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Chapter 43

IRIS

My favorite sound filled the tent.

That of the forest. Birds chirping as the wind sauntered lazily through the leaves. The low murmur of moving water, the hum of magic encompassing it all.

The song created amongst the trees just before the day began.

We were in the same position we had fallen asleep in, limbs intertwined, my head resting on Aspen's chest. It was far later than when we usually rose, and I wondered how long it had been since I slept that soundly. Since either of us had.

I untangled myself from Aspen’s grasp, careful to move slow enough not to wake him. As much as I wanted to remain wrapped in his embrace for the foreseeable future, I needed a moment to myself—the sting of frigid morning air to clear my thoughts.

He looked so childlike in sleep, as if he hadn’t yet faced the horrors that had befallen him. The scent of smoke from the bonfire still lingered in his hair as I leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead before slipping out. I grabbed his coat on the way, shivering under its warmth as I stared into the mountains beyond.

It had been a week since we entered the Tundra. One week of near-constant bickering, playful jabs in hot springs, and long-kept secrets spilled in whispers over a crackling fire. One week, and I was half considering tearing Altaerra apart to find anyone who had taken a piece of that smile from him.

And it terrified me.

No one outside of Zinnia, not even Nadya, knew about the trap—had learned about the shifting, even. Yet...not one part of me regretted telling him.

No, him knowing those pieces of my soul wasn't what made me crave open air. What scared me was the hope. The terrifying notion that last night had been more than two people acting on their attraction. I had to shut down the idea of more—the notion that had first blossomed when he was simply my boy from the woods. The wistful thought I had pushed down as far as I could manage, forcing myself to believe the face he presented to the world: an uncaring, pompous prick.[9ko,led, shaking my head. “Leave them.”

I twisted to face him, resting my cheek against his chest while his fingers trailed lazily up and down my back.

“How long do you think we could get away with staying here, escaping the madness on the other side of the barrier?” he whispered.

“Aspen, you hate it here.” I angled my head to look up at him. “This place... I understand now why you were so against coming here.”

“I don’t. I hate what it has become, but… I feel different here. As if I am closer, even if only slightly, to who I want to be. Plus, you’re here.”

“You seem to forget I will also be in Kacidon when we return, at least for a short while.”

“It’s easier here,” he blew out a breath.

“Here, we can go back to when we first met,” I offered, understanding what he meant. We could pretend we were just two nameless strangers, reveling in each other's company. Ignore the consequences of our actions. Of our parents’ actions, and who we’d become because of them.

“I would never go back to not knowing you.” He held me tighter, thumbs brushing along my arms.

“Plus, the joy you experience here, your wonder at the secrets this place holds—” He trailed off, gaze distant. “Being here with you reminds me why it used to be my favorite place in all of Altaerra.” He laughed softly to himself. “That’s why I took you the path I did. I couldn’t help my curiosity. I knew I would regret it if I never got to see the look on your face when you saw the Eventide Glade.”

My heart constricted at the thought that he would endure the sorrow here longer for my sake. “You took me there on purpose?”

“Of course I did,” he replied, a smug grin spreading. “I’m a selfish male, Iris. Especially with you.”

My mouth dropped open slightly. “You're incorrigible,” I retorted in mock indignation, failing miserably at hiding my grin.

He leaned forward slightly, whispering in my ear, “You like the challenge.”

I tilted my head in acknowledgment. That, I did.

I steeled myself, preparing to ask the question. To broach the careful line that could shatter everything. But when I met those eyes of ice, he seemed to already know. We shared a look—one of understanding. Of unspoken promises.

“All I know is that I want time. Time with you,” Aspen interrupted before I could get the words out, as if already aware of the direction I had been headed.

Time.

Time to figure out what the hells had become of two practical strangers. Time to understand what it meant that two lost people had somehow found the comfort they’d both been tirelessly searching for in the middle of a frozen wood.

I supposed there were some things you couldn’t experience together without leaving a piece of yourself on the table, open for the taking, hoping the other wouldn’t balk at your scars.

“Time—to learn every facet of that beautiful brain of yours, Sunbeam,” he continued, tucking a strand behind my ear. That familiar warmth began to spread.

“And as for the rest of you...” His knuckles dragged from the shell of my ear down to my collarbone while a gust of wind snaked its way up my leg. “I would spend ages studying your body.” The wind traveled across my hip as his fingers trailed lower, the ghost of a touch. He didn’t break eye contact once.

“Learning every way I can make you bite that lip of yours.” The cool air traveled low across my belly, winding its way around my back and snaking up my spine. It was as if two fingers were leisurely walking up each vertebra. “Discovering just how dirty that sharp tongue of yours can be.” One finger grazed back up the column of my throat, his wind cooled the burning skin it left in his wake. “Seeing what those brown eyes look like when you go over the edge.” He hooked his finger under my chin, lifting it up towards him as his wind antagonized my lower lip. The restraint he’d placed on himself all these months was gone, snapped in two and left in the snow.

I leaned forward until we were close enough to share breath.

“If you shut your mouth, Prince,” I mused, dragging a fingernail up the front of his shirt, “maybe you would find out.”

He chuckled, brushing his thumb against my bottom lip. “The hells would freeze over before I make the mistake of rushing anything with you.”

I huffed. “You're a tease, Gavalon.”

“So impatient,” he tsked. He was enjoying this far too much.

I clenched my jaw, trying not to open my mouth and expose just how much I burned for him.

“Does it frustrate you?” he mused, pulling at my lip with the pad of his thumb. “Not being in control?”

I bit my tongue, realizing he had the upper hand here. His thundering heart, however, conveyed what his cool exterior was attempting to hide.

Fine. Two could play at that game.

“Not one bit,” I placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before turning back toward our tent. As I walked away, I peeled off the nightshirt I had been wearing, tossing it over my bare shoulder without a second glance.

Aspen sucked in a breath behind me, a low grumble escaping his throat. “Well played, Virlana.”

* * *

We found the entrance to the caverns near the edge of the Tundra just as the sun reached its highest point in the sky. The afternoon air was thick with the metallic tang of barrier magic—the most telling sign that we had found the right place.

Even Aspen had never ventured to this precise location before, only knowing of the surrounding area. I ran my fingertips across the invisible wall of magic, able to discern the hazy shimmer undetectable to most Ethera.

“How difficult will it be?” Aspen asked from my side.

“Extraordinarily,” I huffed a laugh. “This Threader’s barrier is a work of art. Intricate layers woven together so delicately that unraveling it is nearly impossible.” I danced my fingers along the ward, illuminating it so he could see, hooking a finger under a particularly loose Thread.

“You better grab hold if you'd like to join. The opening will be barely large enough for me to slip through without breaking the entire ward. If you're close enough, I can bring you with me.”

Mochi stepped back several paces, nestling into the snow to watch.

My hands tangled within the weave of magic while Aspen reached up, pulling my hair away from my shoulders. One of his arms wrapped around my middle, the other coming to rest under my outstretched limb in support. “No need to tell me twice.”

I began meticulously unraveling the Threads, pulling and tucking to create an opening. My magic soared to the surface, extensions of my own hands diving deeper into the mesh to unknot the more troublesome pieces.

Divine, this was complex.

I silently thanked the Goddesses for the years I had spent training, hiding the endless combinations of magic deep in the forest behind Raven’s Grove.

Even so, I could feel the drain. My power was still potent, but rusty—like an unused pair of shears. The entanglement before me was already making a dent in my reserves.

A familiar queasiness built in my belly, a direct consequence of how my magic twisted and writhed under strain. The melody of it grew louder, no longer a subtle siren’s song but a crashing crescendo, a symphony of dominance and defiance.

I took a breath through pursed lips, my skin unbearably tight as the magic tore from me too quickly—begging to escape. I yanked it back, struggling to rein it in. I hadn't used this much power in years, and it seemed almost resentful of the neglect, fighting for leverage to free itself.

Burrowing down into the last dregs of my will, I dragged the Threads back to my command. Several shot off in wild directions before I managed to subdue them, finally easing into untangling once more.

The strands of the barrier in front of us shimmered as a space formed, just wide enough for us to slip through. I forced myself over the threshold, shivering at the barrier's resistance to my power, praying Aspen was holding on tightly enough to follow.

“You really are a Sunbeam,” Aspen mused, dropping his grip as he stepped beside me. I glanced down at my hands, noting the golden glow emanating from my skin.

“It's been a while,” I admitted. “It only happens when I use my Threading abilities, and it intensifies the more I pull on that specific magic. Usually, it's not noticeable, but this ward is a masterpiece.”

“Fitting,” Aspen said with a crooked smile.

“Why do you continue to mock me with that anyway?”

“A mockery?” he laughed, spinning me to face him. “You are a ray of light, Iris. Even before I truly knew you, you shone bright enough to be a beam of the sun itself. Like the first light creeping through a rain cloud. There's something to be said for a presence like that.”

“There’s something to be said for quiet strength, too, Aspen.” I placed a hand on his chest for emphasis. “For a sharp, observant mind. For someone who pays attention.” I smiled softly.

Goddess, it was a shame he didn’t let others see those sides of him so easily.

“How do you do it?” he asked quietly. “How do you keep going?”

I paused. His words prodded at a wound that never quite seemed to close.

“Because icicles sparkle in the sun.” At the confusion shadowing his face, I continued. “Because flowers grow from barren land. Because bards sing new songs in Taverns.” I stepped closer, lips grazing his. “Because oftentimes I don’t want to go on. Then I remember there is something new to love at daybreak.”

Aspen’s lips were on mine before the last words fully left, keeping them for himself.

He offered his hand as the glow faded from my skin, pulling back with a crooked grin. “Ready to explore?”

“My favorite.” I darted into the dark, dragging him behind me.

The corridor wasn’t long, and before I knew it, we stepped into a small cavern, roughly the size of my bathing chamber back in Kacidon. Luminescent vines climbed the walls, their tendrils curling over the floor, covering every spare inch of rock. Tiny dark purple flowers with white-tipped petals dotted the pool in the center, releasing fine golden dust into the air.

After so long—so many failed treatments, books in forgotten languages, favors, bargains, disappointments—it was right there.

We had only just entered the caverns, and it was there.

The Blight Lotus.

I gathered a handful of the delicate flowers, careful to preserve them in pristine condition. I didn't want to disturb their ecosystem too much, and they were incredibly potent. Ten would suffice.

The flowers in my palm illuminated the space around me, light reflecting as I quieted my mind and summoned my Threads. I wasn’t taking any chances with their preservation.

Golden tendrils flitted around my outstretched hand, weaving into a tight braid, encasing the flowers in a protective ward. I turned the newly formed orb between my hands, running my fingers along the sphere to assess its integrity.

“Perfection,” I held it up for Aspen to see.

“I would not dare to expect less.”

I tucked the orb into my satchel, brushing the golden dust from my forearms.

The cavern system was extensive, according to the books Genevieve had lent me the night before we left. I almost wished we had needed to go deeper—to uncover more secrets hidden within these walls.

As we left, I glanced back one last time, savoring the breathtaking sight.

Stepping into the dark corridor once more, Aspen leaned down and brushed a kiss against my lips. Just a graze.

I’m proud of you , it seemed to whisper.

The barrier was easier to unravel upon our departure, having already formed a mental map of its puzzle. Warm light sank over the cave entrance. How had time slipped so quickly?

Dizziness slammed into my chest. My knees buckled under the sudden weight of exhaustion.

Aspen caught me effortlessly, hooking his arms under mine. “Careful now,” he murmured, easing me onto the ground. “You need rest.”

He pulled my bag from my shoulders, rummaging until he found one of my oat clusters, breaking off a piece and handing it to me as he sat beside me.

Zinnia had made them, crafting something fortified with magic to meet my dietary needs without sacrificing sustenance. Thank the Goddesses I had grabbed extra before we left—Aspen wasn’t accustomed to a vegetarian diet, and while the clusters were more than adequate, his mealtime pouting had been... notable.

“So,” I began, as the world righted itself. “Now we go...”

“Home.”

He stammered, immediately adding, “My home, I mean. Well, not just my home—Arcton Palace.”

“And then?” I asked quietly.

“And then we work on finding a cure. As for the rest, we have time. To figure it out.” He turned the orb in his hand, inspecting it from every angle. “All of it.”

After tucking the warded flowers back into my bag, Aspen dragged his fingers along the ground, as if reaching out without thought, to link his pinky with mine.

We watched the sun dip below the horizon, vibrant pinks and purples washing over the sky, and took our time savoring the view.