C.E. Murphy - Truthseeker

“I’m not … I’m not sure I can.” Dafydd laughed thinly as Lara scooted her arm under his shoulders like Aerin had. “I barely remember what happened, Lara. I’m very weak.”

“I know. The nightwings, the hydra—” Lara shook her head. “I’ll tell you everything later, but if Aerin comes back—”

“She won’t stop you.” Aerin’s voice, cool as glass, came from the doorway. Lara flinched toward it, awed all over again at the woman’s tall beauty. She’d set aside her armor in the little time that had passed, and looked the part of a queen in her castle, garbed in white that spoke of a bride’s gown. “He would only be a reminder of what we’ve lost,” she said. “It’s better for all our people to make a new start together.”

Ioan entered behind her, putting his hand under hers. He was resplendent in black, groom to her bride, and his handsome features were pinched with sorrow. “This war has offered us that much, at least. We’re no longer enemies, and reparations are being made to the Unseelie people. Emyr is reluctant, but dares not stand against the rising sentiment of all our peoples. Take Dafydd,” he murmured. “Make a good life. Do not come here again.”

Lara, heart breaking, whispered, “We won’t,” and helped Dafydd to his feet. He hesitated, looking toward the brother he didn’t know and the woman he did, and then drew strength from somewhere, straightening himself to walk, unbowed, through the door that Merrick held open.

It blinked out behind them and Dafydd dropped to his knees, exhaustion greater than pride. Lara fell with him, trying to support him. Relief mingled with joy and terror and sent her heart hammering. A life with her; he had chosen a life with her, and no amount of worry could undo that. But now he turned his gaze slowly upward to examine Merrick ap Annwn. “You were dead.”

“It was a trick.” Merrick’s lip curled. “A trick that has not played out how I meant it to. I meant to be the crowned head that it seems Ioan ap Caerwyn now is.”

“But we were brothers.”

“No. I was a hostage to my father’s good behavior, and no amount of time could have made me more than that within your father’s court. What else was I to do, Dafydd? Spend all of history waiting to sip from a cup that would never come?”

“You—” Dafydd stumbled on the word, turning a weary gaze to Lara. “Is he right? Does he speak the truth?”

Lara bit her lip unhappily. “Dafydd, he—”

“Lara.” Kelly, at her side, pressed the staff into Lara’s hands, and said, very steadily, “David isn’t there.”

Illusion shattered.

It came apart like crystal hit by stone, fragments rupturing around her. Dafydd’s image schismed and became glittering bits of light before it fell apart. Lara cried out, reaching for the bits of an imagined life, and choking on sobs when they cut her fingers and faded away.

So close, it was so close to what she wanted that she had invested her own truth in it, made it almost real. Her talent had always told her when someone else was lying, as long as they knew they were lying. Never, never in her life had she wrapped truth so carefully that even she couldn’t tell she was lying.

Truthseeker’s gift, she thought, double-edged. Strong enough, now, to make it possible to lie to herself. A little stronger, and maybe Merrick’s illusion would have become reality. Maybe Dafydd would have crossed worlds with her, mortal for the brief time he had left.

And then she, not her world, would have been responsible for his death. Lara shuddered violently, wanting to curl up, curl in, to hide from truth and life itself. But anger flared, a small bright ember that forced her to her feet. Illusion, such a strong illusion, so carefully based in something so close to truth, had almost turned her into a monster, the same way it took star-filled night skies and made them deadly.

Merrick ap Annwn blanched to see her face.

His window between worlds was still open, its closure nothing more than part of the story he’d shaped for her. The story she’d shaped for herself, with all the parts and parcels laid out for Merrick to use. Her envy of Aerin; her awe of the Unseelie palace; her impression of Ioan, who had taken the place Merrick sought as his own. He stepped back, hands lifted, and Lara advanced on him, blazing with rage.

“You shouldn’t have let me go. You should’ve made certain there was nothing that would break the illusion, because now I’m going to do whatever it takes to follow you. I’ll find a way, Merrick. I’ll expose you to your people, to all of them, and you’ll never rule in Annwn.” The world’s true name rang like gunfire, louder even than the crystalline shattering of illusion.

“But only royal blood can open the pathway,” Merrick whispered. “Where I go, you cannot follow. I’ll have my victory, and you’ll be here, lost with your power, alone without a lover, while Annwn becomes my own. Good-bye, Truthseeker. Good riddance.”

He twisted and leaped for the door, its golden outlines rupturing as he passed through. Lara bellowed, “No!” and ran forward, willing her truth to be the only one. Power flared in the staff, responding, finally, to her passion. No , he would not escape her; no , the door would not close; no , this would not be the end of the life she’d dreamed of having.

Music thundered, endless crescendos, and the collapsing door shivered, then froze.

Kelly, behind her, shouted, “Lara!” and in her voice was all the things to be left behind. Family. Friends. The job she loved, the world she knew. Lara went as still as the door, then turned back, breath coming short.

“Don’t look like that.” Kelly came forward, bright-eyed but smiling past the cloth she still held wadded against her cheek. “Don’t look like that. You’re going, I know that. I just wanted to say good-bye.”

“I might not be able to come back.” Falsehood rang in the words and Lara fought the truth before admitting it in a whisper, regrets swelling: “I probably won’t come back. The time difference … even if I came right back it could be years. Your wedding, Kel. I’m going to miss your wedding. I can’t—”

“If I’m getting married.” Kelly’s voice broke, then cleared. “I will someday. And I’ll put a fairy princess doll in your place. Okay? I’ll think of you.” The tears she’d held back spilled down her cheeks. “I’ll think of you all the time. Now go on.” She gave the trembling doorway a sharp nod. “Go.”

Lara laughed, quick crack of a sound edged with loss, and stepped forward to crush her friend in a brief hug. “Thank you. Tell my mom what happened. I love you, Kel. Live happily ever after, okay?”

Kelly’s smile flashed through tears. “You, too. I love you, too, Lar. Now go on. Go rescue your prince. I’ll see you later.”

Unexpected, gratifying truth flared in the promise. The fist around Lara’s heart loosened a little, and she stepped backward, closer to the door. “Count on it.”

One more step, and she walked between worlds.

C. E. (Catie) MURPHY is the author of two urban fantasy series (The Walker Papers and The Negotiator Trilogy) as well as The Inheritors’ Cycle, which includes The Queen’s Bastard and The Pretender’s Crown . Her hobbies include photography and travel, though she rarely pursues enough of either. She was born and raised in Alaska, and now lives in her ancestral home of Ireland with her family and cats.