The Witch’s Blood. Katharine Corr

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      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.’

      Merry smiled and rested her head back against Finn’s shoulder. They rode on for a while in a comfortable silence.

      Jack, still a little way ahead of them, seemed to be getting slower and slower. He kept turning his head, scanning the woodland on either side of the path, riding with one hand on the hilt of his sword.

      ‘Jack,’ Merry called, ‘is anything wrong?’

      ‘I do not like this forest.’

      Merry looked around. To her, the forest seemed like most of the other woods they’d been through since she arrived here. Damp – chilly – the trees crammed so closely together that, even in their leafless winter state, there was hardly any light filtering down to the track they were following. The still air, heavy with dust, reminded her of something. The forgotten corner of a museum, or an abandoned church. A crypt. She shivered and rubbed her hands together.

      Jack slowed his horse until he was riding next to them. ‘I know I haven’t been here before. Yet somehow, if I close my eyes, I remember riding this path, a group of mail-clad knights around me, until we were attacked …’

      A long, low growl coming from the trees off to the left made the hair on the back of Merry’s neck stand up. Both horses snorted nervously.

      ‘What was that?’ Finn was craning his neck, peering into the undergrowth.

      ‘A wolf.’ Jack drew his sword. ‘Can you ride faster? We must escape this wood before it is too late.’

      ‘It’s already too late.’ Merry pointed ahead. Not just one wolf, but many – too many for her to count – were stalking through the trees towards them. The animals were advancing purposefully, evenly spread out, almost in ranks. The horses were terrified. Jack still СКАЧАТЬ