Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

Another week passed, and the path into Rolara was now covered in snow and icicles. The Black Veil in winter had always been beautiful. Peaceful and quiet…but lonely. I'd never felt the loneliness more as I trekked each day into the village. While I'd come to enjoy Rolara, to nod and wave and smile at familiar faces that were becoming even more familiar to me by the day, it always reminded me that I was alone.

Lately, the walls of my cottage had seemed too close. Lately, I'd had a difficult time finding sleep, dreaming of Lorik, missing him so much that it physically ached in my breast.

I'd only seen him a handful times throughout the week, though I'd always felt his presence near. We'd spoken briefly, in conversations that always felt too short—but just long enough to realize that we were both miserable.

Thela hadn't recovered fully though she continued to improve every day. Two days ago, she'd begun to eat again, and I'd seen the emotion on Lorik's face, the shimmering in his eyes, to know how much that had relieved him. I hadn't realized how bad it had been, but he'd confessed that she'd been on the brink of death, even with the help of the spell.

Life was continuing on, in the Above and the Below, apparently.

So why couldn't we? Why did I feel so stuck?

I huffed out a deep sigh, keeping my ears perked for Lorik as I walked home from Rolara in the darkness. I'd begun to bring my Halo orb with me, and it floated in front of me, illuminating my path, twinkling off icicles and patches of snow as my winter boots crunched through it.

It had been a hard day. The Healers' Guild had lost an older patient, one whose body had simply given out. His name had been Povar. Just last week, I'd given him a salve for his aching joints and he'd made the trek back to the guild hall the following day just to thank me. He'd had a kind smile and a warm soul.

And today…he was just gone.

"What are you thinking of, little witch?"

I took in a deep breath through my nostrils, and I was surprised by the sense of comfort and relief I felt the moment I heard his voice, funneling its way to me like a warm, summer wind.

I'd almost made it to the cottage. Lorik was leaning against the trunk of a river tree, dressed in a fur-lined long-sleeved shirt and a thick, intricate vest with a beautifully stitched pattern. His pants were a dark blue, the color of midnight, and his black boots were tipped in silver metal.

I was used to the sight of him now, his features no longer suppressed by his magicked glamour. Even his eyes glowed more brightly.

"How easy is it for you to use glamour?" I wondered, stopping in front of him.

In an instant, the Lorik I'd known was before me. Softer, more delicate features like an Allavari. Even the broadness of his shoulders and the width of his chest seemed to shrink, and I wondered how I couldn't have felt it when we'd been intimate. But magic was powerful. And I'd always known Lorik's was greater than any I'd ever seen.

Are all Kelvarians this powerful?I wondered.

"Do you prefer me like this?" he asked. His voice was the same, though I thought it matched his true face better, now that I knew both.

"No," I answered. It was my honest answer. "Because it's not truly you. It's what you think others need to see."

Lorik dropped the glamour like he was lowering a shield. His eyes were even more vibrant against the snowy backdrop, like he'd been made for winter.

"What were you thinking of, Marion?" he asked again. "You look upset."

I sighed. My eyes went to my cottage behind me. Dark and empty and cold. And for some reason, the thought of stoking up a fire inside by myself tonight felt like the most horrible thing.

"An older Allavari male died today at the guild hall," I told him. "Povar. I didn't know him well, but he was kind to me. And I don't know… I feel…I feel…"

Lost.

"I'm sorry, Marion," Lorik murmured. "Death is never an easy thing. It doesn't matter if you knew him well or not. You still cared about him."

I swallowed, tugging my shawl closer around my shoulders.

"Will you…" I started. "Would you like to come in for some tea?"

The silence that stretched felt charged with electricity, but I didn't walk back my words. I wondered if that was why Lorik took so long to answer—because he was waiting for me to regret the question and change my mind.

Only I never did.

"Yes," he finally replied. "I would."

I nodded and turned, my heart thumping in my chest. Lorik followed me, his footsteps nearly silent in the snow. He stopped, however, at Peek's boundary, and without hesitation, I took his hand and pulled him over.

The heat of his skin felt shocking and welcome. He didn't drop my hand. He threaded his fingers in between mine, and I felt my shoulders relax.

The chill of my cottage was startling. Lorik released my hand as the Halo orb floated into the front room, casting sharp shadows across the wall from the furniture. I went to light my candles, and without me asking, Lorik sparked the fire in the hearth, his movements practiced and sure. All the wood he'd chopped for me had been used up, and I realized it had been over three weeks since he'd last been inside the cottage.

When the fire roared to life and the candles had been lit, golden light filled the front room. There was pawing at the door, and I let Peek inside. My braydus slinked into the room slowly, shaking the snow off his fur. His head turned to regard Lorik carefully. Then he huffed out a sharp breath through his nostrils, ignored Lorik completely—at least that was what he wanted Lorik to believe—and went to eat when I filled his bowl with raw meat.

"He still hates me, I see," Lorik commented.

"Peek doesn't like anyone."

"He's protective of you," he replied. "That's all that matters. You couldn't have a better companion. I feel better knowing that."

I regarded Lorik across the room. If I'd thought he'd filled my cottage before, he made it seem ten times smaller now.

Ice was melting off my shawl, and I unwrapped it, hanging it by the door. Unbuttoning my thick overcoat next—one that needed a few holes to be patched. I was a little embarrassed by the state of my clothes, especially next to Lorik. And with the extra money coming in from my shifts at the guild hall, repairing the majority of my wardrobe and investing in new winter clothes was my first priority.

"Let me get the kettle on the fire," he said, and behind me, I heard him prepping it. My heart was racing. It was tense and a little awkward, like we both didn't know what to do with ourselves, where to place our bodies in the room…

And yet I didn't regret asking him inside. Having him here was like a nice memory. And a part of me wanted to forget it all—forget the way he'd hurt me—and just move forward.

When Lorik set the kettle over the fire, I turned. Steam was rising off him as he lingered by the flames, and it took me a moment to realize he was using magic to dry his clothes. When they were, he pushed up his sleeves and then settled down into his usual place at the table.

"What's it like in the Below?" I asked quietly. Lorik looked at me sharply, blinking once. "Unless you're not allowed to tell me."

His jaw tightened. "No more secrets, Marion. I'll tell you whatever you wish to know."

"Then tell me what it's like—where you live."

"Allavari think the Below is a hellscape of demons and fire and dark magic and twisted souls," Lorik said, quirking his lips up in a dry smile. "It couldn't be more opposite. The Below is more beautiful than anything you've ever seen."

My brow furrowed.

"I live in a place called Aeysara. The Below King's bright city. I was born there, raised there. And like the Above world, there are countless villages spread across our land, ranging from small strongholds to sprawling towns that stretch for miles and miles. We truly do not know the boundaries of the Below. Over centuries, we've had scouts try to find the edges of our world, but we've never found them. The truth is that we call it the Below and this place the Above…but sometimes I wonder if it's the opposite. The Below isn't actually below. And the Above isn't actually above us. They are just two different realms of Allavar, bound by the portal in the Black Veil. But in the Below…the magic there is powerful. It's steeped in it."

I took all this in with rapt fascination.

"And when you come up to the Above world," I began, "do you feel the lack of magic here?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "I feel depleted here if I stay too long."

I pressed my lips together, thinking as much.

"But it's a small price to pay," he added.

I sucked in a breath as I looked at him. What was he saying?

Lorik leaned forward, his forearms sliding across the flat surface of my wood table. Gingerly, I took a seat across from him, ignoring my icy feet in my winter boots or the wet marks I'd tracked along my stone floor, which would dry as the cottage heated.

"Is it winter there now?" I asked. "In Aeysara?"

"No," he said. "Our seasons do not change. The first time I saw snow, felt it…it was shocking. The cold, the rain, the heat during the warm season—we don't feel that in the Below. We have ancient spells in place to keep our lands temperate, fueled partly by the Below King's magic."

"That must be nice," I said quietly.

"Sometimes," he said. "But I've grown quite fond of rain and storms and never quite knowing what the day will bring. There is an excitement and unpredictability in it. I have this fantasy…"

I held my breath as I waited for him to speak.

"Of us," he murmured, catching my eyes, "in another life. Where we wake to a storm, and we have so much to get done that day. Wood to be chopped, provisions to buy from the village, the garden needing tending, and your potions to brew. And the storm comes, and we just decide to forget all of it. To stay warm in bed and listen to the rain on the roof."

My chest gave a sharp pang as longing went through me. Another life, he'd said. Was something like that still possible in this one? When he'd said himself that his magic slowly depleted every time he came to the Above?

"That's what you dream about?" I whispered.

"Among other things, yes," he said, swallowing. He seemed embarrassed as he shifted in his chair, as if he hadn't meant to confess those things. "But…anyway, no, it's not winter in the Below. It likely never will be."

There were so many questions. Questions I'd wondered in the weeks we'd been apart. Questions that seemed too vast that I couldn't even think of a single one to voice now. It was too overwhelming.

"Don't," Lorik's gentle voice came. Could he read me so clearly? "We have as much time as you'll give me, Marion."

Meaning…he'd wait for me until I asked him not to. Meaning…he would always be here until I asked him to leave.

I choked out a small sob, torn between a smile and tears. I pressed my hands to my face before I raked them back into my hair, pushing back my unruly auburn waves as I breathed deeply.

"I…I've been thinking of offering my glowflies to the Healers' Guild," I confessed. "Of transferring the hives and uprooting all the plants. Of…of leaving my cottage and moving back to the village. Or maybe not even Rolara. Maybe elsewhere in Allavar. I don't know."

The words tumbled out of me in a rush.

"And the crazy thing is that I don't know that I want to," I said in the quiet, the only sound the crackling fire. "I don't know if it's just because of everything that happened. If I'm a little heartbroken, a little lonely, or if I just need a change."

Lorik frowned.

"The Black Veil helped me heal after Aysia. But I also realize that I've used it as a shield since," I said. "I've just been a little lost lately. And I don't know why I'm telling you this when there's a million other things to ask you. But this week…whenever you've asked me how I've been, a part of me just wants to scream all this. I don't want to hide it anymore."

"Marion…" he said softly.

I sniffed, lowering my hands away from the sides of my head, and my hair fell back into place. The water began to boil over the hearth, and I made a move to stand.

"Leave it," Lorik told me, catching my hand quickly across the table. "I want to talk about this."

Slowly, I lowered back down into my seat.

"Tell me," he said.

"You hurt me," I whispered. Lorik breathed in slowly and deeply at the words. Was that relief on his face? "You hurt me real bad, Lorik Ravael. But I forgive you for it."

Thatmade his brows furrow. Did he want me to be angry with him forever? Because he thought he deserved it?

"I forgive you for it. Because I understand why you had to do it. I can understand how there would no choice in something like that. I just wish…I just wish it hadn't hurt so much."

"I told you before, Marion," he said, his voice gruff. "My feelings for you were never a lie. I never had to pretend with you. The lie was just…everything else. The circumstances of how we met. And what I needed from you."

"Looking back on it, I think you were always trying to tell me," I said. "I remember the conversations we had about perception and reality, if I believed that there were things in the universe that would upend everything I knew. You were talking about the Kelvarians, about Severs and Shades, about Allavari, about you. I see that now. I see it so clearly. And I always think about that last night, when we were bathing together and you told me your sister was sick."

Lorik's jaw tightened, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand.

"Were you trying to tell me then?" I asked.

"Yes," he said softly. "I just didn't know how, Marion. Everything was piling up around me. The lies, my deepening feelings for you, my duty to my people, to my family. I had to weigh everything so carefully. Because truthfully, I was running out of time. It was the one thing I had little left of. Every moment I spent with you, the darkness was spreading more and more in the Below, slowly turning innocent lives into Shades. We had no idea if the hive heart would even work—only the word of a sorceress. Even knowing that, even with all the pressure from the Below, I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want you to think that…that I was only with you because I needed something from you. I did, but it was more than that."

"I know," I said softly. "It was an impossible decision. And there was really one choice. I understand."

"It doesn't change the fact that I hurt you," Lorik murmured. "And I hate that I had to. It's the worst thing I've ever done."

The honest words hung in the air. We stared at each other across the table, and for once, the distance between us didn't seem so great, so insurmountable.

The kettle kept whistling over the fire, and I squeezed his hand as I stood from the table. He let me go this time, and I prepped our tea in silence before sliding the cup over to him, taking my seat again.

Steam curled from the cup as I took the first small sip and peered over the rim at him.

I watched as he reached toward his cup, catching sight of a mark on his wrist I'd never seen before.

"What's that?" I asked, my cup hitting the table with a loud thud. "Are you being called to the Below?"

"No," he said, hiding the mark when he curled his hand around his cup. "It's nothing."

"I thought we agreed no more secrets."

Lorik's lips pressed together, and he gave a self-deprecating smirk. "You're right."

Then with a small moment of hesitation, he slid his wrist across the table and showed me.

Whether made by ink or magic, it was an intricate black symbol, resembling a shield, though at its very center there were words written upon it. In Kelvarian? I didn't recognize it.

I got a strange feeling as I looked at it, and I met Lorik's eyes. "What is it?"

His nostrils flared. He studied me carefully and then said, "It's a crime mark."

Suddenly, I understood what he meant. The Shade…Lorik had looked at his wrist after he'd killed him. Crimes, he'd said when he'd seen the markings. I remembered the flash of disgust I'd seen on his face, and I wondered what crimes the Shade had committed.

Dread pooled in my belly.

"What does it say?"

"Oath breaker," he told me, taking his wrist back and tugging his sleeve down to shield it from my sight. He picked up his cup in that hand and took a long swig of his hot tea.

"Your blood oath," I whispered, the color draining from my face. The one I'd forced him to break. "Tell me what it means for you."

"Kelvarians are held to laws bound in honor. Every crime is marked on our skin like a tally. A shameful history, for all to see. Theft is one marking. Murder is three. Every Kelvarian is only allowed three markings, three chances…then you are sentenced to death or the land of the Shades by public trial."

Horror clawed up my throat. "What?"

"It seems strict perhaps to an Allavari," he murmured, "but the system works for the Below."

"But you're…you're the Below King's Hunter," I said.

"Even the Below King is not above Kelvarian law," he told me. "Even the Below King has a crime mark of his own."

My lips parted.

"And…and how many more do you get before…"

"Oath breaker," he repeated, staring down at the now-concealed mark, "normally counts as two markings against me. But mine was in service to the Below King, and so it was judged during the trial to only count as one. I have two chances left before…"

Tears sprung into my eyes. "It's not fair," I whispered.

Lorik took my hand again. "Nothing ever is, little witch. This isn't your fault."

"It is!" I said angrily. "How can you say it's not?"

"Because I knew that it was very likely I would need to break my blood oath when the Below King tasked me with this. I went into this knowing that. You were never going to give me the hive heart with no explanation, and I didn't want to lie to you anymore, Marion."

"I wish you had!"

Gods…death? Or the land of the Shades—whatever that meant! Just the thought of Lorik no longer being a part of this world made mine feel like it was falling apart.

And that should've been my first clue that I was falling in love with the Kelvarian male who'd stolen a lot more than the hive heart.

"I've gone this long without a crime mark, Marion," he said. "By the trial's mercy, it is not so dire as it could've been."

"Because you helped saved your people," I whispered. "You shouldn't have been marked at all."

"No, you helped save my people," he said. "Don't forget that."

I scoffed. It seemed like a small thing compared to this, and it made me realize that there was so much more happening beneath the surface, things I still couldn't anticipate or see.

But that's life,I realized. You either swayed with it like a current or you fought it until it drowned you.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

"Don't apologize to me," Lorik said, frowning.

It was then I knew he still hadn't forgiven himself, even though I had.

"I'm still sorry," I said, squeezing his hand. "I can't help how I feel."

And I knew that the mark brought him shame. He would carry it for the rest of his life—a constant reminder of what he'd done, even though he'd only wanted to help with people, his sister.

It wasn't fair.

But nothing ever was. Lorik had been right about that.