Despite the darkness Bosque’s eyes were bright as molten silver.
“Tell me how I can bind myself to you.” As she spoke the words, Eira thought she heard Cian’s voice.
Be careful.
But what other choice did she have? Eira knew this creature called Bosque Mar was dangerous. But if his existence on earth was tied to her, he would only do her bidding. All she was doing was opening a door of opportunity for her allies. Yes, she stood to gain from the arrangement. But if she had such power at her command, she would use it to punish evildoers. She would establish a new order. A better way of life for Conatus. A life in which they led rather than served, where none would have to accommodate the vices of men like Abbot Crichton.
Bosque stepped back. “A blood oath. And these wounds must remain—a mark on your body that symbolizes your fealty. I will not heal you.”
“I understand,” she told him, though she’d begun to tremble.
“There is another matter.” He brushed his hand along the length of his body. “This is merely a suitable shape for me to take in this world. But it is not my true self.”
Eira drew a shaky breath. “Are you a man?”
“You know I am not,” he said, holding her gaze. “The oath, if you swear it, must be made when I have taken my true form. Made to the world that is my home. Only then can you draw on its power.”
The wind screamed as Eira spoke. “Can you tell me what you are before I swear my allegiance?”
“You have no word for what I am,” he told her. He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “If you are afraid to look upon me, you may turn the other way when you speak the words. I am from another world, one that would be strange to you. I take no offense if you wish to see me only as the man I appear to be now.”
It meant a willful act of self-deception. Eira knew that. If she made the blood oath to the man who was not a man, she would remain blind. But she clung to his offer out of the fear that seeing what lay on the other side of his human mask would drive her from this path. Too much was at stake. She’d glimpsed a future that she couldn’t bear to let go.
“Thank you,” she said.
He smiled, the silver of his eyes flaring like a lightning bolt. “Kneel.”
Eira turned her back to Bosque and knelt.
“Remove your cloak and your shirt.”
With the wind tearing over the hill, Eira expected to find herself shivering as she exposed her bare skin to the elements. But instead she felt warm, as though she was cocooned by Bosque’s presence, protected from the cold.
When Bosque spoke again, she recognized his voice, but the words were clipped by a strange clicking noise.
“Have you called me here of your free will?”
“Yes,” Eira said. She gasped when something sharp, but not metal, pierced her skin.
“Do you invite me into this world, binding me to you with your blood?”
“Yes.” Tears slipped down her cheeks as a cut slowly opened from her shoulder to her lower back.
“Do you swear your fealty to me, by the blood spilled today?”
“Yes.” She dropped onto all fours as another diagonal wound sliced the length of her back.
The wind suddenly ceased its howling, leaving an eerie silence. Shaking, Eira curled over. Her back burned with pain. Rain took the place of the wind. The cool water mingled with the hot blood running down her skin.
“Rise, Eira.”
She was afraid to lift her head, but the hand that touched her shoulder was warm. Human.
Moving stiffly due to her wounds, Eira donned her shirt, tabard, and cloak. When she turned, Bosque—looking just as he had the first time she’d seen him—gazed at her with sympathetic eyes.
“I am sorry I have to leave you in pain.”
With a tight smile, she said, “It was my choice.”
His silver eyes flared again. “Yes. It was.”
“What happens now?” she asked.
“We incite your companions to action,” he told her. “It is time to reveal to them what is truly at stake. Gather your allies. When and how we move forward lies with your will. I exist only to serve you.”
Eira nodded, lifting her face so the rain washed away the last of her tears. She stared up into the dark heavens, where stars were masked by clouds.
“Eira?”
She blinked away the raindrops and looked at him. “I know what must be done.”
Hours later, while most of Tearmunn slept, Eira stole into the barracks. She climbed the stairs and crept past the cell doors until she reached the room she sought. Knocking as quietly as possible, Eira waited a few minutes before the door creaked open.
Bleary-eyed, Alistair peered at her as though he were dreaming. “Lady Eira?”
“I’m here to keep my promise, Lord Hart,” she told him.
His blue eyes sharpened, and he stepped back, ushering her into his cell. She sat in the wooden chair beside his pallet. Alistair glanced at his unmade bed and rumpled sleeping shirt.
“I can dress . . .”
“There’s no need,” Eira said, gesturing to the pallet. “Please sit.”
Alistair obeyed, and Eira smiled when the young knight sat straight and at attention as if he were wearing his Guard uniform.
“I will tell you all you wish you know,” Eira said. She lowered her voice. “But first I have a question for you, Alistair.”
He blushed when she used his Christian name. Eira took that as a good sign.
“Ask me what you please, my lady,” he murmured.
“If I could give you anything in the world,” Eira said softly, “what would you want?”
TWENTY-NINE
EMBER’S HEART JUMPED at the knock on her cell door, as it had gained a habit of doing, but her pulse slowed again as it was also wont to do when she opened the door and didn’t find Barrow.
“May I come in?” Alistair asked.
“Of course.” She stepped back so he could enter. His visits had become frequent since her recovery. Ember was surprised to find she welcomed his company—their relationship had eased back into the familiar patterns of their childhood. The light banter and teasing they shared helped alleviate the dull ache that had made its home in her chest.
“I have a surprise and a gift,” Alistair said. “Or rather, it’s a gift that’s also a surprise.”