24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

T he following week felt like a year. No one would let me see Verner. No one would tell me where he was.

The self-doubt was starting to creep in a little now. Maybe he was avoiding me. Maybe, after speaking to the king and the captain and whoever else, he didn't want to be with the woman who'd ruined his reputation.

And I was almost certain I had. His name was definitely being whispered at court, but he was nowhere to be found. And everyone stopped talking as soon as they saw me coming.

The guilt was eating me alive. If I could see him, I could at least apologize, but I also didn't want to force my presence on him if he hated me now.

Maybe I should write him a note? Then again, I wasn't sure I trusted anyone to deliver it. Ophelia and Astrid had both been cagey when I'd asked questions—possibly because they didn't want to undermine their partners.

I'd spent days trying to get answers out of them, which had conveniently kept me too busy to sit down and have some of the difficult conversations I needed to have with other people. But I wasn't doing that whole avoiding-tricky-topics thing anymore. Today was the day that I put on my big girl pants and went on my apology tour.

Hopefully it would keep me busy enough that I wouldn't spend my time obsessing over Verner and wondering if he even liked me anymore, and if he knew that I loved him, and maybe I should have told him that.

The vegetable garden looked even better than when I left it, and I made a note to thank Patrick and ask if I could learn from him. If he wasn't mad at me, that was. I didn't really know how these guys would react to everything, but ultimately, I had put them in a difficult spot with my lie and they had every right to be annoyed about that.

"Meera!" Jade exclaimed, throwing the door open and jogging down the stairs. Had she been watching from the window? I let out a startled sound as she threw her arms around me before belatedly remembering that people didn't usually stand there like a statue when they were being hugged.

God, I was so awkward.

"Hi," I said lamely, patting her on the back. "How are you? Sorry it took me so long to visit—"

"Oh my god, don't apologize." She grabbed my arm, towing me toward the house. "You're, like, a celebrity. Astrid told me what you did."

"Did she?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I'm not meant to tell anyone else yet, which has been killing me. I think she was just feeling me out, trying to decide if I'm trustworthy or not, you know?"

That did sound like Astrid logic.

"Want some tea? I just put the water on to boil. And we can talk privately in the kitchen."

"Sure."

From the front door, it was a straight line down to the kitchen at the back of the house, and meant passing by a lot of the common areas on the ground floor. It was the first time I could really see how different the place looked now—it was busier and brighter. There was more stuff everywhere. Clothes lying on couches, and books haphazardly left wherever someone had been sitting to read them. Ten new people had meant a lot more stuff— and a busy time for Astrid, sourcing it all—and the house felt more alive than it had in a long time.

It was nice. It still needed a coat of paint and a significant number of repairs, but it felt a lot more homey now.

I missed it here. Sure, Elverston House was a little worn down and needed some love, but so was I. I was connected to this place.

"Here, sit," Jade said, gesturing to the wide ledge by the fireplace where she was boiling the hanging kettle. "So? Have you heard anything from the human realm yet?"

I shook my head. "No. I mean, I guess they have to go through the evidence I gave them and whatever. I don't know how long these things take."

Those were probably the kinds of questions I should have asked Adela at the time, but I hadn't been thinking straight and I'd just wanted to go home.

"It was such a brave thing you did," Jade said, an almost dreamy look on her face as she added the tea leaves to the boiling water to steep.

"I don't know about brave."

Spiteful, yes. Justified, absolutely. Bravery hadn't really come into the equation though.

"What? Of course it was brave. All of us here have fantasized at some point or another about how it would feel to tell a Councilor to go fuck themselves. And you actually did it! And you had the receipts to back it up. You're a hero."

My face heated at the genuine enthusiasm in her voice. She made it sound like I was some kind of crusader for the downtrodden, when in reality I'd been thinking purely of myself.

"I didn't actually tell him to go fuck himself. I didn't see him at all."

Jade pursed her lips. "That's slightly less cool than what I was imagining, I'll admit. But if you get him sent to jail, it'll all be worth it."

I laughed for the first time in the past few days. "That might be true. I'm sorry for leaving you guys in the lurch. I shouldn't have let you cover for me—that wasn't a nice position to put you in."

"What? Oh no, it was fine. We didn't mind. Look, we get it, you know? And sometimes, they just... don't get it. They don't understand that sometimes you can't do things by the book, because the book wasn't written for us. Astrid was really trying to talk to me and relate to me, but she was being groomed to join the Council someday. What does she really know about my life?"

The friends I'd had since the beginning weren't elitist snobs who thought less of anyone else. They were great people. And they were shaped by their experiences, as we all were.

Ophelia's parents had still paid for her to go to boarding school after she'd been kicked out. Astrid had been shoulder tapped for a future on the Council herself. Tallulah's friends and family had just quietly shuffled her along when she was exiled, and she'd had an income and friends from her college days—paid for by the Hunters Council—to rely on. Austin had been free to pursue his music career, financially supported by his family.

But for those of us at the bottom, we hadn't benefitted from the system. We'd been trapped by it. I'd left with nothing. No money, no family, no friends.

No hope.

And yet… we were all here. Jade and the others. Verity. Iris. Myself. We'd found our way here, and now we had the opportunity to build incredible lives for ourselves. We were in a supportive environment where anything was possible.

It was possible, but it wouldn't just happen .

And the differences that divided us there couldn't just be forgotten, because they formed who we were. But they didn't need to be a barrier between us either.

"She doesn't really know anything about it, but we can tell her," I replied quietly, staring into the fire. "I mean, don't share more than you want to share, of course. But we're all on the same side, aren't we? It's very easy to get caught up in that resentment of how differently our lives played out when we had so much in common, but we also have an amazing opportunity right now to try to balance those scales."

I looked up at Jade while she poured the two cups of tea. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound dismissive—"

"You don't. You sound wise. Like you've really put some thought into what life here could look like for us. I haven't done that, honestly. Maybe because I feel like I'm in survival mode all the time."

"It's not easy to think philosophically when your brain is constantly scanning for threats," I agreed, accepting the cup she handed me. "But hopefully you'll start to feel more settled here soon. If there's anything I can do to help, then I want to do it. It's important to me that you feel at home here."

Jade sat down on the other side of the ledge, watching me with a small smile. "You're really easy to talk to. Has anyone ever told you that?"

I paused, my cup halfway to my mouth. "No. Never."

"Oh. Well, they should. You have this really quiet, comforting way of getting people to open up. It's a real gift."

Huh. Not boring. Not glum. Not dull. Quiet and comforting.

I could live with that.

"You seem sad," Iris said, her knitting needles moving at an astonishing rate as she spoke.

"Do I?" I hadn't realized I was being so obvious about it. Then again, I suspected Iris's empathy barometer was more sensitive than most.

She hummed from her seat in the corner while Tilly dozed on the floor. Not for the first time, I admired how perfect Iris's posture was—she looked like she was sitting for a painting at all times. "I know that we've been avoiding the subject, but perhaps now is the time for you to tell me where you went for those few days?"

I sighed heavily. "It probably is."

"Good. You had everyone rather frantic, you know. Damen was my only company and he refused to tell me. He said he didn't want me to worry." She tutted softly. "I might have to tell him off."

I choked slightly on my saliva. "Tell him off?"

"Yes—like how Nana used to tell me off when I was misbehaving. It's unacceptable that he withholds information from me because he's worried I won't be able to handle it. I'm tougher than I seem."

I couldn't imagine Iris telling Prince Damen off. Or anyone off, for that matter. She was like one of the fairytale princesses in the movies my sister used to watch growing up. All soft tones and tinkling laughter. Even her hair looked like spun gold, now the patchy temporary dye had washed out of it.

"I won't argue with that. And you're right—it's wrong of him not to answer your questions honestly. It would be wrong of me not to as well."

Iris nodded. "It would. Now, you tell me where you were and why you're sad. Did you not want to come back?"

"No, no, it's not that," I said hastily. "I definitely wanted to come back. I, um, went to the human realm."

The silence as Iris paused for a moment, her needles stilling, was slightly eerie. After a few seconds, she resumed knitting, though at a much slower pace.

"Why?" she asked eventually, not a trace of judgment in her voice.

"Um. Well… I think I lost my mind a little."

Iris nodded sympathetically. "Did you have an episode? My mother used to have them all the time."

I wasn't sure where to begin with that. Iris was incredibly calm when she talked about her past, but I suspected it was far more traumatic than any of us realized.

There was a high possibility that she'd be thrilled to know her parents were in jail. But there was also a distinct chance that she wouldn't be. Families were complicated.

"Sebastian mentioned some of the Hunters he was working with on the negotiations… I recognized one of the names. It was a guy who'd… taken a particular interest in me." I cleared my throat. "I was only seventeen. I didn't want him, but it didn't matter. When it all came out, no one believed me. I was kicked out, both out of the Hunters and my home."

"So you heard his name, and you wanted vengeance," Iris surmised, looking thoughtful. I hadn't expected her to immediately connect those dots, which I guess meant I was as guilty of underestimating her as everyone else was of underestimating me. "Did you get it?"

"Yes." And then some.

"How does it feel?"

No one had asked me that question. I hadn't even asked myself that question.

How did it feel?

"Kind of good," I said slowly, hyperaware of the fact that I wasn't telling Iris the whole story. That I was leaving out a pretty significant part that impacted her directly. "But kind of hollow at the same time, I suppose. Maybe I thought that revenge on Randal Jackman would be a magic cure to all my problems, but it wasn't—not really. Destroying him didn't erase the damage he's done."

And I may have created a host of new problems in the process , I added silently.

Iris hummed. "Do you regret it?"'

"No," I replied instantly, not needing a second to think about it. Yes, it had changed things in a way that I wasn't sure could ever be reversed, and ruining Jackman's life probably wouldn't tangibly improve my own, but I still didn't regret it. I'd returned to the shadow realm feeling more sure of myself and my place here. I was more in control of the ghosts that haunted me, and far more settled in my relationship with Verner—or at least I had been until he'd disappeared.

Perhaps the real revenge was the friends we made along the way?

And I'd leveled the playing field a little on the Hunter side, even if the king and the captain didn't want to admit it yet. The Council may have been the devil we knew, but it was the devil nonetheless. This could be a good thing. I was choosing to believe that it was.

We both startled at the sound of a knock on the door, and I quickly moved to open it, finding one of the palace staff standing there.

"You have visitors in the entrance hall. Theon, the Duke of Lindow, and Verity, the Duchess of Lindow." I don't think I imagined the exasperation in the staff member's voice when they spoke. From what I gathered, there were plenty of other dukes and duchesses in the shadow realm, but only Verity and Theon actually insisted on using the titles. They really were a match made in heaven.

"Oh, right. Thanks. Iris—do you want to come with me?" I asked guiltily, acutely aware that I still hadn't told her the whole truth about what had happened in the human realm. Then again, maybe now wasn't the time—maybe Moriah Nash would escape from the fallout unscathed, and I would have worried Iris for nothing.

Or I was just a coward. Or both. Maybe my journey to being assertive and confident and speaking my mind wasn't a perfectly linear one.

"No, thank you. I'm expecting a visit from Orabelle soon."

"The king's mother?" I asked, surprised. "I didn't realize you two were close."

Iris laughed. "I'm not sure we are, but she keeps coming back. I think she enjoys my company more than she's willing to admit."

I smiled in spite of myself. "Of course she is. You're incredible company. I'll visit you again later."

"That would be nice, thank you."

To my surprise, Verity and Theon hadn't made use of one of the private drawing rooms at the palace, but were instead waiting in the foyer where everyone could see them, seemingly reveling in the confused looks they were getting.

"There you are!" Verity said, striding over to me in baby pink stilettos that clipped on the stone floor with each step, and pulling me into a hug. "Sorry it's taken me so long to come to the rescue, news travels slowly to Lindow. Or it does when Damen is responsible for delivering it, at least."

"Come to the rescue?" I repeated, having to tip my head back to meet her eye when she was in heels that high.

"Yes, darling. We're off to get your man."

Theon grumbled something incomprehensible from a few feet away, tapping his foot impatiently.

"My… man?"

"Verner—he's your man, no?"

"He's not a man , Verity," Theon sighed irritably. "I wish you wouldn't use such deeply offensive terms to describe my fellow Shades."

"Fine, fine. Verner is your Shade , isn't he? Ugh, it just doesn't have the same ring to it."

"I… Um. Well, I don't know," I admitted. "I thought he was. But I don't know where he is, and I haven't heard from him. And I kind of told him that I couldn't be the sort of partner he needed—"

"What on earth did you say that for? Why couldn't you? Oh my god, Meera, you two have been giving each other puppy dog eyes almost since we arrived in the shadow realm. He is obsessed with you. You're more low-key, so I don't know what the hell is going through your head most of the time, but I feel like the obsession was pretty mutual."

"It was. It is."

"Then why the hesitation?" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Hunt that man—sorry, honey. That Shade— down and wife him up. Shake that bare neck in his face and make it happen, boo."

I laughed at the visual, having forgotten how absurd Verity could be, and she grinned smugly.

"Yeah? Is that a yes? Are we going?" she pressed, nudging my shoulder. "Do you want to change first?"

I hadn't wanted to, but now I did. I guessed I could put in a little more effort. My t-shirt had a tea stain on the hem from breakfast.

"Okay. Yeah, okay. And yes, I'll change. But I don't even know where he is."

"I do," she replied, crossing her arms and giving me a self-satisfied grin.

"Actually, I do," her husband corrected.

Verity rolled her eyes. "What's yours is mine, babycakes—including all the gossip in your brain. Wait here while we get ready. We'll be back in a minute."

Theon slunk over to the wall, obediently leaning against it with his arms crossed. They were an unconventional couple, but there was no denying that it worked.

We'd only made it around the first corner toward my room when we came face-to-face with the Bishop sisters, and Ophelia's bodyguard, Levana. Only Astrid looked somewhat pleased to see me—which was weird in itself, since pleased wasn't an expression Astrid usually wore.

"Hey, rebel," she said with a catlike grin. "Started any revolutions today?"

"No, but it's still early," I replied, giving her a wry smile. Ophelia relaxed slightly, though I could tell that the tension of the situation was still bothering her. Levana looked ready to string me up with some shadow magic, and I remembered Verner mentioning that they were old friends. Shoot, maybe I shouldn't be taking advice from Verity. Maybe this whole idea was idiotic.

"We were just dropping Orabelle with Iris," Ophelia said with a tentative smile. "Iris mentioned she'd seen you."

"Yes. I, um, didn't get a chance to talk to her about everything yet." I cleared my throat, glancing at Levana before returning my gaze to Ophelia.

"Is no one going to say hi to me? Am I just invisible now?" Verity complained with a dramatic sigh. "This is what I get for moving away from the palace. You all just forget about me."

It was the perfect distraction—Ophelia immediately felt bad and fell over herself to make Verity feel welcome.

"I'll just go change," I mumbled quietly, ducking around them and heading down to my room. I wasn't surprised that Astrid followed behind me, slipping in as I shut the door.

She waited in silence, averting her eyes as I changed into a somewhat presentable-looking sundress and brushing my hair.

"Are you going to track him down?"

"Who?"

She shot me a disbelieving look. "Come on, now. I'm not an idiot. I noticed it weeks ago, and even if I hadn't, he left begging me to keep you safe."

He'd done that?

"So, what is this about? Are you warning me not to go?"

"No. I mean, would it help if I did? Apparently, you're far more impulsive than any of us realized," she added dryly.

My face heated. "Those were special circumstances."

"Bullshit. You look ready to march into battle right now." She sighed. "Listen, I feel bad for the way this has all unfolded. You could have communicated with me, but I could have definitely been more patient. More willing to hear what you were trying to tell me—I realize now how hard that conversation must have been for you. And the Verner thing… Honestly, Soren is pretty salty about it. It's a big deal in the Guard to abandon your post. He really let Soren down."

I swallowed thickly. "I understand. I don't know if it would help at all to point out to Soren that it was entirely my fault. I asked Verner to take me to the human realm."

"He could have said no," Astrid pointed out.

"Could Soren have said no to you?"

Astrid reeled back, though the gesture was subtle because it was her. "It's that serious between you guys?"

"It is for me. And I don't know if I can give him what he's looking for, but for Verner, I'd try."

Verity threw the door open, marching in with a brilliant smile on her face. "Don't you fucking steal my thunder, Astrid Bishop. I see that look on your face—your resolve is crumbling. But, alas, it is too late. For I will be the one to bring this knight in shining armor to the beleaguered prince in the palace so she can free him with true love's kiss."

Astrid wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, that's all you. I don't want to do that."

"Beleaguered prince?" I repeated, fiddling with my hair as if it would magically look full-bodied and not frizzy for the first time in its life.

"You'll see," Verity replied airily. "Let's go, madame knight. Your prince awaits."