Page 8 of Redemption (Deliverance Duet #2)

Chapter Seven

Iris

I sit beside a small lake, idly watching the pond skaters skimming across the surface of the water. My delicate, floral dress pools around me, the fabric as light as a cloud—my latest gift from Nyx. The lake sits at the bottom of the garden, almost completely out of view thanks to the trees around it. I’m always surprised at how much life can be found in death.

The manor is exquisite, but I have always felt more at home in nature, so I suppose it’s no surprise that I’m spending most of my time out here. A light breeze rustles through the leaves in the trees above me, and I close my eyes for a moment, tilting my head back and enjoying the cooling sensation as it dances over my skin.

It has been several days since I met the Fates, and I can’t help but wonder when I’ll be sent back to the living. After I was raised from the dead, I was weak, and it felt as though everything was a dream. Now that I have had time to acclimatise and accept what happened, I feel better than I ever have before—at least, my body does.

The living don’t belong in the realm of the dead, and I can feel it tugging at my soul. I need to return to the living and Alaric. He needs me just as much as I need him. The only reason I am doing as well as I am is because I have Nyx with me, his half of the mate bond sustaining me.

The Fates won’t wait forever, and I suspect there is no pulling the wool over their eyes. They see all, so they will know if Nyx doesn’t take me back. Just thinking of the three females makes me shudder. They were terrifying. An otherworldly power emitted off them, and I could tell they have no issues with ending lives as easily as snipping a string. I suspect that the only reason they allowed me to continue living is because of the prophecy.

Blowing out a long, bewildered breath, I shake my head, running those words over in my mind once more.

“Iron, blood, and power,” I whisper under my breath. “One will kill, one shall bring freedom, and the other could destroy all. Flowers are easily demolished, but they are the first to grow on the battlefield. Discover your true self and decide the fate of them all.”

“You have been over and over the same prophecy for days now.”

Nyx’s tone is both gentle and reprimanding at the same time. He should have made me jump, because I thought I was alone, but some part of me knew he was close by, protecting me from afar even when I need space.

His warmth radiates against my back a moment before his arms wrap around me as he crouches behind me. “Repeating it like that is only going to drive you mad.”

I don’t tell him that I already feel a little mad as I lean back against his legs, enjoying the comfort his touch brings. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Nyx chuckles darkly, leaning down to press a kiss against my forehead. “They never do until everything comes together.” Looking down at me with a fondness that warms my chest, he brushes my hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing the skin of my neck, sending all my senses haywire. “Prophesies are snippets of the future put together in a cryptic riddle because it amuses the Fates to watch the living fret and try to decode them. There will be a hundred different ways it can be interpreted.”

I try to focus on what he’s saying, and part of me thinks he is right, but the thinking side of my brain has switched off. This is an unfortunate habit I’ve developed when Nyx touches me, one that I struggle to overcome, but as soon as his skin touches mine, that’s all I can think about. It doesn’t matter how innocent the touch is, only that need flares up inside me like a roaring fire.

He caresses my face, igniting that spark once more. Forgetting my torment, I kneel and turn so we’re chest to chest and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

His arms quickly wrap around me as he returns my kiss. What was supposed to be a swift peck to show him my affection becomes deeper, our lips and tongues moving together, sending desire shooting through me. All I can think of is him. Ever since we were interrupted by the Fates, there has been a simmering tension between us, but we haven’t had a spare moment to actually see anything through.

Nyx returned to his duties of being death, something which he’s mostly ignored until now to care for me. Guilt has hung over me like a cloud since I learned this. There must be consequences if death isn’t guarding and ferrying the souls of the dead, and that was because of me.

Our meeting with the Fates spooked him, though, making him even more protective of me than before, which I didn’t think was possible. With the threat the Fates held over us, he’s trying not to draw attention to us by returning to his duties.

“As much as I hate to stop this,” he murmurs against my lips, reluctance clear in every word, “I have to go.”

I drop my arms, wanting more than anything to stay with him this way. The desire to tell him to stay is fierce, gripping me tightly, but I know how difficult he finds it to leave me here, and I don’t want to make that any harder for him.

I look up at him, forcing a smile. “Okay, be safe.”

Although he can see right through my facade, amusement flashes in his dark eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “Iris, I’m death.”

He makes a good point. I can’t imagine that there is much in the universe stronger than him. Can death be killed, or would he constantly be reborn? A shudder passes through me at the idea.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt,” I respond solemnly, my throat tight.

His amusement fades, replaced with an intense look that tells me he would burn the world for me if I asked it of him. Leaning towards me, he almost blocks out the world completely, his presence so large. This might feel smothering to some, his shadows threatening to cover my light, yet in reality, it’s the opposite. I feel confident with him by my side. I feel strong and desired. His shadows protect me, allowing me to become who I was born to be without fear of attack.

“The only thing that could hurt me would be if something happened to you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave with the strength of his emotion. “My trusted guards will be close by in case you need them.”

Beings of flesh and shadow, his guards seem to appear from thin air whenever Nyx has need of them. From what I’ve gathered, they don’t protect Nyx, as he’s perfectly capable of protecting himself, but they guard the realm of death itself. I’ve not yet determined if they are alive or souls that have been granted human form. They don’t patrol the grounds or the manor house, so I don’t see much of them, but occasionally I will feel an additional presence and somehow know it’s them.

“I’ll return as soon as I can,” Nyx promises, pulling me from my thoughts. He kisses my forehead once more and steps back, holding my gaze as shadows wrap around him and take him away. He’s gone within the blink of an eye, and the only proof he was ever there is the tingle of my skin where he touched me.

If you asked someone else to spend long periods of their time alone in death, they would probably be frightened and unsure, all logical feelings, but for me, it is the opposite. While I miss Nyx and want him back, I find this place comforting. I would never leave the safety of his land, but I know with certainty that he won’t let anything hurt me in this realm.

Nyx’s guards won’t approach or bother me unless there’s a risk to my safety, so I’m once again left on my own. There’s nothing much to do here but enjoy the flowers and the sense of calm I feel. This idle behaviour gives my mind space to think, though, bringing me back to the prophecy.

Nyx was right about one thing—there are so many different ways you can interpret what it’s trying to say. The fae love to speak in riddles, something I’ve discovered they have in common with the Fates.

Lying back on the soft grass, I stare up at the leaves and listen to the gentle sounds of the water lapping against the shore. Flowers sway in the soft breeze around me, their scents filling my lungs, and the warm afternoon sun makes me sleepy.

Iron, blood, and power. One will kill, one shall bring freedom, and the other could destroy all.

The fae are repulsed by iron and could fit all three of those things. Iron could kill in the form of a sword, which could also bring about someone’s freedom. Again, stating that blood could kill, free, or destroy is open to interpretation. Does it mean someone’s physical blood or a family line? Freedom can come in many different forms. “Power,” I murmur, twisting it over in my mind. Power in a magical sense could do so much good in the right hands, but it could also be twisted to hurt and destroy.

The second part of the prophecy is no clearer.

Flowers are easily demolished, but they are the first to grow on the battlefield. Discover your true self and decide the fate of them all.

After a lot of processing, I come to the conclusion that the reference to the flowers is about me. I am fragile compared to the fae. They could easily kill me with a snap of their fingers. I take “the first to grow on the battlefield” to mean it could be possible for me to bring peace between the two fae courts. It’s ambiguous, but something warms in my chest with assurance whenever I think on it.

I believe the prophecy is a warning and a set of instructions. I just wish I knew what for. Am I supposed to find iron, blood, and power as stated at the beginning of the prediction, or is it a list of things to be wary of?

“Urgh,” I grumble, the frustrated noise exiting me with a huffed breath.

If I’m going to bring peace to the Seelie and Unseelie, then do I break the curse of the latter, or is there some other way? Why can’t any of this be simple?

A beautiful bird flies overhead, chirping loudly as he lands on a branch above me. Long, rich feathers catch the light, its long tail striped with different shades of blue. It reminds me of the bluejays a travelling merchant once told me about. At the time, I had been fascinated with the idea of blue birds, something that has never been seen before in Brine. The stories seemed so exotic, and now here I am, seeing one with my own eyes. The tips of its wings have the same mottled blue, and some of the colours are so bright, they are almost neon. It also has a sweet face of white and a flash of black feathers with a tuft of blue atop its head.

Its beady eyes watch me with far more intelligence than I would expect from a bird, especially as it tilts its head to one side as though waiting for something. Clucking and cooing, the bird sings in a variety of tones, ranging from snapping its beak together angrily to gentle humming. Smiling, I enjoy listening to it, having never seen or heard anything like this before.

“Iris.”

Someone just said my name. Jerking upright, I glance around for whoever just spoke, except… there’s no one there, just the bird and me.

“Iris.” The sound comes again, and it definitely comes from above me. Looking up at the bird, I watch it hop along the branch as it chimes my name once more. The voice it uses is far lower than I’ve ever heard from a bird. In fact, it sounds like someone I know…

“What?” Dumbstruck, I scrabble upright and stare up at the bird. “What did you say?”

I realise that I look like a fool, speaking to a bird because I think it’s calling my name. It’s probably just a mimic, repeating something it heard here and not the voice of a male in the realm of the living. Either that, or I am finally losing my mind. Despite all of this, I still wait for the bird to speak again, a mixture of excitement and disbelief coursing through me.

“I have to find you.” That was no fluke, I didn’t mishear this time. The bird is talking to me in a voice that’s not its own. This is not just a bird imitating what it’s heard. The voice I’m hearing is from someone who is far, far away. I know that voice despite only hearing it on a handful of occasions. Ciaran of the Unseelie.

“Ciaran,” I call, unable to stop his name from tumbling off my lips.

The bird jerks, calling out loudly in a series of whistles and clicks, suddenly full of energy and what seems to be agitation. Leaping from its perch, it soars past me and down towards the lake below, its claws extended to grab something from the water. Has it seen a fish? I’m so confused. I watch it fly back up to the tree with my heart in my throat. It’s watching me closely again. He’s… He’s waiting for me to do something. There’s intelligence in this bird’s eyes that convinces me it’s communicating with me. Slowly, I walk to the base of the tree, still watching the creature.

The light in the garden seems to change, as though the sun has been eclipsed by a cloud, yet there isn’t a cloud to be seen. No, the sun is still shining, but the direction of the light seems to have changed, glittering off the water. I frown as I look into the lake. No, the light is coming from the lake.

Ripples mar the surface despite the sudden lack of breeze or movement in the air, and to my astonishment, a face appears in the water before me—Ciaran.

“Iris?” Jerking like he’s been electrocuted, he looks around frantically. He doesn’t seem to see me, his eyes sliding straight past me, but I know for sure that he heard me. “Is this real, or am I just dreaming again?” he whispers, a note of uncertainty tinging his voice. He’s genuinely not sure. Although I can see how desperate he is for this to be real, he’s hesitant, as if he’s been burnt before.

He has never once seemed unsure of himself. In fact, that is one of the annoying things about him. He’s confident and arrogant, so seeing him like this causes an alarm bell to go off in my mind.

I want to help him, but why? He’s a lord of the Unseelie Court, but he’s never once tried to hurt me. The Unseelie might have set fire to the inn we were in to smoke me out, but he has always tried to help me. He saved me that day. There’s no denying that there’s a connection between us, but I was warned away from the Unseelie. Unseelie are bad, and Seelie are good. When it came down to it, though, the King of the Seelie locked me away and then tried to kill me when he thought the Unseelie had me. No. He did kill me.

“Ciaran—” I start, reaching towards the reflection in the water.

His head jerks up, and he looks around desperately, clearly hearing me. “What’s happening? Iris, is that you?” The note of hope in his voice causes my chest to tighten. He seems frenzied, my call bringing him back to life.

“Yes, I can see you.” Sitting back on my heels, I examine his reflection in the water. From what I can see, he’s inside what looks like a bathroom, so I assume he’s staring into a mirror or basin. He can’t see me like I’m able to see him, his eyes scanning for me.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” I ask, needing to know he’s okay.

Shaking his head, he raises his hand and presses it against what I’m now assuming is a mirror. “I can’t see you—” Cutting himself off, he glances over his shoulder surreptitiously. His long silver hair is tied back as usual, but strands of it fall forward with his jerky movements. “That doesn’t matter. I’ve been looking for you. I knew you weren’t dead! Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

A deep, distant part of my mind queries if I should be telling him this. He is the enemy, after all. At least, he was when I was with the Seelie. Now, I’m not so sure.

Taking a deep breath, I gesture around me despite knowing he won’t be able to see it. “I’m in the realm of the dead.” Seeing the horrified look on his face, I rush to explain. “I’m not dead. Death brought me back.”

A look of deep contemplation crosses his face as he thinks over what I just told him. Honestly, I don’t blame him. None of what is happening is normal. Biting my lower lip, I watch as he slowly nods.

“I suppose that makes sense, what with the visit from the luna bird. You died in my arms, but I knew you weren’t gone.” He seems to be talking to himself, lost deep within his thoughts. “Death called you his mate…”

“Yes, it’s complicated,” I answer with a sigh, yet something he said sticks with me. “The luna bird?”

“I assume you are with a blue bird with a long tail and blue crest on its head?”

Realisation hits me as he speaks, and I glance at the trees above me, spotting the very bird he’s describing. So that’s what it is. How is this relevant though, and how does he even know the bird is with me?

“They are one of the birds associated with death and all things that go bump in the night,” he continues. “They are mockingbirds, and myth states that you can talk to your loved ones who have died through them.”

The myth must be true then. Glancing up at the bird that’s somehow allowing us to communicate, I shake my head at the mystery of it all. If he’s been visited by one of these birds, then why am I able to see him when he is not able to do the same?

“You can’t see me right now?” I ask, despite already knowing the answer. For some reason, I need to hear him say it. All of this still feels like a dream to me, and hearing him confirm it might help me accept the fact that this is my new reality.

“No, I can only hear you.” He laughs weakly, running a hand through his hair, pushing back the loose strands of silver hair. “I thought I was going mad.”

I don’t tell him that I can see him through a lake, because that will only open up more questions I don’t have answers to. I can’t help but note how exhausted and unrefined he looks compared to how composed and self-assured he usually seems.

He presses his hand against what I assume is the mirror he can hear me through. Does he expect it to give way so he can reach through it? Although I know it’s impossible, I can’t help but hold my breath, hope fluttering through my veins like a promise. Nothing happens, and I close my eyes for a moment to compose myself. What is wrong with me?

“How do I bring you back? Do I need to bargain with Death?”

His question pulls me from my thoughts, and I quickly shake my head despite knowing he can’t see me. I can just imagine how that would go down with Nyx if Ciaran tried to bargain with him. “No, leave it to me.”

“I can help you, Iris. Tell me how to get to you. What do I have to do?” His voice is almost pleading, as though he’s so desperate to get to me, he would do anything. Does that make a part of me swoon? Yes, but I also cannot forget he’s Unseelie.

A sensible person would distance themselves and tell him to leave them alone. I can handle Nyx, I don’t need Ciaran’s help, but a part of me wants to listen to him.

“I shouldn’t trust you,” I blurt out. While it’s not a rejection, it’s also not giving into his charm and irresistible pull.

“No, but you want to.” His comment comes with a small grin, his eyes sparkling. Somehow, he knows what I want. “We’re supposed to be together, Iris. Don’t you feel that?”

Leaning back from the water, I push my fingers through my hair, trying to think clearly. Taking a deep breath, I focus on what I do know—my connections with Nyx and Alaric. Both are completely different, yet they are bound to me.

“Nyx is my mate, as is Alaric.” Surety rings in my voice. I need to end this conversation before I say or do something I might regret. The undeniable pull he holds over me is unpredictable and probably part of his dark powers thanks to belonging to the Unseelie Court.

“I’m not denying that,” he replies, sensing me pulling away, his eyes widening, “but what if I’m your mate too?”