Page 30 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)
The attic feels different tonight, heavier somehow. Maybe it’s the weight of everything unsaid, or maybe it’s just me. The others file in one by one, their footsteps muted against the floorboards. I shut the door behind us, leaning against it for a moment longer than necessary.
Rhett stands by the window, his broad shoulders outlined against the faint glow of the moonlight.
Jace collapses onto the old loveseat, his usual energy subdued but still there in the restless tapping of his fingers against his knee.
Theo claims the armchair by the corner, his sharp gaze already scanning the room like he’s solving a puzzle no one else can see.
Wes lingers by the far wall, quiet as always, his arms crossed over his chest like he’s holding himself together.
It’s not lost on me that we’ve fallen into these roles again—the careful dance of who stands where, who speaks first, who waits.
“She kissed me,” Rhett says suddenly, breaking the silence.
Four heads snap toward him, mine included.
Jace straightens on the loveseat, his easy demeanor replaced with something sharper. “Wait—what?”
Theo leans forward in his chair, his brow furrowing. “When?”
“This morning. By the daisies.” Rhett turns to face us, his green eyes steady but conflicted. “She... she pulled back right after. Apologized. Said she wasn’t thinking.”
“What did you say?” I ask, my voice coming out rougher than I intend.
Rhett’s hand curls into a fist against the windowsill, but his voice stays steady. “I told her she didn’t have to explain. That I got it.” His gaze drops, his shoulders tense like he’s bracing for judgment. “She was caught up in the moment, that’s all.”
Jace lets out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Caught up in the moment? That’s what you’re going with?”
“She kissed me,” Rhett snaps, his green eyes blazing. “And then she apologized. What was I supposed to do—push her for more? She doesn’t need that. She doesn’t need me making it harder for her.”
“She doesn’t need space, Rhett,” Theo says evenly, though his tone carries a hint of frustration. “She needs to know she’s allowed to feel something good without apologizing for it.”
“She needs to know she’s not alone,” Wes adds, his voice quiet but resolute. “And right now, she doesn’t.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Theo says evenly, though his tone carries more weight than usual. “But she also doesn’t need mixed signals. If she kissed you, it means she’s trying to trust us.”
“She’s already trusting us,” Wes cuts in, his voice quieter but no less intense. “She let me sit with her the other morning. Let me talk to her about... about things I never thought I’d say out loud.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “But she doesn’t think she deserves us. Any of us.”
The room falls silent again, the truth of Wes’s words hitting harder than anyone wants to admit.
“Like when I told her the attic was hers,” Wes continues, his tone measured but raw. “She said she didn’t deserve it.”
Theo leans forward slightly, his hands clasped. “We’ve all seen it, haven’t we? The way she looks at us. Like we’re these impossible things she can’t let herself have. Like we’re—” He exhales sharply, the words hanging unfinished.
“Too much for her,” Jace finishes, his voice softer now. “But not because she doesn’t want us. Because she doesn’t think she’s enough.”
“She doesn’t think she’s enough because of them,” Rhett growls, his knuckles whitening against the windowsill. “Phil. Her father. They’ve poisoned everything. Every thought she has about herself.”
“And we’re here, trying to fix it,” Wes murmurs, his voice carrying that quiet steel that makes you listen even when he’s barely speaking.
"We all love her." Wes says it like a truth he's known forever but has never dared to say aloud.
The words settle over the room like a punch to the gut. No one moves, no one speaks.
“It’s always been her,” I say finally, the truth scraping out of me like glass. “Since we were kids. It’s always been her.”
Theo nods, his dark eyes steady but full of something I can’t quite name. “Yeah. It has.”
Jace leans back against the loveseat, his head tipped back like he’s trying to find the right words on the ceiling. “You don’t think... you don’t think she’d ever need all of us, do you?”
The question hangs heavy in the air. It’s not something we’ve ever said aloud, not something we’ve ever let ourselves think too much about.
“Would that even work?” Rhett asks, his voice low. “All of us? Together?”
“Why not?” Jace says, his voice tinged with something almost hopeful. “We’ve shared everything else. We’ve built a life together, built this house, built...” He trails off, gesturing vaguely toward the attic around us. “Why not this?”
“She’d have to choose,” Rhett mutters, though there’s no conviction in his tone. “Wouldn’t she?”
Wes shakes his head slowly, his dark eyes unreadable. “Maybe she doesn’t have to.”
The mist swirls around our feet, heavier now, curling in the dim light. I glance toward the door, half expecting it to react like Wes said it did when Bree touched it. But nothing happens.
“She doesn’t even know how much she means to us,” My voice raw with emotions I can’t seem to push down.
“She thinks we see her the way they did. Like she’s.
..” I pause, clenching my jaw because I don’t want to say the words, but I have to.
“Like she’s a thing to be used and discarded.
” The mist stirs, a faint ripple across the floorboards, then stills again.
“She’ll figure it out,” Theo says quietly, though there’s something in his tone that makes me look at him sharply. “She has to.”
But the words feel hollow, even as he says them. Because we all know Bree doesn’t believe in her own worth. Not yet.
“Let’s not screw this up,” I say finally, my voice rough but steady. “Not for her. Not for us.”
The others nod, the unspoken promise settling between us like a fragile thread.
But as the mist curls thicker, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re already on borrowed time. And I wonder—when the moment comes, when Bree finally hears what she’s not ready to hear—will we lose her for good?