Page 29 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

The early morning light spills across the backyard, soft and golden, painting the dew-dappled grass in muted hues.

My bare feet press into the cool earth as I sprint toward the blooms, my pulse pounding in my ears.

The mist curls lazily at my ankles, a quiet companion as I skid to a stop near the oak tree.

They’re glowing.

Not just blooming—glowing. Pale, iridescent light shimmers along the petals, shifting like sunlight on water. The sight steals my breath, holding me still. The delicate blossoms look like something from a dream, something not quite real.

I drop to my knees, fingers hovering over the nearest flower, tracing the edges of its strange, luminous petals. It’s familiar, somehow, but different—like a memory blurred at the edges.

Then, it clicks. My breath stutters.

Daisies.

Not just any flowers. The ones I planted. The ones I wasn’t sure would ever grow. The ones that, somehow, recognize me.

Warmth spreads through my fingertips as I brush against one of the blossoms, soft and pulsing, like the flowers breathe in rhythm with the mist. My breath catches, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself feel... joy.

A quiet cough behind me shatters the moment, and I whirl around to see Rhett standing a few steps away, his hands tucked into his pockets. He looks like he just came back from a run—his dark t-shirt clings to his chest, and his hair sticks up at odd angles, still damp from sweat.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice low and steady.

“You didn’t,” I manage, though my heart still races. I glance back at the glowing flowers, suddenly self-conscious. “I just... I wanted to check on them. I didn’t know what the seeds actually were.”

Rhett takes a few steps closer, his gaze dropping to the luminous blossoms. His brows furrow slightly, but there’s no fear in his expression—just quiet curiosity.

“Guess they’re not regular daisies, huh?”

I laugh softly, the sound catching me off guard. “No, definitely not.”

He crouches beside me, his presence grounding me in a way I didn’t expect. The morning breeze carries the faint scent of cedar and something warm and familiar—Rhett. “They’re beautiful,” he says after a moment, his voice softer now.

“Yeah,” I whisper, looking at the flowers, then back at him.

The mist swirls around us, heavier now, curling around Rhett’s legs like it’s welcoming him. He doesn’t flinch or pull away; he just watches me with that steady, unshakable gaze that makes my chest ache.

“I don’t know why they’re here,” I admit, my voice barely audible. “But they feel... important. Like they’re trying to tell me something.”

Rhett’s green eyes hold mine, and for a moment, the world narrows to just us. “Maybe they’re trying to tell you you’re important,” he says quietly.

The words hit me harder than they should, stealing the air from my lungs. Before I can think, before I can second-guess myself, I lean forward and press my lips to his.

It’s soft, tentative, over before I fully realize what I’ve done.

I pull back quickly, my heart hammering in my chest. “I—sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I just—”

“Bree.” His voice is quiet, steady, but there’s something raw in it that makes me freeze.

I risk a glance up at him, my cheeks burning. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes... His eyes are anything but. They’re soft and searching, like he’s trying to understand something that doesn’t make sense.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says finally, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach for me but doesn’t.

“I wasn’t thinking,” I mumble, my gaze dropping to the glowing daisies. “I just... I got caught up in the moment.”

Rhett exhales slowly, and I feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. “Bree, you don’t have to explain. I get it.”

His words settle over me like a balm, easing the sharp edges of my embarrassment. I risk another glance at him, and this time, his lips curve into the faintest of smiles.

“Besides,” he adds, his tone light but warm, “I’ve had worse ways to start my morning.”

A surprised laugh escapes me, and the tension in my chest loosens just enough for me to breathe. The mist swirls thicker around us, wrapping the moment in quiet magic.

“Come on,” Rhett says, rising to his feet and offering me a hand. “Let’s get inside before Jace starts yelling about us missing breakfast.”

I take his hand, his grip firm and steady as he pulls me to my feet. My heart’s still racing, but it doesn’t feel like fear. It feels... right.

As we head back to the house, I glance over my shoulder at the daisies. They’re still glowing, their soft light blending with the mist.

Maybe they are trying to tell me something.

The warmth of the kitchen feels almost overwhelming after the coolness of the backyard.

The smell of coffee and sizzling bacon wraps around me as I step inside, Rhett just a step behind me.

Jace is at the stove, flipping pancakes with a flair that borders on theatrical.

Gray sits at the table, scrolling through something on his phone, while Theo leans against the counter, sipping from a steaming mug.

“About time,” Jace calls over his shoulder, his blue eyes narrowing playfully. “Thought you two got lost in the backyard.”

“Bree was admiring her gardening skills,” Rhett replies, his voice steady but carrying the barest hint of something I can’t quite name.

I glance at him sharply, but his expression is calm, unreadable.

“The daisies?” Theo asks, his interest piqued.

I nod, sliding into a chair at the table. “They’re... different.”

Gray’s gaze lifts from his phone, sharp and assessing. “Different how?”

“They’re glowing,” Rhett says, leaning against the fridge. He folds his arms, his green eyes flicking to me briefly before settling on Theo. “Like, actually glowing.”

Theo sets his mug down, his brows drawing together in thought. “Glowing how? Bioluminescence or something else?”

I shrug, avoiding their curious gazes. “I don’t know. They’re just... not normal. But it’s probably nothing.”

“Nothing,” Jace echoes, setting a plate of pancakes on the table. “Because glowing flowers are totally nothing. Happens all the time.”

I force a smile, grateful when Rhett changes the subject by reaching for the coffee pot. But I can feel their attention lingering, like they’re filing the daisies away as another thing to figure out. Another mystery tied to me.

“Sit,” Jace commands, nudging Theo toward the table. “You too, Rhett. Breakfast is served, and I expect full reviews.”

The early morning light catches on Gray’s sharp green eyes as he watches me from across the table, his expression unreadable. The line of his jaw looks even harder in the soft glow filtering through the window, and for a second, I feel pinned by the weight of his gaze.

Jace sits to my left, his easy smile curling at the corner of his mouth as he nudges a plate of pancakes toward me. “Eat up, Bree. Can’t have you wasting away on us.” His bright blue eyes twinkle with mischief, but there’s a flicker of something deeper beneath his usual charm.

Theo leans back in his chair, fingers wrapped around his mug of coffee. His dark hair falls across his forehead as he tilts his head, studying me in that quiet, analytical way of his. It’s like he’s trying to piece me together, one careful observation at a time.

Rhett, seated beside me, shifts slightly, his broad shoulders brushing mine. The tee shirt he’s wearing reveals the strong lines of his forearms, the tan of his skin against the black fabric a sharp contrast. His green eyes flick to me, steady and grounding, before dropping back to his plate.

“How was work yesterday?” Gray asks, breaking me away from my thoughts.

My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. “It was fine,” I say quickly, too quickly.

Gray’s sharp gaze narrows slightly, but he doesn’t push. Not yet.

“Fine?” Jace prompts, raising an eyebrow. “That’s it? Come on, Bree, give us something to work with here.”

“It’s work,” I say, forcing a lightness into my voice. “Same as always.”

But it’s not. Jason’s voice still echoes in my head, his words cutting deeper than I want to admit.

"You’re just like Phil said.”

"Not happy unless someone’s got you pinned to the wall."

The words coil around my throat like barbed wire. I swallow hard, but they don’t go away.

I stare at my plate, suddenly nauseous. The food that had smelled so comforting earlier now feels like lead in my stomach.

“You’re lying,” Theo says softly, his tone careful but unyielding.

My head snaps up, and my heart stutters at the weight of their combined attention.

“I’m not lying,” I protest, but the words sound hollow, even to me.

“You’re hiding something,” Rhett says, his voice low and steady, like he’s testing the waters.

My pulse quickens, and I grip the edge of the table to keep my hands from shaking. “It’s nothing. Just... a long day. That’s all.”

They don’t look convinced. Jace exchanges a glance with Theo, who shifts in his seat like he’s weighing his next words. Gray leans back, his arms crossing over his chest as he studies me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm.

Rhett’s voice cuts through the silence. “Bree, you don’t have to tell us everything. But don’t expect us to believe ‘nothing.’”

The words hang in the air, heavy and pointed. My throat tightens, and I look down at my plate, avoiding their gazes.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just someone I used to know. An old... friend.”

“Friend,” Jace repeats, his tone laced with skepticism. “And this ‘friend’ made your day ‘fine.’”

“Jace,” Theo warns, his tone a soft reprimand, though his sharp gaze doesn’t leave me.

But I can feel their worry, their frustration, pressing in around me. They want answers, want to help, and it’s tearing me apart that I can’t let them. That I can’t let myself.

Jason’s voice echoes in my mind, sharp and condescending: You’re just like Phil said. You’re not happy unless someone’s got you pinned to the wall.

My stomach churns, and I grip the edge of the table tighter, focusing on the wood grain beneath my fingertips. They don’t know that. They don’t know everything.

“It’s not worth talking about,” I say, forcing my voice to steady. “Can we just... not do this right now?”

The silence that follows feels suffocating.

Rhett exchanges a glance with Theo, who looks like he wants to press further but stays quiet.

Jace leans back in his chair, his lips twitching like he’s biting back a dozen questions.

And Gray just watches, his arms crossed and his sharp green eyes cutting through me like he’s trying to dismantle every wall I’m clinging to.

“It’s not nothing,” Rhett says finally, his voice low. There’s no anger, just a quiet conviction that makes my throat tighten. “But okay. For now.”

The weight in his words is palpable. For now. A temporary truce. A promise that this conversation isn’t over.

Jace exhales sharply, breaking the tension. “You’re lucky I make amazing pancakes,” he mutters, but the humor feels forced, his blue eyes still shadowed as he looks at me.

I pick up my fork, though the thought of eating makes my stomach twist. Across the table, Theo shifts in his chair, watching me with the kind of quiet intensity that’s impossible to ignore.

The analytical part of my brain knows he’s cataloging every detail—my posture, my tone, the way my hands tremble when I think no one’s looking.

But someone’s always looking. Always watching. That thought flickers darkly in the back of my mind, and I shove it down, forcing myself to swallow a bite of pancake.

I glance toward the hallway, where the faint sound of movement upstairs draws my attention. “Where’s Wes?” I ask, grateful for the distraction.

“Sleeping in,” Jace answers with a shrug, though his gaze doesn’t leave me. “Late night at the bar.”

“Classic Wes,” he adds, grinning faintly. “Broody, mysterious, and running on four hours of sleep like it’s a lifestyle choice.”

“Better than you running on caffeine and bad decisions,” Theo mutters into his coffee, though the corners of his mouth twitch.

The banter washes over me, light and familiar, but I feel the absence of Wes like a missing piece of the puzzle. He’s always been the quiet one, the steady one, but even now, I wonder if he’s staying away because he can sense how close I am to breaking.

The mist curls faintly at the edges of the window, and I glance at it for a moment too long. Rhett follows my gaze, his brows furrowing slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. None of them do.

“It’s not forever,” I murmur under my breath, not realizing I’ve spoken aloud until Rhett’s green eyes flick back to me, sharp with curiosity.

“What’s not forever?” he asks, his voice quiet but steady.

I shake my head quickly, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just... nothing.”

They don’t press, but the tension lingers like an unspoken promise. Jason’s words, Phil’s threats, my father’s shadow—they’re all still there, heavy and suffocating. But for now, I keep them to myself, swallowing the bitterness like a stone lodged in my throat.