Page 51 of The Veil of Hollow Gods

“My forces are stationed here and here.” Tyr points to marks along the eastern and southeastern border between frozen Tiriana and the rest of the continent.

I shake my head. “It doesn’t need to go that far. I won’t let lives be lost over a king’s tantrum.”

Tyr’s brow pulls tight. “We must be prepared in case it does.”

I nod once. “Are his forces matched to yours?”

“As I’ve said, Lorien keeps his power well-hidden. My spies haven’t uncovered anything verifiable.”

“Then it’s time I play my part as Lorien’s Maiden, yes?”

Something flares in Tyr’s dark mirror gaze. He grabs my hand, holds it tight. “Do not trust him. Trust no one aligned with him. Don’t fall for his?—”

“False Light?” I say, patting the side of his face. “I’ve got that handled, Tyr.”

The crease between his brows doesn’t ease.

“What is it?” I ask.

A vein throbs in his neck as he searches my face. “We’ve been here before. Not this exact moment, but…this place. This pivot.”

His fingers tighten on mine.

“More often than not, this is the moment I lose you.”

“Lose me?”

He nods. “When they convince you they’re right. When the cycle resets. When you forget what’s true.”

He looks down. “Whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you. And if we fail again, I’ll be here—waiting until you remember yourself again.”

I refuse to step into the stream of every time before. “What do you think I should do?”

Tyr straightens. “I won’t tell you what to do. Not when I know how capable—and how fearsome—you are.”

He draws a breath.

“But I’m still a man in love with a woman, and it terrifies me when you walk toward the fire. Even knowing you are the storm.”

I pull him close and press my lips to the side of his neck. “I’ll be careful.”

He waves a hand, and the maps vanish from the ruined bed.

“Then let us play our parts.”

From the wardrobe, he pulls a length of black lace.

The uniform I wore for weeks.

He laces me into it himself, tying the stays, the cloak, the ribbons that fasten to my shoulders. He slides my feet into the slippers, and when he rises, he presses a kiss to my thigh—fierce, reverent.

“Stay quiet. Watchful. Speak through the shadows. I can be at your side in a heartbeat.”

I nod and lower the hood over my eyes .

The shadows lean in close, but I send them to the walls. “Stay hidden,” I whisper.

And then shudder—because I recognize the weight in my voice. The command. Not a request.

“Keep Sinea safe.”

Tyr nods. Then he grabs me by the shoulder and destroys me with a kiss.

The length of his body presses into me, his lips bidding mine to open.

His hand tangles in my hair, bringing me closer.

He tastes like power and magic and destiny.

Mine.

His.

Ours.

The kiss isn’t just a kiss. It’s goodbye . It’s I love you . It’s if this is the last time, let it echo.

When he finally pulls away, we’re both gasping.

I can’t bear the look in his eyes.

So before the thought fully settles, I let the shadows take me?—

to Lorien.

Or close enough to walk the rest of the way without him knowing I’ve claimed them again.

I arrive in the corridor like a rumor, half shadow, half girl they once knew. But I am not the same.

Wardens stare as I walk past, not with reverence like before, with shame.

With pity.

It makes my skin crawl.

But I keep my head high, eyes unfocused behind the veil, and a soft smile painted on my mouth.

And no one looks twice at me.

No one sees what’s beneath the lace and pretty smile .

And that…

Is satisfying on a soul-deep level—like every version of me across the spiral sees, approves, and bears witness.

The door ahead, the one the shadows along the walls subtly shimmer toward, opens, and I see the room I’m about to walk into.

The people in it.

Lorien, the Maiden Councilwoman, and three tall, broad men in metal armor.

Generals?

Captains of his forces.

I slow down, hoping to hear a snippet of their conversation before they spot me.

They’re gathered around a large obsidian table. No maps. Just emptiness—or the illusion of it.

They all stare at it, though.

The moment my slippered foot steps over the threshold, Lorien’s head rises.

“Ah, there she is. You’ve been away, pet.” He offers a broad smile, face flickering from his mask to the truth beneath. “I’ve been worried.”

All eyes are on me, and I let them look their fill. Let them see the relaxed face and limbs. The placid smile.

He pauses as if waiting for me to speak.

“Ah, yes,” he says with a smugness that feels like oil in the air. “There’s a certain beauty in not needing words, isn’t there? A certain holiness. Wouldn’t you say?”

The Maiden Councilwoman says nothing, nor do the demons at his sides.

“It’s a great honor, what you’re doing. A great honor indeed. As unrest stirs among the various vestiges, your silent presence will be a salve to them all. ”

He smiles again, flashing those teeth and that light, before joining me on my side of the table.

“You carry it so well,” he says, dragging a cold finger down my cheek.

I don’t flinch. Don’t even blink.

The shadows don’t stir. They wait.

“So well—the burden you don’t even understand.”

Darkness twitches along the wall. I stop it with a thought.

Be still.

Lorien watches me closely.

My smile stays the same as I blink slowly, purposefully.

“Mmm. Still so quiet. But not empty anymore, then.” He nods toward the door. “Go on then. Join your Frozen King. Leave the continent to the rest of us.”

I give him a small bow, and as I turn to leave, I catch another one of his smiles.

This one isn’t false.

He means this one.

Not because he trusts me.

But because he thinks he still has time.

And because Lorien doesn’t know a sliver of shadow tucked itself under his collar.

In a quiet corner of the hallway, I ask the shadows to take me back to Tyr.

And they do.

He’s seated in front of Sinea. His hands—on either side of her head—glow with magic. He’s in deep concentration, eyes closed, like his listening for something.

When he finally stops, he startles upon seeing me.

“I didn’t hear you return.”

I nod toward Sinea. “Did you find anything?”

He shakes his head. “There’s nothing in her mind to hear. Either Lorien’s blocked her thoughts from intrusion entirely, or…”

He doesn’t finish the rest of that thought.

We both know what it means if her thoughts aren’t simply blocked. Neither of us says it aloud.

I go to the aetherglass in her room and conjure some broth and bread.

“What did you learn from Lorien?” Tyr asks as I lift the spoon to Sinea’s dry, flaking lips.

“Nothing useful. Yet.”

Sinea doesn’t take the broth. She doesn’t acknowledge it in any way. She simply sits on the edge of her bed and stares at nothing, unblinking.

I let the spoon clatter in the bowl. “I have an idea.”

Tyr stands, already ready.

“Take us to the stables.”

The three of us stand before the larger stall, now holding two enormous horses.

“You know they don’t like anyone except for me, generally,” Tyr says as Duskreaver and Cindermaw blow and snort and shake their manes at me.

“They’re only saying hello.” I stretch out my hand to them, and both their noses meet it.

Hello, friend. Cindermaw says.

I suppose we have you to thank for the new accommodations? Duskreaver says quietly.

We’ll talk about that later, I say to them in my mind. Right now, I was hoping you might help my friend.

The horse’s ears lie back, but they say nothing as I hold Sinea’s hand in the air for them to meet.

You want us in that vestige’s mind? Why?

To help her.

Cindermaw’s hide twitches before he lets out a slow exhale. Girl, there is nothing left but her shell. She’s been hollowed. She’s a remnant. Vestige. Nothing more.

I drop Sinea’s hand, staring at her with new clarity.

What are you saying?

Quietly, Duskreaver answers. She has been unmade, young one. There is nothing left of her.

It settles in my chest like forgotten knowledge.

That’s Lorien’s power.

Unmaking.

He did this.

And he’ll do it to anyone else who might get in his way.

Wha—what can be done? I ask, but I already know the answer.

“There is nothing to be done,” Tyr says from behind me.

I turn to meet him. “Did you know? Did you know that’s what this was?”

He shakes his head. “Not until I saw my steeds react.”

I turn to my attendant, touching the cool skin on her face. “I’m sorry, Sinea. I’m sorry I didn’t see it in time. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.”

Leave her with us, Cindermaw says. We’ll make certain he can’t use her shell any longer.

I nod and thank the Steedlords, bound to Tyr by some cosmic thread I don’t fully grasp but know is as true as my link with him.

My eyes sting.

Give her a proper sendoff. She was good to me—as good as she was able.

The horses lower their heads, and I do not look back. Whatever they must do, she will not be his vessel again.

“Does the paddock seem different to you?” I ask, as much out of curiosity as the desire not to speak about what we just discovered .

We walk farther under the cracked, bleeding sky before Tyr responds.

“Different? In what way?”

I glance around. Everything looks the same but feels wrong. “I’m not sure. It’s like the proportions are…different?”

Tyr only nods and looks toward the keep.

I follow his gaze and again…

The world seems different.

Like the sky is somehow closer.

I say nothing more on the matter.

Later, when the Frozen King and I are back in his chambers sharing a meal, one of my shadows returns.

It slides into the chamber beneath the door, twisting through the air to meet my outstretched hand.

“Hello,” I murmur as it circles up my wrist and arm, to my neck until it finally wreaths my head.

This time it doesn’t sting when it gives me its memories.

My hand flies to my throat. “Oh gods.”

Tyr, instantly on high alert, asks with only his gaze.

“It’s Lorien. He’s already moved on Tiriana.”

Tyr shoots out of his seat. “How? Where?”

My heart flutters in my chest like a bird gone mad. I cannot make it still as the shadow shows me Lorien’s plan.

“He—” My words die in a shuddering sob.

I don’t allow another.

“He’s employed firecallers from the south.” I stare into Tyr’s shining black eyes. “He’s burning the pine forests around Tiriana to ‘rid the land of the rot of the Frozen King.’”

“Then we must go now, my love. Send your shadow friends to our allies. Have them meet us at the marked spot.” Tyr presses his forehead to mine, sending me a mental image of a marked map.

I nod, and before I’ve had the full thought, several twisting wraiths of darkness curl out of the room.

Tyr grabs me by the arm. “If there’s anything here you cherish, take it with you. We may not?—”

“You are all I cherish. Everything else is rot and dust.”

Tyr swallows, takes my hand, and we leave Shadowfell.