Page 97 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

Aya was well acquainted with grief. It came in waves, some small enough that she could manage without a break in her routine, others so large she thought she wouldn’t survive them.

The day she’d visited Tova’s family was a small wave, kept at bay by Caleigh’s zealous recount of what had transpired in the palace during the battle, and how she’d entertained the younger children by coaxing flowers to grow in the throne room.

Aya’s eyes had lined with tears as she thought of flowers pushing through the granite where Tova’s body had lain, but that had been the worst of it.

Then there was the day she burned Pa’s body. That was a monstrous wave, one that continued to tug her under, catching her in an endless riptide. Will had coaxed her back into their bedroom in the palace, where he’d held her, Akeeta and Tyr on either side of them, keeping guard as Aya cried.

“Take it away,” Aya had pleaded through her sobs, her head buried against Will’s chest. “Take the pain away.”

“I can’t, mi couera ,” Will had whispered into her hair, his own voice cracking with the confession. “I can’t.”

But as the weeks passed—as Dunmeaden slowly began to heal—so did she. The grief still came, and the waves still varied, but she could stand them now no matter their size.

It would take time, she realized. Just as it would take time for Dunmeaden to resemble the great capital it once was.

It took weeks just to clear the debris from the attacks.

But now, more than a month after the battle, Aya could start to see the shells of buildings being raised, especially along the docks.

The Rouline, Mathias had insisted, was necessary for morale.

Apparently, he was funding the rebuilding of every single gambling hall.

He’s basically just reinvesting in himself, Liam had said over dinner one night with her and Will. But, he’d shrugged, his crown catching the firelight, if he wants to front the cost, I won’t argue.

Aya was still getting used to seeing a crown on top of her friend’s head. Then again, he’d been without it at first. It had taken a few weeks for the blacksmith to fashion the one he’d wanted.

Not granite, like Ginna’s, but steel, made from the melted-down blade of his twin sister’s sword.

Grief was complex. Aya would know.

And while Liam’s certainly lingered, too, he had taken to the role of king rather effortlessly, as if the position had been made for him. Aya was not surprised in the least.

Already, he’d gotten Sarhash and Nyra to pledge gold and supplies from Milsaio and the Midlands to help Tala rebuild. In return, he promised Tala would provide soldiers to help with the recovery in Sitya and Milsaio’s capital once they had people to spare.

Of course, it wasn’t all pleasant. There was the matter of the Kakos soldiers who had survived. Their trials had been held while all four monarchs were in Tala, and Galda had urged Aya to attend.

The worst of them had been sentenced to death, while the others were to be exiled. It was Sarhash who volunteered to oversee the transformation of Chamen and the reinforcement of its security.

For now, the prisoners would be confined to Milsaio’s second island until it could be rebuilt.

Hyacinth had been tried, too. Her sentencing for her treason was a lifetime on Katadyré.

Slowly, they were all healing, the days creeping into a new sort of normal that would take time to get used to. Yet it was beginning to feel familiar all the same. And though Aya knew Liam would never ask them to leave…she was beginning to find herself thinking of home.

Or, rather, her lack of one.

She’d gone back to Pa’s farmhouse only once, and the wave of grief it had brought had been so strong that Aya knew she could not bear to visit again, let alone live there.

There was the Quarter, which was being steadily rebuilt on the grounds that had long since belonged to the Dyminara, but she did not think that would feel like home either.

Not anymore. She’d put her fighting leathers in a drawer after she’d washed them, and she hadn’t touched them since.

She wasn’t sure of her future with Dyminara, and no one had pushed her to figure that out just yet.

Aya let out a long breath as she leaned against the old wood of the Athatis stall, her hand stroking Tyr’s fur idly.

“A copper for your thoughts?” Will asked as he stepped into the barn. There was a light sheen of sweat on his skin, indicative of a hard training session with Akeeta. Sure enough, his bonded followed behind him, her eyes bright from exertion.

Akeeta flopped down next to Tyr with a contented sigh.

“I was thinking of where we’re going to live,” Aya admitted. She took the hand he extended toward her, letting him help her up off the floor.

“Palace life doesn’t suit you, does it?” Will teased as he dipped his head to capture her lips in a soft kiss.

“And to think I could’ve married Aidon and been a queen,” Aya sighed, laughing as Will nudged her away playfully.

“You’re such an ass.” His grin was wide and unrestrained.

It was good to see him like this. Happy. Training not because he had to, but because it felt good.

They were both learning how to do that, how to untangle duty from desire and determine which they should listen to. They hadn’t quite figured it all out yet, but Aya supposed they had time.

She wasn’t used to that—having time. Having options. Settling into her choices.

Will squeezed the dips of her waist before he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Will you come with me?” he murmured against her lips.

“Where?”

“I have something to show you.”

“Where?”

Will groaned as he pulled away from her, but his gaze was entirely too fond for her to believe his exasperation. “You’re really horrible at surprises, do you know that?”

“Years of being a spy, I suppose,” Aya answered with a sly grin.

It was telling that it was a piece of her past she could speak of so lightly now.

There were moments when it still stung—moments where she wondered if who she had been was who she should be now—but she was trying to let those thoughts pass through without her holding on to them too tightly.

Will pressed his forehead against hers, keeping her anchored in the present moment. “Do you trust me?”

Aya pretended to think about it for a second, but she broke into a grin at the roll of Will’s eyes. She tugged his head down as she pushed onto her toes, capturing his lips in a long, messy kiss. “More than anyone,” she said as she pulled away, sincerity softening her tone.

“Good.” He took her hand, giving a sharp whistle for the wolves to follow, and tugged her out of the barn. “Then let’s go.”

They walked for a long while, not back toward the town, but deep into the peaks of the Malas, the path curling around Dunmeaden, which she could see from a distance. Tyr and Akeeta trotted ahead, their ears perked as they took in the fresh air and birdsong.

“Nearly there,” Will assured her.

“You’re still not going to tell me what this is about, are you?”

“I’d rather show you,” he said as he tugged her around a corner. The path had led them into a large clearing, the circle of pines creating a quiet, secluded feel to the space. At the center, nestled amongst the trees, was a small stone cottage.

Aya stumbled to a halt, her breath sweeping from her as she stared at the structure. Tyr and Akeeta paid it no mind, choosing instead to wrestle in the tall grass that swayed in the cool summer breeze.

“What is this?” Aya asked. But her heart was pounding, her pulse jumping where Will pressed against it on the inside of her wrist with his thumb, as if her body already knew .

He smiled down at her, but there was something nervous flickering in his eyes.

“Remember when you asked me what I had to give away in my will?” he said as he took a step toward the cottage. He kept hold of her hand as he turned back to face her. “Well. You’re looking at it.”

Aya’s gaze darted between him and the cottage. “You own a cottage?”

Will’s cheeks flushed. He looked… bashful .

“Well I was sort of hoping it would be more… we own a cottage?” He ducked his head slightly. “I came across it years ago when I was training in the mountains with Akeeta. The woman who owned it passed just before the Dawning, and I…”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I may have allowed myself a rash purchase. I guess I hoped one day, I’d need a home outside of the Quarter.”

He peered over his shoulder at the cottage, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, then everything completely went to shit, and I nearly forgot about it until just before the final battle.”

Will’s teeth tugged on his bottom lip as he met Aya’s gaze once more. “It needed some work, so Aidon and I were fixing it up.”

Aya’s brows rose. “Is that where you were going when you said you were playing cards?”

Will rubbed the back of his neck, the flecks of green sparkling in the gray of his irises. “We don’t have to stay here,” he assured her. “If it’s not what you want…your feelings on the Ventaleh may have changed after what we’ve experienced.”

Aya’s eyes burned as she recalled their conversation in Trahir. He’d wanted to know what she missed most about home. She’d told him the wind.

“So,” Will asked as he took a step toward her, his free hand coming to cup her cheek, “what do you think?”

Aya’s lips parted, but she was at a loss for words. And yet…he had told her about this, hadn’t he? When they’d stood by the lake in the Midlands and shed everything that stood between them, he had told her.

If I have my way, you are going to live far beyond this war. You are going to die old and happy in a cottage in the mountains of Tala, away from all of this.

A small incredulous laugh bubbled up from her chest.

“You are…” Aya couldn’t find a word to describe what he was to her. Tears spilled down her cheeks as joy, warm and full, expanded through her chest. “Everything,” she settled on.

It still wasn’t enough.

But Will answered with a tender smile as he leaned his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing the tears from her cheek.

“Come on, Aya love,” he murmured, his head drawing back and his steps steady as he slowly guided her toward their home.

Their home .

Will squeezed her hand, his fingers pressing against her scar as he made one final request.

“Rest with me.”

THE END