by Kaylin Lee
I arrived at midday and went straight from the city gate to Professor Kristof at the university. He welcomed me with a knowing smile and a bowl of spicy soup at Emil’s café. We decided I would begin at the University of Draicia as a student full-time, since Grandmother had sent me with enough marks to cover my living expenses for several months. I had no intention of letting that envelope out of my sight this time.
That night, I rented a room in Opal’s boarding house.
The next morning, I set out early for the university. Class was not due to start until later in the day, but I couldn’t stay away any longer. I wanted to be with Professor Kristof in the cozy, fire-warm library, studying literature, straightening chairs, and hoping like a crazy fool that Lucien would stop by to see me.
Lucien. His name sounded in my mind like a drum beat with every step I took. The emotions I’d been tamping down for the past month roared to life. I was so angry with him! And yet, I missed him, and I worried about him. And I wanted … I didn’t know what I wanted.
But I was becoming increasingly concerned my greatest desire was to simply be near him. And that made no sense at all.
The square in front of the library, like the footpaths, was shoveled free of snow. It was oddly cheery, with strings of golden, luminous lanterns hanging from the fountain at the center to the four corners of the square. The winter sky was a heavy, dull gray, and the bright lights provided a welcoming glow.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
My mouth went dry. I turned from the fountain at Lucien’s familiar voice. “You did?” I managed, my voice shaky.
He was just as compelling as I’d remembered—powerfully built, dark eyes, thick black jacket unbuttoned at the collar. The only thing that was missing was his usual disapproving scowl.
“I hoped,” he said. He approached me slowly, as though uncertain of how I’d receive him. “I wanted to talk to you before everyone else arrived for class.”
I ducked my chin into my thick scarf, feeling torn. “I can’t talk for long,” I finally said. “I have to find Astrid. I owe her about a hundred winterdrop buns.”
Humor glinted in Lucien’s eyes for a moment, and then it disappeared. “I’d heard you came back,” he said, his voice low. “But I couldn’t believe it. What are you doing here? Didn’t you … didn’t you get what you wanted, back in Asylia? You were safe.” He looked bewildered. “After everything those monsters did to you, you were finally safe, and you just … You left Asylia and came right back here. I don’t understand it.”
“I got what I wanted, yes.” But it was all bland and boring compared to you and your crazy city. “But I changed my mind. I want something different now.” I blew on my hands to warm them. “It was worth the risk.”
“Worth the risk.” Lucien took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “I owe you my freedom, Ruby. And maybe my life. Thank you for convincing your prince to spare me. I wasn’t sure you’d … After what I’d done, I didn’t know—”
“It was the right thing to do. You weren’t on Demetrius’s side. You shouldn’t pay for his crimes.” I studied him for a moment. “What are you doing now?”
Lucien laughed under his breath. “I’m the last senior Wolf alive, besides Chloe,” he said bleakly. “I’m helping her sell our assets and trying to stay out of trouble.”
“You aren’t seeking the office of Praetor, then?”
He shook his head. “The city voted a clanless merchant into the office last week. He’s a good man.” He shrugged. “Seems to be, anyway. Perhaps this time, Draicia has a chance at peace.”
“You don’t sound optimistic.”
“You shouldn’t have come back, Ruby. This city isn’t safe. Even with Demetrius gone, you’d be better off in Asylia.”
I nodded slowly. “Maybe.”
Lucien frowned.
“I probably would. But I want to be here. I don’t need all the comfort and safety of Asylia. I need to be part of something bigger. I want to help Draicia rebuild.” I shook my head, feeling flustered. All that was true, but I’d also been drawn back to Draicia because Lucien attracted me like a magnet. “What about you? What will you do once you’ve sold all the Wolf clan properties?”
A smile ghosted across his lips. “I’m not totally useless, Ruby,” he said dryly. “I can hunt wolves in the Badlands and lead large groups of violent men. Orchestrate failed coups. Although I’m dismantling the Wolf clan now, so thanks to Demetrius’s Masters, my failed coup worked out in the end.”
His smile disappeared, and his expression darkened. “I can endanger beautiful, kind, intelligent girls. That’s another skill of mine.” His voice lowered. “And I can lie to the only person on the whole continent I actually trust.”
I bit my lip. “You tricked me, Lucien.” My quiet words seemed loud in the silent, snow-covered square. “You stole a secret I’d been guarding since I was a child. You lied to me when I needed you most.”
“Yes. I did that. I … What can I say?” Lucien ran a hand over his face. “I am sorry, Ruby. I wish I hadn’t lied to you. You’ve shown me countless times I can trust you. I trusted you with a secret that could have gotten me killed, and you proved you were worthy of my trust. I’m the one who—”
He shook his head abruptly. “The problem is, I’m sorry I lied, but I’m not sorry I tried to keep you out of things.” He met my eyes, his expression hard. “I thought I would sacrifice anything to bring Demetrius down and to stop his Masters, but it turned out I couldn’t risk your life. I couldn’t.” He dropped his hands at his side, as though admitting defeat. “What would you have me say now? Because I won’t apologize for that.”
He stood within arm’s reach, yet the wall of tension between us was nearly tangible. I blew on my hands again and stamped my cold feet. The old stone fountain beside us was dry and damaged beyond repair, but it made me think of the fountain at the small market where I’d eaten the night before. Boundless honor. Worth without restraint.
If I had truly come to Draicia to rebuild something, why couldn’t I start with us?
“I don’t know,” I said softly. “But I do know it feels good to have someone like you care what happens to me.” I closed the distance between us, grabbed his hands, and moved his arms around my waist. When I let go, he gripped me tight, but his expression was stony, like he didn’t believe what was happening was real. I rested my hands on his chest. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget what the Masters did to me. I can still—” My voice grew thick. “I can still feel their fire on my skin. I still see them every night when I go to sleep.”
Lucien’s frowned deepened, and he held me tighter.
“At times I wish I’d never been through that at all. Other times, I’m glad I found them—any chance we have of defeating them may come down to the information I learned in their dwelling. So I don’t know whether you did the right thing or not. Maybe we can never know.”
I bit my lip. “I just know I want to try this again, with you.” My voice shook. Be brave, Ruby. Be brave. “Honest and real—not pretending to be anyone other than who we are. A true courtship.”
Lucien was silent for a long moment, studying me with an intent look that made my jacket feel far too warm. Then his expression softened, and he nodded. “I’ll be worthy of your trust this time,” he said finally. “I swear it. I’ll do whatever I have to do to prove it.”
“Good.” I darted upward and pressed a kiss right on his lips.
He bent and kissed me back, first gently, then hungrily. He pulled away just enough to meet my eyes. “You mean it? You’ll give me a real chance after what I did? Because it’s the last thing I deserve.”
“I will.” I ran a finger over my lips, feeling awed. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” He pressed his lips to mine again, and I could feel his smile. “Thank you, Ruby Contos,” he repeated between kisses. “I’m glad I lured you into danger after all.”
I started to laugh, but it turned into another kiss,
and another.
When we finally broke apart, he gripped my hand in his, and we went off to the market to find Astrid together.
When we passed the old, crumbling fountain with the statue of the boy and his father, I had to wonder, how many moments in history had come down to a single choice such as ours? To forgive or to resent? To trust or to withdraw?
And how many wounds could be healed as ours had?
Perhaps there was hope—real, honest hope—for this city after all.
Epilogue
The girl bent her head into the snowy wind and trudged upward with slow, dogged steps. The Badlands spread out at the bottom of the slope behind her, bleak, wintry, and lifeless. She adjusted the heavy pack on her back and maneuvered around a large boulder as she climbed. She was almost to the top, to the crater, to the sanctuary she craved.
The opening was nearly obscured by snow-covered rocks, but she’d read enough about the crater to recognize the distinct positioning of the boulders around it. She removed her pack, shoved it through the hole, and crawled after it. Pushing the pack ahead of her, she traversed the tunnel that served as the crater’s entrance.
A dormant volcano slept at the eastern edge of the Gold Hills, the Explorer’s Almanac had said. Lush plant life filled the ancient volcano’s crater every spring and summer. There was plentiful game for hunting and no two-legged inhabitants to speak of. It was the kind of place a girl could live in peace, where no one would ever hurt or disappoint her again.
As long as she survived the winter.
She’d made it this far, hadn’t she? And she had the Explorer’s Almanac buried in the bottom of her pack. She was prepared for anything.
The girl crawled on her hands and knees through the opening, then she slid forward and landed on her pack on the other side. When she looked up, her jaw dropped.
She wasn’t prepared for that.
An enormous, wooden dwelling—more of a palace, really—filled the crater’s center as if the structure had been picked up and plunked down by the wind. Broad stairs led up to huge, carved doors. Its windows glowed with silvery light.
The crater was most definitely inhabited.
These mages call themselves the Masters and claim responsibility for the deaths of millions, the most recent article in the Herald had said. They are a great threat to Asylia and to the entire continent. If you have any information on their whereabouts—
The girl leapt off her pack in a smooth motion and lifted her crossbow onto her shoulder.
Her mission had changed—from sanctuary to revenge. She wasn’t ever going back to Asylia, but she could still be the city’s savior, even if no one would know about it.
She slipped inside, just as she’d snuck into countless Asylian buildings. Two voices, raised in argument, drew her further into the dwelling.
A door down the hallway stood open.
“Three of us were murdered by that creature, and you lounge about with that smug smile,” a woman said sharply. “Don’t you mourn the loss of our kind?” A steady whirring sound accompanied her voice.
“Those fools brought death upon themselves with their eagerness to reach our sister.” The male voice was arrogant and calm. “They forced us to waste vast resources to move our home so quickly. If they had but waited, as planned—”
“Our sister!” The whirring ceased “How can you call her sister when she openly swore to oppose us?”
“Fine. Zel, if it eases you. Does it matter what we call her? She insulted us, and she’s going to pay along with the rest. She chose her fate, just as our brothers and sisters did when they went to Asylia alone without abiding by the plan.”
“The original plan, you mean. But I doubt it would have worked, even if they’d waited.” The woman huffed out an annoyed sigh, and the whirring sound resumed. “Those silly pink crystals. I’m certain the Master never expected such a frivolous invention to prove so effective in breaking our curses.”
“Indeed. Rule the weak,” the man muttered absently.
“Rule the weak,” she repeated after him.
“It’s the old debate, is it not?” the man said after a moment of quiet. “Methods and ends.”
“Must you philosophize?” the woman asked sourly. “Speak plainly, Piers.”
“The curses were not an end in themselves, but merely a means toward the final fulfillment of the Master’s commands. Now we simply skip to the fulfillment. Human ingenuity is no match for the rule of death itself.”
The blonde girl in the hallway tightened her jaw. She’d heard enough. She edged closer to the open door, her crossbow raised. The bow was far too large for her slim, adolescent frame, but she hefted it easily, without a tremor. Slowly, carefully, she placed a bolt in the groove and pulled it back.
Click. Click. The arrow was cocked.
She darted into the room and squeezed the trigger.
A rush of wind flung her arrow wide and ripped the crossbow from her grip. Another gust forced her into the air above the man and the woman, who sat languidly in elegant chairs beside an ancient spinning wheel.
“What have we here?” The man raised one eyebrow and flicked his hands, rotating her in the air before them as she frantically kicked her legs.
“Zel,” the woman breathed. “She has been with Zel. Can you not sense it?”
The man waved his hand. The whirling stopped, and the rushing wind dumped the girl on the ground. “Of course I can sense it.”
The woman tapped the spool of glowing, silver thread she had been twining on the wheel. “Zel must pay,” she said thoughtfully. “You said she would pay.”
The man frowned. “Yes, she will, but—”
“She will. She must.” The woman stood and approached.
The trespasser couldn’t move an inch, frozen by the magic they’d used on her.
“What is your name, child?” The woman pulled a crystal vial from the pocket of her violet robe and tossed the contents on the girl. “Tell me. Now.”
Silver sparkles stung her face and invaded her mouth. “Briar Rose.” Her words were hoarse and pained, pulled from her body by pure force.
The woman lifted the glowing spool of thread in one hand and a long, sharp needle in the other. “You belong to us now, Briar Rose.”
Acknowledgements
Thank you, Megan, Mary, Serine, and Mom, for making this book so much stronger with your ideas and advice. Megan, you should be a professional plot-hole finder and author-encourager. You are truly an amazing friend and beta reader.
Thank you to Jenn, without whose support this series and especially this book would simply not have been possible. You are the very definition of a true, good friend. I am so glad you’re in my life.
Thank you to J and O, my little toddler munchkins, because although they made the writing process last three times longer than it should have, they also provided nonstop entertainment and inspiration.
Kathrese, thank you for rescuing me with your editing magic and wading through my questions and struggles to make this story sing.
And thank you, Jesus, for giving me this story to tell. All for your glory, Lord.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kaylin Lee is an Army wife, mama, and white cheddar popcorn devotee. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her real-life hero husband and two sweet children. After a lifetime of staying up too late reading stories, she now wakes up too early writing them. It was probably inevitable.