Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

RANE

T he morning after I pleasured Mirella in the stable, I went to the King’s Grove to talk to the gods.

I wasn’t good at praying. People claimed the gods answered if you asked the right way, if you were earnest and penitent. But I’d never been either of those things because the gods had never answered me. Not when the priests separated me from my parents and forced me to learn how to swallow the shadows. Not when the guards shoved me up the steps to the auction block. Not when my first master spoke the enchantment to weave chains around my wrists.

But I prayed now. Or tried to. I knelt before the Edeloak, unease drifting through me, and cleared my throat.

“Um. I need a favor.”

The grove stayed quiet, the only sound the gentle splash of the fountain behind me.

Fuck. This was stupid. But it was also important.

“I’m not asking anything for myself. I want to make that clear. Well, maybe I am.” I drew a deep breath and then spoke in a rush. “I need you to help Andrin. He can’t shoulder this burden much longer. It’s killing him.”

As if the gods didn’t already know. The dead grass around the base of the Edeloak had spread since the last time I visited the King’s Grove. More withered leaves littered the ground, their edges shriveled.

“The Edelfen is at our doorstep, and I’m terrified he’s going to sneak into the forest alone.”

Nothing. The fountain continued its unbothered splashing.

I clenched my fists at my sides. “If you don’t help Andrin, the kingdom will die.”

Fuck. Threatening the gods probably wouldn’t persuade them to intervene.

I glared at the tree. “ You will die. Is that what you want?”

A noise made me jerk around. Othor passed the fountain, his robes trailing the path behind him. He didn’t carry his staff, which was unlike him. Normally, he never missed a chance to remind everyone he had the Edeloak’s favor.

I shot to my feet, my nape heating. “You can have the grove in a minute. I got here first.”

He stopped in front of me. “Actually, I was looking for you. I hoped we could talk.”

I didn’t bother trying to conceal my surprise. “Those are two sentences I never thought I’d hear you say.”

He looked up at the Edeloak, the hint of a smile teasing his lips. “Yes, well, we’re living in unusual times.”

Enchanted leaves drifted toward the ground. Othor continued gazing at the tree. My surprise turned to irritation.

“What do you want to talk about?”

He looked at me. “You’ve spent a lot of time with Mirella over the past few days. You and Andrin both.”

“So?”

“Everyone noticed the collar’s absence, as well as her spot on the dais during feasts. People are asking questions.”

My temper spiked. “Are people asking questions, or are you asking questions?”

He raised a brow, and I waited for one of his usual insults. I was uncouth. Mannerless. Intemperate. Anything to remind me that no matter how many titles Andrin gave me, I’d never shed the stench of slavery.

Othor was a Verdalis, his likeness emblazoned on the Edelfen’s sacred leaves. And I wasn’t fit to water the tree’s roots even to save it from dying.

“She’s good for you,” Othor said. I must have looked startled, because he gave a small nod. “You and Andrin. I didn’t want to see it at first, but some things are impossible to ignore.” His lips twitched. “Or maybe I should say, some women are hard to ignore.”

Mirella’s wide, golden eyes and soft mouth appeared in my mind. “…you are not garbage. You absorb the shadows so the light can shine.”

“She’s not like Walto,” I said, my voice husky.

Othor looked up at the Edeloak. “No,” he said softly, “she’s not.” He let his gaze linger on the tree a moment before returning his attention to me. “I used to think the gods had abandoned Autumn. But maybe we stopped listening. Sometimes, they speak through the most unlikely messengers.”

I knew my expression verged on dumbfounded. Othor was being…decent. Maybe the world was ending.

The wind stirred, and a leaf fell from the Edeloak. Brown and brittle, it spiraled to the ground. Othor picked it up, studying it briefly before lifting serious blue eyes to mine.

“Andrin’s strength is fading quickly. I felt it the other night when I healed him. He listens to you more than anyone. Mirella can get you into Purecliff. If Andrin is hesitating to use her because he regrets collaring her, we can’t afford the delay. Talk to him. We need to act now, even if it means pushing Mirella before she’s ready.”

Something within me bristled. What did he know of Mirella? Nothing. He had no grasp of her resolve, no sense of the captivating contradiction in her—how she remained fearless even when she was afraid. He didn’t know that she slept on her side, her hair like a crimson river and her nightgown riding up her thighs in the most maddening way. He didn’t know that she tasted like silk and rich, dark wine.

“Andrin knows what he’s doing,” I said.

Othor was silent for a moment before stepping close and gripping my bicep. “After everything Andrin has done for Autumn, he deserves to be happy. You make him happy. I know you’ll make him see reason.” He squeezed my arm, then turned and walked away.

I watched him leave, bemusement tugging at my lips. It took impending annihilation to stop Othor from being an asshole for five minutes, but at least now I knew he was capable of it. As swiftly as it arrived, my amusement faded, replaced with worries that gnawed at my gut. Othor was a dick, but he was smart. It was no surprise he’d guessed my plan to use Mirella as a bridge between Autumn and Purecliff. Or perhaps his spies had uncovered it. Either way, he was right: we were out of time.

I turned back to the Edeloak. The ancient tree loomed over me, its branches stretching toward the sky.

My prayers died on my tongue, and fresh resolve filled me. Andrin’s strength waned. But I could buy him time.

You absorb the shadows so the light can shine.

My magic didn’t create anything, but it had its uses. Funny how it had taken a spitfire elfkin redhead to make me see it.

The wind tugged at my clothes in a subtle invitation. Andrin would be furious when he discovered what I’d done. But he’d be safe.

I shed my skin and vaulted into the sky. Flapping my wings, I let the wind carry me upward. As I soared above the King’s Grove, the shadows of the Edelfen came into view. The tide of inky blackness covered most of the meadow now, leaving only a narrow strip of sunlit green.

Wheeling in the air, I plunged toward the shadows.