CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 35

AUREN

When Slade and I reachthe Grotto, I come to a grinding halt. Because I’m not doing this. I’m not going inside and stewing in questions. The old Auren would’ve done that, would’ve been too nervous to bring the subject up. But that’s not me anymore, and Slade isn’t Midas.

He stalls next to me. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re not going inside,” I tell him, chin tilted up, steel in my chest.

“We’re not?”

“No. Turn around and lead the way,” I say, hand gesturing toward the outside.

“Lead the way...to where?”

“To her.”

“Auren, what you heard...” His words shred into frustrated scraps.

“I know what I heard. And you and I...there are still a lot of secrets. So many things we don’t know. But I’m not going to just go inside and fester, waiting around until you think I’m ready to hear what you have to say. So take me to her. You said past, present, and future, right?”

He sucks in a breath, but I look him in the eye without faltering. Because the only way to walk a new path is to stop yourself from using the same stumbling stride.

Even if his present is as shocking as a living corpse.

Even if his past might break my heart.

Even if his future isn’t guaranteed.

Emotion drips thickly down my throat, clinging to the back of my tongue. “I won’t ever again give myself to someone who doesn’t give himself back to me. So if there’s someone else here…I need to know about it.”

I see his throat bob, his eyes flicker. This is a split in the path. He knows it, I know it. If this were Midas, he’d pick one way.

But Slade...

Slade picks another.

“Okay, Goldfinch. Let’s go.”

Instead of heading back toward all the villagers’ homes that I passed by on my way to the pavilion earlier, Slade turns outside of the Grotto, veering right, toward the Perch and the gold-splattered training cave. I shoot him a wary look but stay at his side as he leads me up the snowy slope, the heart of the village disappearing behind us.

We go past the Perch that Lu mentioned, and then, when I practically run into it, I spot a set of short, rickety stairs made of white wood and shallow steps. I crane my head up, gaze following them to spot the Mole high above us, stuck to the side of the mountain like a bulbous lookout.

Its structure is camouflaged with snow and rock, some sort of tarp weighed down with snowfall that seems to cover the entire thing and hide the view of it from above. All I can see from here is the barest glow of firelight, which means someone is probably up there right now, keeping watch.

Turning back around, I continue to follow Slade, neither of us breaking the silence. I’m so nervous that my stomach is riled up tension with acidic nausea burning a path up my throat. Meanwhile, Slade seems like he’s wound tight enough to break in half, his arms so stiff at his sides that his stride is wooden.

His unease only adds to mine.

The clouds have clogged the moonlight, so the landscape isn’t as bright as it was earlier. Now, as we curve around the base of the mountain, shadows are like specters, while dingy light stretches against the snow. My legs grow tired the further we walk, and it feels like the temperature plummets in a matter of minutes. Even with my hands buried in my coat, the frigid thief sweeps through the air and snatches any sort of warmth I try to hold onto.

Then, the training cave appears ahead, but instead of going straight through, Slade takes a sharp turn, disappearing into a smaller opening almost completely obscured by the sharp rise of a slanted rock that blends into the rest of the mountain. I would never have noticed the gap there if I hadn’t seen him disappear through it.

Hesitantly, I follow him, my body slipping behind the rock and then immediately turning left to disappear inside the mountain.

My mouth drops open at how big it is. Even larger than the Grotto, this cave system reaches so high I can’t quite tell where the ceiling actually is.

“Why are we here?” I ask, but I wince as soon as I do. Because although I spoke quietly, my voice seems to echo in the hollow, grand space. “Why aren’t we back at the village where the houses are?”

Slade turns to me, cloaked in sapphire light. “She doesn’t live with the villagers.”

A snag catches in my lungs, the cords of apprehension laced around my ribs, not letting me take in a full breath. “And…who is she?” The question spoken out loud sounds so quiet compared to the way it screams in my head.

His troubled gaze is turned away, eyes buried in the depths of the cave. The trepidation on his expression does nothing to ease me. “She...” His mouth shifts and wavers, and then his eyes bolt to mine. “I wish I could’ve prepared you more, but just...be calm, okay? It’s important.”

Be calm?

“How do you expect me to be calm when I don’t even know what situation I’m walking into?”

“I know,” he says with some sympathy. “But now that we’re here, it’s just best that I show you.”

That doesn’t make me feel better at all.

Still, Slade turns, and I go with him, deeper into the cavern that seems to never end.

Yet as we walk in further, I keep thinking of the things Ryatt was saying. Of that man back at the cell, the memory so fresh in my head that I can actually hear the buzzing flies all over again.

But then, the cavern veers off, and right there in the middle of the space is a house. It’s a miniature version of the one back at the Grotto, except this is practically glowing. There are thick stretches of fluorescence that curve and curl, like waves in a sea. They sparkle against the lightless parts of the cave, a swirling galaxy in a moonless sky.

The house itself is a simple structure, a door right there in the middle, a slanted roof that has stains of calcium streaked through it, and a puddle on the ground that seems to have sagged the stone floor beneath the eave’s edge. I’m not sure what color the stone bricks really are that make up the structure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they soaked in the glow and began sprouting their own light.

Slade gives me a moment to take it all in, and then we’re moving again, heading straight for it. Except...

That buzzing sound is still in my ears.

Either my time outside that cell door traumatized me more than I realized, or...

No. It’s not the buzzing sound of flies rooting for a putrid meal. It’s an incessant, low hum,and it’s very much real.

“What’s that noise?” I ask, but my body has turned, feet still moving, heading around the house instead of toward it. The noise is coming from somewhere back there, somewhere past the curve of the cave where I can’t see. It’s louder now, a sound so low that I can feel it from the bones in my feet to the skull of my head.

Closer. I need to get closer. I need to get to—

A hand stops me, snapping me out of my daze. “Come this way, Auren.”

Slade’s voice makes the hum’s pitch turn to near nothing.

I shake my head at myself, letting him bring me back toward the house. Yet the strange pull I feel makes me look over my shoulder, and when I do, the hum rises ever so slightly.

I wrench my head to face forward again, my pulse pounding. “What is that?” I ask, drawing my hands up to ward off a chill that’s spread over my entire body.

“One thing at a time.” Slade glances down at me just as we reach the door of the house. “Ready?”

“How can I be?” I ask frankly.

“Fair point,” he concedes, but then he takes my hand in his. My stomach jolts at the gesture, and I look down at our entwined fingers, as if I’m making sure he really did it. If we were about to go to a lover’s house or a secret wife or a favored saddle, he wouldn’t hold my hand…

Right?

Before my stomach can churn itself right up my throat, Slade opens the door.

No knock. No calling out. Just turns a creaking knob and lets himself in. The heels of my shoes seem to stick with dread as I enter, and I try to prepare myself. Try to shove away my emotions and raise walls so that no matter what hits me, I’ll stay standing.

The first thing I notice is the warmth and the comforting firelight. It permeates the entire open floor home, so I can see everything from one end to the other. Which isn’t surprising, considering there’s a huge fireplace that dominates the wall directly ahead of us, and the whole house comprises one large square space.

There’s a bed in the far corner, with a carved partition placed in front of it so that only the foot is visible, a bright yellow knitted blanket flung over the mattress. Directly across from the bed are two cushioned chairs on a rug before the fire, and a small round table between them where a teacup sits on top.

To our left is an open kitchen with a narrow shelf countertop and an iron stove that’s gone cold, with a washbasin directly beside it. Just past the small round dining table is a set of shelves no higher than my shoulders, every inch of them taken up with books.

For a moment, I’m so caught up in tracking every little detail in the house, that I don’t even see the person sitting in one of the chairs in front of the fire until I catch movement. All I can see is the back of a head at first, and my fingers dig into Slade’s hand.

Slade clears his throat, and the head tilts in a movement of acknowledgement, but not startled. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you.”

The person in the chair turns, and my fingers squeeze Slade’s hand even harder when they get up and turn to face us.

My eyes go wide.

She’s beautiful.

She’s young, maybe around my age, yet petite, like every single bone is delicate. She has pale skin and big eyes, black hair tucked back into a loose ponytail that rests at her nape. She looks to Slade, and her face splits into a smile that drives a knife through my chest because of how heartbreakingly joyful it looks.

She crosses the room and throws her arms around him, me yanking my hand from his with only a split second to spare.

I watch as they embrace, feeling completely out of place, like I’m watching something too private.

She pulls away, beaming up at him, and while Slade takes hold of her fragile hand, he turns to me. “Auren,” he begins, and my heart feels like it’s going to either burst or break, I’m not sure which. “I’d like you to meet my mother.”