CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 39

AUREN

Slade and I spend therest of the night in bed. He makes love to me two more times before I fall asleep, only to wake up with his mouth between my thighs while his tongue does wicked, wicked things.

I’m not sure what time it is when we both fall asleep again, but when I wake up the next time, I’m alone in bed. It’s not anything unusual since I’ve been keeping opposite sleeping patterns in fear of suddenly gilding something. Still, I can’t help the pang of disappointment at not having him here.

Looking at the clock sitting on top of the fireplace mantel, I see that I didn’t sleep as long as I usually do. It’s late afternoon, which means it’s still daylight. Normally, I’d turn over and bury myself beneath the blankets, content to hide until night. But my stomach decides to growl hollowly right at that moment, because it’s been a long time since the feast at the pavilion. Especially considering how...active Slade and I were last night.

It helped, to fall into each other instead of getting bogged down with all those revelations. But now that I’m alone and have time to process, all I can think about is this village. About all the long-lived Oreans inside of it.

Mostly, I think about his mother.

I can relate to her. She was taken away from her world, trapped with a cruel man. Coveted for her magic, kept away like a trinket to bear him fruit. I wonder what happened when she went through that rip, why she no longer speaks.

Perhaps her voice broke that day, right alongside her lover’s neck.

It makes sense now, why I kept picking up something odd about the villagers and Elore. I must’ve been sensing their connection to Annwyn, as subtle as it may be.

But mostly, the thing that keeps cropping up in my head is wondering how I got here. If Slade and his father wielded their magic and tore the world…did someone else do the same? Was I smuggled through some rip that might still exist somewhere in Orea? The thought that another fae could’ve been sold to the flesh market, treated just as I was, makes my heart hurt. And yet, if there are other fae in Orea…where are they?

My thoughts roll in and out on a steady tide until my stomach really starts to complain, and I force myself out of bed. “It’ll be fine,” I murmur as I leave the warmth of the blankets and wander into the adjoining room. I’m not going to gild anything during the day.

I have to start taking baby steps, and getting up with the daylight is the first one. The last thing I want is to lose control and hurt this village. I would never forgive myself.

After using the washroom, I wander into the closet. Now that my back is mostly healed, I decide to ditch Osrik’s shirts in lieu of one more my size. I pull on clean clothes and then head back into the bedroom, my gloved hand pausing on the handle of the door. With a deep breath, I open it and step out, walking down the long hallway to head for the kitchen.

When I’m nearly to the open doorway of the living room, my steps come to a halt at the sound of voices straining past the walls.

“Rip, we can’t keep ignoring these.”

That’s Lu’s voice, and her tone sounds...worried.

“I know,” Slade replies, a heavy resignation weighing down his words.

There’s a pause, and then I hear Digby say, “They’re idiots if they really think this about her. If you ask me, it’s just a bunch of caterwauling.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Judd replies. “They feel threatened. They’re too arrogant to think Midas was the liar. And anyway, it’s political. If there’s one thing you can always be sure of when it comes to rulers, it’s that they will always try to spin a situation to their advantage.”

My brows pull together in a frown.

The front door suddenly opens, and I jump, pressing my back against the shadowed wall as Ryatt comes stomping inside. If he was really looking, he’d spot me, but he stalks inside and rounds the doorway, his shadow spilling into the hall.

“Is it true?” he growls, making everyone else go quiet. “Is it?”

“Yes, it’s true,” I hear Slade say.

Ryatt makes a noise of frustration, and I see his shadow start to pace. “Fuck.”

A simmering unease sloshes against my stomach, tainting the hunger I had and replacing it with nausea. I know there’s something going on—something Slade hasn’t told me yet. That much was clear when I overheard him and Ryatt at the pavilion, and I got the same feeling when Slade received that hawk and didn’t offer an explanation. Sure, it could’ve been something minor, but I don’t think so.

For a second, I consider turning back around. Going back to the bedroom and hiding from all of this. But I can’t keep doing that. It’s time I take another step. So even though my anxiety is spiking up, like water levels rising to my ears, I force myself to push away from the wall. To walk into the living room.

As soon as I do, I see everyone gathered around the kitchen table. Slade’s eyes immediately flick up to me when I appear through the doorway, and I see the stress on his face a second before he wipes it away.

“Auren.”

Everyone else at the table turns to look at me, as does Ryatt, who was standing in the kitchen doorway with his back to me.

None of them quite have the poker face that Slade does. But even if they did, I’d still be able to sense something was wrong from their stinted silence. Even Hojat, whose presence is always so calm, has strained lines of worry creasing his face.

My eyes fall to the scroll that’s been rolled out on the table. It looks like it’s been passed hand to hand, crinkles marring the scrawled words.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my eyes dragging back up.

Lu and Judd look to Slade, and even Digby cocks a brow at him, like he’s waiting for Slade to come clean.

When Slade hesitates, Judd cuts in with an easygoing grin. “Hey there, Gildy. Heard you found out why we really call him Rip. Bit of a show-off, making a whole-ass rip into the world, don’t you think? Personally, I preferred all the rumors that we came up with to explain his nickname,” he tells me. “It was fun spreading them.”

Lu smirks. “Like he got the name for ripping people’s heads off in battles.”

Judd nods. “Or having ripped muscles—the women liked that one.”

“Rest In Peace.”

“Ripping people a new one.”

“Being a rip-off.”

“Ripping through lives.”

Judd’s eyes light up. “Or ripping some nasty ass far—”

“Enough,” Slade says with a sigh. Judd snickers.

“Thanks for that,” I tell them. “And yes, it was quite the surprise. But I really just want to know what’s happening now.” My eyes look around the room. “There’s something that’s been going on since we’ve been here, right?”

To my surprise, Ryatt is the one who answers. “Yes, there has been.”

“Ryatt,” Slade growls.

“What?” he snaps back. “She’s up. She’s healed. And now, she’s asking. You’re wasting time—time that’s not only yours to waste. It’s not hers to waste.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, unease churning through my stomach. “Is this about...Midas?”

Hojat shifts in his seat. Judd’s eyes move to Slade again. Lu flicks her wooden lip piercing with her tongue.

“What does the letter say?” I ask warily.

It’s the look on Slade’s face that makes my chest tighten, that makes cold dread flood my veins.

“What does it say, Slade?”

Instead of answering, he gets to his feet, digs a hand into his pocket, and pulls out a handful of scrolls. My eyes widen when they spill onto the table. “The monarchs have demanded that you answer for the death of Midas—that you stand trial at a royal Conflux. They claim…”

My heart crashes against my chest. “They claim what?”

He lets out a weary sigh. “They’re claiming that you stole Midas’s gold-touch. That you became jealous when he announced his betrothal to Queen Kaila, and you killed him in a fit of rage. And…that you’ve seduced me.”

My mouth parts in shock, ribs cracking with the force of my heartbeat. “And that...that’s what those letters are? A kind of summons?”

“Some of them.”

I swallow hard. “And the others?”

He hesitates.

“Slade.”

“We were just informed that our shipment of supplies never arrived. It was supposed to get to the outpost, enough for the army passing through and also to replenish Drollard, but it didn’t arrive. I looked into it, and it seems that the ships never came to port.”

My frown deepens as I try to understand what this has to do with what happened in Ranhold.

“What ships?”

Ryatt cuts in before Slade can answer, turning his body toward me. “What my brother is trying to say but doing a shitty job of, is that the other kingdoms are now sabotaging us for harboring you.”

My eyes go wide.

Slade shoots him a glare before he tries to explain. “Fourth Kingdom is mostly wetlands, swamps, and mining mountains. Outside of that...there’s the rot,” he says. “Partly used as a deterrent, partly because I have to expel the power. But that means that my kingdom doesn’t make for very good farming land. Other than fish, we have to import most of our food from trade agreements between the other kingdoms.”

He pauses.

“So the shipment...”

“It’s not coming, Gildy,” Judd tells me from his spot at the table. “The kingdoms are pissed off that Slade’s ignored their guidance and hasn’t shipped you off for the summons. This is their way of warning us.”

My eyes fly to Slade. “But what about Drollard?”

“We have reserves.”

“Yeah, but it’s not infinite,” Ryatt says.

“Not to mention the army,” Judd adds, running a hand over his mustard yellow hair. “They’ve been on the move for months now. Their supplies will be dangerously low as they pass into Fourth. Not good for morale.”

“Neither is an absent commander, and a king not in his kingdom,” Ryatt says pointedly.

“You need to get back,” I say aloud.

Slade looks at me stoically, as if he’s not carrying the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. “We’ll go when you’re ready.”

He’s not returning because of me. Because I’ve been dragging my feet, too tentative to get a hold of myself and face the changes of my power, face the repercussions of my actions at Ranhold.

“I’m holding you up, Slade,” I tell him honestly. “You need to go back to Fourth Kingdom.”

Anger flashes across the sharp planes of his face. “You think I’d leave you behind? Not a fucking chance.”

“I don’t want to be left behind, but the other monarchs know I’m with you. Maybe it’s best if I do stay here.”

“No.”

I let out a sigh. “Slade—”

He presses a hand against the table. “It’s not happening. We’re not separating. Besides, I can better protect you back in my kingdom. It would also be best if I’m there, in case the other monarchs decide they want to retaliate with more than holding up an outpost shipment. But before we can go…”

I fill in his gaps. “I need to figure out my magic.”

He nods.

“Right, so she can possibly kill everyone in Drollard,” Ryatt mutters.

Slade opens his mouth to tear into him, but Digby beats him to it. “Don’t speak about my lady in that tone,” he grounds out.

Surprisingly, Ryatt actually looks a bit chastised before he covers it up with derision. “Shouldn’t you be in bed healing?”

“Watch your mouth,” Slade barks. “You will treat Auren’s guard with respect.”

Digby glares at him. “I don’t need your defense, boy,” he says to Slade before he turns back to Ryatt. “My leg and ribs are better,” Digby retorts. “I’m healed enough to kick your ass.”

Judd snickers.

“Something funny?” Ryatt demands. “Sorry we can’t all laugh everything off and pretend it’s fine like you do, but Drollard is in serious fucking danger of being starved out if your king doesn’t get off his ass and fucking do something!”

My eyes flare wide, bouncing between them as they all seem to snarl and snap at each other like a bunch of hungry dogs.

Across the table, Lu gives me an eye roll. “You see what I put up with all the time?” she tells me before getting to her feet. Then she hops on top of the table and, quick as a whip, launches a dagger from...I don’t even know where, and makes it slam point-first into the wood, pinning the letters down.

Everyone stops talking at the same time, looking up at her.

“Now that I have your Divine-damned attention...” She places her fists on her waist, looking down at them like the captain she is. “I need you all to tuck your dicks in for a second and try to think rationally. Like a woman.”

Despite the severity of the situation, I can’t help but grin.

“It’s clear what we need to do,” she goes on, and she points at Ryatt. “You need to stop being a prick. Slade cares about Drollard and everyone in it—and you know this. Just like we also know that you’re stressed as fuck about it because this place is your home. But like I said, stop being a prick.”

Ryatt looks mulish, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Her finger moves to Judd. “Stop being an instigating asshole.”

“And you,” she says next, pointing at Slade. “You’ve been gone way too long from your kingdom, and you know it.”

“You...” she says to Digby next, making him look up at her warily. “Keep up the good work. Same for you, Hojatty,” she adds, and the mender gives her a shy smile.

“And Gildy.” I stare cautiously at her finger, bracing myself for her words. “You need to yank up your big girl britches and figure out your magic. Because we all know Rip sure as hell isn’t going to leave without you, and frankly, you need to do it before we let you near another ballroom. It’s time.”

I know she’s right. I’m past the point of dragging my feet. I need to be stronger physically and magically. So even though it fills me with dread, I nod. “I know.”

“I know you do,” she replies. When she drops her hand to her side, everyone seems to relax a little. I’d find it funny if I weren’t so anxious. “Now, we’re not going to argue and waste time anymore. Os is already getting the last third of the army crossed back into our territory. Which means we are going to have thousands of tired troops we need to take care of, and letters to answer. We need to come up with a plan. Together.”

Collectively, everyone nods.

Lu hops down from the table and then looks to Slade, and I see his own demeanor shift. He looks like he did in his Rip form—the devious commander of the world’s most fearsome army.

He braces his hands against the wood, eyes skimming over the rolled scrolls beneath his fingers. “The other kingdoms think they can try to bully me into handing over Auren, but it’s not going to work,” he says, and I finally hear it—the rage that he’s kept hidden, the need to act that he’s been suppressing. After a moment, he lifts his head from the letters, and a wicked grin spreads over his face. “Maybe I need to remind them of why no one fucks with King Rot.”