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All of this was said so quickly and with so much innocent enthusiasm that I barely caught it all, and I laughed. “Slow down, tiny king,” I said, the nickname earning a grimace from my brother and an indignant hoot from his bonded strix, Artemis, who was looking down at me disdainfully from a branch. “I was in Oneiros. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Carnon said, beaming at me as if he had not a single concern in the world. I hoped he would still smile so easily as king one day, and not be crushed by the weight of responsibility that would fall to him. “Want to see me shoot?”
“Not right now, Carnon,” I said, tousling his hair in a way I knew he hated and grinning down at him when he scowled. “I have to bathe and change, and Herne has me on pot scrubbing duty all night ” I sighed, and Carnon mirrored the sound and movement so perfectly that I laughed again.
“But you’ll be down at midnight, right?” he asked, looking up at me hopefully. “I can’twaitto see what your powers are!”
“Yes, of course,” I said, giving him a gentle smile. “Go play, okay? Please don’t fall and break your neck!” I added as he ran off, sliding down a rope ladder as if there weren’t any rungs at all and making me wince at the speed of his descent. The gods clearly made little boys to test the mettle of their caregivers. I wasn’t sure I’d survive Carnon’s childhood with the number of scares he gave me.
Carnon’s room and mine shared an elevated platform, lofted in the trees of the forest and connected to the rest of the city by a series of rope bridges and ladders. Our rooms were joined by a shared sitting room where we sometimes took meals or Carnon had lessons, and each bedroom was appointed with its own bathing room.
Most citizens ate at least dinner communally in one of several dining halls spread throughout the trees, but tonight’s feast would be by the great bonfire in the center of the city, located on the forest floor. Burning a huge fire on a series of elevated wooden platforms would be madness, to say the least.
Every citizen celebrated their twenty-fifth birthday this way, and the city was small enough that it was usually only one every few months at most. Our powers were blessings from the Horned God and his consort, the Triple Goddess, and as such, it was only right that they emerge with nature as their witness the moment we reached the age of maturity.
Part of the reason I had run off to Oneiros was to try and avoid my celebration. I didn’t love being the center of attention, and I definitely got enough of it as the sister to the future king. For once, I had just wanted to do something on my own terms, rather than have them dictated to me.
But Herne was right. Emerging powers could be disastrous, especially if they involved shapeshifting or flight or something else that was difficult to control at first. I had accepted this in time to turn around and get back to the safety of the Sacred City, where I knew Herne would be looking out for me.
Ugh. Herne. I entered my room, warmly but minimally appointed in shades of the forest, and stripped off my soiled leathers. Herne had never looked at me as anything more than a friend, or a rather annoying charge, or the elder sister of the future king, and it would be a miracle if he ever saw me asmore.
Except for that one heated moment on the forest floor. I gave myself a little mental shake, running a bath so I could wash away the grime of three days of illicit travel to and from Oneiros, the capital city of the Darklands and the Demon King’s seat of power.
I hadn’t totally lied about wanting to see Beltane decorations in Oneiros. There were no maypoles in the Sacred City for the celebration, with Herne deeming the trees an adequate and much more fitting substitute. The way the citizens of that more modern city decorated their homes and streets with flowers was something I had missed since my childhood in Asterra.
While much smaller than Oneiros, Asterra had been far more similar in style and custom than the Sacred City was. It was an adjustment, moving here and having to learn to live more communally and use rope ladders. The first two weeks my thighs and shoulders had burned constantly with all the climbing up and down the trees.
But my real reason was trying to avoid my birthday, and Herne, and Herneonmy birthday. I’d finally be a fully grown female, and I knew it would break my heart a little if he still treated me like a nuisance, just as he always did.
I finished bathing and trudged to the closest dining hall. Herne had put me on dish duty for multiple nights for my “little stunt,” and my argument that I’d be twenty-five in less than twelve hours hadn’t changed his mind.
“I am still the Lord of this Court, and justice is mine to mete out,” he had growled, shaking me down from his back and transforming back into a hulking male. “As long as you live inmyCourt, you are bound tomyrules, like everyone else who lives here.”
I had momentarily thought about suggesting Ileavehis court, just to see how angry it would make him, but we both knew it would be an empty threat. As long as Carnon was here, I would be here. I was the only family he had left, and the closest thing he had to a mother now. I wouldn’t abandon him, no matter how much I chafed against Herne’s rules and over-protectiveness and lack of interest in me for anythingmore.
I grimaced, remembering Yule this past year when I had drunkenly decided to kiss him and let him know I was interested. There was always too much alcohol and not enough sense to go around at Yule, and he’d looked so handsome, roaring with laughter at something another male had said, the firelight from the great bonfire lighting his face in golds and tans, that I had abandoned all sense and made my move.
I’d been wise enough at least to draw him away from the crowd first, telling him I wanted to give him his gift in private at the edge of the wood and dragging him along behind me, my heart thundering as I worked up the nerve to pounce.
Pouncing is exactly what I did, practically leaping onto him as I turned to face him and pressing my lips to his. For one glorious, suspended moment, he had held me to him, too shocked or possibly too drunk to realize what I was doing and remove me. I thought I had felt him kiss me back, just for a moment, before his head caught up to him and he’d set me on the ground, a good arm’s length away.
“What the hell are you doing?” he’d growled, the shock morphing to disbelief and, heartbreakingly for me, fury. “You can’t just jump a male and kiss him when you’re drunk, Cerridwen.”
“I’m not drunk,” I’d slurred angrily. I was totally drunk. But I was also full of conviction. “Is it really so shocking that I’d want to kiss you?”
“Yes,” he balked. “I’m nearly four times your age.”
“I’m not a child,” I argued, smiling coyly to hide the sting of rejection.
“Barely,” Herne replied, eyes still flashing with anger. “I’m not doing this with you, Cerridwen. You’re too young.”
The heartbreak had paused for a moment, his reasoning sinking in. “So…” I said, trying to get my sluggish drunken mind to catch up to my mouth. “So it’snotbecause you don’t want me?”
Herne hadn’t replied, roaring and storming back to the bonfire muttering about Yule and alcohol and cursing the Horned God. I’d ended the night in the place he’d left me, trying to pull myself back together, and nursing a raging hangover the next morning.
Herne had pretended it hadn’t happened, treating me no differently in the days and weeks that followed. I often wondered if he didn’t remember, too far gone in the Yule celebrations to separate fact from fantasy, or if he was just very good at pretending.
I rolled up my sleeves, sighing over the dirty dishes that I would be cleaning for the next week.
