Page 12 of Crown of the Mist
The effort leaves me weak, vulnerable. Even now, I can barely stand, my connection to the mist flickering like a candle in wind. But watching her climb into the mortal's truck—Rhett, she calls him—makes the sacrifice worth it.
She's so much stronger than she knows. So much more than these shadows she hides in. The mist recognized her power long before I did, drawn to her light like a moth to flame. Even now it curls around her, protective, possessive.
Soon. Soon she'll understand what she is. What we could be. The mist chose us—marked us for each other long before I knew her name.
But for now, I let my consciousness fade from her realm, my grip on the mist loosening. The last thing I see is her hand, trembling but steady, reaching for the comfort he offers. It sends an ache through my chest—familiar, expectant. These mortals care for her, protect her in their limited way. For that, I'm grateful.
Rest, little flame. Your guardians will watch over you until we can be together again.
8. Bree
The silence wraps around us like a blanket as Rhett drives, broken only by the rhythmic swish of windshield wipers and the soft patter of rain. I stare out the window, but I’m not really seeing anything. My mind keeps circling back to Phil’s grip on my arm, to Mrs. Henderson’s last breath, to the way the mist seemed to respond when...
I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t think about that right now.
“Almost there,” Rhett says quietly, and my stomach clenches as I realize where we’re heading. The truck turns onto Oak Street, lined with old Victorian homes split into apartments. I’ve gone past their place a hundred times but never went inside. Another wall I built. Another boundary I enforced.
Rhett pulls into a narrow driveway beside a huge blue Victorian, complete with a wraparoundporch and way too many windows. Light spills from several of them, warm and inviting in a way that makes my chest ache. A shadow moves past one of the first-floor windows—probably Theo, he’s always up late reading.
He hesitates, his hands tightening on the wheel before he finally speaks. “You don’t have to come in. I can call you a cab, or take you anywhere else you want to go.”
My throat tightens, the weight of the offer pressing down on me. I should say yes. I should ask for a cab, go somewhere—anywhere that won’t make this night more complicated than it already is. But I’m so tired. Tired of running, tired of being afraid, tired of being alone.
I take a shaky breath. “Okay.”
Rhett’s head turns, his eyes flicking to mine as if he’s checking to see if I really mean it. When I don’t say anything else, he nods and pushes the door open. He’s around to my side of the truck in an instant, but he doesn’t touch me. He just holds the door and waits as I slowly uncurl myself from the seat.
My legs shake as I follow him up the porch steps. The old wood creaks beneath our feet, and I catch the scent of rain-soaked cedar. Rhett unlocks the door, and warmth spills out—along with the smell of coffee and something else, somethingthat smells like cinnamon and safety.
“Just for tonight,” I say, my voice rough. “Just until…”
Until what? Until I’m less broken? Less afraid? Less me?
Rhett’s eyes soften, but he just nods. “Just for tonight.”
Rhett nudges the door shut behind us, locking it with a quiet click. The warmth of the house hits me immediately, and with it, the overwhelming realization of how cold I am. My damp clothes cling to me, my fingers frozen stiff.
“Let me grab you a towel or some clothes,” Rhett says, his voice low, steady. He glances at me like he’s afraid I’ll bolt the moment he moves.
I nod faintly, crossing my arms tighter around myself. But before Rhett can step away, the sound of footsteps on the stairs makes us both freeze.
Theo rounds the corner, a book in hand, his head down as he reads. He stops mid-step, his foot hovering over the last stair when he looks up and sees me. His face shifts instantly—surprise, worry, and something else I can’t quite name flashing through his blue eyes.
“Bree?” His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter if he speaks too loud. “What... are you okay?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. My throat feels too tight. Theo sets the book down on the banister and takes a cautious step forward, his brows knitting together as he studies me.
I know what he sees. The damp hoodie clinging to my frame, the dark circles under my eyes, the way my arms are wrapped so tightly around myself it’s like I’m trying to hold myself together.
And suddenly, I can’t stand it. The worry in his eyes, the quiet way he looks at me like I’m some fragile thing he needs to fix. My chest tightens with the familiar sting of shame.
“I’m fine,” I mumble, though the words sound hollow even to me. “Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” Theo interrupts gently. “Don’t apologize.”
I swallow hard, dropping my gaze to the floor. My mind starts spiraling, berating myself for letting things get to this point. For making them worry. Again.
“I’ll be right back” Rhett murmurs as he leaves the room. Theo steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like he’s trying not to spook me. “Come on,” he says softly, tilting his head toward the hallway. “Let’s get you warmed up.”