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Chapter 19

IRIS

The stairs creaked as Nadya and I climbed arm in arm to the second story of the Kraken’s Cup Tavern, grateful for the vacancy.

I wasn’t sure how five fully grown Ethera were going to manage sleeping in one room, but none of us were in any state to trust Ferrin’s portals—not when we risked ending up in the middle of the Cerulean Sea. Both Sygens refused to budge when Nadya tried to mount Karhu, remaining stubbornly on the perch. The barkeep apologized for only having one room available but offered it to us if we were interested.

The staircase wound as we walked, compounding the dizziness we already felt. Nadya and I clung to each other, arms linked, swaying as we ascended. Although we fancied ourselves impressively stealthy in our current state, the angry shouts from neighboring rooms suggested otherwise.

“What a perilous trek,” Theon heaved dramatically behind us.

“I thought we might lose one half of the Terror Twins up there for a moment,” Aspen chimed in.

“Ladies, are you well? Must you require time to recover from your grave journey?” Ferrin called loudly.

Without breaking stride, Nadya and I both lifted an unlinked arm, middle fingers raised, before slamming the door to the room in their faces.

They didn’t stay out long. The moment we reopened the door after changing into more comfortable clothing, all three of them stumbled in. After ushering them inside, Nadya and I sprawled across the bed. Ferrin fake-pouted, making a halfhearted attempt to worm his way onto the mattress before Nadya conjured a wall of shadows around the frame.

We giggled like we were girls again, listening to them fumble around. Held our breath to listen to their bickering as if it were twelve years ago and I was sneaking her into the basement of the Raven’s Grove after Zinnia fell asleep or sneaking to a hollowed-out tree in the forest by moonlight.

Aspen emphatically informed Ferrin that if he so much as breathed on him in his sleep, he would wake up to an icicle in his groin. Nadya finally lowered the barrier once they had settled for the night.

“I am glad you are here,” she whispered, turning on her side to face me.

“Me too,” I murmured, mirroring her position. “What’s the deal with those two?” I tilted my head toward the two princes passed out on the floor.

“Ridiculous squabbles,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Too much ego at a ball in Kacidon once, tempers at meetings between realms—the usual. The snowman’s complete disregard for the other realms. I’m sure there’s more, but they’ve been at odds since they met.”

“Etheran men,” I droned, and we collapsed into laughter.

Goddesses, I’d missed this.

“I think Ferrin harbors resentment too, for Kacidon’s involvement in the Tenebris War.”

There weren’t many who didn’t.

“Ris, do you ever think it’s time…” Guilt reared its head, tightening my chest. I knew exactly where Nadya was heading, and if I was honest, I had no idea how to answer. Several moments passed before she continued. “You’re almost twenty-eight. That doesn’t have to be your only home. We can keep you safe here.”

We had danced around this conversation for years, but she had never fully voiced it before. To her credit, I didn’t quite understand why I hadn’t pushed for leaving Vaelithe more recently. Instead, I had taken to sneaking around the Wilds rather than having a real conversation with Zinnia—a conversation that would prove, once and for all, that I could safely hide who I was without needing to remain under her and Gideon’s watchful eyes.

I was a fucking adult, for Divine’s sake—several years past the age of ascending, had I not been born marked as one of the Gilded Twenty. Shame and guilt prickled across my skin in familiar tandem.

And yet, every time I considered broaching the subject with Zinnia, I knew what awaited: the hurt in her eyes, the reminder of all she had sacrificed to keep me safe. I couldn’t abandon her. Not after that. So, I followed her rules, played the obedient daughter—because she deserved that after everything she had given me.

A life. A home.

I would do whatever it took to quell the anxiety I caused her, to honor the isolation she had willfully embraced for my sake. I had hoped that after the Trials were over, maybe—just maybe—the mark would fade, and we could simply move on. But the voice haunting me in recent months whispered otherwise, plaguing me with visions of an aged journal hidden beside my favorite chair in the Kacidon library.

A hope for answers. A way to finally escape.

“You can’t live your entire life in Marshire Wilds,” Nadya’s voice was almost imperceptible.

“I know.” I nodded, lying back beside her. I’d pushed the thought so far down, but I couldn’t ignore how free her life seemed. How the people at Arcton Palace simply… lived. I had never allowed myself to think much about what sort of life I wanted—only how to remain hidden.

Immortality was a long time to run.

“I won’t abandon her, though.” I’d always told myself I would be no need to hide after the Trials, plans would come later. Maybe it made me a weak-hearted fool, continuing to abide by her rules like a child. But I refused to let her sacrifices be in vain.

“You are not her keeper. I know you want more than this.”

I could almost admit it. There was no bind tying me to Vaelithe, like there was in Kacidon. No physical boundary that kept me from fleeing. No, it was fear. Fear, and uncertainty, and the raging war of being torn between honoring the love and sacrifice of a parent, and the undeniable longing for more.

“I’ll figure it out,” I promised. “After. Okay?”

* * *

The room was still pitch black when I woke, covered in sweat.

Thankfully I’d only tossed and turned, heart pounding, before I woke. A full-blown nightmare wasn’t something I was ready to put on display before anyone in this room.

I crept from the bed, shuffling my feet to avoid stepping on the men unconscious on the floor. I threw blankets over Ferrin and Theon’s sleeping forms before slipping into the hallway. A sliver of moonlight glowed from an open threshold across the hall.

Crossing onto the balcony, I found a shadow stretched across the floor.

“Is this where we confess our deep, dark secrets and become best friends?” I called out, rounding the corner to find Aspen silhouetted against the full moon.

“You have deep, dark secrets, Virlana?” he asked without glancing my way. I moved beside him, elbows resting against the railing, chin in my palm.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Gavalon?” I teased. The moonlight softened his features, a new facet of him I’d yet to uncover. Or perhaps I hadn’t looked hard enough before.

“I might.”

His response surprised me, though maybe it shouldn’t have.

It would be a lie to pretend he didn’t intrigue me. I’d seen several facets of Aspen Gavalon now—the side of him I’d met in the woods, the version of him after I’d realized who he was, and, most confusing of all, who he’d been tonight. Closed off still, yes…but different. Each iteration of him shifted, layered and complex, and I was trying to see where the pieces landed—to make sense of the enigma.

An icy breeze danced across my sweat-slicked brow, cooling my skin.

“Thank you.” I closed my eyes, tilting my head back as I inhaled a lungful of fresh night air. My hands were no longer damp, my nerves settling now that I was outside. “For going along with tonight.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” His words were stern, but he didn’t hide the tugging at the corner of his lips.

“There was plenty you could have done, I’d presume.” A gentle wind rustled the trees around us, filling the silence with the whisper of bristling leaves. “Especially with the life debt.”

“I’m marginally glad I decided against it,” he deadpanned, his almost smile growing. “Especially after my very enlightening conversation with the Nightshade.”

“She spoke to you?” For all I knew of Aspen, calling him closed off was an understatement. He didn’t strike me as one to trade confidences, and I knew just how tightly Nadya held her own. A conversation of substance between the two wasn’t something I’d waste money betting on.

“To her credit, we’d consumed several glasses of straight etherspirits by that point.” All the smaller glasses had been empty we’d finally stumbled back to the table. I wasn’t entirely sure if I trusted my memory, but I was fairly certain many of them had been full when we’d left to dance. “You two have quite a bond.”

“She is my other half,” I said without hesitation.

I had never, nor would I ever, be ashamed of the love I had for Nadya. I’d never take for granted a friendship that rare.

“Do you mean to say, you two are…”

“Not in the way you’re implying.” I laughed, realizing the parallel to my earlier questioning of his relationship with Theon. “Though I do find many don’t believe platonic love can be as deep as romantic love. Which is folly. You and I were both rather presumptuous with our questions tonight, it seems.”

“To be fair, I did imply that Theon and I had been together for years.”

“You were so affronted by his clarification.” I nudged him with my hip, catching the way he stiffened slightly at the contact. Realizing I’d overstepped, I twisted to face him, stepping back.

“Yes, well, he was awfully critical,” he muttered, pouting.

I absently gathered a few loose strands of hair behind my ear and began braiding. His gaze flicked down, but he didn’t ask about the habit.

“She said you and Ferrin had been waiting years to hear that song.” The space between us thickened—not accusatory, but… a bit more curious than was comfortable. “That you don’t leave Vaelithe.”

“Did she?”

Surprise sliced through any lingering fatigue, setting my nerves alight once more. I turned back to the railing, needing to escape his gaze as I gathered my thoughts.

I wanted to be angry with Nadya, but I had no valid reason. Had he asked me then, I might have told him even more. Had it been anyone else, anxiety would’ve immediately taken over. Consumed me with trembling hands and a dry throat and the overwhelming urge to flee. But not with Nadya. My trust for her outweighed my trust for myself.

Besides, Aspen and I needed to establish at least a sliver of trust. This cure felt more out of reach by the day, any information we found just led to more questions. And we’d make a piss-poor team if we were constantly second-guessing each other.

“She said the rest of the story is yours to tell.”

I busied myself with a second braid while I decided how much to reveal.

“I don’t leave the Wilds.” I settled on the truth—at least, as much as I could give. My head swam with lies, and I was too tired to add another to the ever-growing list I needed to keep straight.

How many secrets could you collect before they crushed you under their weight?

“The Marshire Wilds is the division of Vaelithe where our apothecary lies.” It spanned the land where our home stood and the woods beyond, ending just past Gideon’s home and the infirmary. “I… My mother needs me there.”

“Surely she doesn’t need you there every waking moment,” he countered. His tone was innocent, but the weight of his words settled into my aching bones—especially in light of my earlier conversation with Nadya.

“She…worries.” I chose my words carefully. “She’s given up more than I can say for us. I owe her as much.”

The inky sky lightened to a soft watercolor above the trees as silence stretched thin between us. In my peripheral vision, Aspen seemed to relax.

“That,” he sighed heavily, working his jaw, “that I understand.”