Chapter 10
Ten
ALLETTE
NOW
Is it possible for a person to die from happiness? If so, I am sure to expire any day now. Even after spending hours hunched over a sewing machine, there is a smile on my face from knowing that I will be spending the evening with my prince. The house will be spotless, and there will be dinner on the table. We will stay up far too late making love and then wake in each other’s arms.
This is how our lives would have been if we’d stayed in this realm instead of being ripped apart by a vicious king. It pains me to think of Senan’s brother getting away with his crimes, but there is nothing we can do about it now. I have chosen peace and happiness instead of stewing over the past, and it is gloriously freeing. The burden of guilt and grief that I have carried for so long is gone. Although I will always regret what happened to Wynn, she would want me to live my life.
That is what I plan on doing.
The clock on the wall strikes the end of my shift, but before I can push away from my machine, one of my co-workers sweeps into the room, her plain gray skirt matching the hair peeking from beneath her cap. “There’s a handsome lad out the front asking for you, Allette,” she says.
My heart leaps as I jump to my feet and stretch my hands over my head. When my back pops, I let out a little moan. Perhaps I will be able to convince Senan to give me a massage after dinner.
Who am I kidding? He won’t take any convincing at all. The problem will be keeping the man on task after I remove my corset and shift.
A horde of women peer out the launderette’s front door, their giggles echoing off the high ceiling.
Senan waits at the entrance; his smile is as brilliant as the pristine quilt of white blanketing the street as he chats with the shift leader. I’ve never seen the woman smile and yet there she is, laughing and red-faced like a besotted teen.
“Allette, your new man is quite the charmer,” one of the women says with a sigh, her head falling against the wall.
They don’t know the half of it. If I told them all the things he says and does, they would fall desperately in love with him.
“I don’t suppose he has any brothers?” another asks, folding her hands beneath her chin as if sending a prayer to some higher power.
“He has four, actually, but they live far, far away.” Senan doesn’t speak of his family, but he must miss his brothers fiercely.
Not Boris, of course. No one would miss that tyrant. But the others, especially Kyff.
The woman’s face falls. “Pity.”
I grab my things and squeeze my way past the other workers as they don their coats and cloaks, tightening my scarf around my neck to keep the wind at bay. When he sees me, Senan’s face lights up like it did the very first day we met. The shift leader nods to me on her way back to the launderette, her footsteps crunching in the snow.
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Did you come to town for more lemon juice?” He’s obsessed with perfecting his cheesecake recipe. Although I’d never tell him this, I am getting a little sick of eating so much cheesecake. We have it with every meal—the other day we ate cake for breakfast.
His lips purse as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “No.”
“Did you forget the way home again?”
“That happened once,” he scoffs, shoving the knitted cap he wears to conceal his ears back off his forehead. His voice sounds gruffer than normal, almost hoarse. “And it’s not my fault all the trees here look the same and the infernal snow decided to cover my tracks.”
I nearly died of laughter when he came stomping back after walking in circles for twenty minutes. He claimed that I didn’t care about him—which only made me laugh harder.
The man, for all his brilliance, has a terrible sense of direction.
Senan still hasn’t gotten used to the cold, wearing far more layers than anyone normally would. He resembles a stuffed scarecrow, his arms stiff from all the coats. Even so, he is still the most handsome man I’ve ever met.
“You never answered my question. What are you doing here?”
He takes my gloved hand in his, twirling me around like this is a ballroom instead of the middle of the street. Gathering me into his arms, he dips me back dramatically, his eyes sparkling. “Allette, my love, you and I are going out.”
The pub near the square has walls painted deep forest green. The owners covered them in all sorts of artwork, from tapestries to paintings to shoes and musical instruments displayed in shadow boxes. There is no rhyme or reason to the decor, but it all lends itself to the eclectic mix of patrons sitting around on low stools, drinking away their cares.
Senan finds us an open table near the back, close to the fragrant peat fire blazing in the stone hearth. It takes him a comically long time to remove all his layers, leaving on his cap and his sweater to hide what’s left of his wings. With the way they’re bound, I barely notice the bumps and am certain no one else in here will either. For some reason, he’s still self-conscious about them.
With a quick smash of his lips to mine, he skips toward the bar. A few minutes later, we have two foamy pints of ale clasped in our hands and smiles on our faces. Flames flicker in Senan’s wide eyes as he takes me in. There’s something about him tonight that makes me giddy.
When was the last time I felt like this? Probably the day we had that snowball fight.
Bubbles tickle my throat when I take a sip. “What has gotten into you?”
Senan’s grin grows as he glances at his pint, the condensation weeping down his fingers. “Nothing.”
Nothing, my foot. “You’re acting strange.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
He shifts on his stool, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a deep gulp before setting it down once more. I do the same, waiting on the edge of my seat for him to spit it out. “All right, if you don’t tell me this instant, I’m going to scream.” I don’t care if every single person in here thinks I’m a loon; I simply cannot wait any longer for an explanation.
He glances away, then back at me, scooting himself closer to the table. “So there is something.”
I bloody well knew it.
“I have a gift for you.”
My heart deflates, the smile falling from my lips. “We agreed not to do Yule gifts this year.” Now I feel awful about not having anything to give him.
“This isn’t a gift for Yule. It’s for your birthday.”
“My birthday was months ago.”
His dark brows arch. “Your point?”
“You didn’t need to buy me anything.”
“I know I didn’t need to. I wanted to.”
“Senan…”
He rolls his eyes. “Do you want the gift or not?”
“Obviously.”
He slips a hand into his pocket. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
For my last birthday that we spent together, he gave me a child’s doll with black hair and large black wings, a “miniature Senan” to keep in my bed when he couldn’t join me. Ridiculous, I know.
Whatever happened to miniature Senan and the moonflower paperweight? Were they thrown out with the rest of my things when my great aunt died? Or were they donated? Is some little girl playing with the doll? Does the paperweight adorn the corner of someone’s desk?
I screw my eyes shut and extend my hands, waiting until something light tickles my fingers.
“You can open your eyes now.”
In my palms sit two cerulean feathers, nearly the same size as each other. They must be the ones he saved all those years ago. The singed vanes have been painted gold, and golden hooks have been fastened to the tips.
He made my feathers into a pair of earrings.
Senan scrubs his hands down his thighs, his expression guarded as he watches me. “I couldn’t give you back your wings, but I thought you might like to wear your feathers again.”
Has a more thoughtful gift ever existed? “They’re perfect.”
How did I ever get so lucky to deserve such a sweet, thoughtful man? Swiping away my tears, I push the stems through the holes in my ears. I haven’t worn earrings since the first time I came through the portal.
Back then, I felt guilty for relying on Eason to earn all the money, so I brought the pearl studs from my mother down to the pawnbroker in exchange for four pieces of silver.
Senan’s warm hand slides beneath my chin, applying the slightest pressure, lifting until I’m staring into his endless eyes. “You don’t have to wear them if it’s too difficult.”
“It’s not. I swear. It’s just… I love them so much. You give me more than I deserve—you always have.”
“You deserve everything good and wonderful, Allette. You are the strongest person I know. You have risen from the ashes like a phoenix, overcoming every challenge this cursed world threw at you.” He trails a finger down my feathers, a wistful note in his voice. “ I am the one who is undeserving. But I intend to hoard your love and attention like a dragon does gold until you come to your senses and find someone better.”
“There is no one better.” Not in this realm or any other. “Neither of us is perfect, but we are perfect for each other.” Of that, I’m certain.
He eases forward, the soft press of his lips slow and savoring. I drink him in, tasting the ale on his tongue and the love in each careful stroke.
“I suppose I’ll have to think of something extra special for your birthday this summer,” I tease when he draws back.
For some reason, my comment makes his smile falter. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with that’ll top those.” He gives the earrings a playful flick.
“I can think of one thing.”
“And what is that?”
Propping my elbows on the table, I lean all the way forward, keeping my voice low. “Let’s just say it would involve a new garter belt and a great deal of black lace.”
“You know, I just remembered that I was actually born in January.”
“Isn’t that fortuitous?”
“My thoughts exactly,” he says, lifting his pint in salute. When he goes to take a sip, he starts coughing and hacking, splattering the drink all over the table.
I snag the glass before he accidentally pours alcohol all over himself or his pile of coats, setting it well out of the way. “Are you all right?”
Senan coughs into his fist so violently, that the men at the next table throw wary glances toward us. “You’d think at my age I’d be better at swallowing,” he manages between fits.
He is the most ridiculous?—
What in the world?
Crimson splatters paint his cuff. “Is that blood ?”
Senan tries to shove his sleeve to his elbow, but I catch him by the wrist. Heavens above, it is. “That is blood.”
“It was there before.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I’ve been staring at this man all evening. If he had blood on him, I would’ve noticed.
“Maybe I cut myself.”
He doesn’t expect me to believe that, does he? “Grab your coats.” I don’t care how late it is, we are going straight to the physician and banging on his door until he answers.
Senan goes for his pint instead.
Is he mad? He is coughing up blood, and he wants to keep on drinking? That isn’t happening.
I swipe for the glass, but he’s faster, holding it just out of my reach. “Put the glass down this instant, or so help me, Senan Vale.”
“Will you please stop overreacting?” he murmurs against the rim. “I am fine.”
Fine, my foot. “One does not simply cough up blood unless there is something seriously wrong.” That is how the wasting starts.
I can still remember the day my mother’s decline began. She used to have this handkerchief with her initials embroidered on the corner; she took it with her everywhere she went. That day in the park, she started coughing and pressed the handkerchief to her lips until her fit stopped.
The fabric had been riddled with crimson speckles.
We need to get him to the physician straightaway. I should’ve pushed the moment I first heard him cough.
With a beleaguered sigh, Senan sets down the empty glass and collects the first coat from the stool between us, slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoning it closed. Instead of putting on the others, he drapes them over his arm one at a time.
Where is his sense of urgency? Isn’t he worried?
Perhaps I am overreacting, but the past has proven that I cannot do this on my own. I need him healthy and by my side.
Snowflakes twirl around our heads as we step into the night. The frosty breeze stings my cheeks, swinging the gas lamps hanging on either side of the pub’s door. I head straight for the village square. It isn’t until I reach the corner that I realize Senan isn’t following me.
“I know I’m the one with the terrible sense of direction, but I’m pretty sure the house is this way.” He swings his arm toward the curving road.
For once, his sense of direction is spot on. The problem is, we aren’t going home. “You need to see a physician.”
His hand falls to his side. “No, I don’t.”
I stalk back toward the man I love, anger bubbling inside my chest, warming me from the inside out. “Do not fight me on this. One trip to the physician. That’s all I’m asking. He might have some sort of tonic for whatever ails you.”
Huffing a sigh, Senan’s head falls back, and he stares up at the dark clouds hiding the stars from view. “He doesn’t.”
“You don’t know that. Now, come on.” I tug his hand, but the stubborn man refuses to budge.
“Yes, I do. I went to see him while you were at work. What ails me cannot be cured by human tonics.”
I want to ask what ails him, but the look of resignation on his face keeps me silent as his proud shoulders sink, curling in the same way they did the night the king stole his wings.
“I’m sorry, Allette. I’m afraid I won’t make it to spring.”
This must be a trick, some sort of twisted joke. My head starts to shake, and yet the words he speaks still find their way to my ears.
“It would seem my years of dusting have finally caught up with me,” he whispers.
Not the wasting, then.
Something far worse.
Something that could’ve been avoided if only the king had left us alone. “You’re not dying. I won’t let you.” I refuse to lose him. Do you hear that, stars?
I refuse .
“Technically, we’re all dying. It just so happens that I’m going quicker than the rest of you.”
“That’s not funny, Senan.” I can’t lose him. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
Downy flakes settle on his hat and wool coat. “Your friend gave me the antidote, but the landing destroyed the vials.”
“Which friend?”
“Jeston. In the pit, he was out of his head on barmite and started babbling about hallucinations and me not living until spring. He gave me the five vials I needed right before I escaped the castle.”
He’s known about his decline for… Stars, he’s known for weeks and yet he said not a bloody word.
An ache so deep and cold spreads through my marrow, a whirlwind of despair twisting through my chest. Just when I thought we had found peace. Just when I thought we might have earned a bit of happiness.
The rough wool of my coat sleeve scrapes along my cheek as I try to clear these infernal tears from my eyes before they freeze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to make you sad.”
Of all the ridiculous reasons for keeping this secret, that’s the best he can offer? “Well, now I’m sad and angry. How about that?” My hands ball into fists. I want to hit something. Hard. “You aren’t allowed to leave me. I won’t let you.” When death comes for him, I will fight tooth and nail until the bastard takes us both.
Senan traps me in the cage of his arms, pulling me into him, stealing my fight. “It’ll be all right.”
No, it won’t.
If only we knew what ingredients were in the antidote, perhaps the humans would have some equivalent.
Without knowing, my love is doomed.
Unless… “We must return to Kumulus.” Then we could find Jeston and get some more antidote.
“Even with wings, I wouldn’t bring you back. It’s not safe. Besides, Jeston couldn’t guarantee that the antidote would work.”
“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?” I push him away, my boots slipping on a patch of ice as I stumble back. “Until the sun implodes and the stars no longer shine, that is what you promised me. Last I checked, the sun still rules our days, and the stars our nights.” He spoke those very same words to me only a few days ago, when everything seemed so dark and dire.
Senan’s hands fall to his sides, the picture of defeat as his glistening eyes meet mine. “I have loved you in this life and will love you in the next, whether there are stars or suns. But I’m afraid this is a battle we cannot win.”