CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 6

SLADE

Aside from the stalagmites thatreach up from the ground in the cave, there are also bold stalactites hanging from the ceiling too. They perfectly taper around the front door of the Grotto like an archway, the craggy pillars hanging down in sharp peaks. They’re wrapped in thin coils of fluorescence, casting blue shadows upon our faces as we pass beneath them.

I have warring emotions when it comes to being here. On one hand, it’s a comfort. On the other, it feels like a punishment. It might be strange for some that we have a house inside a cave, but it’s private and hidden, and despite the bleak gray walls, I have found some comfort here.

Ryatt steps in front of me and shoves the front door open, its hinges squeaking from the perpetual damp in the air. I rush through the dark house, not needing the light, knowing where everything is by memory.

I quickly make it to the front room, scant shadows making up the shapes of furniture that I know by heart. I feel my boots hit the white fur rug that sits in the center of the room, just beneath a circle table that has rings stained on the wood from all the glasses of alcohol my Wrath and I have set on it, condensation be damned.

I stop when my shins hit the cushioned sofa, and by the time I set Auren down on it and start to pull off her wet shoes, Ryatt is already behind me, getting to work on lighting a fire.

Using the cushions, I carefully prop Auren up so that she’s not lying directly on her back. Because her back…

I can’t bear to think about it.

About what he did to her.

Rage surges inside of me, and I wish I was in Ranhold, that I could turn back time and bring Midas to life again so I could kill him myself. I’d do it slowly. Cutting off limb after limb. Rotting him one vein at a time. Crushing his heart in my fist.

Making him suffer.

The strike of a flint draws sparks at my back, and I calm my anger to focus on my task. I need to get her warm and dry, or the rot inside of her won’t matter, because she’ll die of hypothermia instead.

I strip the wet layers of cloaks off of Auren. I toss them both to the floor, clumps of ice breaking as they land, water puddling beneath them. I’m thankful to find that her dress beneath is damp but not soaked-through, only small pebbles of snow stuck to the hem. I quickly yank the blankets off the back of the sofa and pile them on top of her, tucking them in tight around her body.

A soft orange glow begins to light up the house, and I waste no time pulling the sofa forward, its legs screeching in protest as I drag it across the floor and settle it right in front of the fireplace. I can hear Ryatt moving around the room, lighting sconces as he goes, trying to ward off the chill.

I hold my hand in front of her parted lips, feeling Auren’s breath come out slow and steady.

“Auren?”

I’m not expecting a response, but I’m filled with disappointment nonetheless. The only way I can swallow the dread is to keep moving, keep doing, so I remove her sodden leggings. Then I check her fingers and toes, cupping them in my gloved hands to blow warm exhales on them. I don’t care if her power did kick in now that it’s morning. I need to warm her up. When I’m satisfied with their temperature, I cover them in the blankets once again and then gently wipe the frost from her hair.

“Why isn’t she waking up?”

I hadn’t heard Ryatt walk up behind me, but my shoulders tense at his question. I glance at her face, while something cold writhes in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know.”

Both of us watch her, chest rising and falling, the crackle of flames crowning her skin with an orangish hue.

“Auren.”

My call brings absolutely zero movement from her.

I hear Ryatt step away, and then a clanging in the kitchen draws my gaze. I peer past the archway where he’s now standing in front of the iron oven, just barely visible from this vantage point. Its front grate is already closed and glowing with fire as he works over a pot that’s sitting on top of it. Outside, the storm is growing wilder, the hollows of the cave echoing with the wind’s cries.

Turning back to Auren, I tap into my power again, but just like before, I see that last grain of rot inside of her, and it won’t budge. I can’t even get a grip on it anymore. It’s embedded into her like a seedling taken root. Yet her essence is as pure as before, the inner workings of her body just as it should be. Aside from that single fragment, she feels the same.

So why isn’t she waking up?

My brows draw together, eyes watching her serene face while worries assault me left and right. The faint, rotted veins that had crept up her neck are gone, her skin back to her usual color. She simply looks like she’s in a deep slumber.

“Auren, you need to wake up.”

Of course she doesn’t listen. She never listens to me. Always argues, always has a simmering fire just beneath the surface, which I fucking love.

“Wake up and argue with me, Goldfinch.”

I watch her placid face for another moment before I turn and slump to the floor beside her. Balancing my back against the sofa, I draw up my knees so I can brace my elbows on them. I scrub my hands down my face, feeling exhaustion tugging at my limbs like knotted strings.

Reaching down, I tug off my wet boots, tossing them onto the hearth before yanking my gloves off and holding my palms up to the flames. I don’t feel their warmth.

I think I’m too frozen through with fear.

I’m still staring into the flames, still not feeling a thing, when the front door suddenly bangs open. I’m on my feet in a second, ready for some unknown attack, but when I see two sopping wet figures hurry inside and slam the door shut behind them, I pause.

I look at Lu and Digby incredulously. “What are you two doing here?”

Lu tosses back the hood of her cloak, breathing hard as she holds Digby up, the guard’s arm slung around her shoulder while rain and ice sluice off them. “He insisted on staying with Gildy Locks. Pitched a fit back there until I agreed to follow you and take him along.”

I cast the surly man a look, but he just scowls at me, making a puddle on the floor. Despite his glare, he looks like he’s about a second from tipping over. “I stay with her.”

“Fine,” I say with a sigh.

Digby blinks, like he’s surprised I relented so easily, but I want what’s best for her, and I know Auren would prefer for him to be nearby anyway.

With Lu’s help, he hobbles over to come look down at Auren, a frown forming between his brows as he takes her in. “She never woke up?”

“No.”

Clearly, Digby’s temper hasn’t been cooled off by the winter storm, because his eyes blaze just as angry as before. “This never should’ve happened,” he growls. “You’re supposed to be something to her? You supposedly care?”

My hands curl into fists. “Of course I fucking care.”

“Well, why’d you let this happen then?” he challenges, but it’s nothing that I’m not already repeating to myself. “You’re supposed to be the most powerful king in the world, right? So do something.”

If only I fucking could.

“She just needs to rest,” I say again, all the anger bled out of my tone.

He stands there, dripping and seething, his cheeks wind-chapped and nose red from the cold.

“Come on. You saw her, and Slade’s right. She needs to rest.” Lu starts to pull him away. He only resists for a second, looking down at Auren one more time. Then he turns, letting her lead him toward the corridor that goes to the back of the house where it branches off into several bedrooms. “Let’s go raid Osrik’s room. I’m sure we can find something for you to wear.”

When their footsteps fade, I watch Auren again, but she only lies there, still as a corpse. The one thing that keeps the wild fear from exploding out of me is the fact that I can see her golden aura hovering around her silhouette. It’s still weak. Lackluster. But it’s there, so I hold onto that scrap like a single thread holding up a boulder.

She just needs to rest.

It’s a mantra playing in my head.

She used too much power. It drained her, almost to the point of death. Yet what concerns me even more is that she used an entirely different facet of her power that she’s never even tapped into before. Who knows what kind of toll that took on her?

“Here.”

I look to my right as Ryatt walks up, holding out a steaming mug. Taking it, I peer inside to find some watery broth with a few bits of onion and celery roots tossed in. “It’s all I could scrounge up this quickly,” he says with a shrug. “We’ll need to go to the Cellar tomorrow.”

I toss the drink back, not tasting it save for the heat that burns my tongue and swims into my hollow stomach.

Ryatt drinks his own much slower, and I can feel his dark green eyes watching me. “What?” I ask.

“This hasn’t ever happened before.”

I look down at Auren’s face. “No. It hasn’t.”

“Not to sound like a jackass, since I’m sure you’ve already done this, but you can’t just...get the rest of the rot out of her?”

“Unfortunately, you do sound like a jackass, because I fucking tried.”

“What’s different?”

Setting the empty cup on the wooden mantel, I brace a hand against the dark wood, head hanging as I look at the flames. “I don’t know. Maybe I was too forceful when I used my power on her in the first place. Or maybe I left it too long inside of her.”

“Is it...I mean, have you ever left rot inside someone before?”

I shoot him a look. “Obviously I have. When I wanted to kill them.”

He waves me off. “I mean someone you weren’t trying to kill?”

“No,” I spit out, grip squeezing the mantel hard enough to make the wood creak in protest. “My rot follows my direction. It’s never fucking done this.”

I don’t understand it. Even now, I can sense that it’s there, but I can’t grip it. I can’t call it back to me. It’s not answering to me.

“Will she wake up?”

Rage has me spinning with a snarl on my face. “Of course she’s going to wake up!” I shout, the skin along my arms bulging, spikes threatening to break out. “Fuck you for even asking that.”

“Well, fuck you too. It’s a valid question.”

My hand curls and I’m about ready to slam a fist into his face when Lu comes back in. “Already not playing nice, boys?” She’s changed out of her wet clothes and is wearing massive fur slippers bigger than bear paws. They’re her favorite fucking thing whenever she’s here, even though they look ridiculous on her. Digby is nowhere in sight.

“He’s resting. He tries to pretend otherwise, but he’s in pretty bad shape. Gave him Osrik’s bed,” she says without me having to ask. She comes to stand next to us with her hands on her hips. “So? What’s the problem?”

“I’m just trying to have a fucking conversation,” Ryatt grumbles.

“About Gildy?” Lu guesses, then snorts and strides over to Auren. “How about you don’t poke the rotten beast?”

My brother rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing?” I ask when she strips off Auren’s blankets.

She shows me a bundle of clothes in her hand. “Is it safe to touch her?”

I hesitate. “I’m not sure. It’s technically daylight, so her gold-touch shouldn’t be dormant anymore, but...” My words trail off.

“But she just snapped like a rabid animal and turned the castle into a giant mouth of gold that swallowed everything up during the night even when she shouldn’t be able to?” Lu quips.

“She didn’t gild any of the blankets or the sofa.”

“Too bad. I hate that green color,” she says, gaze drawing over the cushions before she passes over a pair of thick fur-lined leggings and socks. “These are for her.”

“Thanks.”

She turns to Ryatt and slaps him on the arm. “Come on, let’s go make ourselves useful by lighting the fires in the bedrooms and getting more wood. I don’t think this storm is going to break for a while.”

The two of them disappear down the hall, voices muffled. Slipping on my gloves again just in case, I carefully pick up Auren’s feet one at a time, feeding the soft leggings onto her legs. I move her gently, especially when I need to maneuver her to pull them the rest of the way up. When I’m done, I carefully prop her up on her side again so that all her weight isn’t resting on her back.

Then I put the socks on her feet before covering her up with the blankets once more. One delicate hand is hanging off the sofa, and that’s when I spot the tattered remains of her cut ribbon still tied to her wrist.

Emotion, hot and heady, suffocates my skull, my sorrow pressurized and congested.

With the barest of touches, I pick up her hand, my fingers skimming over the cut end. It lies unmoving and leaden, a severed, silken corpse.

Use your ribbons.

I can’t.

Oh, she didn’t tell you? She lost that privilege.

A tic in my jaw pulses, rot pushing at my neck like punishing whips.

Gently, I untie the ribbon and slip it into my pocket—the only part of me that stayed dry. Then I tuck her hand back beneath the blanket before I slump down to the floor again. I don’t know how much time has passed when Lu comes back into the room. She smells of firewood and smoke and looks tired, but that doesn’t stop her from sitting down on the floor next to me.

If she asks me why I can’t fix Auren, I might just snap.

Instead, she’s quiet. We both just stare at the flames, listening to them crackle as the storm wails outside.

When she does talk, I almost flinch, so lost in my thoughts that I forgot she was here. “Do you remember when I first joined your army?”

I go still, glancing at her from the corner of my eye, studying the ridge of her contemplative brow. She never talks about this, never talks about herself back then. We’ve always respected her silence on the matter, because we sure as shit have things in our past we don’t like to speak on either. The few times one of us has brought it up, she’s shut it down, so I’m shocked that she’s bringing it up now.

Feeling like I’m treading on ice that can split at any moment, I carefully nod. “I do.”

With wrists balanced on her knees, she shakes her head. “I was a hissing cat who couldn’t go through a single conversation without picking a fight.”

My lips tilt up when I remember that scrappy, vicious girl who used to spew some of the meanest, crudest shit I’d ever heard, and she was only fourteen. “I was surprised you never sprouted claws.”

She snorts and flicks at the wooden piercing in her lip, the firelight making the set-in ruby gemstone glint. “I walked right up to you, looked you dead in the eye, and told you that your captain was a bony-assed whiner who couldn’t dodge a wad of spit, and that you needed soldiers with better judgment.”

The memory makes a chuckle slip out of me. “All while he had you by the collar until you kicked him in the knees.”

“Bastard shouldn’t have wrongfully accused me of trying to steal shit.”

“You’re right. Which is why I gave you a uniform and told you to get your ass to the barracks.”

Her lips tilt up. “You said if I was going to try and replace one of your captains, I needed to at least learn how to swing a sword.”

“And look at you now,” I reply. “Captain of the right flank.”

Lu rubs a hand over her shorn hair, finger lingering over the shape of the blade cut into the side. “Let’s be honest. You saw a half-starved and feral girl on the streets that day and felt sorry for her.” Her tone is nostalgia topped in something bittersweet.

“On the contrary,” I tell her honestly. “I saw a wicked sidekick and a person unafraid of a fight, who could be a great leader if only she was given the chance to learn.”

Lu turns to me, and for the first time in years, it’s almost like I’m looking at that fourteen-year-old girl again. Served a shitty platter of an undeserving family, caught in the prongs of their shortcomings. She was fucked up, tossed out, forced to fend for herself. Her combative attitude wasn’t a character flaw. It was her fortitude. “I hated you that day, you know. For drafting me into your army and making me into one of your fucked up soldiers. I didn’t want to answer to you. Didn’t want to answer to anybody.”

“Oh, I know. You cursed me out on more than one occasion for it. I think you were on latrine duty for a solid nine months.”

“It was twelve,” she counters, almost proudly. “And I secretly hated you more because I was so damn thankful.” Brows lifting at her candor, I watch as she shakes her head and lets out a sigh. “Let’s face it. If you hadn’t scraped me off that street and given me a sword, I would’ve died, Rip.”

I shake my head. “I don’t believe that for a second. You were strong, even then.”

Her brown eyes are cast down, staring at the charred wood burning on the grate. “I don’t mean die physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually.” She presses a hand to her chest, thumping it twice. “You can’t contemplate or settle or thrive when you’re living like that. I was dead and running, just trying to keep up with survival. Just making it one day. People don’t get that, you know? If they’ve never lived like that. It’s one day. A whole slew of one-day-at-a-times, just getting through, squeezing by. Always running, never expecting anything else. Never having anyone or anything but that running and fighting and dying through it.”

“You’re not that girl anymore. That’s not your life.”

“You’re right,” she replies. “Just like Osrik isn’t the mercenary, and Judd isn’t the thief. Because you picked us to fight at your side and showed us that it wasn’t just one day. It wasn’t just running and dying.” Her gaze meets my own head-on. “I’m the woman I am today because you tossed my ass in your army and let me make myself into a captain.”

Unexpected emotion tightens in my chest. “You earned it every step of the way, Talula Gallerin.”

Her nose wrinkles up, and she leans over to punch me in the arm, but it’s not anywhere near her real strength. “Don’t call me that.”

I smirk and rub my arm. “Still vicious.”

“Always,” she laughs, and then she tips her head toward Auren. “She’s gonna wake up, you know.”

I swallow hard, all the light amusement draining back out of me. “You sound sure.”

“That’s because I am,” she says before she unfolds herself and gets to her feet. “You took my belligerence and tossed a uniform in my face. You met Osrik’s kill drive and decided to give him your sword. You saw every jail cell that couldn’t hold Judd and, instead of tossing him in another one, let him keep the keys. This time, you found your goldfinch and watched her leave her cage. She’ll open her eyes, just like you got the rest of us to do.”

“This is a little more literal. I fucking rotted her.”

Lu just shrugs. “We’ve all got a little rotten in us, and I wouldn’t change that for anything. It’s how we’ve survived.”