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Chapter 45

ASPEN

The Gavalon signet ring had taken us to where Kacidon bordered Vaelithe, and Iris practically dragged me over the ley line. The sweltering heat was already seeping through my clothes.

The border between Realms always fascinated me—the stark delineation between the environments that sustained each Sylvan bloom, the magic that kept each realm alive. The bright sun and vibrant life of Vaelithe stood in contrast to Kacidon’s biting cold.

“Lead the way,” I waved a hand.

“First, let’s get some of these ridiculous layers off,” Iris panted, peeling her heavy overcoat from her shoulders. “I’m melting here.”

Her posture was immediately tighter, every move guided by keeping her back hidden. We stripped away the bulk of our outerwear—layers that had shielded us from the Tundra's chill—until we were both clad in breezy undershirts and trousers. She pulled her overdress back on, took her hair out of its braid, and checked several times that both concealed her tattoo.

After she’d stopped hiding the mark, I memorized the way her hair changed each day. A braid like a crown, a long plait down her back, all of it gathered in a knot at the base of her neck. My favorite, and hers, was when she left most of it down, pulled from her face with small twists and braids. Additional braids appeared throughout the day, strands woven idly between her fingers.

“It’ll do,” she said, looking us over before stuffing our discarded layers into our bags.

We’d debated returning to Vaelithe for supplies the last few days. Iris had argued we could go back to Kacidon first, but after watching the way she spoke of her family, I knew she needed to be here. The life debt wouldn’t allow us to stay long, but she could be home, at least for a little while.

Iris’s full lips were set in a thin line, tension pulling at the soft contours of her face.

“Seldom am I graced with a parental meeting so quickly.” I pressed a hand to the small of her back, urging us forward. “An entire family affair.”

She glanced sidelong at me, eyes narrowed but unfocused. I wrapped my arm around her waist, fingers pressing into the generous curve of her hip, squeezing gently.

“Teasing,” I angled my head toward her, winking. “Relax, for the Divine’s sake. I can practically hear you overthinking.”

“You aren’t particularly helping,” she grumbled under her breath.

I chuckled. I took great pleasure in getting under her skin; she’d spent long enough under mine.

We reached the entrance to Raven’s Grove Apothecary. The leaves of the massive tree that housed her family home rustled in the wind. Vines climbed the gate, a raven with a flower in its beak carved into the front door.

I’d not visited Vaelithe often—only a few brief trips to Direwood Citadel. My participation in inter-realm relations had been, at best, piss poor. And that was being generous. The king and queen hadn’t cared for it, and I was honestly relieved to not be called to fulfill the duty often. My opinions had never held much regard, so I’d never seen the point. I didn’t want our people to suffer, especially at my indifference. I just hated it. All of it.

Iris glowed here, in the perpetual sun.

I needed to see about increasing dealings with Vaelithe upon our return.

She paused at the door, her hand against the brass latch. “In and out. We grab what I need, I give Zinnia and Gideon a brief update, and then we make our way back to Kacidon.”

“Goddess, Virlana. What has you so on edge?” I asked, a wrinkle forming between my brows. “From everything you’ve said, I assumed your relationship with your family was pleasant, at the very least.”

Her adoration for them was infectious. I couldn’t pretend to know anything about how it was supposed to be; my parents merely tolerated me. I’d spat on my father’s ideals and refused to take part in my mother’s schemes. And yet, it was their voices I searched for a hint of recognition. Their gazes I scoured for a glimpse of approval. Clinging to a family that didn’t exist anymore.

It was fucked, and I hated that I still cared. Their prized children were gone, and I had to be the best. Had to live up to what they had lost.

She reached up to smooth out the crease between my brows, her hand trembling slightly. “It is… I love them dearly. They just—” She hesitated, searching for the words. “They push sometimes. They don’t always understand.”

She shook her head, patting her hair at her neck before turning back to the door. “And for the love of the Divine, Aspen. Do not provoke Zinnia. The two of you would burn this entire place to the ground. Well, she would do the burning. But I have a feeling you would be holding the match. She and your mother have their history, and I know how you feel…”

I chuckled softly, my hand wrapping around the aging handle and pulling. “Don’t worry, Virlana. You’re my favorite sparring partner.”

The apothecary was empty, save for Zinnia Virlana and Gideon Boden—if Iris’s descriptions were accurate.

Gideon sprawled across a worn settee in the corner, watching with rapt attention as Zinnia flitted around the drawing room, watering the multitude of plants climbing over every available surface. His eyes followed her like he was memorizing a dance made of her every movement. He couldn’t tear himself away.

Iris cleared her throat, alerting them to our presence. If Zinnia was surprised, she hid it well, not a single drop of water spilling from the edge of her watering can. Her wide eyes and raised eyebrows were replaced quickly with a small smile. Gideon damn near fell off the couch.

“Wildling,” he exclaimed, regaining his composure and pulling her into a fierce hug. “We didn’t expect you back so soon.”

I lingered by the door, not yet stepping further inside. I felt Zinnia’s eyes on me from across the room, the temperature in the small space steadily rising.

“It’s temporary,” Iris choked out, crushed against the soft green healer’s robe Gideon wore. He released her, holding her at arm’s length. “We needed more supplies,” she explained, looking around Gideon at her mother. “And then we’ll be on our way back.”

And because I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving.

Selfish prick.

I could never tell her that.

Gideon twirled her around once before guiding her toward Zinnia. She chuckled, shaking her head as she pulled her mother into a much gentler embrace. Zinnia whispered something into Iris’s ear before letting go.

Then Iris turned to me, beckoning me closer with a tilt of her head. I moved as if pulled by an invisible string, utterly out of my control. And I was happy to follow wherever she led.

“You’ve met Aspen,” she said as I shook each of her parents’ hands in turn.

Gideon shared a gentle smile in my direction. “Thank you for escorting our girl. I’m sure she didn’t give you an ounce of trouble.” His eyes sparked playfully.

“Iris? Trouble? Never,” I mused.

“Have you found what you’re looking for?” Zinnia asked, her green eyes assessing. I didn’t know much about her beyond my mother’s stories and memories from their first visit to Kacidon. The accusatory edge in her tone had my teeth on edge.

“Your daughter has been working tirelessly for Kacidon,” I said evenly. “She’s helped many who would have been lost without her expertise.”

“As if she had a choice,” Zinnia scoffed.

It was easy to see why no one ever questioned their ruse. She was so reminiscent of her daughter, yet... angrier. Iris’s stories spoke of the many sacrifices Zinnia had made for their life, but I stepped closer to Iris on instinct. Zinnia sized me up like prey.

“And whose doing would that be?” I asked coolly.

A pinch to the back of my thigh reminded me of Iris’s earlier warning. I reached back discreetly and grabbed her hand, squeezing her pinky once before she pulled away.

“Mother,” Iris began, her voice placating, laced with false pleasantry. “Will you assist me in the back rooms? I need to gather some ingredients.”

Shortly after the two redheads left, raised voices broke through the walls. Not enough to make out the conversation, but evident enough of a disagreement.

It was an interesting dichotomy to Arcton Palace, with presumably the same function. Passionate yelling or antagonistic silence, insults disguised as niceties—I wondered which was worse.

I inched closer to the door they’d gone through, but Gideon caught my movement, shaking his head slowly in warning. From the look on his tanned face, this was not a new occurrence.

“How dare you bring?—”

“What can?—”

“Tarnish our name with the likes of the Gavalons?—”

“Most would believe it is their name I am?—”

“I gave you this?—”

“I am not a child, Mother?—”

Were the fragments I caught through the bark walls before a door slammed and Iris emerged again, red ringing her eyes. She tilted her head toward the stairs, not looking back as she stormed up them. I didn’t think twice.

The circular room at the top of the staircase was so inherently her, it was as if she’d breathed herself into the space.

Fresh flowers were everywhere—scattered in vases, lying on tables, hanging from twine. Books stacked to the ceiling against every wall towered over empty potion bottles, forgotten teacups, and discarded muddy boots. Skirts and bodices in varying shades of purple were strewn across mismatched furniture, spilling from half-open trunks. A dressing table overflowed with jewelry. Bundles of lavender were tied from the large circular window across from her canopy bed, the scent wrapping around the space, mingling with her sweet cinnamon and amber fragrance.

Iris Virlana’s room, much like her person, was an ode to the things she loved.

Always a hint of purple, always carrying a book. Never seen without herbs, potion bottles, and dried flowers hanging from her belt. She wore her heart for all to see, and once again, I was astonished at how she allowed herself to be so exposed.

When she turned to face me, I saw something of myself reflected in her that I never expected—utter exhaustion. The kind that came from endlessly trying to live up to a standard you knew you’d never reach.

I crossed the room in two steps, cradling the back of her head as I pulled her into my chest.

“I’m fine,” she murmured against the linen of my shirt. “Please don’t ask.”

“All right,” I said quietly, brushing my lips over her hair in a kiss and not letting go until she’d decided she’d had enough.

She rubbed at her eyes before collecting an assortment of items from her room. After stuffing yet another book into her overflowing bag, she left without looking back once.

I took the steps two at a time, careful to step around the gnarled roots, before stopping just before the bottom floor.

Gideon was bent over the long counter, his hands gently placed on Iris’s shoulders as he spoke to her in hushed tones.

“But I’ll tell you a secret no one told me.” He smiled softly. I hadn’t caught the beginning of their conversation, but I knew it was not one to interrupt.

“There is no timeline for any of it,” he continued. “It’s all arbitrary. The only thing that matters is that you find the things that bring you joy and chase after them, whatever they may be. I know your mother is… unyielding, but I think that is how she shows she cares. By keeping you safe. I have seen your face light up when you have a purpose—when you make the world just a little bit brighter for someone else.”

He pulled Iris into his arms, squeezing tightly. “That’s all I want for you. That joy. I know she feels the same.”

“It feels like I'm standing at a crossroads, but I can’t see where either path leads,” Iris admitted, her tears falling freely as she pulled back. “I feel like I should know in my bones where to go from here, but I... I feel stuck.”

“You don’t have to know,” he reassured her. “All you have to do is keep moving forward. A step, a shuffle... just keep going. That’s enough, I promise.”

I knew the words weren’t meant for me, but I tucked them away anyway.

No need to examine that emotion further, Aspen.

“If you can’t do anything else, persist,” Gideon said as they exchanged one last embrace. “With teeth bared and fists clenched, persist. Be stubborn as the hells about it. But no matter what, persist.”

Iris exchanged one last hug with him, her eyes darting several times to the door Zinnia had yet to emerge from. After the fourth glance, she resigned herself and strode toward the back door. I fell into step beside her, nodding toward Gideon as I passed.

“Oh, and Prince Aspen?” Gideon called as I reached for the handle. “I believe congratulations are in order!”

“Oh yes,” Zinnia finally stepped back into the room, her arms laden with glass bottles. “Your betrothal—word has been spreading like wildfire here. I’m sure the Leovens are quite pleased. Dante especially.”

That fucking prick.

We stepped into the garden, the setting sun casting deep oranges upon the forest beyond.

“Now—” I began once we were behind the tree line, my hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

She jerked away, evident anger spilling over.

Shit, no.

“How dare you?” she spat, shoving me away. “How dare you kiss me like that, hold me like that in the woods, how?—”

Fuck, no no no. Not like that.

“Easy, Virlana, I’m—” I stuttered, hands raising as I backed into the wall.

She charged toward me, jabbing her finger into my chest.

“You insolent little?—”

Well, yes.

“Iris, it isn’t?—”

“Pompous, entitled?—”

Absolutely. But that’s not what we’re discussing here.

I grabbed her wrists. She was dangerously close to my face, nails beginning to sharpen into claws. “I’m not marrying Deyanira, Iris.”

She jerked back. “Then what?—”

“The only person I have ever been betrothed to,” I said slowly, raking my eyes up and down her body, “is you.” I mapped her, vividly remembering exactly how she felt under my hands.

Her breath hitched.

“I’ll pretend again with you any day, Virlana. Though I do wonder if you’d rather bite my head off instead.”

“Then would you care to explain what in the Divine that was?” she snapped.

“Apparently,” I began, still holding her wrists. I’d prefer she broke my skin for other reasons. “Dante thinks that spreading false news of a betrothal will force my parents' hand in accepting his offer. I am, in no way, shape, or form, ever going to marry her.”

I’ll wring his fucking neck.

“It is still unfair to Deyanira if she believes?—”

I laughed, unable to contain it. “Deyanira would rather slit her own throat than be betrothed to me, Iris. And I rather feel the same, trust me.” Her eyes remained narrowed.

“Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me. I’ve known Deya a long time, and we would both be cold in the ground before we allowed a betrothal to happen. And, for what it’s worth, I hope that is where my mother would draw the line—which is why she has refused to entertain the offer multiple times now.”

“Oh,” she muttered, the tension in her arms loosening.

“Oh,” I echoed, lowering her hands and releasing my grasp. I understood her parents were simply trying to protect her with the information they had, but it was unnecessary.

“I see I may have jumped to conclusions.”

“Your parents received incorrect information. Dante’s tactics have likely spread to Vaelithe already.”

“Why does everyone just accept that?” she asked. “How does he get away with it?”

“It is the way of court.”

And I fucking hate it.

“His advising kept our kingdom from ruin, and the king and queen don’t take that loyalty lightly.”

He’s a slimy bastard.

“Aren’t you tired of it?” she asked. “Accepting this shit simply because things have always been this way?”

I knew she was talking about more than Kacidon.

“More than anything,” I admitted. “Now, may we make our way back to Kacidon? I’d like to get home before dark—and preferably in one piece.”