CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 36

AUREN

All I know is thatI can’t have heard right.

So I keep waiting for my ears to correct my mind or for Slade to correct himself or for the woman to laugh and shake her head.

But none of that happens.

I’d like you to meet my mother.

When I realize that his words aren’t being taken back, I look from her to Slade. “Your...mother.”

He nods slowly.

I dart my eyes back to her because I don’t want to be rude and talk about her as if she isn’t standing right here. I study her again, closer this time. There are very faint lines next to her eyes, a dusting of silvery hairs right in front of her ears, but those are the only things that could possibly age her, and even still, it doesn’t. She looks as young as me.

She’s smiling at me so openly, and I’m struck with the green of her eyes and the shape of her mouth. Now that I’m no longer worried about a lover, I can recognize that there’s a big family resemblance. But she looks like his sister, not his mother.

Clearing my throat, I then give her a soft smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Lady...”

“Her name is Elore,” Slade says, pronouncing it Eh-lore.

“Lady Elore,” I say. “I’m Auren.”

The woman beams at me, green eyes flicking over my face with open study. After a second, she swivels her smiling face to Slade and taps him on the cheek, and then she reaches over and taps my cheek next.

I startle slightly at the gesture, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She just continues to tap my cheek, like she has no qualms, no hesitations about me. As if she can tell with a look exactly who I am to her son.

When she drops her hand and looks to Slade again, they share something between them for a moment, and it seems so personal that I have to look away when I catch the shine in Elore’s eyes.

Then she does the most motherly thing ever, reaching up to try and straighten a part of his hair that’s sticking up, before she tsks and then fixes the corner of his collar. Just those gestures make Slade’s declaration all the more believable.

My mind races, and I look down at my loose leggings and borrowed coat, hand running over my messily braided hair while I try not to panic that I’m meeting Slade’s mother while looking so rough.

Before I can think of a polite conversation starter, Elore walks away, heading for the kitchen. I watch as she starts to light the stove, a soft hum coming from her.

“How can she be your mother?” I murmur to Slade. “She looks the same age...”

He gives me a sad sort of smile. “Come, let’s sit.”

Together, we walk to the small dining table and slip onto the wooden chairs. Elore finishes lighting the stove and gets to work bringing a kettle to set over it and then bustles around, setting down plates from the hanging cabinets in front of her.

“Let me help you,” I say as I get back up again, but she doesn’t respond or even turn around. Instead, she continues to gather a few crackers and then slices up cheese, all while I stand awkwardly off to the side. She doesn’t stop humming.

I swear, the tune sounds familiar.

When I shoot Slade a look, he says, “It’s alright. Come here.”

Hesitating for just a moment longer, I drag myself back to the table and take a seat. I continue to watch her, my brows carving deeper and deeper into a frown. Because just like back at the pavilion with the other villagers, I feel it.

That sense that something is odd. Off.

I turn back to Slade. “I don’t understand.”

“My mother doesn’t speak anymore. Very rarely,” he tells me.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why not, but I swallow it down, because I don’t want to be insensitive in front of her just to satiate my instant curiosity.

Elore walks over to set down the plates, her profile leaning down directly in front of me, and I let out a gasp. Eyes riveted to her, I notice something that I should’ve realized right from the start. Her ears are rounded.

“She’s...not fae.” I instantly remember Slade telling me that he’s only half.

Yet when I speak the word fae, she suddenly stiffens. The humming abruptly cuts off, and a shudder seems to travel through her.

Slade is on his feet in an instant, coming around the table. He takes her shaking hands in his and lowers himself so she will meet his eyes. “It’s alright,” he soothes, his thumbs stroking over the back of her frail looking fingers. “You’re alright.”

She starts to nod, blowing out a shaken breath, but the kettle begins its shrill cry, making her flinch.

“It’s just the tea,” he murmurs. “Do you want me to get it?”

Elore gives a slow nod, and he sits her down at the empty chair like she’s the most fragile thing in the world. I watch her shaking fingers, her face that’s gone even paler. I feel stuck in inaction, not knowing what I could possibly do or say to help.

Yet Slade stays calm, his sure steps taking him over to the kettle that’s begun to cry. He pulls cups from hooks on the wall, and when he starts to pour out the tea, he hums. The same gentle, soothing tone.

By the time he brings the cups over to us and then sits down again, Elore has calmed, her eyes no longer strained, mouth no longer turned down. She sends Slade a small, sad smile.

I nibble on the crackers, sip on my tea, and for the next half hour, I just watch them.

It’s a bit fascinating. Slade talks quietly, telling her about what the snow looks like, about how hard the wind blew during the blizzard. He speaks of his timberwing, promising to bring her a feather next time. He tells her about the mulled wine he found at the Cellar and says that he’ll bring her more of that too.

Be calm, Slade told me before we came. Just...be calm.

But he wasn’t saying that because he was going to show me something upsetting; he was saying it because his mother obviously needs calm. It’s not just that she doesn’t speak. There’s something else caught beneath the depths of her silence. I’m not sure where her mind is or what she could possibly be thinking, but seeing her reaction to the word fae was startling.

It’s clear from the patient and assuring way Slade acts with her that he does everything he can, from the pitch of his tone to the mundane topics he speaks about, to keep everything as relaxed and simple as possible.

For the next half hour, that’s how the time passes. He talks in a soothing rumble, while she watches him with a smile on her face. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t talk, because the affection is as clear as the crystal cups we sip our tea from.

And while I’m burning with questions, I let them simmer in the background, because it feels like Slade has pulled back a veil, letting me see a part of him that not many people do. I’m experiencing a part of his past and present, something vulnerable and private and precious. Because I can see by the way he is with her, his mother is precious to him.

It makes my heart hurt for the loss of my own mother.

When the tea is gone and our plates have nothing left but crumbs, Elore cleans up with a smile on her face. I try to offer to help again, but Slade shakes his head and leads me to the chairs by the fire. “She likes her routines,” he tells me. “It would upset her if you do any of that. She likes things a certain way.”

I settle into the chair and try to collect all the questions that have been building up like a wall, laid brick by brick. Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure she’s occupied with her task before turning back to Slade. He’s leaning forward slightly, an elbow on the armrest and his chin in his hand, like he’s waiting.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” I say, blowing out a breath.

“I know this was a lot.”

I blow a sardonic laugh through my nose. “That’s putting it mildly. To be honest, I was expecting to walk in here and have to come face-to-face with your lover.”

Slade’s brows immediately slam down. “You think I would show you such disrespect?”

I shift in my seat. “I have no idea what to think. We don’t—”

“Know each other,” he finishes for me, feeding my words back to me. When I nod, he runs a hand through his black hair, mussing it up again, frustration betraying in the way he yanks on the strands. “I will admit that I’m not used to being open, but I will. For you.”

“Your Wrath know.”

“My Wrath know everything because I have been with them for years. Those layers peeled back after being together for more than a decade. With you...the timeline is different. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Like with the...prisoner.”

His nod is slow, eyes piercing.

“I’m on your side. It’s just, seeing that...”

“My power is not easy to see.”

The memory of my gold swallowing people whole like a bestial bird flashes in my mind. “You’ve seen the worst parts of my power and didn’t blink twice.”

“There’s no shame in your reaction to my power,” he replies.

I feel shame though, because the last thing I want to do is judge him for his magic. He certainly didn’t judge me. “Why are you keeping him alive?”

“Because I wantto,” he replies, making something scrape down my gut. Slade watches me like he wants me to see every word he’s saying, to envision his every intention. “I want you to understand something, Goldfinch. I am not good. I will rot every person in my way, will bring a blight to every corner of the world if I have to.”

I shake my head. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re good. You’re—”

“No, Goldfinch,” he interrupts. “I’m good to you. But I am every bit the villain that I warned you I was.”

His previous words ring in my ears.

I’ll be the villain for you. Not to you.

I can see in his face that he means what he says, and based on the man he’s keeping... But I can also see the bracing. Like he’s steeling himself, waiting for my impending disgust. Waiting for my rejection of it, for my argument against his nature.

Yet I went to Slade with my eyes wide open. I told him I wanted everything, and when you ask for everything from a person, you don’t get to pick and choose. You take them as they are. Even King Rot.

Which is why I don’t even hesitate to reach over and clasp his hand in mine. It’s why I can hold his gaze, without fail. It’s why I say, “If you’re a villain...then I’ll be a villain with you.”

A slow, sexy grin rises from the grounds of his grim lips.

“But…” I go on. “I still want you to put that man out of his misery now. There has to be a limit to your villainy.”

He laughs, stroking a finger over my hand. “Alright, Goldfinch.”

A noise from behind abruptly cuts off the moment between us, and Slade and I swivel around. At the door, Ryatt walks in, entering the same way Slade did. No knocking, no calling, just letting himself in.

“Hey, I brought you some tarts from Jelma that she—” His words cut off at the same time that his eyes find us across the room. He hesitates for a moment before shutting the door behind him and turning back around.

Slade rises to his feet, and I follow suit, while Ryatt infuses the whole house with a pregnant pause.

We all saw her in that ballroom.

Are you ashamed?

I want her gone.

My eyes flick away. No wonder he didn’t want me here. Their mother is here.

Ryatt clears his throat, and from my peripheral, I see him walk over to Elore. “Here,” he says with a soft offering.

I look up as she takes the tart that’s wrapped in a gingham cloth. A smile spreads over her face as she uncovers it, and then she goes up on her tiptoes to peck a kiss on his cheek. Ryatt blushes.

She grabs a spoon from the counter and then sits down with it, happily eating right from the tin. Ryatt watches her for a moment before he finally turns and approaches us.

Beside me, Slade goes rigid, and the blackened veins at his neck pulse and jolt just past his coat’s collar, their sharp ends like the mouth of an irritated snake.

There’s an awkward shift of Ryatt’s feet as he stops in front of us. “So...you brought her.”

“I did.” Slade’s voice is clipped, and I wonder what other words were exchanged back at the pavilion before I overheard the tail end of their argument. I’m incredibly curious about their dynamic. The line between love and hate seems to have blurred between them, and I’m not sure I understand it. I’m not even sure if they understand it.

While I’m busy trying to guess at their brotherly relationship, Ryatt’s eyes fall to me. “I apologize for the things you heard back at the pavilion,” he says, surprising me. “I didn’t intend for you to overhear. It’s clear you’re in control enough not to destroy Drollard,” he says as he motions around his mother’s house.

“No apology necessary,” I reply. “You were right to be worried.”

Slade slams his eyes into me, and I know he’s about to jump in to defend my honor, but I don’t let him.

“No, Slade,” I go on. “It’s true. My magic pretty much exploded out of me uncontrollably, and now it’s not working at all. You and I both know I don’t have a handle on it, so I understand why Ryatt doesn’t want me here.”

To his credit, a look of contrition tugs at Ryatt’s expression.

“I’m glad I overheard.”

Both of them look at me like they don’t quite believe me, but I mean every word.

“I won’t hurt this village.” My eyes move over his shoulder to where Elore sits at the table. “Especially when I know how important it is.”

Even if I have to keep my magic blocked off forever.

Ryatt studies me for a moment and then gives me a single nod of acknowledgement before he looks at Slade. “How was Mother when you came in?”

“Fine. Happy,” he replies, still a little gruff.

Ryatt looks over his shoulder. “She misses you when you’re gone too long.”

Slade doesn’t reply, but his gaze is tracking his mother, a flicker of pain dug into the strained lines around his eyes. After a second, he notices me watching him, and just like that, the expression is gone.

“Why does your mother live separately from everyone else? And how is she…here?”

A condensed, heavy breath slips from his mouth and seems to burden his shoulders. “I suppose it’s time to show you the rest now. Though I’m sorry I can’t space out all of these revelations, but I don’t want you to think I’m keeping anything from you.”

Ryatt’s eyes go comically wide. “You’re going to show her...that? Right now?”

At his tone, I feel my body fill with uncertain tension. “What exactly are you going to show me?” I ask, wary of the resigned look on his face. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I’m even more nervous about this than I was about the existence of a possible lover.

He takes my hand, expression resigned. “I’m finally going to tell you why they really call me Rip.”

I leave Slade’s mother’s house feeling like I’m walking straight through the silk strands of a spiderweb. This uneasy, viscid feeling clings to me all over, no escape from their unsettling fibers.

“Do you have to have so many damn secrets?” I grumble into the dark.

Slade chuckles. “Sorry. I’ll do my best to tell you all of them.”

“So, just to be clear, there is definitely no favored saddle you have locked in a cage somewhere or an ex-lover that you keep in this village?”

He shoots me an unamused look. “No.”

“Good. Good.”

I’m trying to fill in the silence with nervous chatter, because I have no idea what to expect. Every single one of Slade’s secrets has always been pretty groundbreaking, and I don’t think this one will be any different.

Now that we’re back out in the heart of the cave, the buzzing sound has returned. Even pitched at its low hum, it sets my teeth on edge. Slade leads me around Elore’s house and then deeper into the cavern. The bright, cheerful blue glow soon dims, the huge rivers of fluorescence splitting off and becoming nothing but small rivulets in the stone. Without enough light from the mountain to counteract the size of the space, it feels as if the shadows close in on us, the massive space seeming smaller than it really is.

And still, there’s a constant hum that I can feel vibrating through my skin.

“You can hear that too, right?”

“I can.”

He doesn’t seem concerned, nor does he elaborate, so I have to believe that whatever the reason is for this hum isn’t dangerous. It also must have to do with whatever he wants to show me.

My nervous chatter returns. “In my head, I’d pretty much narrowed the reason for your nickname down to having ripped abs. Or making women want to rip their clothes off. Something like that.”

He laughs beside me, the sound counteracting the awful hum and making my anxiety subside just a bit.

“Very good to know where your head has been. But to be extra clear, I have no desire for anyone to rip their clothes off except for you.”

“Clarity is really good.” I nod firmly. “We should keep doing it.”

“We should keep doing it,” he replies with a wicked grin. I have a feeling he’s talking about something different.

Despite my attempt at some levity, my heart starts to pound in an anxious thrum. I try to squint ahead of us, but it’s getting darker, and aside from rock formations and stalagmites, I can’t see anything.

The hum is louder now. It pulls me forward, like a moth to a flame, the source of the sound sinking into my ears and calling to me. Goose bumps scatter down my arms because I know this reaction isn’t right, but I’m too drawn to do anything about it.

“It sounds like we’re getting closer...” I muse, voice dropping.

The cavern breaks off, and Slade leads me through the smaller tunnel, the walls dotted with condensation. There are milky beetles hanging from the stringy lines of blue glow overhead, and the further we go down this tunnel, the stronger the vibrations become. At first, it stays as low and steady as the hum, yet both of them seem to amplify a thousandfold within a matter of seconds until it’s so consuming that I want to shove my hands over my ears.

What could possibly be making that noise?

But then, we’re out of the narrow tunnel, and I stop dead in my tracks.

Light hits our faces as we stop in the massive cavern that puts all others to shame. It’s like the entire mountain has been hollowed out, eaten from the inside.

And I can see why.

In the very middle, stretching vertically as high as ten people standing one on top of the other, is a...slash in the air.

I don’t know how else to describe it, and my eyes are trying desperately to take everything in so that I can make sense of it. But I can’t.

This isn’t some crack in the cave floor or wall or ceiling. This isn’t some jagged fissure illuminated with the natural fluorescence that runs through the rest of the mountain. No, this is something else entirely.

This cleave in the air shouldn’t exist.

When I look at it too long, it hits me with a sense of vertigo, like when you’re standing on a precipice so high that your eyes can’t make sense of the ground’s distance.

It looks as if a giant has sliced open the air with a dulled ax. Its edges are ragged and peeled, opening up into some bottomless chasm and hanging suspended. And the humming noise comes from inside of it, some unknown force trilling with power.

Inside of this air’s split, there’s a strange, mottled light peeking out. Except, the light is disrupted, like lying beneath a tree at high noon, when the wind blows through the leaves and keeps shifting the shade.

The hairs on the back of my neck are standing upright. The pulse in my veins has been completely drowned out. And for some strange reason, I want to go closer.

I don’t even realize that I’m walking forward until Slade clasps my hand, tugging me back. I snap my eyes away from it.

“What...what is that?” I ask breathlessly.

There’s an exhale hewn from the depths of his lungs. “This is where I tore a rip into the world.”