Page 36 of Tanglewood Magic (The Three Sisters 2)
All the intensity of the night hit her at once, and she sagged against him. “Oh, Rhys. Tavyss… the baby. It’s too much. My heart can’t bear it.”
“Come.” He led her between the pallets to one that looked clean and soft. They sank down to the deck and leaned against the white fabric bundles.
“I still can’t believe what Zelaria did. I—”
“Shh. It’s been a long, hard night, Circe. Rest. The dead will still be dead tomorrow, and the living will still be living. There will be time enough to sort it all out then.”
She nodded sleepily, leaned into his chest, and closed her eyes.
ChapterEighteen
Silver light rimmed the horizon by the time the river opened into the sea. Rhys recognized Asfolk Palace gleaming in pink marble splendor off the coast of Rogos. The cargo ship they were on had no comfortable lodging, but he and Circe had slept off and on, propped against one of the pallets the vampire was carrying on deck. Rhys wasn’t sure what was in the canvas bag he’d used as a pillow, but it put off an herbal scent when he moved his head that was thankfully not unpleasant.
He’d barely opened his eyes when Demidicus’s long, bony fingers landed on his shoulder. “The sun is rising, wizard. We must dock here for the day.” Demidicus’s fangs were out, and his face was disturbingly close. The vampire’s gaze lingered on his throat. Rhys was just happy he seemed to be ignoring Circe, who was still asleep on his chest.
“I’ve got it covered,” Rhys said, swallowing hard. “I have a friend in Rogos. I can lead them to him.”
“Good.”
“Where will you be?”
The vampire’s already wide mouth spread until it seemed to show an unnatural number of teeth. “A vampire never reveals where he sleeps, Rhys Bloodgood of Bloodgood’s Apothecary, and he always remembers where you do.”
“Understood.” Rhys watched the vampire stroll back to the helm, where his accomplice guided the boat into port and cut the engine. The two vampires dissolved into the night as if they could disappear with it, melting into shadow as the light took hold. There was no trace of them by the time the first rays from the dual suns of Ouros broke the horizon.
“Circe, wake up. We’re here.” He shook her gently by the shoulder.
She rose sleepily, and together they went in search of the others. They found Isis in a deep, restorative sleep on what looked like a stack of bolts of fabric. Once they’d collected her, they found Medea asleep in the helm. She’d been given a sleeping bag and a pillow. Rhys almost hated to wake her. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and he worried that consciousness would bring with it memories of her loss and the grief that had crushed her the night before. But she woke on her own, seeming to sense them there.
“It’s time to go, isn’t it?” Her eyes fluttered open, and her smile faded, replaced by an expression formed of determination and hardened grief.
“I’m sorry,” Rhys said. He didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t be sorry for me,” she said. “I understand now how things are.” She stood and turned her face to the rising suns. “Demidicus helped me to see it.”
Isis snorted. “The vampire helped you… emotionally?”
She nodded. “Vampires are dead. Existing but dead. Demidicus has a special relationship with the underworld and with Hades. He told me that dragons go back to the mountain when they die, to a Summerland of light and warmth where peace reigns. They go back to the goddess. He said, because I had Tavyss’s tooth, I’ll go there too. It’s part of me, merged with me. Demidicus could smell it in my blood. He told me the Fates won’t have me because I am dragon now.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t remember that place from when I was dead, but I do remember a light. So, you see, I will be with Tavyss and Phineas again someday.”
“Oh, Medea…” Isis said. An unspoken apology hung in the air between them. Rhys thought, when it came to the sisters, words couldn’t tell the story that presence and actions did. Isis was here, now, facing what she’d done. By the look on Medea’s face, she didn’t need anything more.
“I don’t regret you bringing me back, sister. I need to be alive.” Medea placed a hand on her lower belly, now disturbingly flat. “For our revenge. I must take it since they cannot. I have to believe that.”
Rhys stood by while Circe and Isis pulled their sister into a firm hug. Power pulsed in the air when they touched. He’d felt it before, but this time, it was more noticeable. When the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end and a static shock traveled through him, he could not explain it away as a natural phenomenon. He’d seen what the sisters could do. He now recognized their power.
There was witchcraft, and then there were the Three Sisters.
All of them left the ship in a deep and somber silence, the full weight of what they’d lost last night heavy on their shoulders. Hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, he thought his legs might give out by the time they reached the temple in the desert of Niven, but Rhys was confident his friend would not turn him away. He climbed the steps to the stone building and knocked three times. The door opened, and an elf in tan robes greeted them.
“I’m here to see Daluk of Niven,” he rasped.
“Rhys Bloodgood.” Daluk appeared in his scribe’s robes, his smile fading as he perused him and the three sisters. They must have been a sight, filthy and covered in blood from handling Medea’s body. Circe’s transfiguration had worn off hours ago, and Medea was back in her gown, still stained with dragon blood and the memories of those who were slain while she lay dying. Daluk took one look at her and gave the other scribe a gesture of dismissal. “Thank you, Vuklee. I will handle this.”
“We need your help. Something terrible has happened—”
Daluk raised a hand. “Come. You need rest and food, then we will talk.”
* * *
