Page 34 of Enthralled

Anj steps forward, interrupting whatever she meant to say. Lir turns to him, a smile breaking across her face. She speaks swiftly in troldish, and he responds, his tone solemn. Am I mistaken in thinking there’s a certain attentiveness to the way he listens to Lir? As though every word she says is a drop of pure gold. I remember all too vividly when Anj confronted us in the streets of the lower city; when Lir threw herself at him in my defense and tossed him into a lava pit. It would seem things have changed somewhat between them since I’ve been away.

“We are glad you have joined our ranks, Miss Darlington,” Anj says, addressing me again at last. He speaks the common Eledrian tongue very smoothly and eloquently, and the sounds transform in my ear, heard as though spoken in my own language. “It is you we must thank for the harmony which now exists between the city and the palace. Because of you, we were better prepared for the terrors we have faced. Now that you’re here, you can join the other librarians and bind these nightmares again.”

“Other librarians?” I turn to Lir. “What others? Who is here?”

“Both Mixael and Andreas escaped the palace during the outbreak,” Lir says. “They are within the temple, working on rebinding broken spells. Neither of them has stopped since we came here. That was three days ago.”

“How many Noswraiths broke out?” I ask. “Do we have a tally?”

Lir shakes her head. “No one knows for sure. Many. Too many. And we suspect more every day.”

Anj speaks to Lir again in troldish. She acknowledges him then turns to me. “Come,” she says, taking my hand. “The low priestess has asked to see you the minute you arrive. We must go to her now.”

I nod. Though my legs are numb from all the running around I’ve been doing, and my body positively shakes with the need for food, drink, and rest, I push all these things aside. I did not risk everything to get back here only to be a liability to those I came to save. These people need me. I owe it to them to give whatever I have left to offer.

I turn to follow Lir into the temple entrance when Calx’s deep voice calls from behind.“Mar?”I turn to face him, opening my mouth to answer, but he continues speaking in troldish. His gaze is fixed not on me but on Lir.

Lir’s face goes stern. She answers Calx sharply, and he seems to persist. Lir interrupts him, holding up one hand, but chews her lower lip with concern. Finally she turns to me. “He’s worried. About his brother. All three of the boys volunteered to go up to the temple with thegubdagoglirswhen the low priestess said you were there. Har returned not long ago, but Dig hasn’t yet.”

“I’ll go find him,” Calx insists, his rock brow deepening over his eyes.

Lir takes hold of his big arm, squeezing. Though she’s slight compared to his massive bulk, she has true troll strength and she’s not afraid to use it. “You will stay. There is plenty of time for Dig to return. Patience, myborug.” She pats his cheek. “Go find somexurlstones to chew. You look famished.”

Calx shrugs and huffs a deep breath but turns to me and offers a half-grin. “Glad you’re home,kurs Mar.” With those words, he stumps away, disappearing among the refugee fires and stone folk deep injor.

I turn to Lir. “He called youmar.”

Her eyelids drop for a moment, long lashes veiling her gaze. “They were devastated,” she says softly. “When the gates were broken, and you were on the far side. Vespre was cut loose on the Hinter Sea, and the children believed they would never see you again. I . . . I never thought I would do it, but . . . I remembered all you had risked, how hard you fought against the Prince and the powers of the low city to give them a home, to provide for them. I knew I couldn’t let you down. Or them either.” She lifts her face then, meeting my gaze steadily, though tears swim in her eyes. “I told them that I was theirmarnow. Until your return.”

I stand there, my knees locked even as dizziness tries to overwhelm me. It’s too much. The children don’t know the truth. They don’t know that I abandoned them, left them long before the gates were destroyed. Part of me is glad they’ve been spared the pain of that knowledge . . . but I don’t deserve it. I deserve their anger, their disappointment, their disgust.

And Lir. She’s been their mother now for seven turns of the cycle, while I was their mother for a few mere months. Their love for me may have endured, but their need for me is long gone. I missed those important years. I missed everything.

All because I wouldn’t let Oscar go.

My body begins to shake. I fear I’m going to fall to pieces. What was it Anj had called me?The savior of Vespre.They think I’m some sort of heroine—a bringer of peace and union, a champion of the small and helpless. They don’t know the truth. They don’t know what I really am. I want to cave into myself, to collapse and be crushed under the weight of this guilt and remorse. But to do so won’t help these people. Perhaps I’m not the heroine they believe me to be. But I owe it to them to at least try.

Lir’s eyes brim with concern. “Mistress?” she says, squeezing my hand. “Mistress, what can I do?”

I cannot spill these thoughts and feelings on Lir. Not now. Much as I want to confess my sins, Vespre is hanging by a thread. There will come a time when I must honestly communicate what I’ve done. But not yet. Not now.

Instead I look up at Lir. Suddenly the question I’ve been longing to ask bursts from my lips: “The Prince? Is he here?”

Her mouth parts in a silent, “Oh.” Then she presses her lips in a firm line and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Mistress. He was also on the far side of the gate when it broke. We have not seen him these seven years. We all hoped you were together.”

Tears sting my eyes. I sniff and drop my head, then shake it. “No. We parted and . . . and . . .” I don’t know how to continue. I can’t begin to explain all that has happened. My hand moves unconsciously to my abdomen, and I wish again that I could feel the life inside, could feel that connection to Castien. I just feel alone.

As though reading my mind, Lir places her arm around my shoulders and draws me closer. “Don’t worry, Mistress,” she says gently. “You’re with us now. We will help you. We will help each other. And somehow we will find our way through this.”

Her gaze is so clear, so confident. She certainly has changed these last seven years. Gone is the timid, uncertain maid. This woman is a leader, a mother, a fighter. A woman who can be leaned on in times of trouble. A woman I can only aspire to be like in days to come.

“Thank you, Lir,” I say and straighten my shoulders, tossing a lock of hair out of my face. “All right. I’m ready. Take me to the low priestess.”

Umog Grush sits on her throne in the middle of a vast cavern. The throne itself is like an island in the center of a lake of darkness. I don’t know how deep that darkness goes, but judging by the echoes in this chamber, I would guess many fathoms.

I cross the rickety rope bridge slowly, feeling my way mostly blind. The only light in this whole huge space is a tiny glimmer from the stone on the end of the low priestess’s staff. It glimmers off flecks of mica in her hide, offering some faint definition to her boulder-like shape. I know she’s watching my approach. But she does not call out a greeting.

Gubdagogshang suspended from stalactites overhead. The last time I came this way, they contained a single captured Noswraith. Now many nightmares writhe in the tangled threads, moaning, snarling, hissing. Some lie still, and they are the most terrifying, biding their time, awaiting the right opportunity. But the magic generated by thegubdagogsis tremendous, evidence of the low priestess’s power and skill. Is she strong enough to bind one of the Greater Noswraiths? I hope I never have opportunity to find out.

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