A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 61 Ren Monroe

61 REN MONROE

There was no end to the list of other tasks they needed to perform. The city might be brand-new, but that didn’t mean it would run itself. Theo shouldered a lot of the organizational work. All that education he’d undergone to be Kathor’s warden was finally put to good use. The surviving wizards were all assigned specific cottages that became theirs the moment they crossed the thresholds. Any children who’d come alone were appointed guardians until their parents could make the trek to Meredream. Meetings were arranged. Votes taken. Weary as they were from the recent battle, they were not immune to different opinions and arguments.

The first big decision focused on what to do with the Makers who’d stayed behind to help bury the dead. Were they guilty of crimes? Victims themselves? It was terribly complicated to navigate what a just punishment would be for a group who wanted revolution—but who wouldn’t have committed murder if they hadn’t been manipulated by a demigod.

Theo proposed the Recanting Protocol. Any of the Makers who were willing to publicly deny the original goals of their group and pledge support for the surviving wizards would have their charges erased. Anyone unwilling to do so would be imprisoned to await further trials. Thankfully, of the thirty or so Makers who’d stayed, none put that side of the equation to the test. Her mother even led a burning ceremony where the famous red scarves were all tossed into a bonfire. The public display eased tensions, but there were still wounds that only time would heal. Ren was walking evidence of that. She’d still not found the courage to sit down and speak with her mother.

Another meeting was held about what to do with the great houses. Names that had loomed large in their world for centuries now: Brood, Proctor, Shiverian, Winters, and Graylantian. Word had come back from Kathor that House Graylantian had already been sacked. Gemma had led a failed charge on Beacon House—and their holdings were already being divested. The other houses had also been publicly ordered to distribute their wealth to the struggling families in Kathor who needed it most. But those estates had elaborate wards that made enforcing such an order difficult.

As a show of goodwill, the highest-ranking member of each family sent letters back to Kathor. Ren watched in disbelief as they signed their names to those documents. While they could not force their families to acquiesce, their signatures were a powerful statement. The only wizards left in the world were agreeing to the idea that the wealth they’d earned over centuries should be redistributed. In exchange, they asked for peace. A letter eventually came back from the newly appointed grand emissary of Kathor. Theo read the letter aloud as people gathered in the amphitheater. There would be no ill will between the cities. A tentative peace had been reached. For the first time in Kathor’s long history, there would be no ruling elite. Ren knew that a new world was in the process of being born. Even now they were all witnesses to its first, ragged breaths.

On the third day since their arrival in Meredream, a wyvern was spotted through gaps in the surrounding trees. Theo tried to keep everyone calm, asking for the bigger crowd to disperse, but no one would listen. They’d been waiting for this moment too. Ren’s heart lightened when she saw the wyvern rider wasn’t alone. There were two others tucked into the harness straps.

Dust stirred as the wyvern’s wings swept wide. Her heart leapt again at the sight of Dahvid Tin’Vori pressed tight to the creature’s neck. Nevelyn deserved to be put to rest and her brother’s return signaled an end to Ava and Josey’s prolonged vigil. Ren started striding out to where the wyvern was landing before stuttering to a halt. The other survivor was… Mercy Whitaker.

Ren actually covered her mouth at the sight of her. There was no one else it could be—no one else they’d sent matched her size and frame—but the transformation from who they’d sent to that burial chamber and who they saw now was the most startling she’d ever witnessed. Ren shot a look over at Theo, who nodded a confirmation. He’d told her there was a cost to the magic, but she’d never imagined what it would actually look like.

Mercy wore a blindfold. Ren’s first thought was that it was designed to ward off the moving sickness of wyvern flight— but then she saw the bruising at the edges of the fabric. Bits of dried blood. Clearly, something gruesome had happened to both of her eyes. Her bright red hair had completely vanished as well, leaving the woman pale and bald. Nor could she stand on her own. Dahvid half carried her in the direction of the waiting crowd—and it seemed one of her legs wasn’t functional. The initial shock had kept the waiting group silent, but a whoop from the back led to another and in seconds the entire group was clapping and cheering for the people they knew had saved their lives, one severed thread at a time. Dahvid nodded gratefully, but it was clear his attention was on Mercy. He whispered quietly to her before they made their limping way through the group. He only paused when he reached Ren.

“All the threads were severed. The dragon is no more powerful than any other corpse now. It is finished,” he reported before searching the crowd again. “Where are my sisters? And Josey? Why are they not here?”

Her jaw quivered slightly. “Follow me.”

Only when they’d passed through the small hospital and reached the stairs leading down into the morgue did Dahvid seem to understand where they were going—and why. He led Mercy tenderly down the steps before turning and passing the doctor’s weight off to Ren and Theo. She saw tears were already streaming down the warrior’s face as he made his way across the room. His heavy footsteps woke the other two, who rubbed their eyes before trailing cautiously behind him, like two birds afraid of flying too close to the edges of a storm. Dahvid made a strangled noise before tearing the front of his tunic down the middle. He staggered, on the verge of collapse, but Ava and Josey kept him on his feet. The three of them slumped against the stone table, one in their grief. Their pain pointed Ren sharply back to her own pain. How many friends were gone? How many loved ones had died? And every single one of those griefs led like markers down a long, winding road to the first grief: her father. His limbs bent wrong-ways in the canal. A few days later she’d stood there, watching as they lowered him into the ground, and she still remembered thinking it was a terribly small space for the undertakers to try to fit an entire world.

Now she watched the Tin’Voris try to make sense of that same equation. How a world could simply vanish without warning. “Who is it?” Mercy whispered. “Did both of his sisters die?”

“No,” Ren whispered back. “It’s Nevelyn. Ava survived.”

Mercy’s head tilted. For a moment it seemed like she was watching the scene unfold in spite of her blindfold. “How did she die?”

That, at least, was an easy question to answer. “She sacrificed herself to save us. She used her ability to draw the entire army’s attention while we escaped.” Dahvid was still unleashing great sobs. Loud enough that Ren felt she could speak without offending them. Her eyes flicked briefly to Theo before settling back on Mercy. “I understand you made a similar sacrifice, Mercy.”

The doctor stiffened. “It was the only way. Anyone else would have made the same choice.”

“I agree that it was the only way—but if you think everyone would have made the choice that you made, you’re wrong. Same with Nevelyn. Both of you…”

Mercy waved the thought of her own heroism away. Clearly, all this talk and attention made the woman uncomfortable. “I need to rest. Is there somewhere I can sleep?”

Theo answered, “We can assign you to a cottage. You’ll have the entire place to yourself.”

Mercy shook her head. “Surely there’s a bed here? Isn’t this some sort of hospital wing? There should be a gurney upstairs. I got used to sleeping in them when I was doing my residency. Besides, I’ll need a draft for the pain. If they have a powder case here, I can walk you through the steps.”

The three of them left the Tin’Vori family to their grief and walked back upstairs. Mercy was right. There was a gurney waiting in the back corner of one of the rooms. Theo handed off the draft-making duties to Ren while he ran around fetching pillows and blankets. Mercy thanked them, looking eager to be alone. Ren couldn’t simply leave her like this, though. She decided to briefly lean back inside. Offer one final word of encouragement.

“Your plan saved the city. It saved us. It saved magic.”

Mercy’s face fell. Ren thought that she’d somehow said the wrong thing, but after a moment, the doctor nodded. “Thank you.”

The next wave of arrivals didn’t come on the back of a wyvern. Instead, they scaled the outer gates and had two of the newer guards ringing the bells to alert the city of an attack. The commotion was quelled quickly enough when everyone realized the livestone statues had been sent ahead by Zell Carrowynd—who had every intention of making Meredream their permanent home. After a brief word with the guards, the gargoyle led the other surviving statues inside the city. Their numbers had been significantly reduced in the battle with Arakyl, but Ren knew their city could use every loyal guardian they could find.

Over the next few hours, the statues were seen roaming the streets, getting to know the stones, quietly claiming which areas they wanted to watch over. Ren hadn’t realized they could swear allegiance to a new city—but maybe that wasn’t exactly right. Maybe the heart of Kathor had simply moved here. Or maybe their true allegiance wasn’t to a place, but to magic itself, and the protection of the people who used it now. Ren wasn’t sure, but whenever she saw one of them perched on the ramparts or a rooftop, the city felt more like home.

Their warden wasn’t long behind them. The wyvern returned in the late afternoon with Zell and the bonded siblings—Guion and Win. The only person from their party who was still missing was Redding. Zell informed them that he’d refused to leave without marking the area surrounding the burial location. Ren appreciated that. The last thing they needed was another random soul stumbling unaware into Arakyl’s chamber. Severing the threads had been enough to cut him off from his power. He had no access to Ren’s rage or their magic anymore, but that didn’t mean that he was harmless now. Redding’s efforts were the first step toward making sure that Arakyl never returned.

All three of the fighters claimed cottages for themselves. Ren couldn’t help noticing that they had the same wide-eyed expressions. Like deer who’d had their necks inside the mouth of a predator only to be unexpectedly released. It seemed the world they found themselves in was constantly surprising. The sun a bit too bright. The people all too real. Ren knew it was a confirmation that Mercy’s power had truly brought them all back. From somewhere beyond. When the crowd finally started to disperse, she slid an arm through Theo’s and they strolled back to their own cottage. At ease for the first time in days.

“Mercy’s gift… I’m surprised she never told anyone about it.”

Theo shook his head. “I am too. I’m sure it took incredible restraint, but keeping it a secret saved her life. A skill like that? There would have been a bidding war for her talents unlike anything Kathor’s ever seen. What enhancer could compare to a necromancer that brings back the dead? Without any consequence to the deceased? She would have been rich—and whoever won her contract would have slowly killed her. Piece by piece. And not to save people who really deserved it, you know? They would have used it to keep their ancestral lines healthy and whole. Resurrecting whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted. I’m glad she was smart enough to hide it.”

Ren glanced back over one shoulder. Guion and Win were still there, chatting amicably with some of the other survivors. “Well, it’s not hidden anymore.”

Theo nodded his agreement. “That’s a bridge we can cross when we get to it.”

“Spoken like a true city planner.”

That had him smiling. The cottage they’d chosen wasn’t anything like the villa they’d enjoyed together in the Heights. It had no first editions on its shelves. All the antique furniture had been replaced with simple, functional pieces. The view was not a sprawling city, glinting below their feet like a sea of diamonds. Instead, their lone window looked out at a tree in full bloom. One of the city’s many creeks looped in and out of sight. Somehow that felt right to Ren. Like they were being called to witness the beginning of something that would only keep growing if they let it.

As they prepared dinner, Ren set the table. She hesitated only briefly before adding a third plate. A third set of silverware. A third glass. Theo watched her, nervous energy humming across their bond, but he was wise enough not to nudge her about it. He allowed her the space to decide if this was the right choice, the right moment. When the table was set, Ren quietly slipped back out into the street. It was not a long walk to the cottage she had in mind. Three knocks, then a door was opening. Her mother’s eyes immediately fell to the ground. Her shoulders slumped slightly. As if she knew Ren had come to deliver a condemnation for the part she’d played in what had happened.

Instead, Ren moved close enough that she could reach out and raise her mother’s chin. Then she used the other hand to straighten her mother’s back. “Remember. A Monroe stands tall.”

Her mother cried then. They embraced and whispered apologies and started walking before the tears had dried. Not everything between them could be healed. It would not be perfect, Ren knew, but for now they needed each other’s strength. And so, she led her mother back to their cottage.

Inside was warm from the burning stovetop. There was cinnamon in the air and something else she couldn’t recognize. Theo glanced up from his cooking and looked relieved. Clearly, he’d been hoping this was the guest Ren had in mind. Outside, the sun had set. The three of them began a quiet and enjoyable meal. How close it was to feeling right and whole. But as meaningful as it had been for Ren to offer an olive branch and put out that third place setting, her eyes began to linger on the fourth spot at the table. An empty chair. With no other warning, Ren began to violently sob. Theo reacted, the bond magic pulsing between them, but it was her mother who got their first. Those familiar arms wrapped patiently around Ren’s shoulders.

“Come now. What’s all this, my love?”

She felt childish as she pointed to the empty seat. “It didn’t bring him back. No matter what I do… he’s just gone.”

After all this time, she was still that little girl who missed her father. Roland Monroe would never return. The death of Landwin Brood had not restored her father to the realm of the living. The fall of the great houses hadn’t brought him grinning back through the door to claim his place at their dinner table. He would never make small talk with the man she loved. Never catch her eye across a room and offer one of his famous winks. Even Mercy Whitaker’s powers could not reach back through time and whisper life into the man whose absence had quietly defined her entire life.

“He’s gone,” Ren repeated numbly. “And Timmons and Cora and Avy and all the others. They’re all gone. Gods, what did I do, Mother?! What did I do?!”

Agnes clutched her tighter. “My sweet girl, you did what you thought was right. Landwin Brood deserved to die. For what he did to your father—and for a thousand other sins. You’re smart enough to know that no one else would have punished him. He would have gone on living that way for years. Perhaps decades. Justified. Arrogant. Cruel. No one is doubting what you did to him. But the others?” Agnes pulled back now to look Ren dead in the eye. “Those are ghosts you must learn to live with. You’ll never be able to make those losses right. Ever.”

Ren’s bond with Theo surged again. Sympathy came thundering across. He looked ready to say something to soften the blow, but Ren knew her mother was speaking a necessary truth.

“But open your eyes, sweet girl. Didn’t we teach you to see the entire picture? You did the right thing until you realized it had gone too far—and then you were brave enough to stop and turn around and look for the next right thing. Do you know how many people would rather watch the world burn than admit that they were wrong? Gods, Ren, I would have kept going. I know I would have. I did….”

Her voice broke off momentarily. She shook her head before continuing.

“The very moment you realized it was wrong—you stopped. You did everything in your power to keep the fire from burning even farther. Do you have any idea how many people survived because of you? If all of this comes down to a single battle instead of outright war, then this moment will be remembered as one of the most peaceful transfers of power in history.” Her mother’s grip on her tightened. “Sweet girl, you are only letting the worst things carry weight on the scales. Open your eyes. Look around. You found Theo through all of this. You saved the wizards out there who might have been killed otherwise. You changed the entire fabric of Kathor. Do you really want to know what Timmons and Cora and Avy would want you to do now? What your father would ask you to do?!”

Even through tears, Ren nodded.

“They would want you to keep going. There was once a man who said, ‘Who you are in times of peace is more important than who you are in a fight.’ We’ve already seen who Ren Monroe is when she has to fight. We know you’ll win nine times out of ten. But now I think it is time to see who you are when you get to put the weapons down. For the first time in your life, the question isn’t: How will you win? The question now is: What will you grow? It might take some time to figure out what the answer to that is, but gods know, you always seem to find the right answer.”

Her bond with Theo had evened out to a steady hum. Ren wiped at the tears in her eyes, nestled once more into her mother’s arms, then pulled away. She couldn’t resist asking.

“Who said that? That quote?”

“A little-known historian,” her mother replied. “Named Roland Monroe.”

When dinner ended, her mother departed with a final hug. Theo received a brief pat on the cheek, as if he were a Lower Quarter boy who’d done a good job at the docks that day. Ren could feel the compartments of her mind reorganizing. A quiet adjustment of ideas and priorities, hopes and dreams. Her mother’s words had given her permission to alter… everything. She knew now it would never be perfect. The past could never be made right, but the present did not demand perfection from her. No, all she was being asked to do was wake up tomorrow and pursue the next right thing. Whatever that was. And she suspected she would not be alone in her pursuit of it.

When it was just the two of them, Theo slumped into the most comfortable chair. Ren ignored the other chairs in the room and nestled into the same seat as him. He looped an easy arm around her waist and she set her head on his chest. There was a sort of magic in the quiet between them. Their bond rumbled pleasantly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vega asleep, perched on the window sill. For once, her mind accepted the simplest answer for what she was feeling. She didn’t need to assess secondary theories or perform additional research or find corroborating evidence. The answer to this was simple. As perfectly imperfect as it could be.

She was home.

Finally.