14. Saoirse

Saoirse

O ur journey back to the bakery was uneventful, no one giving us a second glance as we passed through the gates with Xan leading the way. She had free rein on wherever she'd like to go throughout the city, and the guards had long grown accustomed to her comings and goings.

We parted ways at the bakery, the sun already high in the sky. We passed a few stragglers that hadn't yet made it home from the Awakening, but their eyes were heavy-lidded, no one paid us even the slightest bit of attention. It wouldn't have mattered if they did; Vane's shadows were adequately covered and his eyes dark, but still anxiety roiled in my gut, bubbling like a pot a few seconds away from boiling over.

"Welcome to my beautiful home," I said sarcastically, spreading my arms wide as we entered the bakery. Vane filled the space, both with his body and the energy that seemed to follow him like a cloak. "It is not much; it was never really intended to be a livable space."

"Is there a bathroom?" he asked, looking around with a sort of muted resignation. It wasn't as if I'd expected him to be excited about the prospect of living here, but he looked even less enthused than I'd expect of someone who had just agreed to treason.

"Upstairs to the right," I said instead, pointing out the stairs. Saying nothing further, he made his way up, his steady footsteps fading out as he entered the small excuse for a bathroom, the separation curtain sliding shut behind him.

My eyes landed on the mess of flour and discarded dough that littered the counters, and I released a heavy sigh as I rubbed my temples. Might as well focus on something productive. Grabbing a clean rag, I began wiping down the counters, the familiar motions providing a soothing pace as I tidied. The bakery was my one true sanctuary and keeping it orderly always helped.

My mind raced with the events of the last few hours. A day ago, I'd been going about my life as normal, and now I was harboring a Darkwing in my house. Not just harboring, but actively aiding and abetting.

Oh boy.

My grip tightened around the cloth. This was just another entry to the long list of things I'd done wrong in life. At least, it would be if you asked my father. At least this one was in my control and was for a good cause. All points lead to Vane telling the truth, and I hoped for everyone's sake that he was.

Footsteps behind me interrupted my thoughts as Vane returned. "Question for you," he said, his voice echoing through the quiet space, only the sounds of my wiping filling the air. I stopped, turning to face him expectantly.

"Where am I going to sleep? That is a very small room you have up there." He raised his brows, crossing his forearms across his chest. He'd rolled up his sleeves, and his tattoos writhed along his muscled arms. I blinked at them, momentarily distracted. To have magic was one thing, but what he had was beyond that, a living, breathing manifestation of the power he held within .

And that, in and of itself, was truly incredible.

"There's only one bed," he added when I said nothing. Clearing my throat, I dragged my eyes back to his face, processing the question he had just asked me.

"You can take the bed," I told him. I'd already considered this, and he'd just suffered a life-threatening wound. "You need it more than me tonight."

"I couldn't possibly—"

"We can switch off and on then," I interrupted, not wanting to debate it when exhaustion was seeping deep into my bones. I already dreaded most social interaction, and now, with a complete stranger sharing a roof for an indefinite period of time, I was more on edge. The last thing I wanted to do was argue about who got the bed.

He opened his mouth as if to do exactly that, but one look from me and he snapped it shut, a glimmer of amusement shining in his eyes, but he wisely said nothing. We stood there awkwardly before he opened his mouth again.

"And where do you intend I bathe?" He paused, considering his words as he glanced at me, a pointed look at my outfit, and then my hair. "Assuming you... do bathe, of course."

A short while later, we descended the path, the already balmy damp air of the wellspring kissing the skin of my exposed cheek as we moved down the stone walkway. This was one of my favorite parts of Lanthus, a place where I could truly be left alone, assuming I chose my bathing times wisely, which I always did .

"It's just over here," I called to Vane as he trailed behind me, mild curiosity in his eyes as he eyed the terrain skeptically. Despite his expression, he navigated with ease. The pronged sandals I'd given him slapped the ground loudly as we moved, but it didn't matter. No one would be here at this time. Most houses did come with their own soaking tubs, but some still opted to visit the wellsprings every few days.

The springs were a collection of dozens of pools of natural water, heated to just the right temperature to melt all your aches and pains away. Not only that, but it provided Lightlace with a boost, their magic revitalized and stronger the longer they stayed submerged.

Even though the magic of the wellsprings did nothing for me, it was still a place I greatly enjoyed being. Once I'd gotten over the fact that it would never grant me powers, I'd learned to enjoy the space. Quiet, tranquil - a place to be alone with my thoughts. And my solitude, my peace, was something I was never willing to compromise on.

Not anymore.

We picked towels out of a bin near a small wooden hut that marked the entrance, and then I led him through the maze of pools, leading him toward my favorite corner. Each pool was shielded by large stone slabs of vertical rock, creating a natural barrier with only a small opening for a person to slip through. After a few minutes, we'd reached the small alcove. Most people didn't venture this far back when they visited, opting for the closer and more convenient spots to get their boost and get out, but I always picked the furthest possible.

I had a soft spot for this corner in particular, as it was a collection of three larger pools that had at some point combined, the rock walls creating the perfect barrier between them. Here we'd be able to bathe within earshot of each other, without the risk of accidentally seeing the other unless we rounded the corner, which I would kill him if he did.

"You bathe in pools carved in the earth?" It was clear from the sheer wideness of his eyes that he had never seen a wellspring before .

"It's not much different from a bath," I tossed at him as I motioned for him to stay where he was, retreating to the other side where I could safely disrobe. "Get undressed and get in the pool, Darkwing."

"Saoirse," he warned, but the rustling I heard told me he was doing what I said. No one would hear us this far back, especially not while they were all recovering from their punch induced comas. Already undressed, I sat myself down on the edge, hissing as I slipped my injured ankle in the water. It was strange. In the heat of the moment, I relished the cuts, the art of marking my skin, but after the haze was lifted and my spirits lightened, I was left with only one feeling, empty and hollow.

It just hurt.

"You okay?" Vane's deep, masculine voice called for me, drifting through the small crack that connected the pools. I was confident he was smart enough to not come over here. I stood no chance if he were to come for me with his shadows, but I would absolutely do my best to drown him.

"I'm fine, just sore."

"What are these? I feel... lighter, somehow." Loud splashes sounded, and I imagined him leaning against the edge of the spring, his feet kicking up and down as they broke the tension of the water's surface. The mental image of the naked, shadow-covered man elicited an errant giggle that burst from my throat like a traitorous thief. "Did you just laugh at me?"

"Some witches say they were made from Daer herself," I informed him, pointedly ignoring his second question. "Legend says they were formed from her tears when she lost her love."

"He died?"

"Gruesomely. I thought you knew everything?" I teased. "Do they teach you about the gods in your home?"

"Not in a very long time," he said slowly, as if carefully selecting each word that was about to roll off his tongue. "With the discourse of our curse, Lightlace history has sort of fallen by the wayside. We know their names, and where they are from, but not much else. Our rulers have always favored forging a new history. It took me many years to learn about the Heartshard."

"Daer was a just god, fair and nurturing, or so the history books say. She always gave her all so that the Lightlace would succeed. But then she fell in love with a Lightlace, something that was extremely frowned upon. No one knows who did it, but he was murdered. The tears she cried, the devastation she felt, supposedly caused a power surge so bright she formed these wellsprings."

"Who do you think killed him? Another jealous lover, perhaps? Or maybe another god?"

"In my opinion? Neither." I leaned my head back against the edge of the water, reaching up to shift my hair off my shoulders. I'd forgotten to bring my sorry excuse for a brush, so I began doing my best to gently work my fingers through the knotted curls, more seeming to come off in my hands than could possibly be on my head, and yet I never ran out of hair. "I think it was a move of strategy, a political betrayal."

"Oh?"

I sat up a little straighter, excitement tingling through my fingertips at the thought of someone wanting to listen to my wacky theories. Being the powerless, shunned child had at least one benefit—ample alone time.

I'd spent more afternoons than not reading in the large library in the castle. Even after all those years, I'd never run out of books to read, both fictional and not. Everything from Lightlace history books, to wild tales of a boy who wants to become a knight. My personal favorite, though, was one in which a powerless girl is sacrificed to a demon by her mother, and taken through a portal into a world in which she finds she does, indeed, have magic.

Hard to imagine why .

"Maybe she killed herself," Vane mused, contemplation in his voice. A smile turned the corner of my mouth. He was fully in this with me. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Can a god ever really die?"

"Can't they?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why else would a god abandon the society they created, where they were worshiped and revered?" His tone was serious as I listened, hanging on to his every word. "I'd never want to leave if I had been in their position."

"There has to be more to it than that," I argued, a flush rising in my cheeks. From the water or the debate, I didn't know. A spark lit in me as we spoke, an excitement I'd not considered. "She'd just had her heart broken, and she was in a downward spiral. I bet you she's in hiding somewhere. There is no way that she is dead."

"Why would she hide for this long? Andy why would they all disappear at the same time?"

I shrugged, then, remembering he couldn't see me, I said, "The anonymity, maybe? The peace and quiet? No one can kill her lovers if they don't know where she is."

"Nope, sorry. She's dead, and you might be losing your mind. They're all dead."

"Then why do Lightlace still have magic? Shouldn't their death have taken all the magic in the world? Not to mention all the other kingdom's magic."

"Not necessarily." His voice was soft now, and if I wasn't mistaken, I could hear the amused edge of a smile as he spoke. "We don't really know much about how everything works, do we?"

I didn't answer, pondering his question, when he continued. "Do you know why you have no magic? "

My eyes widened with a start, the forwardness of his question catching me off guard. It wasn't often anyone cared enough to ask me about my magic. The focus was always on the fact that it wasn't there, but not why .

"I was born during a solar eclipse," I said finally, my tone flat as I fought the feelings I'd been doing a great job of stuffing down. I was deluding myself. It was always there, brimming just under the surface, ready to pop up at one errant thought. "Lightlace are at their weakest during an eclipse, and I just... came out with no magic."

"That had to have been hard."

I snorted, not answering, as I swirled my hand through the heated water. I was entirely calm, every muscle in my body relaxed. "Are all Darkwings like you?" I asked instead, changing the subject with the subtleness of an earthquake.

"No," he said after a slight hesitation, an openness in his tone. "Not exactly. All Darkwings are born with the shadows, but I am the only one who can change my form."

"Why?"

He was quiet, as if deciding just how much he wanted to say. "I was also born under a solar eclipse."

My jaw almost took in water it dropped so low. Solar eclipses only happened every hundred years or so in Amaris, which meant... "We share the same birthday?"

"I suppose we do."

Another thought struck me. "Why do they call you Darkwings, then? Can you fly?" I'd sworn I'd seen wings on him the night before, but given they were made of wispy black shadow, I wasn't sure they'd actually support any weight.

"I believe it's the way our shadows float away from our bodies. During combat, we often keep them behind us. They make quite the proficient weapon. "

A slight shiver went through me, the memory of his dragon form making a reappearance. He was vicious, pure brutality, and yet I hadn't been afraid of him. It was probably for the better that he was the only one of his kind, if that was even true. For all I knew, he could just be saying that, not wanting to reveal more than necessary about his people.

"We should go," I said hurriedly, already working my way toward the exit of the wellspring. "We have a lot to do at the bakery."

His pause was pointed. " We ?"

"You didn't think you'd be staying with me for free, did you?"

It turned out Vane was pretty good in the kitchen, a fact that thoroughly surprised me as he kneaded the dough to what would soon be rosemary bread, one of our best sellers. It'd been a few hours since we'd left the springs, and I already knew witches would be filing in as they awoke from their long sleeps, fully energized and too starving to want to prepare a whole meal when the sun was already dimming.

I'd grown used to the cycle of parties that the castle played host to. Not as a guest, but as a small business profiting in the aftermath. There was just something about the punch that made people crave carbs afterward, and as the only bakery in Lanthus, it was my duty to deliver. Maeve would kill me if she thought I had missed out on potential sales.

"My arms are getting tired," Vane complained. It came out as more of a whine and I cocked a brow at him, mentally retracting my earlier compliment. "You do this all day?"

"Not all day," I scoffed, gently placing candied lemon slices onto the tart in front of me. My favorite part of baking was the presentation, the opportunity to take what I'd poured my heart and soul into making and help it reflect that on its surface. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and I wanted everyone to think this was the best pastry they'd ever tasted. "There are other things that go on inside a bakery besides kneading bread, you know. You're just taking an extraordinarily long amount of time to do it."

"I'm in awe." I snuck a peek at him just in time to see him push a lock of his hair back, swiping a glaringly white streak of flour across his cheek. It contrasted deeply against his skin, and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me when he glared at me.

"I think you are wearing most of the bread," I said, then turned serious. "I'm sure you have plenty other things to worry about at your home besides baked goods."

"Don't count me out yet," he retorted, stacking the bread next to the five others I'd made him do, a satisfied glint in his eye as he admired his handiwork. I'd been lying earlier. He moved around the kitchen effortlessly, as if this was something he'd done a thousand times before. "I've spent plenty of time in the kitchen helping my mom. At least I used to." Sadness creeped into his eyes, but before I could ask him about it, the entrance to the bakery slid open with a soft chime. We both turned to look at who had entered, and a small gasp slipped from my mouth.

"Saoirse," my mother greeted.