her eyelids heavy as she mouthed, Do you feel this strange energy?
Afton pushed past Shani and entered her room, finding it still lit with two candles. It was a mirror image of the space where she was staying—the same style of bed, wooden nightstands, and one mahogany wardrobe.
She whirled around to face Shani, keeping her voice low. “I feel it. And I don’t know what it is.”
Shani bit her lip as though concentrating, then straightened, her eyes wide. I can’t draw in this magic here either, but it’s nothing like back in Ketill.
“Was it like this for you when we traveled with my parents?” Afton asked, the energy squeezing all the way down to her bones.
Placing a hand to her heart, Shani shook her head.
A dagger rested on the nightstand beside Shani’s bed. Afton grabbed it and placed it into the woman’s hands. “Keep this on you and stay here. I’m going to meet Thorin in the garden and discuss this with the bastard.” She knew exactly why he hadn’t tried to tell her about this earlier—she wouldn’t have believed him. Not until she truly felt it.
Inhaling sharply, Shani frantically waved her hands back and forth. She pointed at herself to go with Afton.
“This isn’t a request for you to remain here—it’s a command.”
Shani tightened her lips together, as if she didn’t want to listen, but she nodded.
Without another word, Afton grabbed the skirt of her nightgown and slipped out of the room. Down the halls, not a single human silhouette stood or passed. Candles, in curving bronze holders, flickered along the walls, guiding her to the front of the castle.
Gently, Afton opened the door with a low creak. A shiver raced down her spine from the chilly breeze as she ventured out into the night. Even though it wasn’t winter yet, she could already see her breath in the air.
Despite the breeze, the limbs of the trees didn’t rustle, the dead bushes didn’t shake. She squinted her eyes. Was this a trick of her mind? It wasn’t.
Afton crept behind the trees as she made her way to the garden. She wanted to catch a glimpse of Thorin, to see what he was doing, before making herself known. Peering around a wide trunk, Afton’s gaze latched onto his tall, broad frame. He stood as frozen as the trees within the dead rose garden. But then he folded his arms at his chest and stared up at the star-lit sky. He was as beautiful as he always was—his sculpted face, his plump lips, his strong jaw—and she hated herself for thinking that.
The energy matched the palpitation of her heart, swelling with a certain wrongness. An ugliness, rawness, as though a dark smoke was enveloping the entire world. It was like her heart was beating along with a cacophonous tune of music. And even though she’d never had a problem ignoring dark magic, something inside her yearned to relish this.
“What did you want, Thorin?” she hissed, stepping out from behind the tree.
His head jerked toward her. “You came.” He sighed, his face full of relief.
She ignored the rush of wanting to go to him, to fold her arms around him. “Why did you have me meet you here?”
“Please listen to me,” he rasped. “This decaying energy is because of Valgmyr. It’s why I need to unite with you. Why I lied.”
Valgmyr... Valgmyr... That old tale Silver used to worship? The one that Afton had told her repeatedly was only a story like all the other fairytales.
“Valgmyr?” she spat. “That world doesn’t exist. Barely anyone in our territory even knows the tale anymore.”
“It does.” He pursed his lips. “That’s why there are only two guards remaining here—there were five. More before. The servants are all gone. Some have been lured to Valgmyr, but most I sent away. They vowed not to say a word while I worked on the situation here. The ones you’ve met were silenced by the unrestful energy, their minds in a fog.”
“You’re lying again.”
“Did the guards speak to you when they tried to force you to come here?”
Afton thought back to before she’d torn into the guards’ flesh. They’d come in with the letter, then tried to take her. Not a word had been exchanged from them. Did it matter though?
She couldn’t let herself fall into that hole this soon, be gullible enough to trust Enare’s king. “And you? Why are you still here? Able to speak freely? Your mind clear?”
“Perhaps I’m cursed.” He paused, clenching his jaw. “Don’t you feel it, Afton? This is why I wanted you to stay the night. So you would understand why I did what I did to get you to come.”
To admit anything would be pure ignorance, especially to an enemy. “No, I don’t feel anything.” Afton narrowed her eyes at him. “You fucked me for months. You could have told me who you were.”
“You ignored every single one of my letters for the first month!” His voice rose an octave. “That’s why I came. Even then, I still had letters sent to you which you chose to ignore.”
“You came as a servant named Ragan! That isn’t the same thing.”
“I hadn’t planned on becoming a servant there. I don’t know! Things changed when I met you.”
“If your territory was in such danger, then you wasted another three months by being in Ketill.” She never would have left her own lands at risk.
“There was still time. It wasn’t as bad as it is now,” he whispered. “But to have gotten to know you was worth everything.”
She scowled. For once in her life, she couldn’t think of anything to say, couldn’t come up with a way to hurt him.
“You have to know that the guards who tried to take you, I never would have allowed that. They were desperate.”
If she hadn’t met this man before, she would have pretended as though she cared, as if she believed him. Then later she would have brought him down to his knees before burying her mace in his chest.
She took a step closer, inhaling the comforting musky scent that was all him. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, and that’s the best I can offer.”
“I’ll take whatever you wish to give.” That hopeful look on his face was the same one he’d worn when she’d met him back in Ketill. She wanted to scream at herself for being weak with him still. He was a liar... But what if he wasn’t lying about this?
“I need tea,” she finally demanded, wanting to find somewhere to sit and think.
“I’ll make you some.” Thorin’s face softened. “I know you still don’t know how.”
Afton caught herself almost smiling before ripping the expression away. It was true, though. She had never made tea in her damn life, but she’d seen Silver do it. “Perhaps I do know how.”
“Hmm. Then you can show me.” He grinned, motioning her with a finger. Even though it wasn’t a seductive movement, her body heated on its own accord, the energy thrumming harder.
The smile stayed planted on his mouth when she moved to follow him. She didn’t know if she was being a heroine, hell-bent on securing Ketill, or a fool.
Afton studied Thorin’s movements, how he carried himself. He was assured, same as he was back in her castle—the type of man she had always chosen to bring to her bed. Yet there had been something different about him, something that had made her fall in love with him. His kindness was one of the reasons. It was a trait she didn’t know she could want, need. That, paired with his humor, the way his naked body aligned with hers—it had all lured her in.
They turned into the kitchens, both coming to a stop. Black pans hung across the walls and a cutting table sat in the middle with knives atop it. Dust covered a stove that looked as if it hadn’t been used in ages.
Thorin followed her gaze to the unclean area. “I need to tidy up a bit. That’s why I brought you fruit and wine earlier instead. With only two guards left and no servants...”
So he had been by her room... A swarm of blasted butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought. Afton was falling, falling, falling into the trap again. She bit the inside of her cheek, drawing blood, to pull herself out of the hole. Picking up a tea kettle on top of the stove, she gritted her teeth. “Where’s the water, Your Highness?”
A hint of a smile played on his lips. “It’s right behind you.” He gestured to a bucket full of water.
As she poured in the liquid, her brow furrowed and water splashed everywhere.
“Hmm, I would say you still don’t know how to make tea.” He covered his mouth with a fist, seeming to fight back a laugh, and took the kettle from her. He then placed it on the stove to heat.
“How do you think I can help your situation?” Afton asked, keeping her gaze trained on him, hoping to read any lie he should mutter.
“Because you saved your own territory before,” he said softly. “Remember what you told me about you and your parents?”
She gritted her teeth and nodded. Thorin knew, like everyone, that she’d murdered her parents when she was younger. But he also knew why she had ... for Silver.
“I would have done the same.” A serious expression crossed his face. “For my sibling.”
“You don’t have any.”
His gazed focused on her. “Even though I don’t have a sister, I understand. I would have done the same. Perhaps worse.”
Afton frowned, at a loss for words. If Ketill had known exactly how she’d murdered her parents, they would have believed her to be a true monster. Thorin knew she’d tapped into dark magic, burst their hearts with her shadow. However, she couldn’t let herself be swayed by him after less than a day of finding out who he was—it would be too dangerous.
The tea kettle screeched and Afton backed away from him to pour the water into two cups. She thought about poison once more, but if Thorin had wanted to poison her, he could have easily performed the task back at his cottage. Besides, she knew enough about herbs to determine what was safe. It took her only a moment to find a basket of chamomile, sage, and mint in one of the cabinets. She stirred in the chamomile and took in the fresh aroma.
“Thanks,” he said when she handed him a steaming cup. “So, will you help me? The land is dying. You’ve seen the trees, the bushes.”
Afton blew on her tea, considering his question. Even if what he said was true, what could she do? There wasn’t a way for her to tap into any of the magic here. “No, we’re leaving in the morning.”
“I think you’ll change your mind when you hear the rest.” He held up his cup and took a long swig of the tea. A haunted look appeared within his eyes.
“And why’s that?”
“Because it’s already spreading into your territory.”
Afton froze, taking his words in. Yet she had to remember who she was talking to, not the man from her castle kitchens, but the King of Enare, who she truly didn’t know. “You’ve lied to me before, and you could be lying now.” Rising from the chair, she stepped away from him.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” He stood from his seat. “I know how much you care about Ketill, which is why I’m asking this of you. It isn’t only me who’s been deceitful, you know. You came here dressed as your sister. To what? Murder me? And I forgive you anyway.”
Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she turned away from him before she could give into the urge to do whatever he wished. “Goodnight and goodbye.”
The taunting energy continued to thrum, yelling at her that she’d made a mistake, as she hurried down the hallways and into her room. Yet she ignored it, wishing she could thrash it to pieces instead.
Removing her boots, Afton slipped into bed but didn’t shut her eyes. She would explain everything in the morning to Javan and Shani once they were in the carriage. All she could think about was Valgmyr. Nagging thoughts knocked at her. What if Thorin wasn’t lying about her territory? What if this haunting energy was spreading into Ketill? What if the King of Valgmyr was real? Because if Valgmyr did exist, for the first time in her life, Afton wouldn’t have an answer on how to undo what was being done.
