Page 59

Aged 218 years

Rest in peace

Loren let go of Darien’s hand and stepped forward, stooping beside the mound of fresh soil. She set down the bouquet among a collection of other ones, being mindful of the carefully placed photographs, family heirlooms, and handwritten letters.

Headmaster Langdon wasn’t a bad person. He’d made mistakes, sure, but who didn’t? And the mistakes Ivador had made—the ones involving Randal Slade and Calanthe Croft—had been done with the best of intentions, as so many mistakes were. Loren thought of his daughter often, especially when she crossed paths with the new headmaster of AA. And whenever Loren thought of her, she was swallowed up with guilt.

Few people knew the true cause of Ivador’s death, and because of the many secrets that needed to be kept, not even his wife or daughter could be trusted with the truth. Withholding it from the two people who’d loved him unconditionally made Loren feel horrible and dirty, but it was a price she needed to pay, not just to obey the imperator, but to protect the people she cared about.

The events of Kalendae were one giant secret they would all carry to their graves.

Wiping at her damp eyes, she stood and shuffled back to Darien’s side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her snug against him.

For a while, the two of them stood there in the serene oasis, looking nowhere but at the words and numbers etched into the headstone. A father who’d loved his daughter so much he’d risked everything for her. His job, his reputation. Even his life, a precious thing he had chosen to part with when the pain of being alive and unable to help his daughter had grown too heavy.

Darien was the first to break the silence. “My mom once told me to always remember that everyone has a story. Even the ones who piss you off or hurt you. And that even the broken ones are usually broken because someone else made them that way.” A pause. “So far, her words have rang pretty true. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what or who turned my father into the shithole that he was.”

Loren put an arm under his gray jacket and wrapped it around his waist, holding him tight.

Darien drew a deep breath. His next words came out so quickly they tripped over each other. “I don’t know, maybe it was his father who did it. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

A chill prickled across her hairline. “I don’t know about that,” she said gently. “I’d say you’ve rolled pretty far.”

Darien cracked a grin. “The tree must’ve been built on a hill.”

“Must’ve been.”

He pulled her close, so close that she stepped on his boot, and kissed her on the forehead. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her face against his chest.

It was quiet here. Peaceful. Even the cars breezing by on the freeway couldn’t be heard from where they stood. Birds chirped, a pleasant melody that blended in with the crackle of leaves and the creak of branches. Stately mausoleums dotted the lush landscape, and resident peacocks perched atop headstones, their brilliant blue plumage blurred by the fall of twilight. Night was nearly here.

Loren lifted her head, arms still circling Darien, and glanced about the grounds. “Where is…?” She knew the person she was inquiring about wouldn’t be buried here at Eternal Light; this place was too new, built only recently to accommodate the spike in deaths caused by the Tricking. But she had meant to ask Darien this question for some time now; had wanted to offer to go with him the next time he visited her.

Darien abruptly released her, cool air wrapping around her limbs with the absence of his touch, and started walking back to the car. He was several feet away by the time he found his voice. “ACC.” Angelthene City Cemetery.

Tucking her white jacket around her body to keep the wind out, Loren followed behind him. The sound of grass crunching under her wedge heels was soon replaced with the thud of concrete as they reached the road that would take them back to the car.

Suddenly, Darien stopped.

Loren stopped, too.

His back was still facing her when he spoke. “I never went to her funeral.” His deep voice was hushed, the words nearly blowing away in the breeze. Loren strained to hear the rest of what he said. “I was so upset and broken, I couldn’t find the strength to go. I haven’t stopped regretting it since. If I could go back, if I could redo it—” The words broke off into a silence that choked the whole area.

Loren took one step before stopping again. “Everyone has different ways of coping.”

“I cope by running away.” He still wasn’t facing her. “That’s not brave, that’s cowardly. I’d rather run from my pain than face it, and there is no excuse for that.” The words were coated in ice. Loren understood how long he’d harbored this information, how long he’d dwelled on it, unwilling to forgive himself.

Loren stepped up to his side and slid her fingers under his sleeve, wrapping them around his wrist. His pulse raced under her thumb. “You have to try to forgive yourself, Darien.”

His throat shifted with a heavy swallow. “It hurts, baby. But the thing is, I don’t want it to stop hurting. I don’t want to forget, I don’t want to move on. She deserves to be remembered.” A lone magpie flew into a nearby tree. “Her real name was Elsie. Emberley was the name she gave herself when she ran away from home, a young woman stupid in love.” Silver jingled as he tugged the wing-shaped locket up from where it was hidden under his shirt. “This is all I have left to remember her by. This and some old photographs. There are only a few left. My dad burned all the others before I had a chance to get to them.”

“Your dad was an asshole.” The words wobbled on her tongue. “And you are nothing like him.” She hugged him again, unable to bear looking at his pained expression any longer.

Minutes passed as she clung to him. He was still as a statue, hands hanging at his sides instead of around her. Never had she felt him this tense; even his chest quavered under her cheek when he breathed in.

“You know what I dream about?” The question Darien voiced was softer than a hum.

Loren peeked up at him. He kept staring straight ahead, looking but not seeing.