The Secret World of Briar Rose(49)
Yet something new plagued me that night: suspicion. How did Oleander know I was to die? Do the Fae have such natural inclinations, given their immortality, or did he possess other secrets? It made little sense why I would meet death so soon. My body is sturdy as a mountain, never shaken by wind or word. The heads of wild beasts hang upon my mantel from my years of conquests. And my mind, sharper than any blades my soldiers possess, recalled weeks of his insistence to prepare my food, his overeagerness to pour liquids into my goblet, his attentive devotion that he claimed to be concern.
It came as no surprise when he completed the magic circle and lunged to set the bed ablaze. Quick-witted as I am, I kept a dagger under my pillow and expertly blocked his attack. His strikes were clumsy and desperate, no match for my sidesteps and precise swipe of my weapon. Flames spread across my chambers and caught onto my robe. Oleander wasn’t above unscrupulous tactics and used the frenzy to knock me to the ground. I pulled him down with me, our blood mixed with dust and fire amidst combat.
Then the carpet gaped open with a blinding light, and as our blood swirled mid-air, the unthinkable happened.
We fell out of existence and into the Otherworld.
Amelia’s pulse hummed as she thought about her golden blood, the same that spilled on the magic circle long ago and created a new world. The anticipation buzzed in her veins. As if on call, the raven finally appeared.
The large bird cut through the moon like an inky trail. His claws landed atop the undergrowth, crackling the coppice. He was much larger than she remembered, a big, sooty bird with a thick neck and a knife of a beak. His red eyes were stark in the night, and they narrowed on the grapes she’d laid out for him. He made a two-footed hop before his claw caught on the string. The arrow shot forward and cast a wide net over his body, capturing the bird and pinning the trap to the ground.
It was exactly as planned. She’d made sure the arrow would never hit him.
Trapped inside the net, the bird scrambled across the twigs and croaked so violently Amelia could have sworn they were expletives if she could understand his language. She rushed over to the net and held the bird down with careful hands, not wanting her fingers to be pecked to bloody pulps.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered frantically. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I promise.”
He shook in her grasp before spitting out a grape. The fruit rolled pathetically over the soil. He might have glared at her, if ravens could make such expressions. She stared into the red pupils of his eyes. They were just as The Book of Samael had described in later passages of the Otherworld. Ravens were supposed to have eyes as black as soot, but this creature possessed pupils that glinted like fresh blood, a sign that they came from a different realm.
“I’m looking for Malicine,” Amelia said. “Will you take me to them?”
With her free hand, she held a grape to his beak as a peace offering. He spat it out again. She frowned. “Why did you try to eat it if you don’t like it?”
“Because he thought you left behind an eyeball.”
Amelia jerked back. A silhouette towered over her, blacker than night, with horns that stretched like the tall, shadowed pines surrounding them. A flick of a wrist emitted a flame from the demon’s palm, a torch that illuminated Malicine’s face. Shadows danced on their grave expression, green skin and cheekbones sharp like daggers. The dark slits of their eyes narrowed.
“You’ve been looking for me for weeks. Are humans incapable of tiring themselves, or does your naivete fuel you?”
Amelia swallowed hard. She thought back to the past nights, her clumsy figure skulking in shadows, haphazardly putting together traps and flimsy arrows. All this time, Malicine had been watching her from the corners of the woods, letting her fumble in the darkness. But if she had worn off the demon’s patience for them to finally emerge, she would take advantage of this.
“My name is Amelia,” she said. “I am the girl you cursed almost eighteen years ago.”
“Your time isn’t up yet, unless you’d like me to quicken it and have you die today.”
It was a threat, but dying was never a fear for her. Even as the wind shook the branches to warn of danger, she stood her ground and let the leaves scatter. “No. I want something better than death.”
Malicine raised a brow. “You are a strange human.”
Amelia revealed the tome hidden in her cloak. Her shaky hands untied the string to release the pages, letting them flap like the wings of a pale butterfly.
“I found a book left behind by my ancestor. The people of Gyldan believe he died, but he says he escaped death by traveling to the Otherworld—”
“Your family lore does not entertain me,” Malicine interrupted. They waved toward the net that covered the raven. Sharp nails sliced open the trap, setting the bird free. “Now leave before I let Talon feed on your eyeballs after all.”
Amelia stepped forward and jutted the open book to Malicine’s face. “It’s true, isn’t it? That there’s an Otherworld beyond physical boundaries. A place we can visit through magic.”
“There have been stories, but no proof. Even if another world with demons existed, the portals that bring you there no longer exist. I have searched for years.”
“That’s because you’re not supposed to find them. Portals don’t exist until the traveler creates one with magic, and they close as quickly as they open. That’s how King Samael discovered the Otherworld.”