by Everly Frost
He clears his throat again. “Imatra was more than happy to send you as far away from herself as possible—all the way into the mountains, where she didn’t have to deal with you again.”
I’d stayed with Crispin for three years before Imatra had come into my life again. “If she wanted me gone, why did she send Serena to train me?”
Crispin exhales and it sounds careful, as if he’s measuring his breaths against the tension between us. “The winter you turned ten years old, you and Evander started playing a game at night where you would stand together on the peaks up behind the cabin. Do you remember? He would fill the sky with snow and you would strike through every damn snowflake with starlight. You turned the sky above the mountain so bright, they could see it from the city.”
He gives me a wry smile. “The Queen couldn’t ignore your power after that. Nobody could.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
His scowl returns. “Because you don’t owe her anything, Aura. You don’t know what happened the night your parents died. Maybe she pulled you from the explosion. Maybe she didn’t. All you have is her word, and she’s lied to you before.”
I’m silent. Struggling to process. If she lied to me about placing me with Crispin… What else did she lie about?
“You were the only other survivor, Aura,” Crispin says. “If only you could remember the events of that night for yourself.”
“The Vanem Dragon told me to go back to the burn site,” I say. He told to take Nathaniel with me, that we both need answers. Now more than ever. “Maybe I’ll remember something this time.” Something more than darkness.
Crispin doesn’t reply. Maybe he hopes I’m right. Maybe he knows it’s unlikely.
Crispin said more to me in the last ten minutes than he’s ever said before. Even when I lived with him, he was stoic, providing food and shelter, a broad shoulder to lay my head on when I needed a father, kind words when I needed encouragement, but he was never emotional like he is tonight.
“I’m sorry I left,” I say into the quiet.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth,” he answers.
“You did the right thing.” I tip my face away from him, curling deeper into the chair. The Queen kept me secluded from everyone in the days after the explosion—before Crispin came for me. I was surrounded by flowers and pretty baubles and sweet treats, none of which healed any part of my damaged heart. If I’d known that the entire fae community had rejected me outright, anger would have festered inside me.
I’ve never attempted to discover the limit of my power, never used it to its fullest, but if my anger had turned to vengeance, I might have tried to hurt them.
The couch creaks as Crispin rises, murmuring, “Goodnight,” but I have one more question for him. “Who did you think I was when I came here tonight?”
“Ah.” He scratches his chin, a wary light entering his eyes. “That’s complicated—”
A soft crackle reaches my ears, the low snap of lightning in the distant sky that only thunderbirds can make. I frown because I’m sure that Treble wouldn’t fly down out of the clouds unless I called him.
I hold up my finger for silence, halting whatever Crispin was about to say.
He eyes me. He won’t be able to sense the disturbance in the air like I can. Years of being around thunderbirds, combined with my power, have made me more sensitive to the sound.
“Three thunderbirds,” I say. “Approaching from the east.”
The color drains from Crispin’s face and his eyes flood with unusual fear. “That’s who I was expecting.”
Chapter 16
Crispin launches into action, grabbing my arms and squeezing so tightly, it makes me wince. “I was foolish to send Gehrig and the others home, but I can’t change that now. Don’t come outside, Aura. No matter what you see or hear. Promise me.”
My eyes narrow at him. “If you’re in trouble, I can help you. Whichever fae are coming here, they’re under my command—”
“Are they?” He points at Nathaniel. “Was the fae who tried to kill that man under your command?”
“I—” Damn. The fear in Crispin’s eyes tells me he truly believes I can’t help him. Something has him completely spooked.
“If they see you, the situation will escalate,” he says. “I can handle it. Don’t show yourself. Stay with Nathaniel.”
Crispin throws the bucket of water over the fire, dousing the light inside the living area until the embers leave a mere glow. Then he strides to the door, sidling through it as he steps outside into the moonlight and pulls it closed behind him.
It’s not in my nature to hide in the shadows. I’ve always stepped out into the light, made myself a target, trusting in my strength to defend myself. Curled my fingers into fists at the world.
I slink across to the window and ease the curtain aside the merest sliver of a crack so I can see out without being seen.
Three thunderbirds circle overhead before landing in the clearing. Their riders leap from their backs as soon as they touch ground. The woman leading them is Nadina. The other two are minor Day Guards.
Flames lick around Nadina’s fingers as bright as if the sun shone high in the sky above her.
I frown in confusion. Her power comes from the sun—it should be completely diminished at night.
She flicks her hair back, the flames gliding across her neck without hurting her. Her action reveals a golden rose pinned to her armor at her collarbone.
My eyes widen in surprise at the flames glowing around the rose.
It’s one of the Queen’s flowers. The kind she grows in the Inner Sanctuary. A repository of her power. But why has she given the power of the sun to Nadina to come here with her hands alight?
“Crispin of the Dawn,” Nadina shouts as she takes up position in front of her thunderbird. “Come out from the shadows.”
Crispin steps down from the porch into the circle of light provided by Nadina’s flames.
“Why have you come to my home, Nadina of the Solstice?”
Nadina’s features twist, her lips forming a cruel line. “You continue to cause trouble for the Queen and you have the insolence to pretend you don’t know why I’m here.”
“You’re here to make me stop.”
Nadina smiles, her teeth yellow in the golden light. “Not so stupid after all.”
She gestures to the two women standing beside her. They’re each wearing a golden rose, flames licking along their arms.
Nadina points at the cabin. “Burn it down.”
Anger rises inside me as the women stride toward my childhood home, the fire growing brighter around their hands.
There’s wood everywhere. Dry wood. Their fire will incinerate my home. The only real home I remember having.
My lips press together in a determined line. I can cut them both down before they even get close.
I prepare to take hold of the door handle when Crispin shouts, “It won’t make me stop! Children are dying and the Queen turns a blind eye. I won’t stay silent.”
His shout doesn’t stop the two women, who keep coming until he roars, “Burn the whole forest! When the city fae don’t have wood for their fires, they’ll ask questions.”
Nadina holds her hand up for the two women to wait.
“Boys are dying,” she spits. “The children of woodcutters who will never amount to anything more than laborers. Why should the Queen exhaust herself trying to save those who aren’t worth saving?”
“Every fae is worth saving,” Crispin says. “Even the smallest, most vulnerable fae can become the most powerful.”
Nadina’s eyes are narrowed now. A snarl rests on her lips. “You’re referring to Aura.”
“You started the rumor that she was part Fell.”
Nadina throws back her head and laughs. “Oh, you simple man. The Queen started that rumor. I just helped her spread it.”
I can’t see Crispin’s face, can only imagine his anger as his entire body tenses the
same way mine has.
“Why would she do that?” he asks.
“Who knows?” Nadina shrugs it off. “Her reasons are her own.”
“What did you get in return?”
She laughs again. “Look where I am. The Queen rewards those who obey her.” Her smile fades. “She destroys those who defy her. What will you choose, Crispin? Silence or destruction?”
Crispin’s hands clench into fists. His power is in healing. His only ability to defend himself lies in his physical strength, but he can’t make a move against Nadina. The minute he threatens her, she’ll burn him like Nathaniel was burned.
Slowly, his fingers uncurl and his shoulders slump. “The Queen really won’t help us.” He takes a step back, his head bowed low. “I won’t cause any more trouble.”
Nadina looks surprised at his sudden lack of resistance. Then her eyes narrow with suspicion. She strides up to Crispin, extinguishing the flame from her hand before she grabs his chin, wrenching his face up to study him. She’s a little shorter than me, but she has twice the strength of any male fae.
She must be convinced he’s telling the truth because she spits into the snow at their feet. “Pitiful. No fight at all. I thought the man who raised Aura would have a spine, but I guess not.”
She shoves him away from her and calls the other women to come back before she snarls at Crispin. “We’re leaving. Don’t give me a reason to come back or your home won’t be the only thing I turn to ash.”
The three women leap onto their birds, landing neatly in the saddles before they rise into the air and disappear into the night sky again.
My teeth are clenched so hard, they might crack.
I stand back as Crispin closes the door behind him, leaning against it.
It’s dark with the fireplace doused, but my starlight is already glowing around my hands, casting light and shadow across the space between us.
I could ask him about the Queen. Or about Nadina. Or about the past. But it’s easier to play the role of the champion than to face what all of this means for me personally.
I break the silence. “Tell me about the sick children.”
“Boys are dying,” he says. “Sons of woodcutters. I’ve never seen an illness like it before and I can’t cure it. I’ve tried everything.”
“What does it look like?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
“Twisted arms and legs. Ashy lesions all over their bodies. They burn with fever and even Frost magic can’t cool them. Five have died so far.”
The Ebon Rot. It has to be.
I can’t control the rage and distress rising inside me. “I could have helped you. I’ve healed other children.”
“I know,” he says quietly. “That’s what started all this. I heard that you’d cured several girls with the same illness so I sent a message to the Queen asking her to send you to us. She refused. She said she couldn’t spare you.”
I suddenly feel sick. “When was this?”
“Five weeks ago. I thought maybe she didn’t understand how urgent it was, so I traveled into the city myself. She refused to see me. I wasn’t even allowed to speak with Evander. Instead, Nadina grilled me about our timber operations. She claimed we were behind in delivering the new furniture for the palace.
“I came back here and told everyone what happened. As you would expect, the men were upset. A group of them went to the city and were turned away. They didn’t leave quietly. Two weeks later, a squadron of Day Guards arrived to inspect the timber mill. They set fire to one of the storage huts and then told us we’d have to work twice as hard to meet our deadlines now that we’d lost the timber that was in the hut. Then, a week ago, this arrived.”
He treads carefully to the mantelpiece over the fire, navigating through the dark, and returns carrying a small wooden box. The Queen’s symbol—a stylized rose—is etched into the side.
He doesn’t hand it over, tipping it instead, so I can see inside.
Through the glass lid, my starlight allows me to see a violet rose sitting on plush velvet material. The flower’s petals are exquisitely formed, deepening to purple in the center.
“It’s poisonous,” Crispin says. “I was lucky that Gehrig was with me. He sensed the danger and stopped me from touching it. It’s a clear message to stop asking questions. The whole timber community has been living on a knife’s edge ever since.”
My hands glow with power, but my fingers are bloodless from pressing them into tight fists.
I try to focus on the immediate danger. “Don’t engage the Queen or her guards again. She obviously won’t help you and you’ll only endanger yourselves.”
“But—”
“I can help you.” My eyes bore into his, asking him to trust me. “Is anyone sick right now?”
He shakes his head. “The last boy died four days ago.”
Only four days. I press my fist to my stomach as pain billows inside me. Somebody’s son. A brother.
I lift my head and focus on the way forward. “Do you still have flares?”
He gives me a questioning look. “Yes, why?”
“If another child gets sick, send up a flare at night. I’ll see it and come to you.”
“Are you sure? It’s a long way to see… let alone to come…”
“I sense everything that happens in the sky. Especially at night. I won’t miss it. And I won’t ignore it.” I curl over my fist for a moment, unable to ease the pain in my chest. “I wish I’d known.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I might not be alive in two days and his worries will be so much worse if the Fell King lays claim to Bright. But for now, I have to do what I can.
He studies me. “The girl who left this house would never have gone against her Queen.”
“I’m not that girl anymore. I haven’t been her for…”
Has it only been a day? Not even twenty-four hours since Nathaniel strode out of the mist swinging his blade and started cutting through the lies in my life.
“For long enough,” I finish.
“I hope I can trust you.”
“Trust is earned,” I say, suddenly realizing how dangerously loyal I’ve been to the Queen without proof that my faith in her was deserved. “I’ll earn yours.”
With a careful glance at Nathaniel, who remains asleep on the floor, Crispin gives me a firm nod of agreement. “He’ll need clothes. You can take whatever fits him from Evander’s room. Good night, Aura. It’s good to have you home.”
As he heads toward the stairs, I call out to him. “I can’t be here when you wake up.”
He doesn’t look back. “I know.”
That’s all he says before he climbs the stairs more slowly than he used to. Seven years has worn him down in ways I never expected.
As soon as he’s gone, I shut off my power, leaving myself in darkness. Before I know it, I’ve dropped to my knees and I’m crawling across the floor to Nathaniel’s side.
I curl up against his chest, his legs, his arms, pressing my face to his shoulder as I fail to stop the burn of tears. I’m far more emotional than I have been for… years. But in a single day, the foundations of my world have started cracking beneath my feet. The person I trust most in the world—my beautiful Queen—isn’t who I thought she was. I’m facing death, facing new truths and old lies, and I’m tired of shutting out my emotions.
I tell myself it’s okay.
I can cry as much as I need to. Nathaniel is unconscious. He’ll never know that I needed his comforting scent and the warmth of his skin. He’ll never know that I cried against his shoulder.
By the time he wakes up, I’ll be myself.
He will be a Fell, and I will be a fae, and we’ll be enemies again.
Chapter 17
I’m numb when Nathaniel finally stirs.
I stretch out my aching arms and legs, my armor pulling against my body like an unwanted second skin.
It’s nearly midnight—the time when my power is at its peak—but I contain t
he starlight, only allowing the smallest glow to shine between us.
I’m prepared for him to wake up angry, ready to fight anything that moves, but instead, he’s quiet, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with a faint frown. “Where am I?”
“The home of a healer,” I say. “He helped us. You’re not hurt anymore. We’re safe here.”
I only realize what a lie that is once I say it. Only two hours ago, Nadina threatened to burn this place down.
“We’re as safe as we can be,” I say.
A deep crease forms in Nathaniel’s forehead. He turns his head, casting a gaze across me as I push myself into a sitting position. His focus stops on my face and I retract my power, turning away before he can study me too hard. I should have washed my face. The tear tracks will be too obvious.
“You look different,” he says.
“It’s midnight. My power’s strong right now.” I clamber to my feet, deflecting the conversation. “So is my hunger.”
I hold my glowing hand up to peer through the side door to the kitchen before I point in that direction. “Food. Now.”
He sits up, leaning back on his hands. “There are plenty of seats.”
It’s an odd comment. I have no idea what he’s getting at. I arch my eyebrows at him, jabbing my glowing fist in the direction of the kitchen so my impatience will be unmissable.
“Food,” I say again, emphasizing the word.
He clambers to his feet. He’s only wearing sleeping shorts, slung low over his hips, and he definitely needs more clothing. “You were lying on the floor with me, but there are plenty of seats.”
With a cranky hum in the back of my throat, I advance on him. “And you think… what? That I was worried about you? That I couldn’t leave your side? That I couldn’t breathe in case you died? Is that it?”