Page 81 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

I looked at her then, took in the wary look on her face, the dark circles under her once vibrant green eyes, even her copper hair had dulled.

“Ezra was supposed to show up,” I whispered, confessing what we hadn’t told the others.

“If Thorne and Tuck hadn’t walked in, Ezra would have.

Archer drained himself and Aeris never planned for our power to reach out and fill the void.

She never expected me to be involved at all.

Had things gone her way, I’d have died that day at Ezra’s hands most likely.

Quill would have died in the pit. And Archer would be bound to Ezra.

That’s how the Unmade Guardians are born.

Thorne watched it happen in Archer’s memories.

They wanted him because they knew he’d sit on the throne. ”

She forced a smile but pulled away from me.

“Thorne, Tuck, Minerva, Ezra, Aeris… Do you even hear yourself right now? Gods. All the gods. All their games. That’s why I have to do this.

You wanted me to believe the gods were bad and I believed it.

Don’t chastise me for what I decided to do after.

I know there are good and bad, just like there are good and bad people.

But they live forever and we only get these moments.

Right now. I don’t matter. Not in comparison to the masses. ”

I shook my head. “That’s bullshit, Thea, and you know it.”

“I’m not dumb enough to drain myself. I know my limits. Have a little faith in me.”

“I have all the faith in the world in you. But I also love you and this is dangerous.”

“It’s also my choice.” She threw a handful of metal scraps onto the cleared space, and a hush fell over the crowd. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I felt it, a subtle vibration beneath my feet, a stirring in the air. The pebbles near Thea’s hands began to tremble.

I backed up, stopping beside Quill and Minerva.

I’d spoken my piece, but she hadn’t listened.

Metal emerged from the ground like plants growing in fast, silvery tendrils bursting upward and weaving themselves into a complex latticework.

The structure took shape before our eyes, first the frame, then walls that flowed like liquid before solidifying into something that resembled burnished steel.

She’d taken ages with the bathhouse. And now she was melding a building in seconds.

But she trembled. Sweat covered her forehead in seconds.

Even her eyes went unfocused. Windows formed, delicate and arched.

A door materialized, complete with hinges and a knocker shaped like a bird.

And all I could do was sit there, looking beyond the beauty to the pain such an act had caused.

The crowd gasped and applauded. But Quill knew.

Her wide blue eyes were locked on Thea. Hands to her sides as she worried over whatever emotion our friend was feeling.

The house continued to grow, forming a second level, then a small balcony.

But as it neared completion, I noticed Thea’s breathing grew labored.

The metal responded more sluggishly, occasionally creaking in protest.

“She needs to stop,” I muttered, taking a step forward.

Minerva’s cane blocked my path. “Wait.”

With a final surge of effort, Thea pressed her palms flat against the ground.

The house shuddered once, then settled into its final form, a modest but beautiful two story dwelling with flourishes that reminded me of the Syndicate house.

As the crowd erupted into cheers, Thea slumped forward, catching herself on her hands.

I pushed past Minerva’s cane and rushed to Thea’s side, helping her to her feet. She leaned heavily against me, her skin clammy.

A small family pushed through the crowd, two tired-looking men, likely brothers, and two women, one with an infant strapped to her chest. Their gratitude was palpable as they approached Thea.

“We can never repay you,” a woman said, tears streaming down her face.

Thea straightened, summoning strength from somewhere deep within. “Live in it. Be happy. Take care of the Underground. That’s payment enough.”

As the family explored their new home, relishing every detail, Vincent appeared at our side with a cup of water for Thea. She drank it gratefully.

“You need to rest,” he said. “That’s your third house this week.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though she still hadn’t released her grip on my arm.

“You’re not,” I countered. “And if you collapse, who’s going to build the next one? Or maintain all the supports holding this place up?”

That sobered her. She nodded reluctantly. “Maybe a short break.”

As we settled at a table nearby, Minerva leaned heavily on her cane. “You can’t keep this up forever, you know? Not only physically, though that’s concerning enough. But secrets this big have a way of revealing themselves.”

“What are you saying?” Thea asked defensively.

“I’m saying that gods are curious creatures by nature, and mortals are terrible at keeping secrets. Do you really think they don’t know?”

“If they knew, they’d have done something by now.”

“Perhaps they’re simply waiting. Watching. Learning.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not creepy at all.”

“It’s realistic,” Minerva countered. “We are known for playing the long game, dear. Trust me on this.”

“We’re not fools. But what choice do we have? Go back up there and pretend we’re happy with gilded cages?”

“Some would,” Minerva said.

“Some have,” Thea admitted. “Left a couple weeks ago. Couldn’t stand being underground anymore. Said they’d take their chances with the gods.”

“Have you heard from them?” I asked.

She shook her head.

I glanced at the entrance we’d come through, suddenly wishing Thorne were here beside me.

He’d always been good at reading the bigger picture, at seeing patterns I missed.

Though I’d never admit it aloud, I missed the reassuring warmth of his hand on my lower back, the way he somehow always knew what I was thinking before I said it.

“How do you keep the air fresh?” I asked to curb the subject.

“Ventilation shafts,” Thea explained. “Disguised as decorative elements in buildings above. Plus some clever engineering from a couple of people from Stirling.”

“And food?”

“They grow some here. Special crops that need minimal light. Some they trade for. Some come from supporters above ground. Tuck, you know. And others.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like a certain newly appointed prince?”

“That’s classified information,” she said, but her smile confirmed my suspicion.

“You know what the worst part of the Underground is?” I asked.

“The stairs,” they all said in unison.

“You can all poke fun, but when you have to trek back up those things, I don’t want to hear it. Haven’t you ever heard of a slide, Thea? Damn. At least coming down would be easier.”

The sun had nearly set by the time we made it out of the underground.

I’d forgone the fucking stairs and used my Remnants to carry everyone back up.

Still, Thea promised to be right behind us as Quill, Minnie and I disappeared into an alley, wound through a few of the gilded streets and got back onto our open carriage.

Quill’s eyelids drooped as the carriage rocked gently.

Boo was already snoring on her lap, his tiny legs twitching in some doggy dream.

I guided the horses home, like I’d done countless nights after a show.

But, something wasn’t right.

The front door stood ajar, a sliver of golden light spilling across the porch. My heart sank into my stomach. Elowen never, never left that door open, except as a warning. Back when the Maestro would come looking for Thea or me, an open door was her signal that danger waited inside.

The Remnants surged forward on my command, shadows rippling across my skin and pooling at my feet.

“I’ll protect the child,” Minerva said, dipping her chin, and I had no doubt of that whatsoever. Minerva was scary.

I moved silently up the path pushing the Remnants to spread out around me.

The familiar weight of my blade, Harlow’s blade, pressed against my thigh beneath my dress, and I reached for it, drawing comfort from the cold metal against my palm.

Using the only power I’d known growing up, I did a mental check on everyone I knew.

I couldn’t see Thorne, I’d never been able to, but Tuck and Archer were racing toward me.

Elowen was inside the house. Thea was almost home.

My whole world in one spot sounded terrifying on the brink of something dangerous.

The door creaked as I pushed it wider. I winced at the sound but inside, the entryway was empty. I could hear voices from the sitting room, Elowen’s measured tones and another, lighter voice that made my skin prickle with recognition.

I edged along the wall, blade ready, every sense heightened.

I inched around the corner. Elowen sat ramrod straight in her favorite chair, teacup balanced perfectly on her knee.

Her face was composed, but I knew her too well to miss the tension in her shoulders, the too careful way she held herself.

Across from her, lounging with casual elegance in a chair that had been Hollis’s favorite, was Aeris.

Once again, the goddess looked younger than I’d last seen her, no longer the weathered grandmother figure but a woman in her prime, with gleaming brown hair cascading down her back and skin that glowed with unnatural vitality. She turned as I entered, her smile widening.

“Ah, Huntress,” she said, her voice melodic and rich. “What perfect timing. I was just asking Elowen when you might return.”

The Remnants swirled at my feet, responding to the surge of protective fury that shot through me.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, not bothering to mask my hostility.

Aeris sighed, setting down her teacup with a delicate clink. “Such suspicion. I simply came to visit Quill. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her and she’s, no doubt, been wondering about me.”

Elowen’s eyes met mine, conveying volumes in that silent exchange. Be careful.

“Quill isn’t available,” I said coldly. “And you’re not welcome here.”

“I’ve been perfectly civil?—”

“I don’t care. Get out.”

Something dangerous flickered across Aeris’s beautiful face, a brief glimpse of the power she usually kept carefully veiled. “You don’t command gods, child.”

“And you don’t command this house,” I countered. “I’m sure Elowen asked you to leave, didn’t she? Before I arrived. Yet here you sit.”

Aeris’s smile thinned. “I was hoping for a civilized conversation.”

“Hope somewhere else.”

The sound of another carriage rattling up outside provided a welcome interruption. Thea, thank the gods. I needed to warn her, to let her know who waited inside. I kept my eyes on Aeris as I took a step back toward the entryway.

“Your persistence is irritating,” Aeris said, rising from her chair. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Stubbornness runs in your blood, after all.”

Before I could respond, the front door swung open. I turned, ready to signal Thea to stay back, and instead found myself staring into a face I hadn’t seen in fifteen years.

My father.

I had no words. Nor feeling in my feet as I stared at a man that’d died to me the day he stopped responding in that fucking opium den.

I couldn’t tell if I wanted to throw up or fall to my knees, or slam the door shut.

He just stood there, older, grayer, the lines of his face deeper than I remembered.

His clothes were simple but clean, nothing like the ragged garments he’d worn in those last days.

Thea hovered anxiously behind him, her expression a mix of apprehension and sorrow.

I stumbled backward. The knife nearly slipped from my suddenly numb fingers. A thousand questions fought for dominance in my mind, but I couldn’t voice a single one.

He didn’t look at me.

His eyes fixed on something, someone, behind me. His weathered face crumpled with a storm of emotions: recognition, shock, grief, anger.

“Treasure? I see you’ve found your mother,” he said, his voice the same smooth tone I remembered.

The world tilted beneath my feet as I slowly turned to follow his gaze straight to Aeris, whose perfect composure had finally cracked.