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Chapter twenty-six

Flyn

W inter has hit the countryside like a slow, suffocating blanket.

Everything on Monty’s estate is brown and gray and brittle with frost. The kind of cold that clings even when you’re inside, sitting by the fire with a mug of tea cupped in your hands.

It’s the kind of season that gets into your bones. The kind that doesn’t let go.

It’s still beautiful though. And I’d give anything, absolutely anything, for Jade to be able to enjoy it with me instead of being locked away.

The dungeon isn’t technically a dungeon.

That’s what we keep telling ourselves. It’s a basement, technically.

Stone walls and a proper bed and a thick rug and books stacked to the ceiling.

It’s warm, at least. Monty made sure of that.

It has a bathroom. It has a TV and a DVD player.

But calling it anything other than what it really is feels like lying.

Jade is locked underground. And it’s killing him slowly.

I pause halfway down the stairs, holding a tray with soup and bread.

He’s barely eating. I’m trying to make it easier.

Comfort food, warm colors, familiar scents.

I even found a candle that smells like summer, coconut and lime, but it doesn’t change the stale air down here. Doesn’t change the truth.

When I push the door open, the hinges creak, but Jade doesn’t even flinch .

He’s lying on the bed, on top of the blankets, fully clothed in a hoodie that used to be mine. His hair’s longer now, grown out from summer. It curls a little at the ends. He hasn’t asked for a trim in weeks. He’s paler too. Shadowed. Like the light is slowly leaking out of him.

“Hey,” I say softly.

His head turns just enough to look at me, but he doesn’t smile.

I hate that most of all.

I set the tray down on the little table beside the bed. “Brought soup. It’s the good stuff, Cara’s recipe. Beef and potato. It’s got, like, medicinal properties. Basically witchcraft.”

A flicker of amusement, a blink-and-you-miss-it flash of humor, passes through his eyes. But he doesn’t move.

“Not hungry,” he murmurs.

“You said that yesterday. And the day before that? Also not hungry,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re going for a record.”

Jade exhales through his nose. It might’ve been a laugh, once. Now it just sounds tired.

I want to reach for his hand. I want to run my fingers through his hair, kiss his forehead, hold him until he remembers who he is and why he’s still fighting. But I don’t do any of that. I don’t want to break him open. Not when he’s barely holding himself together.

Instead, I ask, “Did you catch some sleep while I was making soup?”

“Some.”

“Nightmares?”

“Same as always.”

I nod, staring at a crack in the stone floor that wasn’t there when we first moved in. “Same dream, or same feeling?”

Jade doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the ceiling. “They’re calling louder.”

A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the weather .

“I keep thinking I can block them out. That I’m strong enough. But they’re smart. They… they change shape. In the dreams, they look like people I knew. People I lost. My mother. Once, they looked like you.”

That one hits like a punch.

I try to keep my face steady. “Me?”

He finally meets my eyes. “They said if I opened the portal, you’d be safe. That they’d give you a place in their court. That we’d never grow old. Never die.”

“And you believed them?”

Jade shrugs. “I didn’t want to. But for a moment… it was tempting.”

I hate this. I hate how small he sounds. How ashamed. Like he’s confessing to some unholy sin instead of just being human.

“You didn’t act on it,” I say. “That’s what matters.”

“For now,” he says quietly.

I grip the edge of the bed, knuckles white. “I want to get you out of here. I hate this. I hate seeing you like this. But if I open that door, I could lose you. Or worse, you could lose yourself . ”

“I know.”

“I wish there was another way.”

Jade doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. The silence says it all.

Silas said he was working on it, but I have my doubts. He is a busy man and his priority is keeping the world safe. He doesn’t know Jade, so why would he care about his well being? Locked down here is problem solved, if you look at it coldly.

Monty and Mal work on the magic seals every day. Gray checks the amulet. Nobody thinks the fey are going to get in. As long as Jade doesn’t go out.

The whole situation sucks. And worst of all, I can’t see a way through this. For the first time in my life, my optimism is failing me .

The silence settles over me. If I can’t help, the very least I can do is to be here with him. Physically, mentally, spiritually.

The quiet fills the air. The moment stretches.

Eventually, I reach out and take his hand. It’s cold. Too cold. I rub circles into his knuckles with my thumb.

“You’re not alone,” I whisper.

“I feel like I am.”

“I know. But I’m here. Even if all I can bring you is soup and bad jokes.”

“Your jokes are pretty good,” he says softly.

“Don’t lie. You’re supposed to be the honest one.”

His lips twitch. Almost a smile.

“Do you remember,” I say, “that night at the fair? The Ferris wheel?”

Jade nods faintly.

“I keep thinking about the fireworks. How your whole face lit up when they started. I’ve never seen someone so beautiful and so surprised at the same time.”

“I thought you planned them.”

“Yeah, I didn’t. But I should’ve lied and said I did. Would’ve scored me some major points.”

His hand tightens around mine. “You already had the points.”

There’s a long pause. He closes his eyes. I watch his chest rise and fall, too shallow, too slow. Like he is shutting down. But his hand is trembling, ever so slightly. Almost like a shiver.

“You’re scared,” I say.

“Terrified.”

“Good. That means you’re still fighting.”

He turns toward me, finally, fully. And it’s like the sun breaking through a snowstorm. Small. Brief. Blinding.

“I love you, you know,” he says, voice barely audible.

It stuns me. Not because I didn’t think he felt it. But because I didn’t expect him to say it now, when he’s at his lowest. It feels like a tether. Like he’s handing me the rope to pull him back .

I lean down and press my forehead against his. “I love you too. So much it’s killing me.”

My insides twist and squirm. My heart is tightening in pain while my stomach is having butterflies.

My body is as confused and conflicted as I am.

On the one hand, I’m absolutely ecstatic and elated that we are declaring our love for one another, on the other hand, I hate that it’s like this.

This moment should be purely joyous. Special.

More spectacular than the fireworks at our first kiss.

It should not be spoken in sad whispers in a dungeon while Jade is fading away.

“I don’t want to die in here,” he says suddenly, and the words stab into my chest like an icy spear.

“You won’t.”

“I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it together.”

“We’ll find a way. All of us. We’re not giving up.”

He nods, slowly. “Will you stay? Just for a bit?”

“Of course,” I say with a false smile.

Why is he asking that? I’m always down here.

I rarely leave his side. I only go up for snacks and for brief snatches of fresh air in order to preserve my own sanity.

If I thought staying down here permanently and slowly going insane with Jade would help, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

But I think staying strong for Jade is the better option.

I pull off my shoes and climb in beside him, careful not to disturb the tray. He curls into my side, head tucked under my chin, and for the first time in days, he breathes like he’s safe.

I drape my arm around him and try to remember how to breathe normally.

But the whole time, I’m thinking about how thin he’s gotten.

How even kissing him doesn’t lift the weight in his eyes anymore.

I’m thinking about the way his voice shakes when he says my name in the middle of the night, and how sometimes I find him staring at the wall like he’s already gone.

How long can we keep this up ?

How long before his mind slips, before he gives in?

It’s not that I want to let him out. It’s just that I want to save him. I need to save him.

If being locked away is what’s killing him, then maybe the risk of letting him out is worth it. Because if he dies, if he withers away, what’s the point in anything?

Maybe, just for a moment, we could find somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. A walk in the garden, maybe. Ten minutes under the sky. Air in his lungs, sun on his skin. Something real to remind him who he is.

Because if I don’t do something soon, I’m going to lose him.