3. And Another with Me

Aesylt had pretended the day couldn't possibly arrive, and she hadn't prepared herself at all for seeing her dearest friend off to an uncertain fate.

It felt like the coldest day of the season, but Aesylt couldn't even trust her own senses that morning.

Everyone else had already had their turn. Val's family. Nik. It seemed wrong to her that she should be his witness, the last person he saw before venturing alone into the forest. But a chosen son could make three requests before they left on their Vuk od Varem. One for his family, one for the handling of his body, and one for the safe and smooth passage of his soul. The village was honor bound to grant them.

For his family, Val had requested they have first pick at the meat storage for the next season. That was tradition anyway, for families of the chosen sons, but Val wanted it recorded. He was leaving nothing to chance.

For his body, he'd requested the flames, followed by a scattering of his ashes in the Howling Sea. Vjestik, unlike others in the north, did not entomb their dead.

And for his soul, he'd requested Aesylt to be the last face he saw before he surrendered himself to the forest. His final witness.

She huddled near the half-open barn door, waiting for him to finish assaulting the hay with his steel. The sun was already setting, and heavy clouds darkened the late-afternoon sky. He'd want to be settled in his encampment by nightfall. He wouldn't be the first son to perish before the contest had fully begun, but she wasn't about to let that happen.

"V." She dug the toes of her boot into the splintering frame. The nausea in her belly competed for prominence with the delirium sweeping over her head. "I could happily stand here with you forever, but it's going to be dark soon."

"Yeah?" Val lunged forward in a violent thrust, rattling the hay. He stepped back and wiped his brow, then looked her way. "So it is." He returned his attention to the bale.

"You don't want to be looking for a campsite when it's dark."

"What would you know about it, Aessy? They send sons, not daughters."

"I know enough." She took a single step in, to dodge a hard swirl of snow. It was getting dark and stormy, and every second he lingered was one closer to his doom. Even thinking about it... She couldn't. That wasn't what he needed to dissolve his angry fugue.

Aesylt knew what to do, but if Drazhan—if anyone—found out she'd been in the celestial realm again, she'd be in terrible trouble. She'd promised not to do it again, and definitely never to bring someone else with her, and she'd kept the promise... mostly.

Val shrieked a battle cry and made another decisive jab.

With a sigh, she leaned out of the barn to make sure no one was watching, closed it, and threw the bolt. Val was so consumed, he didn't notice either, nor her moving toward him. It wasn't until she whispered the words "and another with me" that he looked up.

The colors of the barn dulled, no longer vibrant, and the air had an ethereal quality that made it seem thinner, hazier. Anyone who came in would see an empty space where she'd stood only seconds before, though if they looked close enough, they might notice the shimmer marking the place she'd return to.

She waited until his entire corporeal form had transitioned before throwing herself into his arms.

"It's all right, V. It's just us here." She pressed her mouth tight to the flesh of his ear. Everything seemed and felt as it did in the real world, but heightened. His breath in her hair sent an imperious wave of shivers through her. The clamp of his hand, buzzing with heat, had her nearly twisting to get away, afraid of how alive the sensation made her feel. "You chose me for a reason. Stop taking your agony out on the poor hay and talk to me."

Val gradually relaxed. His hand clenched in the middle of her back, then softened. "You know I hate it here."

"You didn't always." She craned her head up to smile at him. Tears glossed his eyes. She wished she hadn't seen them. "You used to beg me to come here. Remember?"

"That was before Drazhan told us you could get stuck here and never be able to leave." His brows fused. "You know I'm not much for rules, or your damned brute of a brother, but I have to agree with him on this. You shouldn't be coming here anymore. No one in this village has the magic to come find you if you lose yourself."

Aesylt made a pfft sound and averted her eyes. "Our world is far more treacherous."

Val shook her once. "Promise me this will be the last time."

"It would be a lie." She forced a smile, reaching a hand toward his cheek. Fear bubbled up from her chest, clogging her throat. This was it. In minutes, he would walk away from her, and the odds were she would never, ever see him again alive. Never hear his laugh. See his smirk. Feel his hand on her arm, guiding her both toward and away from trouble. "I could keep you here with me, and we could stay forever. We don't need sustenance in the celestial realm. We don't need anything."

His mouth turned at the corner before spreading into a smile. "You know why I chose you as my witness? I wanted to ask you for something. Two things."

Aesylt waited for him to tell her.

"A good-bye kiss," he said, grinning broader. "I want you to be the memory I take with me into the forest."

Her mouth parted in surprise. She nodded, but before she could add voice, Val had both of his hands wrapped along the underside of her face. A gasp was the only sound she made when his tongue slid across hers, their moans colliding. She lifted for more, unsure whether her desperation for his touch came from love, fear, or both.

"Mm." He nibbled her lip as he drew away. "Aessy, Aessy, Aessy."

Her mouth tingled, humming. "And the second thing you wanted to ask me?" she asked, breathless.

"No one expects me to come back." He looked off to the side, scorn scoring his dark expression. "But do you know why they send boys into the woods?"

She shook her head.

"Because men have something to come home to." He dragged his thumbs along her temples. "If I come home, Aesylt, I want you to be my wife. Don't worry about your brother. If I win, I'll be a hero. The village won't accept his shallow excuses anymore."

"You're a man now," she said distantly. Certainly they'd played happy families as children, the two of them husband and wife, and Niklaus—quite reluctantly—their child. Always fun, always a laugh. Never real. "I don't even know if I want to marry."

His touch faltered. "You always said you did."

She searched for the right words, excruciatingly conscious of the way he was hanging onto her silence. Did she want to marry him? Could she see it as something real, tangible, desirable? She did desire him, but was it love? Was how she felt for him the foundation of a marriage?

Moments from him walking away from her, probably forever, did any of it matter? Were objections the words she was going to leave him with, weakening him before the greatest battle of his entire life?

"Tak," she blurted. Her heart fluttered in her chest. "When you come home to us, I'll marry you."

Aesylt gulped when he suddenly lifted her in his arms and spun her, ending the joyous outburst with a drawn, ardent kiss.

He broke away, trailing his mouth toward her ear. "Volemthe, Aesylt. I always have."

"You know I love you as well, Valerian," she answered. Her heart pounded hard enough that if she were in the outside world, it would have rendered her lightheaded. The twisted, well-intentioned lies turned to molasses in her belly. Her justification for them was no relief. She was either saying good-bye to her dearest friend in the world or she was waiting for a husband to return.

Both outcomes hollowed her beyond belief.

"Can we get the fuck out of this creepy place now?" Val's larger-than-life smile was back. He brushed a band of hair off her face. "Please?"

Aesylt laughed, but the thought of staying there, forever, nagged at her. If it saved him, she could be anything Valerian Barynov needed her to be. Approaching the last moments before his departure, she was desperate enough to say words she knew she didn't mean. "Stay, V. Stay with me. We can run. It isn't too late. We can go... anywhere, really. This realm is big. It's big enough for people to get lost in, if they want, and I have the gold my mother left me?—"

"No. This is our home." He glanced at the doors with a heavy sigh. "And I won't purposely subject our village to another awful year."

She wouldn't have either, in his place. "You can't fault me for trying."

His smile brightened the entire barn. "I love you for trying. And I will come back to you. You gave me every reason to return victorious. So I will."

Aesylt squinted away tears. "That simple, is it?"

"If I say so." He kissed her again. "Don't worry for me. I know what I need to do, and I know I can do it." He fingered the necklace she'd placed on his neck the day before. It was her mother's, one of two left after the sacking of the village. The ruthless cowards had taken everything else of value, but Aesylt had been wearing both, huddled under her bed as she listened to screams without end, breathing the rancid, unforgettable stench of bodies burning in the village square. "I have everything I need now."

"Come back to us." Her voice cracked. Say it. Give him everything he needs, for he'll need everything he can get. "To me." She closed her eyes and whispered the words to return them both to the real world. "And now we return."

Val glanced around in powerful relief. "All right then, beautiful. By the wings of this life or the bones of the next."

Aesylt repeated the Vjestik refrain. He kissed her as the last word left her, held his hand to his mouth, and went to the barn doors.

"Better start picking out materials for a gown." Val grinned, winked, and then he was gone.

Aesylt wasbent over the hearth in the library, heaving, when Tasmin walked in.

Tasmin quietly approached and chose the chair Rahn usually sat in. "He's gone?"

Aesylt breathed out through a small gap in her mouth, choking back emotion. Her sour belly constricted, churning. She inhaled, eyes closed, and turned.

"I won't ply you with reassurances. You're Vjestik. You've lived here your whole life. You'd see right through them." Tasmin leaned closer. "But if you'd like to talk, I'd be honored to listen."

Aesylt had chosen the library for solitude. There wouldn't be another cohort session until the Vuk od Varem was over, and depending on the outcome... No, she couldn't let her mind wander such a path. But Tasmin, who had come to the Cross with Duke Rahn and her mother, Duchess Teleria, was easy to talk to. She had a natural warmth and wisdom that surprisingly paired well with her blunt assessments of everything. She and Aesylt had become fast friends, and even confidants. "I don't even have words, Tas. I feel like a great void has opened up within me, one I'm neither capable of closing nor motivated to try. Letting it swallow me would be easier than standing on the edge of the abyss, waiting to fall."

"You're not one to wax morose," Tasmin said lightly. "But if anyone has a right to, it's you. I won't tell you what I think about the Vuk od Varem, but I will pray to the gods for Valerian's safe return."

The gods. The Ancestors. The Guardians. There were so many deities in the realm, it was hard to lay accountability at any of their feet. "I know how it all must seem to an outsider, Tas, but I've heard some of Imryll's stories from Duncarrow. Every culture has traditions no one else understands. Every culture understands brutality. It's a rather universal language, don't you think?"

Tasmin nodded at the fire, tucking her mahogany hair behind her ears. She was remarkably beautiful, in a way Aesylt struggled to define. There was an "otherness" about her that men and women alike found immediately appealing. Aesylt had never concerned herself much with her own reflection, but Tasmin's arrival had her scrutinizing herself about things that had never mattered before.

It wasn't just Tasmin's arrival though. It was Rahn's. No one had ever challenged her the way he had. Before he'd come along, she hadn't even realized there were more challenges to be made.

Before his arrival, she hadn't been living, so much as existing.

"You're right. And I was born on Duncarrow, unlike Rahn who was old enough to remember Ilynglass when he came to our realm. Despite that, he remembers nothing. As you know, even raising the topic turns him into a cornered animal." Tasmin shrugged. "Whatever world Rahn came from, whatever it looked like, I know it couldn't be any more civilized than ours."

Of their cohort, only Tasmin ever called the scholar by his given name. It made no sense why it rankled Aesylt, just like their easy way with each other shouldn't be so maddening, but it did and it was. It didn't matter that Rahn and Tasmin had been raised like siblings.

But they were not siblings, and the way Tasmin sometimes smiled at Rahn from across a room made it clear there were no familial boundaries between them.

"What aren't you saying, Aesylt?"

Aesylt pushed off from the hearth and dropped into the chair next to Tasmin's. "Val asked me to marry him before he left."

Tasmin pitched forward. "Did he now?"

Nodding, Aesylt drew her legs up under her.

"Your answer?"

"What else could I say but yes to a man embarking on..." She couldn't finish. "Even if he comes back, Drazhan would put up a fight about it, and..."

"He might not," Tasmin said. "The boys who return from the woods are heroes, no? It would be an honorable match."

"You're assuming my brother is reasonable."

"Oh, I know the man isn't reasonable. I was there for his entire illicit courtship with Imryll. He may be a gentle giant with her now, but we can't forget he went to Duncarrow to extinguish the Rhiagain line."

Aesylt could have defended her brother, but instead she closed her eyes and sighed. "Val is... He's so dear to me, Tas, but I cannot see making a life with him."

"Well, I imagine he'd be a proper beast in bed," Tasmin said with a cheeky grin, which had Aesylt unexpectedly smiling too. "Listen to his chaos. It's a symphony of unbridled promise."

"What a way with words you have," Aesylt teased, envious at how easy it was for Tasmin to speak of such things. If anyone heard them... but no one would. And she trusted Tasmin enough to know she didn't even need to ask her not to repeat any of what was said to Drazhan or Imryll. "But I need more than that." She frowned. "I think."

Tasmin pulled her dark-cherry waves over one shoulder. "Many women get stuck with a man who fulfills none of their needs. Very few can manage to please you both inside and outside the bedroom."

"And you would know this how?" Tasmin had once inferred that Duncarrow was an island of lechers, but she had not implicated herself in the accusation.

Tasmin smirked instead of answering. "You could do worse, Aesylt. He's brash and a bit... uncouth, but he's gorgeous and has only ever had eyes for you."

"It's not as if Witchwood Cross is teeming with options." Aesylt leaned back in her chair with an inaudible sigh. She let her eyes slowly close, taking in the soft warmth of the crackling fire, which was still no match for the fire raging within her. Her heart hadn't settled at all, not in hours. "Val isn't the first person I cared about who went into the forest, but he's the only one I've been tempted to follow."

"Wouldn't it break the alliance with the wulves? If he had help?"

"I didn't say I was going to." Aesylt lolled her head to the side, searching for a subject change. "Did Scholar Tindahl tell you about the curricula change for our cohort?"

"Haven't had the chance," Rahn said from the doorway. Both women startled at the unexpected intrusion.

"Well, don't hold out on me, Rahn," Tasmin said with a teasing grin.

Aesylt clenched, feeling foolish for her jealousy of a relationship that had nothing to do with her. She reached for the quilt on the back of her chair and pulled it over her, sad and ashamed and a slew of other emotions she was too out of sorts to put name to.

"Another time," he said pleasantly. His focused steps echoed as he approached. "I'd hoped to speak with Aesylt, actually. Alone, if you don't mind."

Tasmin's brow creased in surprise. "Does Drazhan know you want to be alonewith his sostra?"

"If you're suggesting my intentions are untoward..."

"Not at all." Tasmin leaped from her chair, pointing a quick wink at Aesylt before sauntering toward Rahn. She squeezed his arm as she passed.

He stood stock-still until the library doors whooshed closed and then settled into the chair Tasmin had vacated. "How are you holding up?"

Aesylt tugged the quilt tight around her neck and shrugged. "Perfectly recovered."

"That isn't what I meant."

She could feel his eyes fixed on her, but her nerves kept her own gaze pointed at the fire.

"You were Val's final witness."

She nodded.

"I can't imagine the convolution of emotions you're experiencing after that." He tapped the arms of his chair. "I may be an outsider and don't fully understand the Season of the Wulf, but I've been told I'm a good listener."

Aesylt smiled to herself. "You've certainly endured a fair dose of my whining without complaint."

"No reason to complain about something I chose to do."

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine. I'll be fine." She twisted in the discomfort of her lies. She wasn't remotely fine. Thinking... even breathing was a chore. The scholar's presence made both of those things inexplicably more challenging, like she had to be conscious of what every part of her was doing, the precise path of each inhale and exhale. "In fact, I may head on to bed now."

Rahn's presence was heavy beside her. "You must be exhausted."

"Not especially."

He hesitated a moment before saying, "Have you an appetite for adventure then?"

The suggestion was so unexpected, it made her laugh. "Does said adventure involve trees?"

"Gods, let's hope not." His mouth parted in shocked disgust, and they both laughed. "It's just I... I had a cart prepared to journey up to the observatory to see the progress. The road up the mountain has been cleared, and the skies are fairly open—a good night to go up and test out the telescope. I'd hate to waste it."

Aesylt turned toward him. She'd only been up to the spot once, when construction had broken ground. Rahn usually went alone—or with Tasmin. "Are you asking because you feel bad for me? Do I look pitiful?"

Rahn pursed his mouth in amusement. "There's nothing pitiful about you, Aesylt. Not a single thing."

"Well, you've answered one question," she quipped, shifting again under the blanket.

He leaned close. "I'm asking because I want to know what you think."

"About the construction?"

"Yes. I value your perspective." Rahn straightened his jacket and stood. He extended a hand to her. "Will you accompany me?"

Aesylt narrowed her eyes at the strong hand calling her name and tried very hard not to think about her dream the night before, when she'd ridden the poor scholar into oblivion at the top of that ill-fated tree. At least he couldn't read minds. "No one put you up to this? Like Tas or Nik?"

He withdrew a little. "Do you really believe I would ask you if I didn't mean it?"

Aesylt lowered her eyes and sighed. "Opros, Scholar. I'm just not good company tonight."

"Let me be the judge of that." His hand waved again.

She curved her mouth to the side in cool regard. "You'll regret this. Deeply, I suspect."

Rahn grinned. "I look forward to adding it to my ever-growing list. Come on."