Page 67

She took in the sights and scents, letting everything wash over her in a new light. A place once thought to be a nightmare had turned into something magical. The Fairy Folk followed them, flying through the trees and running across the ground.

The Dark Fae did too.

Lies? Or Misunderstanding? How did an entire race come to believe them evil if it wasn’t true? Who had written books about them and their atrocities if there weren’t accurate accounts to draw from? Was it fear? Or purposefully placed deception?

Rion paused and Arianna stood at his side, gazing upon a small cabin hidden within the ageless trees. It was larger than the one she’d occupied with Rion at his camp, but a crack along the front, right corner told her it hadn’t been maintained. Shingles were missing, as though some creature had sought refuge inside and whatever had once surrounded the cabin had fallen into ruin.

Rion grimaced. “Sorry about the mess. I haven’t been here in a while.” He gripped the brass handle and its hinges creaked with misuse. Arianna followed him inside, but recoiled from the stale scent.

Rion headed for the fireplace, leaving her to take everything in. A large bed stood against the left-hand wall, with furs of all shapes and sizes piled on top. Along with a layer of dust. A table sat against the opposite wall with a vase full of dry, dead flowers. Old sheets of paper were stacked beside it. Curious, she walked over to examine them and flipped through sketch after detailed sketch of various creatures.

“You draw?” She asked, continuing to flip through the thin sheets. They were so detailed, down to the finest grain of skin texture, and some had eyes so alive they seemed to stare back at her from the pages.

Rion blew an ember to life, then pointed toward the mantle. “They’re outlines. For those.”

She turned and took several steps closer, ensuring she gave Rion enough space so she wouldn’t startle him. Lined all along the mantle, the dresser, and even shelves along the walls were dozens upon dozens of carved figurines, some in such likeness to the Fairy Folk, they could have been mistaken for the real thing.

Arianna studied each one, taking in the intricate details, then her eyes floated to the cabin walls. Swirls started at one corner and branched out, snaking their way down the boards like vines. They intertwined with one another in multiple layers, with leaves as detailed as the figurines.

“Did you build all this?”

Rion stood and followed her gaze. “At one point in my life, I needed a place to get away. This seemed fitting.”

Arianna ran her hands along the wooden planks, tracing the carvings. “How long ago?”

“Seventy years, give or take.”

He’d build this for himself. This was where Rion had run to seek solitude. A place he felt safe. And he was willing to share it with her.

Arianna placed her hands on her hips. “How about we clean it up?”

“Yeah?”

She smiled at the surprise on his face. “It won’t take long.” She strode toward the window and eyed the crank. “It needs some fresh air, anyway.” She struggled with the window and Rion dealt with the other one. Outside was cold, and all she wanted to do was curl up next to the fire, but Rion was talking. Actually talking and she wanted to keep that going as long as possible.

Arianna picked up the bundle of furs from the bed and took them outside. She shook out layers of dust and left them on a branch. They likely needed a lot more care, but she didn’t want to be away from Rion. Not when they were finally alone.

She grabbed a broom and stared in the corner. Though the outside structure had a crack through it, the fissure hadn’t stretched to the inside yet. She imagined Rion pulling boards out and replacing them, carving those intricate designs while a fire roared in the hearth. She imagined him sleeping soundly in the bed, his fears soothed by the fact that no one dared to walk the mountain path.

“Tell me about your family,” she said to break the silence.

He stopped collecting papers. “There aren’t many pleasant memories.”

“Not one?”Just talk to me.

Rion began shuffling again and just when she thought he wouldn’t respond he said, “My sister and I were close once.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older, by about thirty years.”

“What’s she like?”

“Impossibly stubborn with more pride than most males carry.” He ducked his head. “She’s the strongest and most resilient person I know.”

Arianna dumped a pan full of dust out the open door. “Sounds like you admire her.”

“I do.”