Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 30

"Whatever you wish, my lady." Arik nodded his head once, and backed out of the tent.

The camp did not break and disband at once. Emperor Arik and a few rebels left, while others remained. They took down tents that were no longer needed, and drank to excess in celebration or sorrow, and packed their belongings for their own journeys. Some would be joining Arik in the palace. Others would be going home. Quite a few had been ordered to remain in the camp as long as Sophie and Kane remained, bodyguards as dedicated to the Varden family as Juliet's half-dressed, immense soldiers were to their Queen. No one would disturb them while they waited for Kane to heal-or to die.

Hours after Arik had left, they heard a familiar voice. A female voice. Isadora left the tent quickly, searching for Juliet among the returning soldiers. The Queen, red-haired and barely dressed and surrounded by men who stood a head taller than the tallest of the others, was not difficult to spot.

Sophie told an incredible tale of being kidnapped by Ryn on her journey to Arthes. Apparently, the Anwyn had been confused by Juliet's scent on Sophie, but his confusion had not lasted long and he'd soon released her. Sophie obviously had a soft spot in her heart for the very large man-but she had not completely forgiven him.

"Where have you been?" Isadora cut around a knot of rebels to approach her sister. When she did, she had a much better view of the Anwyn party, and she came to a halt.

Juliet carried a bundle in her arms, and she was no longer pregnant. Gathering her senses, Isadora rushed to her sister. "You should not be walking around like this. Are you well? Is the baby well?"

"I am fine, and the baby is more than well. She is beyond amazing." Isadora peeled back a section of the animal skin the baby was wrapped in to reveal a perfectly beautiful face and a tuft of red hair. The baby's eyes were a striking gold, like those of her parents, and she seemed very aware for a newborn.

The Anwyn guards, who until this moment had been extremely attentive to Juliet, both watched the baby with undisguised awe. You would think they had never seen a baby before, the way they gawked. There was a stoic reverence in the way they watched the newborn.

The child reached up a small, perfectly shaped arm, and by the light of the half-moon the arm, from fingertips to elbow, transformed. Tiny fingernails turned into sharp claws, a little hand shifted until it was shaped like a paw, and red hair sprang thick and long from the hand and forearm. A moment later, like the receding of a wave, the limb became a normal baby's arm once again.

"This should not be possible," Juliet said in a lowered voice. "She should not be able to do that."

"I should think not," Isadora agreed. She glanced back toward the tent where Sophie and Kane waited, and saw Lucan standing nearby. He, too, waited, with a patience she had not thought him to possess.

"I knew Keelia would be special," Juliet continued, "but I had no idea how special." The new mother looked at Ryn with a loving censure. "You promised me I would not have to deal with unruly children who turned into wolves at the appearance of every full moon."

Ryn looked up. The big man was in awe himself. "In case you have not noticed, vidara, not only are we too far away from the mountains to be affected by the cycles of the moon, there is no full moon on this night. Our daughter is powerful in a new and unexpected way, as you said she would be."

Across the camp, Isadora caught Lucan's eye. Sophie and Juliet held miracles in their arms, just as Thayne had said they would. All that was left was for Isadora to hold her own. She knew very well that nothing in this world was impossible, that miracles happened every day. But what could compare to a Fyne son after all these years, and a baby girl who apparently had the power to shift into a wolf cub at will? Whatever her miracle might be, it needed to come quickly in order to be of any help to Kane.

Isadora shivered. If the miracle did not come soon, Sophie wasn't the only one who would lose a loved one. At any moment, Lucan might look at her and see something that repulsed him. If he walked away from her in horror, he would not come back, and she would live the rest of her life alone. Her sisters had their families, they had bright futures ahead of them, as long as the curse could be ended.

But what of her own future? She had been given a glorious second chance at love. If this failed, she did not expect there would ever be a third chance.

The baby cooed and burrowed into her mother's chest, and purred deep in her throat.

Two.

LUCAN HERN, FIRST Captain of the Circle of Bacwyr, the man destined to be Prince of Swords, had little patience. Once again Isadora was testing his, as she had done so often. She and her sisters and the new babies and a wounded Kane Varden had been huddled together in one of the few remaining tents in this camp all night. There was work to be done before he could ask her, again, to marry him. Isadora would not rest easy until she knew what had become of Empress Liane and the babies. She would not plan for her own future until she knew theirs was secure.

Sunrise approached once again, and he had not slept all night. If he had known that Isadora would be occupied with her wounded brother-in-law and her sisters through the night, he would have slept for a few hours. Instead, he had watched the tent and waited.

Myls, one of Arik's most trusted soldiers and a sour man Lucan himself did not like, had arrived hours earlier with bound and beaten prisoners in tow. Since Sebestyen was dead, most of Arik's men saw no reason to take prisoners. The sentinels who had been loyal to Sebestyen had laid down their weapons, after all. They were going home, or swearing allegiance to the new emperor.

But Myls swore these prisoners continued to present a danger. Lucan almost felt sorry for the men, whose only crime had been loyalty to their emperor. Perhaps that loyalty had been misplaced, but still... they were not criminals, and Myls had been treating them as such.

The prisoners were not his concern, however. The tasks he had immediately set before him were simple: find the empress and her children, ask Isadora to be his wife, and go home. Before he could do any of these things, she had to leave the blasted tent!

She did, finally, not long after sunrise. Like him, she had taken no time for sleep during the night, and she was obviously exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, and if it was possible she seemed to be thinner. He wanted nothing more than to carry her to a large, soft, warm bed, where he would make love to her and feed her and cherish her.

Soon.

She walked toward him, and before he could make a move to meet her, one of the prisoners gasped. "Dear lord, the dark witch. Don't let her touch me, please. Don't let the dark witch touch me. I'll do anything you want, just please... don't let her touch me."

Lucan turned his head and glanced down at the babbling prisoner. "What are you talking about, fool?"

"That one," the man whispered in an obviously frightened voice. "The dark Fyne witch, she killed a man in our company with a single touch and a few evil words. I saw it happen. Weeks later she killed another with a knife, when he caught her stealing bread from the camp. I was not there when that murder happened, but that is what I heard."

Lucan shook his head. "Your brain has been addled, soldier. Isadora Fyne is a gentle woman who would not harm any man, even if she had cause."

"You don't know her," the man rasped. "You didn't see what I saw." He shuddered. "Don't let her touch me."

"I'm sorry," Isadora said as she approached, unaware that the conversation Lucan had been carrying on concerned her. "Juliet and Sophie and I have plans to make, and I've been relaying to them what Thayne told me before he left for Tryfyn. Juliet has much to share, too, so..."

Lucan turned away from the soldier and faced the woman he planned to make his wife. She was beautiful, he knew that to be true, and yet when he looked at her in the morning light it was not beauty that he saw.

The prisoner was telling the truth. There was death and ruin in and around Isadora Fyne, and that devastation showed on her face in a way he had never before known possible. The circles beneath her eyes were large and dark, her mouth was thin and twisted, and he could see the beginning signs of decay on her once-fine body. Her hands, hands that had caressed him many times, were more like claws than the delicate hands he remembered.

"This prisoner tells me you killed two men," Lucan said. "Tell me it isn't true."

Isadora stopped, and her face went pale. Beyond pale, it was almost white as snow. No, her face was white as death. "And what if it is true?" she asked.

He knew that beneath the ugliness he now saw, the woman he loved remained. But what if the woman he loved was the lie, and this monstrosity was the real Isadora? "You made such a fuss about not killing. Was that all a lie for my benefit?"

"No," she whispered, "but I don't expect you to believe that."

"I believe the truth. I see the truth, as I was taught to see."

Her hands twisted and formed small, knotty fists. "The truth is not always as simple as you would like to believe, Lucan. It's complicated, and... and sometimes people do things they regret, but we can't go back and undo the wrongs we've done. We can only try to do better."

"I see the truth of who you are, and it is as if I've never seen you before."

"What you see is the curse, not the truth."

Lucan wanted to run, but he held his ground. "You are not the woman I believed you to be."

Anger showed on Isadora, like fire flaming to the surface. "I killed one of the men who invaded and burned my home," she shouted. Heads in the almost-deserted camp began to turn. "I killed a man who threatened to cut my throat when he caught me stealing food so I could survive. Should I have let him kill me instead of fighting back?" She took a step away from him. "I suppose I should have. It would be easier than this.

"Do you know what the worst of my crimes are?" she asked in a calming voice. "I ran." She pointed to the prisoner who sat on the ground behind Lucan. "And when I ran, soldiers like this one took their rage out on a village of innocents. I carry the pain of those deaths in my heart and always will, but do not ask me to apologize for defending myself and my home, as you or any other man would have done in my place."

Lucan blinked hard, trying to wipe away the images before him. He could not possibly love the figure of ruination that stood before him. Isadora was everything he had always feared about witches and their magic; she was exactly what Zebulyn had warned him about, all those years ago. Beware the witch.

"You want to run from me, don't you?" Isadora asked in a surprisingly gentle voice.

"Yes," he answered truthfully.

"Run then," she said as she backed away from him. "It was meant to be, and we were wrong to think that anything else could come of us." She turned, so he could no longer see the ugliness of her face. When she was halfway to the tent where her sisters waited, she said, in a lowered voice he was likely not supposed to hear, "Have a good life, love."

"HE'S NOT REALLY gone!" Sophie said, running to the tent flap to look out on what remained of the camp.

"I was not quick enough to stop the curse," Isadora said sensibly. "There's still time to save Kane, however, and that is what we must see to." There was no time to nurse her broken heart. Later, when she was alone, she would cry for what might have been if she'd been faster-or the curse had been slower.

Sophie held her son and looked out over the camp with a frown on her face. "I can't believe he would leave when we're so close. She turned to Juliet. "We are close, aren't we?"

"Yes," Juliet said in an almost confident voice. "Very close, I think. Tonight, if all goes well."

Tonight. If only Lucan had been able to withstand the curse for another day... but he hadn't, and there was no use pondering what might have been.

Sophie and the new baby in her arms returned to her wounded husband and her sisters. "What do you mean, if all goes well?"

"The wizard said we would each see an impossibility become possible, before the curse was ended. Isadora's miracle has not yet arrived. Without it, the spell we've crafted won't end the curse."

"What is her miracle?"

"I don't know."

Juliet was so powerful, but she still did not see all. No one was meant to see everything; Isadora understood that. But why hadn't she seen that Lucan would leave this morning? Maybe if she'd been prepared for the revolted expression on his face, it wouldn't have hurt as much.

Then again, perhaps nothing could ever mitigate that sort of pain.

Liane could be anywhere by now. When the curse was ended-if that was indeed possible-and Sophie and Juliet went their separate ways, Isadora would dedicate herself to finding the empress and her children and making sure they were safe. It was the least she could do, and it would give her purpose.

Right now she desperately needed purpose. She needed something meaningful and important to keep her from becoming a bitter old hag like Gadhra. It would be so easy to lock herself away from the world and live only for her magic. Like Isadora, Gadhra had touched both protection and destruction. In the end, destruction had killed her.

Lucan had gone, and her sisters had their own lives to lead, but she did not want to become such a sad figure of a woman as Gadhra had been.

Isadora wanted more, but at the moment everything in this life worth having seemed so very far away-so impossibly out of reach.

It would be nice to think that she could make her way to Tryfyn and find Lucan once the curse was ended, but it was too late. He had seen the ugliness in her, and he had been repulsed. Nothing would take that memory, that disgust, that truth away.

LUCAN KNEW HE could walk straight to the palace and demand a horse from the new emperor, if he did not find his own men still in the city. But instead of following the path in that direction, he headed south through the thick woods. He was not ready to face anyone, not even his own warriors.

He was tired, and heartsick, and confused, in part from lack of sleep. So when he ran across a sheltered cave he sat to rest for a few minutes. Perhaps here he could gather his wits and his resolve to move forward.

Isadora Fyne was a witch, and it was possible he had never been in love with her at all but had been under a spell of some sort. She'd promised not to use her magic on him, but how was he to know she'd kept that promise?

He did not deal with failure well. First he had lost the Star of Bacwyr, and then... and then he had lost what he'd believed to be love. Two failures, both momentous, and they emptied him. Heart and soul, he felt empty.

Lucan closed his eyes, only for a moment, and when he opened them, he saw the last person he expected to find before him.

"Zebulyn. But... you're dead." The old man looked much as Lucan remembered, but he seemed spryer. Happier, even.

"Yes," the old wizard answered in a gruff voice. "I am dead. Could be worse. At least I haven't ravaged my entire life in a matter of minutes."

"This is a dream." Lucan stood, and when he did, he knew he was dreaming. The cave he'd crawled into was not large enough for standing. Unlike the many meetings he remembered from his younger years, he was taller than the old wizard.

"It is a dream and not a dream," Zebulyn said with a wave of his hand. "We are meeting in the world in-between, a world where the living and the dead and the lost can come face-to-face for a while, when the powers of the universe so decree."

"Why now?" Lucan asked. How many times had he wished for the old man's advice in years past?

"Because you are in need of a swift kick in the pants, that's why!""I did not retrieve the Star," Lucan admitted."No, you did not.""I failed.""Miserably.""You came back from the dead to scold me?""Yes!" The old man banged his cane on the hard earth, and the entire cave shook.Not only had he lost the Star and what he'd believed to be love, the powers of the universe had come together to slap his hand, as if he were once again a powerless boy. "Perhaps it is possible that I might still recover the Star of Bacwyr," Lucan said.

"It is possible," Zebulyn grumbled. "Not likely, but possible."

"I searched the palace as well as I could with the time I was allowed, but now that Arik is in power, perhaps he will allow me greater access. All I need is more time-"

"The Star is no longer in the palace."

"Where is it?"

"If I told you where to find the Star, what kind of a challenge would this be?" Zebulyn shouted. And then

he calmed considerably. "We're wasting time. No one can stay for very long in the land in-between. I have only come to remind you that I taught you to see with your heart and your soul. It took years of instruction, and you were not always my best student, but you did learn. Still, there are times when you see with your untrained eyes, and you forget to tap into the power I gave you. Don't waste what you have learned."

The old wizard began to fade, and the cave began to shrink. "Wait!" Lucan shouted. "I have questions!"

Zebulyn smiled. "Of course you do." And then he disappeared.

TONIGHT THEY WOULD try, for the first-and hopefully the last-time to break the curse. Kane's

condition had not changed. Perhaps if they were successful, he would awaken and all would be well.

There was no guarantee that the curse would loose its hold on the wounded rebel, no matter what happened tonight.

Isadora did not hold out much hope for the spell or for Kane. The requirements for the breaking of the

curse were incomplete, and she felt as if she'd run out of miracles.

She was surprised when Myls called out at the tent's entrance. The boorish rebel likely would have stormed in without asking, if Ryn and Juliet's guards weren't diligently guarding their Queen and the new Princess.

The sour soldier stuck his head into the tent and spared a pa.s.sionless glance for Kane before turning his attention to Sophie. "There's a woman here, and she's asking for you. She gives her name as Mahri, and Ferghus has confirmed her ident.i.ty."

Isadora could not stop the leaping of her heart. If Mahri was all right, then maybe Liane and the babies