Page 113 of Evermore

“I don’t know yet, kid.”

“I never had a papa,” she said matter-of-factly, taking a bite. “Or a mama. Just Paesha and everyone here.”

The Remnants stirred at her words, but this time with an ache that felt almost like sympathy. I reached out to smooth her wild curls.

“Sometimes,” I said, looking at Archer, “the family we choose is better than the one we’re born to. But that doesn’t mean we stop hoping the others will choose better too.”

Archer leaned against the counter, looking between us. “When did you two get so wise?”

“Probably around the time you got so good at making sandwiches,” I teased.

“So yesterday,” Quill said, holding up her sandwich for inspection.

I’d only seenthe castle gardens once before, through the windows during that formal dinner the night Aldus had gone missing. Back then, I’d barely glimpsed the topiaries and hedges through the cold darkness. Now, wildflowers grew in cheerful tangles, herbs sprawled across stone pathways, and fruit trees stretched their branches toward the sky without interference. It seemed odd. To have so much color and vibrancy in a world where darkness clouded everything.

“My lady,” a woman said, appearing at my elbow with a tray of delicate cakes. “Perhaps the young miss would like some refreshments while she waits?”

Quill’s eyes lit up at the sight of the sweets, but she looked to me first for permission. I nodded, and she bounced on her toes.

“There’s a lovely tea room through there,” the woman said, gesturing toward glass doors that led back into the castle. “With an excellent view of the gardens.”

“Can I go?” Quill asked. “Please?”

“I’ll go with her,” Thea offered, already moving to follow the excited child.

Boo yipped at their heels as they disappeared inside, leaving Elowen and me to watch as Archer approached his father. Aldus sat in a cushioned chair beneath a sprawling oak tree, wrapped in a thick blanket despite the warm day. The change in the old king was stark. His shoulders curved inward, diminished by grief and likely loneliness. Maybe even guilt.

“When was the last time they spoke?” Elowen asked.

“As I understand it, they’ve only spoken once and it was when Archer was drowning in grief over losing his sister. He blamed Aldus, even though it wasn’t the king’s fault. I think a part of him still does, because if he’d come for their mother, things would’ve been different for all of them.”

“Hindsight can be so cruel,” Elowen said, giving me a pointed look before she turned her gaze back to the gardens.

We watched in silence as Archer moved across the grass, each step seeming to cost him something. His usual confident stride had abandoned him, replaced by the cautious approach of a man walking into battle. When he finally reached his father, they stared at each other for a long moment. Even from this distance, I could see the tension in Archer’s shoulders, the slight tremor in Aldus’s hands as he gripped the arms of his chair.

Aldus pushed himself to his feet despite Archer’s obvious protest. For a heartbeat, they stood facing each other, and I found myself holding my breath. Then something in Archer’sposture changed, a subtle softening, a lowering of defenses, and Aldus stepped forward, pulling his son into an embrace.

I felt Elowen’s hand slip into mine as we watched them hold on to each other, both trying to bridge a chasm that had been uncrossable only days ago. When they finally separated, I could see them both wiping at their eyes, their gestures mirror images of each other.

And then I walked away. The moment I knew for sure Archer felt safe, that he’d chosen these moments for himself, I gave them privacy to find their path forward.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a voice rumbled from down the hall. For a second, I closed my eyes, preparing for battle.

37

Thorne

I’d perfected the art of looking unbothered over centuries of practice, so I leaned against the marble column in Aldus’s castle like a man who hadn’t spent the last three days watching his Ever withdraw further into herself. Each glimpse of her had been both a blessing and a torment, seeing her pace the floors like a caged storm, beautiful and dangerous and breaking my heart.

When she had finally emerged onto the rooftop that first night, every carefully crafted pretense of indifference shattered. But I knew it would. She knew it would too. We’d made eye contact in the dark, lit by only stars. And then she danced. The moonlight caught in her hair, illuminating the markings that spiraled across her skin like terrible constellations. But even in her pain, she was magnificent. She’d come out every night since, checking to be sure I was there before she performed. I hadn’t missed a single second of it.

Elowen stepped between us, ever the protective mother. Her accusation stung more than I cared to admit. “Thorne Noctus. I trust you’re not here to cause trouble. Don’t think I haven’t seen you haunting our grounds.”

I slid my hands into my pockets. “It’s not haunting, per se. I’m just making myself available. Should the need for one such as myself arise.”Should she need me, I didn’t say. I’d been keeping watch, counting the hours until the other gods descended, knowing I should maintain my distance but unable to stay away.

“I’ll go check on Quill and Thea,” Elowen said in that calm, knowing sort of way, though her pointed look made it clear she was simply giving us space. As she passed Paesha, she added, “Try not to break anything expensive.”

The moment we were alone, I could see the battle raging across her skin. The Remnant’s darkness swirled visibly through the markings climbing up her legs and along her bare arms. My fingers itched with the need to help, to heal, to protect. But I knew better than to offer. She’d never accept it, not from me.