Page 53

Dahlia

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

Not the silence of a tomb or a battlefield—this was softer. The kind of quiet that came after the storm had passed, when the wind finally stopped screaming and the world took a breath. Faint birdsong drifted through an open window, and the air smelled faintly of herbs, salt, and sun-warmed stone.

I blinked up at a ceiling I didn’t recognize.

The sheets beneath me were too clean. The pillows too soft. My body, however, was a different story.

Everything hurt.

Not in the bone-shattering, soul-burning way it had during the fight, but a dull, steady throb. Like my muscles remembered every blow. I shifted and winced. My ribs ached. My arms were bruised. My lip was split. But I was breathing. I was alive.

And Calliope was dead.

That last fact came with a wave of nausea, relief, and disbelief so strong I had to sit up slowly, bracing myself against the headboard.

The room was warm, sunlit, and elegant in a quietly expensive way.

Silas’ villa. I recognized the ornate sconces, the oversized windows, the lush curtains tied back with velvet ropes.

Someone had tucked me in carefully, a folded blanket at the foot of the bed and a half-drunk glass of water on the table beside it.

My sword—Mercy—rested on the chair nearby.

I slid my legs over the side of the bed.

Sore didn’t cover it. I moved like an old woman and hissed with every shift, but I made it to my feet. One step. Two. My knees protested, but held.

In the hallway, the faint murmur of voices carried from the living room.

Then—

“You smug, one-eyed son of a bitch, I should’ve let you rot.”

“Darling, you say that like it’s not your favorite thing about me.”

Thea.

And Silas.

I limped forward, the ache in my side forgotten as I followed the sharp edge of Thea’s voice and the ever-present grin I could practically hear in Silas’s.

“I had to threaten three guards and sedate one just to get a healer to look at you,” Thea snapped. “And what do I get in return? Jokes and innuendo.”

“I offered you eternal devotion.”

“You offered me a headache.”

I turned the corner into the room just in time to see Thea hurl a knife.

It thunked into the wall an inch from Silas’ head.

He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he turned—moving stiffly, still bandaged and bruised and missing an eye—and the moment he saw me, something in his face cracked open.

“Dahlia,” he breathed.

I didn’t get a chance to speak.

He crossed the space like a man possessed and swept me up into his arms. I yelped as my sore ribs protested, but he didn’t crush me—he held me like I was something made of gold and ash and victory.

“I thought you were gonna die,” he whispered fiercely against my hair. “You’re not allowed to die before me. It’s rude.”

I managed a breathless laugh. “I’m okay. Mostly.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his face a mess of swelling and stubble and bruises—and something warmer beneath it. “You brilliant, reckless, terrifying woman. You actually did it.”

“I had help.”

His one good eye flicked toward the hallway, where I knew Kieran had to be near. “He’ll never stop loving you for it.”

“Good,” I whispered. “Because I’m not stopping either.”

Behind Silas, Thea cleared her throat. “You done being sentimental? Or should I find another knife?”

Silas didn’t even glance at her. “You missed on purpose.”

She scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Thea hadn’t moved during Silas’s hug.

She stood just beyond him, arms crossed, her expression caught somewhere between relieved and furious—her brows drawn tight, her mouth a hard line. But her eyes… her eyes were glassy.

When Silas finally let me go—grudgingly, like a child forced to hand over his favorite toy—I turned toward her.

She didn’t speak at first. Just stared at me for a breath, two, like she was making sure I was real. Then she crossed the room in three precise steps and wrapped her arms around me.

No fanfare. No dramatics. Just warmth and the kind of embrace that said you’re mine and you came back and don’t you ever dare not again.

She held me tighter than I thought she would, but still careful not to crush. Her chin rested lightly on my shoulder.

“I swear to every god listening,” she murmured against my ear, her voice low and fierce, “if you ever do something like that again—if you ever step into a death circle without backup—I will rain down hellfire so brutal and relentless, you will beg for mercy.”

A small, choked laugh slipped from me. “I missed you, too.”

She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. Hers were shining. “Don’t joke. Not about this.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

“Damn right you are.” She paused, then added, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I scared the shit out of myself.”

Thea shook her head and hugged me again, this time letting it last longer.

“You’re my best friend,” she whispered. “And if you die before me, I’ll kill you. Slowly. With flair.”

“I’ll do my best to stay alive just to avoid the flair .”

She snorted and pulled back, wiping at her eye like she wasn’t about to cry.

Behind her, Silas cleared his throat. “Are you two done threatening each other affectionately, or…?”

“Silas,” Thea growled, already reaching for another knife.

The sound of a door opening pulled all of us toward the hallway.

And then—there he was.

Kieran stood at the threshold like something out of a half-forgotten dream. He must have just gotten out of the shower, his hair and beard still dripped a little, a towel hung around his neck. Shadows clung to him faintly, coiled low around his bare feet like smoke not quite ready to rest.

The moment his eyes found mine, the air left his lungs.

“Flower,” he breathed.

I barely managed two steps before he crossed the rest of the distance and caught me against him.

His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close like he couldn’t quite believe I was solid. Like maybe he’d wake up if he let go.

“I told you not to leave me,” he murmured into my hair.

“And I didn’t,” I whispered back. “I’m still here.”

He pulled back just far enough to look at me. His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing the bruises on my jaw like they could erase them. His gaze was searching, intense, his voice raw. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“If one more person says that to me-” I started, but he kissed me before I could finish.

Not hungry. Not desperate.

Just sure.

Just real.

Just home.

When he broke away, I was dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with injury.

Behind us, Thea muttered something about needing strong liquor and disappeared into the kitchen. Silas sighed dramatically and wandered after her.

Kieran’s thumb brushed my cheek again. “I meant what I said.”

“So did I.”

“I don’t care what comes next,” he said softly. “You stay with me. That’s the only thing I need.”

“I already bound myself to you,” I said, trying to smile. “You’re stuck with me.”

He rested his forehead against mine and let out a shaky breath. “Good.”

Thea’s phone buzzed on the table.

She frowned, glanced at the screen, and immediately swiped to answer. “It’s Henry,” she said, already moving toward the window for a better signal.

My heart stuttered.

Kieran steadied me with a hand at my back, but I shook my head and stepped toward Thea, every inch of me straining to hear.

“Henry?” Thea said, her voice tight with disbelief. “You’re—? Oh, gods. Yeah. She’s right here.”

She turned to me and held the phone out silently.

I snatched it with trembling fingers and brought it to my ear.

“Henry?”

“Well it’s about damn time someone picked up,” came his voice—rough, tired, and unmistakably alive. “Where the hell did everyone run off to? I woke up, and the nurses are acting like I’ve got the plague.”

A laugh burst out of me, equal parts relief and sob. My knees nearly gave out, and Kieran eased me down to the edge of the couch while I clutched the phone like it might vanish.

“We’re okay,” I whispered. “We—we’re okay, Henry. I’m okay.”

He was quiet for a second. Then: “That’s good, sweetheart. That’s real good to hear.”

“I’m sorry we weren’t there when you woke up. Things… got complicated.”

“I figured. I didn’t expect a postcard, but a heads up would’ve been nice,” he teased.

Tears slid down my cheeks.

“We’ll be home soon,” I said. “A day or two, tops. I just—had to finish something.”

“A war?” he asked, a knowing edge in his tone.

“Something like that,” I choked. “And now I have war stories of my own.”

Henry let out a soft sigh. “Then I guess I’ve taught you well.”

“You taught me everything that matters.”

A pause, and then: “I’m proud of you, Dahlia. Of all of you. Even the weird brothers. I love you, kid.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered. “More than anything.”

“Tell Thea I said no more knives in the hospital. And tell Kieran… well, just tell him to behave himself. You’ve earned some peace.”

In the background, I could hear muffled arguing—something about caffeine and doctor’s orders.

“Henry,” a nurse scolded. “You are not cleared for more coffee!”

“Then clear me,” Henry snapped back. “What’s the point of surviving if I can’t have a damn cup of coffee?”

I laughed again, wiping my face.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said. “And bring back some more of those cookies I like. The ones shaped like cats.”

Then he hung up.

Thea walked over and gently took the phone from my hand. She didn’t say anything—just squeezed my shoulder.

I curled into Kieran’s side, pressing my face to his chest.

We were going home.

And Henry would be waiting.

I grinned, leaning a little heavier into Kieran’s arm, and let the moment settle in.

I had survived. We all had.

And for the first time in what felt like lifetimes…

We had a future.