Chapter 41
41
A rcher and I decided our trip to the Vale was best kept between us for now. We’d gone to see Marik and gathered bolts of fabric Thalena had decided were out of fashion. It mostly gave us an excuse to have been gone, but we could use as many blankets as we could find.
“Easy does it now,” Jasper said, standing behind Lianna in the kitchen, directing her moves as she seasoned broth in the pot on Thorne’s beautiful stove.
There wasn’t a moment in this house that didn’t come with a memory of him and each second that passed, I braced myself a little more and a little more for the excuses I would give for why I hadn’t opened that damn book.
Harlow giggled from beside me, sleeves rolled up, working with Willard to make a few loaves of bread.
Jasper leaned over Lianna’s shoulder, his eyes focused on the simmering broth. “Now, add a pinch of thyme. Not too much, just enough to bring out the other flavors.”
Lianna nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully measured out the herb and sprinkled it into the pot. The savory aroma wafted up, mingling with the rich scent of the bread rising on the counter.
Jasper took a long, deep breath. “Good, good. Now give it a stir, nice and slow. Let all those flavors meld together.”
With his remaining hand resting lightly on her arm, he guided Lianna’s movements as she stirred the broth with a wooden spoon. Despite the challenges of his missing limb, Jasper seemed at peace in the kitchen, finding happiness in teaching his little apprentice.
Across the room, Harlow and Willard worked in tandem, their hands dusted with flour as they kneaded the dough. They moved in a synchronized dance, their bodies brushing as they reached for ingredients, sharing secret smiles over the mounds of flour. In these stolen moments, the weight of the world fell away.
Briony bustled around carrying a tray with a steaming pot of tea and an assortment of mismatched cups. She set it down on the worn wooden table with a clatter. “Nothing like a little break to keep the spirits bright.”
But my spirits weren’t bright. They were missing a man I had no right missing. She poured the tea, the fragrant steam curling in the air. We didn’t have much, truly, but we’d been able to salvage the herbs and teas stored away from the Hollow. Tuck was on a mission to clear out anything that was left in the Hollow tonight with several other members of the Fray. I didn’t know all the details, but I worried about Archer and the dangerous advice Alastor had given him about the snake head. The worst thing he could do was try to be a hero, but there were times when it seemed like he might break away from the restraints his sister put around him. And though he didn’t know it, I had to believe it was because she knew him best and whatever he wanted, whatever secrets he hid, would lead to something far more reckless than talking back to a god.
Willard abandoned his kneading and came over, snagging two cups from the tray. He carried one over to me, the faded pattern smeared by the flour on his fingers. “Long day?”
I accepted the tea with a grateful smile, inhaling the comforting scent of bergamot and honey. “Short day.”
The heat seeped into my palms, reminding me of a woman who’d been like a mother to me, and how we’d sit around a fire in the winter, drink warm tea and share stories, me mostly of dance and her of her son’s mischief when he was a boy. The homesickness was nearly palpable as I sipped and sat quietly, letting the others live the life they would always have while I mourned the one I may never see again, may never even remember, realizing that Thorne’s absence made me homesick too.
But the warm cup only reminded me that time was passing, and Wisteria was warming as well. Seventy-five had turned to thirty-seven so quickly and time was running out. Alastor had all but confirmed I was on the right path, but as time ticked by, I couldn’t help but feel the pressure mounting. At least I’d done something today. And yesterday. Facing off with two gods back-to-back had to count for something. Even if it was only stirring a simmering pot.
Willard leaned against the counter beside me, cradling his own cup. For a moment, we simply watched the others, content in the companionable silence. Then he turned to me, his dark eyes serious beneath dark lashes.
“You going to Marielle’s dinner party tonight?”
From what I’d gathered, Marielle was one of the wealthier members of the Silk, known for her lavish parties. Thorne had mentioned something about the invitation, but neither of us had taken it very seriously.
“No. Doesn’t seem like it’d be a good idea without Thorne here. Those things are only for us to make a scene and prove a point. We’ve… done enough of that. Besides, I’d spend the night having to answer questions I don’t want to. Harlow and I were talking earlier about a girls’ night in. Maybe doing some brainstorming on a long-term plan for the kids.”
His brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. “You can’t,” he said, the words coming out harsher than I think he intended. “Harlow needs to be there tonight. We both do.”
I straightened, my fingers tightening around the delicate teacup. “And why is that?”
“It’s what’s expected. Marielle is one of the most influential members of the Silk. If we don’t show up, it’ll be noticed. People will talk.”
He shifted, turning to face me fully, his eyes imploring. “We’ve worked hard to build up our reputation and make the right connections. Skipping out on this dinner party could undo all of that. It could make us look weak, like we’re not serious players in the game.”
“What’s wrong?” Harlow asked, wrapping a hand around his waist as she glanced between us.
“Paesha isn’t going to Marielle’s tonight. She said you were planning to stay here, but you know you can’t, love.”
I frowned, setting my empty cup down beside his, clearing my throat. “I understand the importance of keeping up appearances, but at what cost? We’re in the middle of a crisis here. And you’re worried about what some wealthy socialites will think if you miss their fancy dinner party?”
Willard’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the smooth skin of his cheek. “It’s not that simple. You know that. Everything we do, every move we make, it’s all part of a larger strategy. We have to play the long game here. We need their resources.”
“We get them from the Parlor.”
He leaned in closer. “The Silk may seem frivolous to you, with our extravagant parties and idle gossip, but we wield more power than you realize.”
Harlow’s eyes widened. Her hand slipped from his waist as she took a small step back, creating a sliver of space between them. “You act like I don’t know that. Of course I understand the importance. But surely, just this once, we could make an exception. Look around you. This is what matters right now.”
His face hardened, his shoulders squaring as he drew himself up to his full height as if lording over her was the better approach. “We’re going to the dinner. I’ve already said we’d go.”
I saw the flicker of defiance in her eyes. The war behind her smile. The grit in her.
“You don’t have to go, Har. If you don’t want to,” I said, clearing my throat, rubbing the weight that seemed to be growing in my chest. “There’s plenty to do around here.”
Wee Willy looked at me like I’d grown a second head before he turned back to her. “Of course she’ll go.”
She sank. “Of course, I will. If it means that much to you.”
I deflated just as he took her hand, lifted a brow to me, and walked out of the damn kitchen. She looked over her shoulder and mouthed ‘I’m sorry,’ and I couldn’t help but feel bad for her. She was worth so much more than the rises and falls he took her on. Giving in to her in small moments, only when it played to his advantage. And she just let him. I couldn’t shake the feeling of understanding, even if I’d never experienced such a thing, I felt in my soul that I had. But maybe that was one of my supposed past lives peeking through, willing me to see him for what he was. Just another man pulling the strings and her, just another woman, capable of so much more, but following because that’s what was expected. I almost felt bad for her. Almost.
Later that night, I lay in my bed, blankets folded to the end, wondering when it’d gotten so hot outside. When Tuck had come by to do a head count and light the fire, I had to ask him not to.
I’d gone to bed early and pushed the golden book away from me, wondering if Thorne’s magic had anything to do with the way I was overheating. If so, I needed to give him a piece of my mind. I flipped open his book, my book prepared to let him have it, only to find a few simple words.
Paesha Darling,
Tell me you miss me, and this will all be worth it.
~Sincerely, Lost in Time
Always so needy.
~Sincerely, Found in Bed
I waited a beat, wondering if he’d know I finally replied. A bead of sweat dripped onto the page. Setting the book to the other side of the bed, I slid out, stumbling toward the bathroom to splash cool water on my face. Every limb was heavy. The room was spinning by the time I crept back into the bed.
It’s been two days.
~Testing my patience
Oh, good. You’re practicing your counting while you’re there. I was so worried you’d be bored.
~Eternally Amused, and slightly missing you
Slightly?
~Tell me more
I fought to hold my head up, desperate to keep my attention on him without alarming him. Desperate to feel our connection from the fog moving in over me.
I don’t think you know how signatures in a letter work.
~Casually doing whatever we want now
Tell me about your day.
~Let me live vicariously
Don’t be so
Not finishing your sentences now?
~That’s beneath you
…
Paesha
…
Paesha?
…
Tell me what’s happening.
…
Where the fuck are you?
I could see the words. I just couldn’t lift my hand to answer. Couldn’t put together enough thoughts. I was more tired than I thought. So, so very tired. I closed my eyes for just a minute.
And then it was daytime and Archer was hovering over me, shaking me, screaming, though I couldn’t hear him.
I closed my eyes again. So very tired.
“No!” I heard him yell, more clearly this time, but still like I was underwater, and he was above.
“Water?” I knew I’d said it, but my lips didn’t move, and my limbs didn’t move and I didn’t make sound and I couldn’t feel a thing and suddenly the world was heavy. And hot.
Archer’s ice-cold fingers gripped my face, startling me. So scared. Like a cat. A little bitty kitten. I liked cats. Quill had a dog, though. He was a very good boy.
“Who was in your room? Who poisoned you?”
“Poisoned? The cat.”
“Who’s the cat? What do you mean?”
“I’m not mean, you’re mean.”
Archer panicked, pulling away. Pulling his hair. Scaredy cat.
I closed my eyes for one baby second and then I was in the bathtub. With my clothes on.
“Don’t die. Don’t die.” Archer yelled. “Help! We need help!”