Wicked is the Curse.

20 | Crown of the World

Chapter 20 | The Crown of the World.

They returned to the place where the Cú Sidhe had first attacked, where bloodstains and broken branches marked the fight.  The road had rippled and there were dark streaks in the ground, marking the stretching veins of rot that had exploded from Aire in her panic. Now, it felt like the rot had vanished, leaving only a stain in the ground.

Anluan was wrapped tight in a blanket, still sitting high in the branches. Dried blood streaked his face and crusted his hair to his head but when he saw Aire appearing on the path below him, a wide smile broke out.

"Aire!"

Brice peaked down, relief melting her worry. "Oh, Aire! You're unharmed."

Aire swallowed down the pain inside her chest at the sight of Anluan, alive and well. She didn't want to care about any of them, but she could never help herself.  Siseal was a whisper at her side, choosing to walk beside her. Sometimes he forgot himself, walking so close that his shoulder brushed against her arm.  She recognised the need for familiarity and the need for protection.

Somehow, they had managed to survive all these years as Wielders but Aire recognised the yearning that burned so keenly on their faces. It made her heart ache, because it reminded her of herself. Another Cearnain Wielder, longing for protection and familiarity.  She had found it for herself in Aevran Goldryn; with his sharp smile and sly eyes. A boy who had protected her and she him.

But she had relied too heavily on him. She had a year with the boys – she would make sure that they would be able to protect themselves, learn who rely on before she returned to Irial.

A nasty voice crept into her mind, "How can you teach them something you never learned?"

Aire gritted her jaw, her attention returning as Brice scolded Anluan sharply. He was clambering down the tree, a little unsteady on his feet as he landed.

"You didn't die then brother?" Anluan goaded.

"I could say the same about you!" Siseal jabbed back.

Anluan stuck his tongue out, but whatever mirth was blooming on his face quickly died as he beheld what walked out of the forest behind them.  The Bloodbound's gaze swept across the mess created by the Cú Sidhe and Aire. His expression was unchanging.

"Why is he here?"  Anluan's voice pitched. "Aire?"

"He is our prisoner." Aire placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, glancing over to the Bloodbound. As soon as she looked at him, his attention flicked towards her.

"He is not afraid." Anluan glanced up at her, his voice dipping.

"How do you know?"

"His heartbeat," Anluan touched his ear. "It is steady and slow."

"I would assume a creature like that is used to controlling his emotions."  Aire whispered back. "I would not worry."

Unconvinced, Anluan just stared at the Bloodbound for a long moment. Only when the Bloodbound turned a low-lidded, placid look his way, did the boy jerk and turn away.

Nyeth had no such inhibitions. She watched him unflinchingly, her jaw set. Aire wondered if she was taking joy in the sight of him shackled.

The Aether broke into a circle of low murmuring. Zehla did not look happy, and Aire looked to the Bloodbound often, hoping to catch a smidgen of discomfort.  None. The most emotion she had seen from him remained to be that moment he beheld the flowers at her feet, the fire casting vicious light against his shocked face.