Page 144 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“That’s what they call her, but she’s not—”
“She’s alive. You’re certain.Sheis the Darkland monster.”
He nodded and told Bristol how she came by the name, about her life in the Darkland Forest. Her parents were weavers of repute and sold their blankets and shawls in local hamlets. They were killed in a goblin raid when she was eleven. Her ne’er-do-well uncles moved in on the spoils, claiming her parents’ house—and her.
“But she left us to come here,” Bristol said, almost as a question.
“She had no choice. Kormick caught up with us in Bowskeep, and there was no getting away. His warriors infiltrated the town. They knew every step our family took. He knew where you were, too, a hundred miles away.” He explained that Kormick wanted her back and he was determined. She had broken her pledge to serve him, and there was a steep debt to pay. Kormick promised her if she returned with him willingly, he wouldn’tinvolve her family. “She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was more than she could bear. She refused to take a chance and fight back. She had vowed her daughters’ lives would be different from hers, so she struck a bargain with him—and I had to agree not to follow. Your mother . . . she sacrificed everything to keep us safe.”
“That was your fight the day she left.”
He nodded. “I wanted to find another way, but her mind was made up.”
Bristol remembered what Cat told her about kissing them goodbye. Her mother knew she would never be back. She had left to save them.
“And just how do you think you’re going to bring her home? Knock on Kormick’s door and ask to speak to her? You weren’t supposed to follow.”
“I have a plan.” He explained that when they first met, she told him about an abandoned cottage on the banks of the Runic River, not far from her original home. She went there to be alone, usually on market days, like that would bring her sojourn some extra kind of magic. Kormick kept a loom for her there, the only remnant of her past life, a souvenir from her home after she killed her uncles. She practiced weaving, struggling to remember the blankets her parents used to make and recreate them.
After she killed her uncles.A casual mention, like people killed their relatives every day. This was the rotten family she refused to speak about.
Bristol remembered theclick, clack, clackingof the shuttle flying back and forth through her loom, the snap of the picking stick, the creaking of pedals, like a musical instrument—that was what Bristol saw on her mother’s face as she worked, a song she was trying to remember, her head sometimes turning slightly like she had found a note, and then the feverish clacking, like she was trying to find another.
“She told me she would try to find a way back to us, but after months passed, I knew Kormick had made her forget.”
“Is she under a spell?”
He shook his head uncertainly. “Not exactly, but she might as well be. Kormick’s influence is consuming. He’s a powerful demigod. His words become the air she breathes, twisting and prodding her thoughts. He reminds her of where she came from and where she could return. He amplifies her fear and her rage, then soothes her when she bends to his will. He portrays everyone as a potential enemy, but reminds her of the power at her fingertips to make the fear and pain go away. That power is a numbing drug for her. She can control legions of demons instead of the other way around.”
Bristol remembered how Mick soothed her own fears in those days just after her father’s supposed death, the magnetism he had possessed. The timbre of his voice was almost hypnotic, and the torn things inside her seemed to mend during those encounters. She had lost perspective, and couldn’t see how he was using her, until he was gone.
“Everything’s my fault,” her father continued. “I grew complacent. Weak. Too full of myself in the mortal world, thinking I could reason with anyone. That I could charm the damn birds out of the trees. When Harper begged to stay in Bowskeep, I thought I could make that happen too. That we could stay and be safe. But it came at a cost I refused to see coming. Your mother warned me.”
He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “She has given me every true and beautiful thing in my life. I can’t turn my back on her now. She doesn’t deserve this.” His last words were choked, and he struggled to regain his composure. It was like watching him sob on the stairs after her mother left. Bristol’s stomach sank, those grieving days flooding back to her. She wished she had at least cried for her mother.
“Daddy.” She rose from the milking stool. “I’ll find her. I’ll bring her—”
His head snapped up. “No! You can’t—”
“I’m not afraid of Kormick. I’ll go to her—”
“It’s your mother you need to be afraid of. I told you, Kormick uses his power to make her forget. She may not even know you. That’s why I need to go. I got through to her the first time. I can do it again. You need to go home. Today. That’s what this—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly. “I made a promise to Danu.”
His voice turned low, bitter. “You don’t owe them anything.”
“I’m staying,” she repeated. “My decision.”
He stood, eyeing her guardedly. His lips pulled into that hard Keats line. “You mean you made a promise to Tyghan? It’s him, isn’t it? Has he taken you to his bed?”
Her stomach caved like she’d been punched. “That has nothing to do with this.”
He cursed and looked away. “Can’t you see? He did it as revenge. He’s using you to make me pay, and it’s only going to get worse.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not like that between us. He cares about me, but of course, he’s hurting. He was stabbed by his best friend. Do you have any idea what that did to him?”
“To him?Do you have any idea what it did to me? In a split second I had to choose between two people I loved. I chose your mother. And I will never regret it.”
