Katharine Corr - The Witch’s Blood

‘Thanks,’ Finn said stiffly. He bent and picked up an apple and a hunk of cheese. ‘I’m going to stretch my legs.’

Merry didn’t have much of an appetite. She forced down a couple of handfuls of dried fruit, then went to repack her bag and refill the water bottles. It didn’t take long; after slipping the cloak round her shoulders and extinguishing the last globe of witch fire floating in the dark interior of the cave, she was ready to leave.

Jack appeared, mounted on Sorrel and leading a huge grey stallion that apparently answered to the name of Blossom. The horse neighed when it saw her, tossing its head and straining against the rope Jack had in his hand. To Merry’s disgust, Finn didn’t seem remotely concerned. He patted the horse on its neck and pulled himself on to its back quite easily. Then he held his hand out to her. ‘Shall we?’

There wasn’t really any choice. After a couple of undignified minutes spent being dragged up on to the horse by Finn, she was settled in front of him, gripping Blossom’s mane and clinging on with her knees while Finn held the reins.

‘Now,’ Jack glanced at Merry, ‘you must guide us.’

Merry opened the manuscript. ‘Please, take us to Meredith.’

The spiky writing appeared instantly.

Your way lies through the courts of the dead.

Whatever was speaking to her through the manuscript still seemed to have a thing for being cryptic. She read the instruction out to Jack. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’

He frowned for a minute or two before his face cleared. ‘It means the barrows. Obviously.’

‘Huh?’

‘The graves of the dead kings. This way.’ Jack set his horse walking.

Finn urged his horse forward too. ‘Ooh, the dead kings,’ he muttered into Merry’s ear. ‘Look at me, I know everything.’

‘He’s just trying to help. And we need him. We don’t know our way around here.’

‘I know, I know. But still, he’s really, really irritating.’

Merry couldn’t help it. She snapped back, ‘But in a lovable way, right?’

Finn straightened up and jerked the reins so the horse lurched forward, forcing Merry to hang on to Blossom’s neck.

Merry sighed, and wondered how many days it would take to reach Meredith.

The next three days were uneventful. The lands they rode through seemed empty of life, though every so often they passed the charred remains of wooden houses, blackened timbers sticking up out of the snow. In the sky above one ruined village Merry noticed large, reddish-brown birds of prey riding the wind.

Jack followed her gaze. ‘Kites,’ he murmured eventually. ‘Crows aren’t the only birds that eat the flesh of the dead.’

Merry looked away.

On the third night, they stopped near some ruins, the tumbled masonry and broken pillars hinting at a monumental past. After a quick meal, Jack lay down and went straight to sleep. Finn was sitting next to Merry, staring into the fire, his chin propped on one hand.

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘My family,’ Finn replied, not shifting his gaze from the flames. ‘Wondering how my dad’s going to take it, when he finds out that his only remaining son and heir is now a pleb.’

Guilt whispered in the back of Merry’s mind. ‘But he loves you, doesn’t he?’

‘Oh yes. He loves me,’ Finn replied softly.

‘Then … is he really going to care? Even if this turns out to be permanent, surely the most important thing will be that you’re back home again, and safe.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Finn was shaking his head. ‘My dad’s whole identity is bound up in his position , in magical society. Our family have been at the top of the pile for hundreds of years. If that ends on his watch, because of his sons, he’s going to feel like he’s failed. Like he’s let down every single generation since our house started. That’s why he—’ Finn broke off.

‘Why he what?’

‘Nothing.’ He winced and rubbed the centre of his chest.

‘Does it still hurt?’ Merry asked. ‘Where your magic used to be?’

‘It aches, the whole time. Kind of like … when you feel really starving hungry. But more painful. Makes me feel a bit sorry for Ronan.’

‘Seriously? But why?’

‘Because the magic he was born with didn’t last. So he has to steal magic from other people, but that never lasts, either. Don’t you think that he must feel like this the whole time?’

Merry frowned into the flames. Finn was probably right. And she did pity Ronan. Sort of. But when she thought about everything he’d done, all the people he’d hurt …

Some things just aren’t forgivable.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ Finn’s voice jerked her back to the present.

‘Sure.’

‘Are you still in love with Jack?’

‘What?’ Merry sat up straighter.

‘You heard me.’

‘Um …’ Was she still in love with him? ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Right.’ Finn’s tone was scornful.

‘But it is.’ Merry glanced at Jack’s sleeping form. ‘I did love him; I told you that. I loved him enough to free him from Gwydion’s curse by allowing him to die. And now he’s here, and as far as he’s concerned, none of what we went through together ever happened.’ She shivered, pulling her cloak more tightly about her. ‘This isn’t the Jack I knew. But he still looks more or less the same, and he still sounds the same and sometimes …’ The knots of tension in her stomach got worse. ‘I mean, how would you feel if Cillian came back to life, but he didn’t recognise you? If he looked at you like you were a stranger?’

Finn’s face sort of … shut down.

Merry wished she knew a spell to unsay what she’d just said.

‘You knew Jack for how long?’ Finn demanded. ‘A few weeks? A few months at most. And you’re comparing his death to me losing my brother?’

‘Honestly, I didn’t mean to—’

Finn threw up a hand, silencing her. ‘Just don’t, Merry. Don’t say any more. I need some sleep.’ He lay down, facing away from her, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.

Merry stared at his back, willing him to turn round.

‘Finn?’

He didn’t answer.

‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. But grief … it isn’t rational or – or – measurable . And Jack’s not the only person I’ve lost.’ Finn still hadn’t moved, or given any sign that he’d heard her. A gust of cold wind stung her eyes. She got to her feet and went to find some more firewood.

Just after dawn, Jack shook her awake. Finn was standing next to Blossom, waiting for her to mount, but he didn’t speak to her. They rode for what felt like hours through another forest before he finally leant forward to whisper to her, his lips brushing her ear.

‘I didn’t mean that my grief was somehow worth more than yours. I just … I miss my brother. That’s all.’

‘Of course. It’s OK.’

‘No, it isn’t. I came here to help you, Merry, to try to make up for what I did at the Black Lake. You mean a lot to me. But you don’t owe me anything. And I have no right to be jealous of Jack. Jealous of the feelings you had for him. Or have for him.’

‘I don’t have any feelings for him, so there’s no reason for you to be jealous. That was what I was trying to explain yesterday. Very badly.’ Merry gazed at Jack, riding a few metres in front of her. ‘Seeing him alive has brought back the memories of the person I loved. But I can’t be in a relationship with a ghost. If we survive this mess, you’re the one I want to bring home to meet my mother, so to speak.’ She twisted round so she could look at Finn. ‘You. Not Jack.’

For a moment, Finn stared at her, his grey eyes wide. Then he slid one hand round her waist, pulled her against him and kissed the back of her neck gently. ‘Thank God. I thought I was going to have to challenge Jack to a duel.’ He laughed softly. ‘And I’m not one hundred per cent certain that I’d win.’