Chapter 37

37

arwen

I woke up feeling more like myself than I had in a long, long while.

The stark daylight seeping in through the windows of Kane’s bedroom was so bright it took my eyes a minute to adjust. But when they did, I could see the clear haze of morning fog over Lake Stygian. Sparkling, black as night, and tempestuous as ever, but somehow more striking, clearer than it had been yesterday before the rain. The lake stretched on and on seemingly forever, only interrupted by the jutting, ashy stone cliffs that surrounded it, and that one imposing mountainous shape of Hemlock Isle that sprouted from its center.

I rolled out of the absurdly comfortable bed—a bed fit for a king, something I forgot Kane was from time to time—and a resounding pop snapped my eyes over to the fireplace. It was alight with heavy logs, roaring and crackling. Kane must have made a fresh fire this morning while I slept.

He had been . . . more than kind, more than patient with me last night. Had held my hand through such enormous revelations. One after another after another.

My mother, my role in her illness . . . My father, a being I hadn’t even understood conceptually until mere days ago, let alone knew existed.

The enormity of my parentage made me feel small and powerless, so I pushed it from my mind for the time being and searched the room for my clothes. They weren’t on the chaise where I had left them last night, but in their place was a folded blue dress with cap sleeves and scalloped collar and . . . a pair of new, clean leather boots.

My heart swelled.

I took the gifts and changed swiftly, folding Kane’s shirt and placing it on top of the down duvet.

Then, either out of gratitude or stalling, I made his bed, folding the sheets back and fluffing the pillows. And then I combed my hair with my fingers in the mirror for another ten minutes at least to look less like a crazed banshee.

I was definitely stalling.

I steeled myself and opened the door.

It was as if I had stepped into a dream I once had. One in which Kane was no longer the king of Onyx, son of Lazarus, prince of Lumera . . . but rather, just a man. One who loved dense history books with cramped, too-small script and a thick slice of cloverbread slathered in honeyed butter. Who maybe worked in the local fish market of Crag’s Hollow. Who had a wife that liked to wake up and take a brisk run along the tops of the cliffsides before her day began in the apothecary.

Like in my dreams, Kane was sitting at that round table, facing the windows to the lake below, warm coffee puffing steam into the room. His mussed, raven bedhead disheveled around his face, and a large, weathered book in his hands. On the table beside him were two plates, each with that dark, spiced bread I loved so much, some smoked fish, and two bright yolky eggs.

He was a vision.

Not just his painful beauty—the exceptional features that rivaled the finest portraits I’d seen in all of Onyx—nor his body, chiseled as if built painstakingly by the Stones themselves, visible under his thin cotton shirt. But his . . . soul. He was resilient, powerful, passionate. Unafraid to do whatever he believed was right. But also sensitive, thoughtful, wise. Selfish at times, and yet so, so selfless when it came to those he loved.

When it came to me.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I stared at his back.

I swallowed. Then I swallowed again.

Oh, Stones.

I had been so unbelievably naive. My own stupidity clanged through me like a bell chiming midnight in an empty town square.

Before, it had been enough to accept my fate, to prepare for death, as long as I didn’t still feel anything for him. As long as that thread wasn’t tethering me to this world. To this life.

But now that I could admit my fears—now that I was willing to hope again—

Now it was so clear, I didn’t know how I had ever convinced myself otherwise.

I was still completely, eternally, devastatingly in lo—

“You’re staring.” Kane’s voice resonated through the room, though he didn’t look up from his book.

I shuffled forward, despite the knot twisting inside me. “Thank you for the food. I’m starving.”

He set the book down and took me in as I sat, watching with interest when I ripped a piece of bread and let the sweet, light flavor melt in my mouth. I couldn’t meet his eyes. His beautiful eyes, like glittering, moonlit water kissed by the stars.

When his silence became unbearable, and my chewing too loud in my ears, I looked down at bluebell-colored fabric and said, “Thank you for the dress, too. It’s lovely. And the boots. You didn’t have to do all that.”

Kane shrugged, sipping his coffee. “Your clothes were still damp this morning. And you haven’t had boots since Azurine. I wanted some fresh air anyway . . .”

“You woke up and made two fires, went shopping, marketing, and cooked breakfast . . .” I glanced around. The fog outside made it hard to tell what hour it was. “Did I sleep very late?”

“No, no.” If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he looked . . . bashful. “It’s only six.”

“Six!”

Kane shrugged. “I woke early.”

I shook my head. He was another breed, this man.

“That’s why the bread is so fresh. It was made an hour ago.”

I nodded, eating another mouthful.

And another.

Adrenaline sliding along my bones, I reached for his hand, only to think better of it and bring my fingers down to the skirt of my new dress, twisting the soft material. “Thank you.”

“You keep saying that.”

I blushed. “I keep feeling it. I’m grateful for everything. For you staying with me. For helping me admit—” I swallowed hard. “Well, just for helping me.”

He only nodded, eyes sliding over mine, across my face, along my neck.

I shivered.

“Arwen,” he said, and my breath hitched. “A raven came from Shadowhold this morning.”

Nerves seized my heart. “Is Mari all right?”

“Everyone is fine. They’re all there, actually.”

“Griffin, Mari, and Fedrik?”

“And your siblings, Amelia, Dagan . . .”

“What? Why?”

“Broderick and Isolde feared being aligned with us in the eyes of our enemies. The letter from Eardley said they sent anyone with meaningful ties to Onyx back days ago. Their ship arrived late last night.”

“Why didn’t they tell us when they made the decision to do so?”

“Perhaps Isolde realized I killed her repugnant friend. Knowing her, she’d still not want to risk our wrath. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“And the other refugees? From Peridot and Onyx?”

Kane’s answering nod was grim. “Everyone. They feared ‘symbolic association.’ ” Kane muttered under his breath, “Cowards.”

All those people staying in Shadowland. All that effort to get them somewhere safer—

“There’s no way Citrine will help us now . . .” I sank back into my seat a little, pushing the still-warm cloverbread away from me.

Queen Isolde and King Broderick were quick to take care of their own, everyone else be damned. Fedrik alone couldn’t change their minds. Who knew if he’d even attempt to after I told him I wouldn’t be returning to Citrine with him? At least, not without Kane.

“How unsafe is Shadowhold for everyone?”

Kane’s jaw went tight, weighing. “The forest functions like another wall around the fortress. Almost my entire army is stationed there. Most of our weaponry, cannons, beasts. But once my father knows we’re there . . . he could attack any day. Eardley is sending the majority to smaller Onyx towns. The rest of us will just have to be ready.”

So we’d have to regroup quickly and get back on the road for the blade. Maybe take Leigh and Ryder and Mari with us . . .

“And about what Beth revealed . . . about your parentage.”

“Ah, yes,” I said, swallowing my fear. “That my father is a Fae God?”

“If what Beth said is true, we’ll need to consult priests and scholars to learn more. If that’s what you want to do.”

The time for sulking and hiding from the truth was over. It felt better to be honest. To be vulnerable, as Dagan and Kane had both encouraged. “I’m a little afraid of what I’ll learn. How is it possible that a Fae God and a human woman created a full-blooded Fae?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I do want to know more eventually. Once we find the blade and ready our armies to fight Lazarus. I’d like to know who my father was before I die.”

Kane stiffened, his eyes flashing with protest. “You’re not going to die, Arwen.”

But I could tell even he didn’t believe his words. I gave him an honest smile that felt truer on my face than any smile had in weeks. “If anyone can find a way around this prophecy, you can. But still, I’d like to learn more about him before I lose the chance.”

Kane’s face was resigned as he said, “Then I will make it so,” before standing and placing his empty plate in the kitchen.

“Come now, bird, we have a lot to do today.”

I followed him out the front door. For the first time I allowed myself to hope that I would be back here again one day. Leigh would love this town. Maybe I’d take her to the sweetshop. Get her a candied apple or a salted taffy. I didn’t want to think this would be the last time I’d step foot in Kane’s cottage, so I didn’t.

“Do you think any of them will be able to pull something useful from what Beth told us?”

Kane raised his eyes to the sky. “I’m not sure. But my coin is on Mari.”

Despite the morning’s news and realizations, I couldn’t help the smile that pinched my cheeks at the thought of seeing her awake. “Mine, too.”

“I feel like I just saw you yesterday,” she said back, muffled by my shoulder.

I had raced off Kane’s dragon form, through the gates of Shadowhold, not stopping for a single soldier, guard, or citizen until I had reached the throne room, where Kane told me everyone would be convened.

My eyes had landed on Mari before anyone else, and I swallowed her into a hug so embarrassing I was sure she had turned beet red. But I didn’t care. My knees shook with the feeling of having her in my arms, healthy and alive.

Finally, I pulled back and looked at her. She was thinner, face a little pale and gaunt, but that didn’t worry me.

It was her eyes that were concerning.

Not anger or fatigue swimming in them, but something much worse. Grief. A chasm of grief hidden in the flowers of her irises. “Are you not feeling well?”

She shrugged, a little self-consciously. That, too, was odd of her. “I feel fine. As if we were in the jungle a day ago.” She swallowed hard. “Arguing.”

“Every single thing you said to me was true,” I said. “I was selfish, and cold, and had built up a lot of walls that were doing just as good a job keeping away pain as all the people I cared about. You were honest with me and I didn’t want to hear it. I’m really and truly sorry.”

Mari dipped her head in a nod. “I’m sorry, too. You were right all along about the amulet being unhealthy for me. I don’t think I’ll be doing magic for a while, though.” She tried for a smile but looked like she might cry.

My heart stumbled over a beat at the sight. Mari wasn’t a quitter. She didn’t back off something when it went wrong—she pushed and prodded and argued until it was right again. She was bullish. Fearless. Stubborn.

Something was terribly wrong.