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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“W HAT’S GOING ON?” I asked Orrin, the youngest Shade we’d rescued from the Order, when I got to Myrelinth. She swung along the vines with other children, racing to the Myram tree.

“There’s an announcement.” She giggled, flipping through the air as she caught her next vine.

“Announcement?”

The entire city had gathered, as well as some Elverin from Aralinth. They crowded around the Myram, bubbling with concern and excitement. Riven stood at the base of the tree waiting for the crowd to quiet.

His fingers pulled at the laces of his cloak.

I went completely still. This is not what Nikolai had meant. This is not what Riven wanted. He needed time. I stepped forward but someone grabbed my arm.

“Let him do this, Keera,” Gerarda said, appearing at my side.

I yanked my arm free. “He’s only doing this because he thinks it will appease Nikolai.”

She shrugged. “Does the reason matter? He needs to stop hiding and face what he’s done.” There was no hardness in Gerarda’s voice, just blunt truth.

Riven swallowed. He took a step forward, moving closer to the crowd so they could see the jade color of his eyes as his cloak fell to the ground.

They erupted into shocked whispers. Some pointed at Riven’s eyes, other backed away as if the Elverin standing before them was an imposter and not the Riven they had come to know.

He cleared his throat. “There is something I have been keeping from all of you.” He spoke in shaky Elvish, his vowels clipped and his consonants too harsh for the words. He stopped, taking a breath, and when he spoke again, it was in the King’s Tongue. “Some of you may have noticed my absence. I needed time to decide how to tell you this, to know what to say.” Riven’s head drooped for a moment but then he stood tall.

My body yearned to reach out for him, to pull him back into the safety of the shadows. But he needed to do this. He needed it, and so did I.

“The day Keera Waateyith’thir broke the last seal and returned the magic to our lands, the Fae you knew as Riventh Numenthira died.” A united gasp broke through the crowd. “I used the last of my powers to help Keera break the seal and my life ended.” Riven’s brows furrowed, like he wanted to add something else to that part of the story but he stopped himself. “But Elverath saw fit to bless me with a new life. A life where I could live as a Halfling.”

“His eyes are green,” someone whispered from the back of the crowd.

Riven nodded. “My eyes are green. And my blood is amber. And my shadows are gone.”

Uldrath sat on Pirmiith’s shoulders with a confused look on his face. “Why a Halfling?” He looked down at the veins in his own hand pulsing with amber blood. “Why wouldn’t the magic bring you back as you were? Or an Elf?”

Riven picked at the skin around his thumb. “Because Riventh the Fae was not the only one who died that day.”

The crowd’s gasp was even louder than the first.

“I’m not sure what reasons the others have given you to explain Killian’s absence.” Riven’s hands shook. “But he has not been scouting or studying in the libraries of Volcar or meeting with any of the lords in the kingdom. Those were—and always have been—lies. Or at least only half the truth.”

Riven’s eyes searched for something in the crowd. I didn’t know what it was until I saw her. Vrail, creating an aisle through the crowd as she walked toward the Myram tree, the glamoured necklace hanging from her neck. For the first time, I saw what all the others must have seen before. The striking red of the jacket Vrail always wore as Killian gave color to her cheeks, but wasn’t tailored to her body like the rest of her clothes. It was the costume she wore as she played her part.

But everyone else saw Killian.

Vrail’s leg bounced as she took her spot beside Riven. He gave her a short nod and kept speaking. “The prince you knew also died that day. But only because the prince you knew never existed at all.”

Vrail pulled at the necklace and the clasp broke. The crowd went silent as the glamour shattered and Vrail stood before them—short, black-haired, and definitely not Killian.

The Elverin exploded into shouts and angry questions. “Why would you do this?” someone shouted from the bridges above the grove.

“How did this happen?” shouted another.

“Did Feron know?”

Riven raised a hand to silence the barrage of questions. “For those of you old enough to remember her, my mother was a gifted healer and a form shifter. She passed one of those gifts on to me. Her son. The prince.”

Jaws fell one by one as the Elverin began to comprehend the ruse. “I was born Killian son of Aemon and Laethellia. I was not born a Halfling, but a Mortal with red blood to prove it true. But as I grew older, my magic grew stronger until eventually I transformed into my other form. Not an owl like my mother, but a Fae. A shadow wielder. From that day forward, I was both Riven the Fae and Killian the prince. Vrail took on the task of pretending to be me when my father sent me away to the tutors of Volcar, while Feron trained me and my powers in Vellinth. After a decade, he thought me fit enough to join the Elverin and I met all of you.”

Feron stepped forward, his cane creaking against a rock in the soil. His lids were heavy and his eyes more sunken as he told the crowd what he had done. The memories he had placed in their minds. The lies he and Riven had spun together.

By the time he was done, thick tears had carved rivers down his cheeks and the crowd was silent.

“Why did you lie to us?” Uldrath asked in the innocent tone only a child could master.

Riven cleared his throat. “Because I wanted to keep you safe.” His voice cracked. “And I’m sorry I didn’t.” He stalked through the crowd, passing Gerarda and me.

I followed him out to the edge of the city. “Where are you going?”

Riven froze, hearing the desperation in my voice. He walked back and grabbed my hand. “I’m not leaving you, diizra .” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’m not even leaving the city. I just need an hour alone to let this settle.” He held up his hand, which was shaking uncontrollably.

There was pain and regret in his eyes, but not deception. He wasn’t running away again without saying a word. He wasn’t leaving with no message for when he would return. Even though I could tell that is what he wanted more than anything else, he was staying.

He was trying.

All he needed was some time, and I could give him that. I dropped his hand. “Thank you for telling me,” I said, and he walked into the Dark Wood without his secret.