23. Twenty-Three

Twenty-Three

All of the heads in the room snapped to us as we walked through the doorway. I could feel the nervous energy in the room, the symptom of the fourth ward falling. My eyes locked with Ata’s as I said, “I did it.”

Ata hurtled herself over the couch, crashing into me.

“Cin, I am so proud of you.”

I could feel the pride and excitement in her touch as I pulled her tight to my chest. I looked over to Andrues who was sitting in his usual chair across from the fireplace.

“What happens now?” I asked, releasing Ata from my embrace as I tucked a curl behind my ear. Andrues opened his mouth to speak as Pri cut him off.

“No—The fourth ward has fallen. There is nothing we can do to change that. From this point on there is no such thing as complete safety, not even when we reach Locdragoon. So, we are going to take tonight to celebrate Hyacinth and her accomplishment—to bask in the last moments of comfort we will have for the foreseeable future,” Pri said, the words a command as they left her lips. Landers nodded and I smiled over at her.

“Well that settles it then,” Ardan said, lifting his glass to me. “To Cin.” He grinned at me then let the liquid pour down his throat.

The house buzzed with anxious celebration as Pri set food out on the table. You could feel it in the air, the tension of what was coming as the low hum of Wren’s music rang throughout the house.

My nerves felt like they were fraying with every second that passed.

Ardan drew me into a dance, twirling around the room as Wren plucked his lute, singing a song telling of The Stories and the old Gods. The flickering candles cast shadows along the walls that danced alongside us.

Ata pulled Andrues to his feet, pulling him to the floor and twirling herself around him, laughing as a look of pain sank into his face.

“Really, Andrues,” Ata drawled, “after so many years, you shouldn’t be this afraid of a woman.” Ata’s eyes twinkled as she teased him.

“I—” he stuttered, stepping on her foot. “I do not dance.”

Ata’s red-stained lips spread into a wide smile as she replied, “You do now.”

Pri laughed at Andrues stumbling over his own feet and as I watched her, I understood how Wren had fallen for her. She was the embodiment of beauty that left a trail of awe in her wake.

But her heart . . . her heart was made from pure gold.

I knew that she would protect the people she loved with a ferocity that would make the Gods tremble. Love flowed out of her like a river, giving life to everything she touched. I was lucky to know her, to get the opportunity, however long, to be in her presence.

Landers wandered over to where Andrues had snuck out of Ata’s grasp and into an armchair, and slipped into the chair beside him. A small round table between them held their glasses as they spoke over it in low voices.

I studied them from where I sat on the couch.

You could see, just by observing them, that their connection ran deep. You could sense the centuries of history that bound them together, a length of time I couldn’t begin to imagine sharing with someone.

Landers looked over at me, his fae senses feeling my stare and winked.

A small smile curved onto my lips as I slipped out from the warm embrace of Ardan and Pri and sauntered over to him. I positioned myself behind him, resting one hand on the back of his chair while my other arm hung casually over it, lightly brushing against his shoulder.

I leaned against the chair and let myself sit in the present moment. In twenty-four hours, we would be gone and moments like these wouldn’t be easy to come by.

If they came at all.

The room brimmed with warmth as a voice cut through the noise, sucking the oxygen from the room.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

Taft stood in the doorway and the once relaxed atmosphere in the space grew tense, the air thick and heavy. Each of our gazes fixed on him, waiting for his next words with bated breath.

As I turned to face Taft, the familiar wave of anxiety crashed over me. My heart rate quickened, my palms dampening as the seconds compiled.

It had been six days since he left.

Six days of freedom.

Six days without the sound of eggshells shattering under my feet.

I was not the same woman I was six days ago.

Taft’s deep brown eyes locked onto mine and I instinctively recoiled. The room held its breath as the tension lingered.

“They are, in fact,” Pri said, breaking the silence. She smiled, nodding her head toward me. “Hyacinth was able to shield magic with her shadows and we are so proud of her.” She lifted a brow toward Taft—a silent warning to tread carefully. Taft’s gaze remained fixed on me, his silence louder than any words.

His hawk-like stare seemed to bore into my soul, and I couldn’t help but fidget under his scrutiny. The disapproving set of his jaw sent the hot prickle of shame spreading through my body.

No . I wouldn’t let him pull me backward.

I had nothing to be sorry for, nothing to feel guilty about.

I squared my shoulders, willing the confidence I felt only moments ago flow back through me.

Landers rose with slow, calculated movements, resting his arm on the back of the chair as if to tell me that he was ready if I needed him to intervene.

Seeing Landers rise, Ardan cut in, walking over to Taft and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Glad you’re home, brother. Let’s get you a drink,” Ardan said, strangling any chance for an argument. Taft nodded, following Ardan to the spread of drinks in the corner.

The room let out its breath, filling back up with chatter that now held a delicate balance, teetering on the edge of a confrontation.

I clenched my hands and let out a deep breath. I had to get this conversation over with.

Closing the distance between us, I walked toward Taft, my heart thumping with a mix of emotions. The memories of our past, the love we had, and the hurt we had caused each other all coiled inside of me. With a deep breath, I reached out, wrapping my arms around him in a sincere hug.

“I’m glad you’re back, Taft,” I whispered, the words carrying a complex blend of sincerity and uncertainty. Taft reciprocated the embrace, his arms encircling me with a hint of relief.

“I needed some time to think,” he admitted, his voice felt distant.

As we pulled back, I studied his face. “Are you okay?” I asked, his gaze meeting mine as he let out a sharp breath.

“Leaving made me realize I needed to reevaluate a lot of things, especially us, but mostly me,” he said, rubbing a hand nervously across his chest. “I needed space to understand what I really want.” I could feel it—the love I had for him. But it wore a different face now, one that questioned the roles we played in each other’s lives.

“I’m willing to talk,” I offered, sincerity lacing my words. He met my gaze, earnestness reflecting in his eyes.

“Hyacinth, I owe you an apology.” His eyes fell to the floor. “I should have believed in you—supported you. Not just with this, but throughout our entire relationship. You are one of the strongest women I know, and I haven’t let you embrace that strength. I shouldn’t have tried to stop you from training.” His words hung in the air, and the weight of his apology held a significance that surpassed the current celebration. It was a moment of genuine reflection, a step toward understanding and healing. I nodded, acknowledging his words.

“Thank you, Taft.”

His gaze briefly flickered over to Landers before returning to me. “I don’t want to lose you, Cin,” he said, his voice low and earnest. My heart clenched at his words, but I knew that I couldn’t go back to the way things were before.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” I replied, my voice soft. “But I think, for now, we need to focus on what’s ahead of us and figure out how to get through this . . . as friends.”

He nodded, his eyes a swirling mess of sadness and hurt. “I understand. I just want you to know that I love you, and I always will.”

“I know you do.”

For the first time, since hearing him say it all those years ago, I couldn’t bring myself to say those three words back to him. Taft nodded again as he stepped back, his gaze flickering over to Landers once more before turning and walking toward Ardan.

The air buzzed with the charge of emotion as I slumped down by Ata. I tried to focus on the conversation in front of me but my mind kept drifting back to Taft. Despite the festivities, I couldn’t shake the unease. These last few days with Landers had made me realize I had been living in a state of constant fear. Fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. But Landers . . . he—

I just needed sleep.

That’s all this was.

I said goodnight to Ata and Pri and slipped out of the room, feeling the stares of both men on my back as I hurried up the steps. The sheets were like sandpaper against my skin, as I collapsed onto them. My eyes were heavy, but my mind refused to shut off.

My heart pounded in its cage as I lay awake, my sweaty palms clutching the blankets.

I was in a prison of my own making.