“But that was two hundred years ago. Are you saying you’ve lived here the whole time?”
Felix gazed around thoughtfully. “I was born here in the Cynon Valley. I grew up here. But when things turned, shall we say, sour, Alistair, Loki and I uprooted ourselves.”
“You mean after the curse?”
Felix nodded.
“What about your family?” she pressed. “Did they leave the valley, too?”
He laughed sadly. “No. I’m afraid our families weren’t our families anymore.”
Bronwen waited for him to elaborate.
“I didn’t understand it at the time,” he mused, “but I see it now. As far as they were concerned, we’d died. They’d buried us. They’d mourned us for fourteen days. And when we returned, the only explanation was that we were the devil’s work. We were the living dead, and they wanted us gone.”
Bronwen’s eyes widened. “Where did you go?”
“We travelled around for a hundred years or so, then last century we decided it was time to return. That was when we settled into the castle. Of course, things had changed since our day. The world progresses so quickly, it’s ever changing. It’s only when I look back that I…” he trailed off.
“That you miss it?” Bronwen guessed.
“No. That I remember it,” he corrected. “But I wouldn’t wish to go back.”
“Why not?”
He smiled at her again, this time with a profound beauty. “Because it’s over, Snow,” he said gently.
They lapsed into another silence. Bronwen wanted to speak; she didn’t want the conversation to end there. There was so much more she wanted to know, so much she wanted to ask. But she held back, and they stayed in their silence until the high fence enclosing Ada’s cottage came into view.
“This is it,” Bronwen told Felix. She picked up her pace as they approached the back gate.
“Small,” he remarked. “No wonder you ran away.”
Bronwen opened the gate to the back garden and led Felix across the lawn. The cottage sat neatly at the bottom of the garden.
They stepped inside through the kitchen entrance.
Ada stood washing dishes at the kitchen sink, staring into space. When she caught sight of Bronwen, she let out a gasp.
“Oh!” she cried. “Thank heavens you’re safe!” Her lined face was ashen, and purple shadows hung beneath her eyes. She still wore her nightgown and shawl, as though she hadn’t moved an inch since Bronwen had left.
Bronwen hugged her tightly.
When Ada’s gaze landed on Felix, she pulled away from Bronwen. “It’s you,” she murmured, offering her frail hand to him.
“Yes,” he replied, “it is.” He reluctantly took her awaiting hand.
“You’re the one from my vision. You’re Felix Cavara,” she spoke his name proudly. “I feel as though I know you. You came to me so vividly in my dreams.”
Felix frowned. “Did I? I can assure you I didn’t intend on doing so.”
“My visions show me what I need to see.” She hesitated. “The Severan?” she asked, looking between them now. “Is it… gone?”
“No,” Felix answered. “In fact, it was never there.”
“Not there?” Ada’s silvery eyebrows knotted together. “You mean it didn’t attack?”
Felix held up his palms. “I’m afraid you were wrong.”
“No,” Ada whispered, shaking her head mournfully. “Impossible.”
Bronwen and Felix swapped a look.
“Are you sure?” Bronwen tried to reason with her. “Maybe there’s some mistake.”
“It’s still out there,” Ada muttered. “And it won’t stop until…” she let the sentence trail off. “Please,” she said, gesturing to the small kitchen table, “take a seat.”
They gathered at the round pine table; the atmosphere between them was uneasy.
Ada was the first to speak. “I’m sure you have many questions,” she said, directing the remark to Felix.
He’s not the only one with questions, thought Bronwen, with a touch of irritation.
Felix rested his elbows on the table and pressed his fingertips together. “I’d like to discuss your letter,” he said.
Ada nodded.
“If your answers meet my approval,” he went on, “then you needn’t worry about your granddaughter’s safety. I will see to it that she comes to no harm. After all, I’m sure you do not doubt my abilities, or else you wouldn’t have called upon me with this.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Ada. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am—”
Felix raised his hand. “I said if your answers meet my approval.”
“Of course. Ask me anything.”
Felix leaned back in his chair. “In the letter you mentioned Margo Bates,” he began, feigning a retch at the mention of her name. “How do you know about her?”
“The same way I know about you. She was shown to me in a vision.”
Felix gave her a patronising smile. “The same visions that told you this Severan would attack last night?”
Ada held his gaze. “I believe if Bronwen had not left the cottage when she did, then the Severan would have indeed attacked last night.”
“Right, well, we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one,” said Felix. “In the letter, you also mentioned my curse. Tell me, Ada, what is my curse?” He used his hand to guard Bronwen’s mouth. “No cheating,” he said with a flicker of a smile.
“Eternal life,” Ada answered cooperatively.
Felix lowered his hand. “Very good. Two points. And the cure is?”
Ada threaded her fingers together on the tabletop. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you until I am quite sure that Bronwen will be safe. That will be your payment.”
“Ah, well,” said Felix, grinning devilishly. “It was worth a try. So how can I be sure this cure of yours is legitimate? I’ve searched for hundreds of years and found nothing. How is it possible that you would simply stumble upon it in a dream?” he scoffed.
“Sometimes visions are the key to unlocking the most coveted of secrets. And they are always given to me for a reason. I believe this particular reason was to save my granddaughter’s life.”
“Why should I trust you?” he challenged. “What if there is no cure? What if this is merely the reckless act of a desperate woman?”
“All I can give you is my word.”
“Then, in return, I shall give you mine. I vow to protect Bronwen. However,” he went on, staring deeply into Ada’s eyes, “I will not be played for a fool. If you do not produce the cure, then I will take both of your lives instead. Those are my terms. Decide now if you wish to accept.”
“You can’t threaten us like that!” Bronwen exclaimed.
But Ada offered her hand to Felix, sealing the deal.
“Then it is settled,” Felix declared. “Come hell or high water, when this is all over, at least one of us here will not make it out alive.”
Chapter Four
Pinecones and Sympathy
The journey back to the castle was tense, to say the least. Bronwen couldn’t bring herself to speak to Felix. How dare he threaten her life? And, for that matter, how dare the Severan threaten her life? What gave them the right? It sickened her to think that something as imperative as life—something that belonged only to her—could be in the hands of everyone but her.
“It’s not fair,” she muttered aloud.
Trudging uphill, Felix glanced back at her. “What was that?”
“It doesn’t seem fair, that’s all.” She cast her eyes to the ground, gazing at the heather that spun across their path.
“Life rarely is,” said Felix. He glanced up at the sky. “Looks like rain. We’ll need to speed up if we want to make it home before the downpour. And by we, I mean you, dear.”
Bronwen joined his gaze. An opaque black cloud slowly trailed them through the hills, ready to rupture at any moment.
Just like my so-called fate, Bronwen thought piteously.<
br />
“Why me?” she grumbled.
“Because you’re astonishingly slow.”
“No, not that. This,” she clarified, holding up her hands. “My life. Or lack of it. It’s just not fair.”
“Ha!” Felix laughed loudly. “Don’t talk to me about not fair, Snow! I could write the book on things that aren’t fair. Chapter One—Eternally Damned.”
“But… I don’t want to die.”
“I do!”
“But—”
“Oh, be quiet. This Severan won’t harm you, I can assure you of that.”
Bronwen sighed. “How can you assure me? You don’t know what’ll happen.”
“Yes, I do. The Severan is a hunter. Taking down hunters is a cinch. I could do it with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back.”
“If it’s that simple, then why is Ada so worried?”
“Because Ada is not me! I have the blood of a dragon flowing through my veins.” In one swoop, he reached up and tore a thick branch from a tree. “I am unafraid.” To demonstrate his point, he crushed the branch in his bare hands, letting it sprinkle into the undergrowth in a shower of sawdust.
Bronwen let out a gasp.
“Sorry,” Felix grinned, catching her expression. “Just showing off.”
She blinked in disbelief. “How did you do that?”
“Like I said, the blood of a dragon flows through my veins.”
“Is that what makes you immortal?” Bronwen asked, dazed by the fact that she was actually saying those words.
“So I’m told.”
“But dragons aren’t real,” she argued. “They’re a myth.”
“Tell that to my eternal life.”
She stared at the ground. “Okay…” she began slowly. “So, how did the dragon’s blood get in your veins?”
“Ingested,” Felix said bluntly.
Bronwen’s jaw dropped. “You drank it?”
“Yes.”
“What in the world made you think that was a good idea?” she asked, staggered.
“Oh, I don’t know. I just woke up one morning and thought to myself, Hey, you know what I’m really in the mood for? The blood of a dragon.”
Bronwen gasped again.
“I was being sarcastic!” Felix exclaimed. “Don’t be so ridiculous.”
“Of all the unbelievable things I’ve heard today, you knocking back a glass of dragon’s blood doesn’t seem that ridiculous.”
Felix smiled. “If you must know, a sadistic evil hag tricked us into drinking it. She told us it was freshly squeezed lemonade, and it’d be so quenching on a hot summer’s evening.”
Felix recounted Margo Bates’ words as though he’d relived them in his mind every day since.
He went on, “That vile bi—” He caught sight of Bronwen and altered his wording. “That vile witch,” he corrected himself, “she’d not said one single word to me before that day. Well, not one single kind word, anyway. She’d threatened me off her land, and slung profanities at me like you wouldn’t believe. Oh, she had a foul mouth all right. You’d have been blushing right to your toes if you’d heard her.” He groaned. “Why would I take a drink from that woman?” he berated himself. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“You couldn’t have known what was in it,” Bronwen consoled him. “I mean, who would suspect dragon’s blood? That’d be the last thing I’d expect.”
“Yes, but it wouldn’t have taken a genius to catch on that something wasn’t right. Even you thought I’d poisoned your tea, and I’m one of the nicest people in the world.” He batted his eyelashes innocently.
Bronwen snorted. She opened her mouth to contradict him just as a bulbous raindrop splashed onto her nose.
Felix smirked.
“Hey!” Bronwen cried. “You did that!” She caught the water as it rolled onto her cheek.
“No, I didn’t!” he protested, laughing at the accusation.
“Well, the timing was a little convenient, if you ask me.”
Felix rolled his eyes. “Oh, of course,” he said dryly. “I did it, because there’s no other possible explanation.” He pointed to the grey cloud overhead and smiled ironically. “I’m sure nature had absolutely nothing to do with it. What else would you like to blame me for? Global warming?”
“Maybe,” Bronwen mused. “You have been around for hundreds of years. Your carbon footprint must be pretty colossal.”
“My carbon footprint is fine, thank you very much.” Without warning, he clasped her hand in his and picked up his pace.
They trotted through the pine trees just as the sky opened up above them. The downpour drenched them in seconds. Their clothes clung to their skin, and their hair fell in dark, rain-soaked tresses.
As the castle came into view, Felix let go of Bronwen’s hand and swept across the drawbridge. He crossed into the courtyard and jogged up the stone steps into the shelter of the balcony.
Bronwen raced after him. But as she neared the top step, her foot skidded on the slick stone surface. In the blink of an eye, Felix’s hand shot out like a cobra striking its prey. He caught her falling form and drew her into him.
Bronwen collapsed against his chest as they stumbled backwards into the sheltered corridor. With Felix’s grasp still holding her upright, Bronwen froze. She stared at the buttons of his soaked shirt; she was close enough to smell his skin. Her palms were still pressed to his chest, where she’d steadied herself. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel his heart rate accelerate.
In one smooth motion, he tilted her face up to his and pushed the wet hair back from her face. “Saved you,” he smirked.
He was beautiful, Bronwen realised. So beautiful that it scared her. Even utterly drenched and dishevelled, he still made her feel nervous. He looked at her intently, as though he were seeing beyond her eyes—as though he were looking at something deeper. And in that hypnotic moment, they connected so fiercely that he almost flowed through her.
Somewhere in the castle, the wind slammed a door shut. The thud was like a gunshot in their ears. A warning shot, catching them unawares. They jumped away from each other, startled.
****
Later that day, Bronwen made herself scarce for a while. After some time shivering in her wet clothes, she decided to take a hot shower and change. She soon discovered that the castle’s bathroom was in a sorry state. For starters, the shower was more like a metal pipe fastened to the wall, spouting occasional bursts of cold water. And as for the room itself, it was practically falling to pieces. The once-white walls were discoloured, and the floor tiles were chipped and stained from centuries of wear and tear. She decided not to hang around any longer than necessary, so she hastily showered and changed before making her way back to the kitchen.
Out in the main part of the castle, the boys were nowhere to be found. Bronwen sat alone at the breakfast table, still shivering as her freshly washed hair dripped down her back.
With too much time on her hands, her thoughts began to wander, quickly turning into fears that stirred like serpents awakening from a deep sleep.
The Severan, whatever it was, wanted her. Only her. And even if it didn’t have Felix running scared, it certainly had the opposite effect on Ada.
Why? She chewed on her thumbnail. Why did it want her? Surely there was more to it than mere random chance? It didn’t seem logical. Her life had always been so quiet and uneventful, and now suddenly she was being hunted? No, there must be some mistake. There had to be.
Outside the rain had stopped, and the winter sun was doing its best to pierce the misted sky. In the hope of clearing her head, Bronwen opted for a change of scenery and made her way outdoors.
Beyond the castle boundaries was a sloping bank, dewy from the downpour. Bronwen crossed the drawbridge and walked along the incline, plucking wildflowers as she went.
She strolled back and forth for a while, not confident enough to stray too far from the security of the castle. As she focused on blocking out her fears, her tho
ughts started to drift elsewhere. Namely to Felix—another topic that made her quite anxious, but in an entirely different way. She had her misgivings about him, sure, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of intrigue that was roused whenever he crossed her mind.
No, she thought as she made her way back to the castle. It’s nothing. It’s just a tiny crush, she decided, and it’ll pass.
By now, her arms were laden with flowers, and the strong scent of lavender and hyacinth carried over into the old stone building, mingling with the musty air inside.
Offloading her findings in the kitchen, Bronwen arranged the flowers in a water jug. She placed the jug on the window ledge and scattered some pinecones around it for decoration.
Satisfied with the new splash of colour in the dreary castle, Bronwen sat on the ledge and looked out upon the hillside. She wrapped her arms around her legs and watched the slow descent of the sun. The last of the daylight crept through the trees in misted rainbows. It would be dark soon.
She fidgeted uneasily. The boys still weren’t home. It was almost nightfall and they were nowhere to be seen. She began to wonder if they intended to come back at all. Suddenly the castle didn’t seem like quite the safe haven it had been an hour ago.
Then, echoing somewhere in the distance, she heard the click of footsteps swiftly pacing the corridor.
“Felix?” Bronwen called.
The footsteps stopped.
“Where are you?” Felix called back.
Her building fears dissolved at the sound of his voice. She hopped down from the window ledge.
“I’m in the kitchen.”
The door opened and Felix sauntered in. He cocked his head to one side. “Pinecones,” he said, his gaze landing on the ornamented windowsill. “There are pinecones in my kitchen. How very… festive.” He gagged.
“I think they brighten the place up.”
“Pinecones aren’t bright. They’re brown.”
“Yes. But they look nice.”
Felix frowned. “Do they?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He shook his head in confusion. “Anyway, I know I said yesterday that you could only stay in the quarters for one night, but after careful consideration, I’ve decided to extend the invitation to tonight.”