Age of Myth (The Legends of the First Empire #1)

“But why would Reglan—”

“Reglan wouldn’t let her keep it, of course. He couldn’t. People would ask who the father was, and the answer would be awkward seeing as how he was married to you. What if the child bore a resemblance? Had her father’s eyes?”

Persephone stumbled backward as if Konniger had shoved her. She laid a hand on the nearby autumn pillar for support.

“That’s why you didn’t know. You weren’t allowed to. Wives never understand such things. He figured a lot of people might not, so Reglan kept things quiet. Sent Maeve away, and when she came back, she was supposed to come alone. Only problem was Maeve couldn’t give up the child. She should have run off and not returned, but she’s not smart like you. She came back to the dahl with the infant in tow. Maybe she thought if Reglan saw it, he’d change his mind. That’s not what happened.”

Konniger looked away at the fire, his hands squeezing tightly.

“When she showed up, Reglan called for me and my dad. The child had to be abandoned in the forest. Maeve put up a fight. What mother wouldn’t? The task fell to me. I was the son of the Shield, invisible, trustworthy, and eager to prove my worth. They told me it was an easy task. Just take the infant to the forest and dump it, they said. Someplace deep, they said, so she can’t find it. That part was easy. The hard part was taking the baby from Maeve, taking it and…” Konniger’s face turned into a distasteful grimace. “And seeing her when I got back.”

Konniger paused a moment and swallowed. “Maeve screamed.” He made a sound like a laugh, but there was no mirth in it. “I never heard a grown woman sound like that before. You’d have thought I was killing her. I can still hear it, still hear that high-pitched shriek. The baby cried, too, a chugging kind of wail. You know the sort they do? Did it all the way out there. Louder even than Autumn’s brats when they’re really worked up. I was glad to be rid of the thing.”

Persephone leaned on the pillar. He’s lying. Reglan would never—

“Kept crying, though. Amazing how far sound carries. I dumped her next to that cascade—same one where you killed Sackett and Adler—but even the sound of the falling water couldn’t drown out the cries. Reglan and my father were so proud; I’d become a man in their eyes. But I didn’t feel like a man. I swore I could still hear that baby crying—still do sometimes. That’s why I hate Autumn’s kids. They all sound the same.”

Persephone didn’t want to hear any more, but the words continued to flow over her. “When Maeve found me, I could tell she’d been weeping since I left. Old Maeve looked at me like she was dangling off a cliff and I was holding the other end of the rope. She wanted me to tell her where I left the baby. She was going to go get it and run away, I think. Too late, of course. I couldn’t risk losing the respect of Reglan and my father. Still, I had to tell her something.”

It can’t be true. Reglan would never have had a child with Maeve, and if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have ordered it killed just to save himself embarrassment. That wasn’t the man I knew. That wasn’t the man I loved.

And yet, she was certain Konniger wasn’t lying. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he refused to look at her, in the way he was wringing his hands, and in the confessional tone of his voice, which sounded heavy and ashamed. Besides, Konniger wasn’t smart enough to come up with all those details—he wasn’t making it up. He was telling the truth. “What did you say to her? What did you tell Maeve?”

“I told her a story about her prayers being answered—and they were—in a way. I told her that the gods had taken her little girl and changed her into a bear, a beautiful little cub. She believed me because she had to, because the truth would’ve killed her.”

“You said she and Suri went to save her daughter? What did you mean?”

Konniger took a long inhalation, made a peak with the fingers of both hands, and gestured resignation by spreading his thumbs. “Maeve—she wasn’t content to accept that her daughter was safe with the gods. I should’ve said that the infant turned into a raven and flew away. Instead, Maeve pictured this poor abandoned bear cub starving without a mother to provide for it, and she went looking. Every day she went to the forest, and I was terrified she might find her baby’s remains, probably eaten by wolves. Wouldn’t have taken them long to find her, not with all the wailing. I figured Maeve would eventually give up, but damned if she didn’t find an abandoned cub. She took to feeding the animal, bringing food to the forest. I forgot all about it until the bad winter when the bodies disappeared.”

Persephone and Reglan never learned what had happened to the bodies, just those terrible footprints in the snow. They didn’t want to investigate too much for fear of what they’d find. In an attempt to stave off rumors that would devastate a community already desperate, she and Reglan spread a story. They stomped out the prints and said wild animals had dragged off the bodies, but Persephone knew that wasn’t true. She could still see those footprints in the snow beside the drag marks. Small feet had made them, a woman’s feet.

“Maeve was feeding her daughter our dead. I didn’t say anything. Maybe I felt too guilty. Maybe I was scared Reglan would blame me. I’d just become the new Shield, remember? Didn’t want to mess that up, and I didn’t think anything would come of it. Never crossed my mind to wonder what would happen once a bear got used to the taste of human meat. You see, that winter, while all the other animals were starving, Maeve’s daughter grew big. She grew strong and lost her fear of people. After having a taste of us, we became her preferred food. That’s what the bear thought when she came across your son—food.”

“The Brown? Maeve thinks The Brown is her daughter?” Persephone squeezed the pillar hard. “What are they going to do?”

“I don’t know. Maeve woke me up before dawn, saying she was going with that loony mystic who knows how to drive the demon out of The Brown. I guess they think they can turn her back into a human or something. Maeve was so happy. Crazy is what she is—has been since Reglan made me take her daughter. She and the mystic left a couple hours ago.”

“And you let her go? Why didn’t you tell the truth?”

“See, that’s the thing.” Konniger looked into the flames of the fire with a haunted grimace. “Maybe it is the truth. I mean, Maeve searched the forest every day after I left the baby. She never found it, but she did find an abandoned bear cub. Maybe the gods were listening when I told her that. Maybe they heard and made it true.”

“You have to do something!” she shouted. “Get the men together.”

“And do what? Go where?”

Overhead the scratching continued.

“The wolf,” Persephone said more to herself than to Konniger. “Follow the wolf!”

Persephone ran across the room, rounded the banister, and raced up the steps. “Arion?”

“Persephone, don’t come in. The wolf wants out!” Arion called through the door. Persephone didn’t need the warning as the door shuddered violently. “Suri isn’t here. She left her wolf with me. She’s going after a bear and said Minna would get in the way.”

Claws attacked the door, rumbling the wood against the frame. The ferocity of the assault halted Persephone and made her hesitate.

“Are you all right in there?”

“Yes,” Arion replied. “But I think you should send help for Suri. I’m worried she might get killed. She thinks a demon possessed a bear or something.”

Even the Fhrey was worried!

“Minna?” Persephone said gently. “Can you hear me, Minna?”

The thrashing of the door stopped, and the wolf cried mournfully.

“What is the wolf doing?” Persephone asked.

“Lying in front of the door, smelling you.”