The Blood Crown (The Blood Folk #2)

32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

I t was a strange feeling—to walk into her brother’s chambers and see them . . . lived in.

Bitterness coated her mouth at the realization that time had continued for everyone else while she and Ven and Karro had been fighting their way back here. She swallowed it back at seeing the expectant look on Asher’s face as she stepped further into his room.

His chambers were appointed to his taste, reminding her a little of his rooms at the Capitol. A bed, a bare desk, oiled weapons strewn across the table in front of the fire—as if that’s how he preferred to spend his evenings here.

Tidy, if not a little sparse. Though she had to believe that was by choice and not because he’d been denied any comforts.

“So you’ve settled in?” she asked.

Asher crossed his arms over his chest, following her gaze through the room. “It was . . . a bit of a shock at first.” He smiled faintly.

It was easy enough to remember how she’d felt waking up in this place, surrounded by the Blood Folk. She hated that he had to experience that, as well. She hated that she hadn’t been here for him . . .

“Give me a little credit, Ari,” he chided, giving her a nudge, making her realize she must have said the thought aloud.

“This place is . . .” she trailed off, taking in his room once more. She swallowed hard, trying to find the words. Not an apology necessarily, but at least an explanation.

She’d come to love it here, but it was so different from everything they’d ever known. So rough, and raw, and beautiful.

But it hadn’t been Asher’s choice to come here. Just as it hadn’t been her choice initially, either.

“Wonderful,” Asher supplied, grinning at her look of surprise.

And relief flooded her chest at the words.

He stepped toward the window overlooking the Shades, eyes scanning the mountain range beyond the fortress. “When I woke up, Seth told me what happened—or at least the parts he knew. Embra filled in the rest while she fussed over me.” He turned toward her, rolling his eyes, and she could only give a strangled laugh in response. “A mother hen, that one—making sure I didn’t overdo anything while I recovered.”

The relief nearly overtook her, tears lining her eyes that he didn’t hate it here—that he didn’t hate her for sending him here.

But now that she looked at him— really looked at him, she could see the easy way he carried himself. The relaxed posture. His smile.

He was comfortable here.

“Once I was on the mend, Seth began to train with me on the Ledge to help me rebuild my strength,” he added.

She smiled at that. If Asher’s introduction to the Blood Folk—to the Wraiths—had to be any of them, she was glad it was Seth. He was the least . . . abrasive.

“Nira is . . .” Asher raised his copper brows, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Utterly terrifying?” she supplied.

He barked out a laugh, the sound dredging up homesickness she didn’t realize was still buried deep inside her until this moment.

“I had hoped after a while it would wear off,” he grumbled.

“Nope,” she chuckled, her voice still quiet with disbelief that he was here—with her. She cleared her throat, the smile returning to her face as she added, “Still scary. Still not sure if she’ll decide to kill me one day.”

Asher’s eyes went distant for a moment, staring out at the Shades. A somber tone falling over the two of them as they took in the grandeur of the midnight-colored peaks, the pines stretching endlessly across the mountains, now coated in silvered snow.

She’d lost all sense of time in their journey back here, but it must have been nearing Yuletide—or maybe it had passed while they’d been fighting their way back. Did the Blood Folk even celebrate holidays? She’d never thought to ask.

“Could you ever have imagined, Ari?” Asher asked quietly, his voice scattering her thoughts.

“No,” she answered, “not until I’d seen it for myself.”

He braced his hands against the sill, watching dusk fall over the Shades.

“I understand it now.” He glanced toward her, green eyes glittering with emotion before they dropped to his feet. “Why you were so different when you came back.”

“I hated lying to you,” she whispered. “I just didn’t know how to begin to explain . . .” she shook her head, gaze falling to the floor, “any of it.”

“Then explain it to me now,” Asher murmured.

So she did.

He'd asked for the truth before, and she hated every second that she had lied to him—so she told him everything. From thinking Ven had been responsible for their father’s death to walking through the mirror into an entirely new world.

The words caught in her throat as she told him the First Brother had orchestrated their father's death, along with the things he’d failed to accomplish.

And even as Asher's eyes darkened threateningly, he didn’t interrupt her as she told him of Bastien’s part in it—her voice detached, as if someone else were telling the story. As if she were speaking of strangers.

“That son of a bitch,” Asher uttered under his breath. “He was my friend—he would have been your husband.”

“He didn’t realize the First Brother had been responsible for father’s murder—and I think he kept himself ignorant of the grittier details of gaining his title.”

Asher’s copper hair fell over his eye as he shook his head. “He’s a fucking coward. And now he holds a seat on the High Council.”

“And we’re both here,” she offered, putting a hand on his. “And you’re alive.” Emotion swelled in her voice as she leaned over to wrap her brother in another embrace. “The rest of it doesn’t matter now.”

Asher extracted himself from her, turning toward the desk in the corner of his room. “I have something for you.”

Removing something from the top drawer, he held it out to her.

“How?” she asked, taking the book from his hands.

She'd never thought to see it again, locked away in her old rooms in the palace. She’d nearly forgotten the book Ven had given her until now.

“I went to your chambers that night—” Asher answered, his words trailing off as his eyes fell to the floor. “I saw the blue cloaks posted outside of your door looking half-terrified and half-remorseful. I knew them well enough to convince them to at least let me inside . . . but by then you were gone already.”

His mouth tightened into a grim line as he shifted his feet. “I should have guessed then that Bastien had a part to play in all of this.” He shook his head. “I looked through your room—trying to find something to make sense of what was happening with you, and I found it. I had it in my jacket when I went looking for Bastien. I was going to demand an explanation for why you were missing—why your chambers had been under guard when I followed him from the gardens and into the temple. And, well. . .”

The memory invaded her thoughts—his throat slit . . . the stone soaking up his blood. So much blood.

“So,” Asher began, “the stories we were told growing up . . .”

Turning the book over in her hands, she ran her fingers along the gold-embossed cover. “Yeah.”

“And you’re—" Her brother seemed at a loss for words maybe for the first time in his life. He waved a hand to encompass the black fortress around them, the people that inhabited this place.

“I’m—” she gave a small shake of her head, “I’m not entirely sure.” That was something else she could explore now that they were back. Safe. Home . “I possess magick, some of it seems to belong to the Blood Folk, but . . .”

Don’t you wish to know what you truly are?

She gave a small shrug, shaking off the chill that pebbled her skin. Appreciative that Asher didn’t hound her with questions that she couldn’t even answer for herself.

Asher glanced around his chambers. “This place. These people . . .” A sad smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You belong here.”

“We’ll find a way for you to go back,” she replied fiercely. She’d left her old life behind, but it didn’t need to be the same for him—even if it would break her heart to see him go. She smiled faintly, trying to mask the sting of the thought of him leaving. “Provided Embra finds you fit for travel.”

“Obviously I would have chosen a different method of arriving here.” Asher chuckled, the look on his face hard to read as his shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “But I’ve found I quite enjoy it.”

The confession shocked her, sending warm relief spreading through her chest.

A lock of his copper hair fell over one eye as he shifted his weight. It had grown out since she’d seen him last. Usually cropped close to his skull, the auburn was tousled now, a little unruly, but it seemed to suit him.

“I was beginning to feel a little trapped in my life,” he added, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing like a near death experience to make you reevaluate your choices.”

She could understand that more than he knew. Or maybe he did know . . . And maybe he’d always felt the same but had been better at hiding it.

Something was different about her brother. Something more relaxed in the set of his shoulders. More at ease in the way he crinkled his eyes when he smiled here. Something less restrained when he laughed—less performative.

Her curiosity got the better of her. “Did a wealthy young widow break your heart?” She laughed, trying to lighten the heaviness that had descended in the room.

“No,” he chuckled, and she half-expected him to deflect the conversation as he’d always done when their mother hounded him about his exploits. “They simply decided that it was . . . time to move on with their life,” he admitted.

She’d always felt closer to Asher than Wellan, always felt that he understood her better than anyone else in her old life—but there was so much about him that she didn’t know. So much about him that she only learned through the rumors she heard—because there were always rumors circulating the Capitol. Especially when they concerned the handsome son of a prominent family.

He’d never seriously courted anyone, seeming to prefer his duty as a Captain in the Blue Guard over having a personal life. He never gave his attentions for longer than a few months, and when he did, he always seemed to choose women who wouldn’t expect promises from him. Married women or young, wealthy widows.

And whether he didn’t care to find love, or if the right person hadn’t come across his path—she couldn’t be certain. But she knew he was much deeper than that, that there was much more to Asher than playing the palace rake. She’d never really believed the persona that he had crafted, but she loved him too much to confront him outright.

“It was," Asher let out a heavy sigh, dropping his hand to fidget with the buttons at the collar of his shirt. "Christian, actually.”

The air was sucked out of the room for a moment.

Her brother . . . their childhood friend?

She kept her mouth shut, realizing the gravity of what her brother was confessing and knowing that if she said the wrong thing, if she pushed him too much—he would never speak of it again.

How had she never seen it? How had she never guessed?

There was a twinge of guilt at realizing she didn’t know her brother nearly as well as she always thought she had. And selfishly, it stung a little that he’d never confided in her.

Asher blew out a breath, his eyes lifting to her face. “The night I confronted you after dinner, Christian put an end to things. Made it clear that whatever it was between us was over.”

Men from powerful families with titles and duties to uphold along with their family names. She understood why he had kept it a secret. It was a risk to not only them, but everyone around them as well if a scandal like that were ever found out.

The rumors of his trysts . . .

No wonder Asher had never been bothered by them—they were much less harmful for the nobility to chew on than the truth.

And he’d been hiding this part of himself his entire life . . .

Asher braced his palms wide against the windowsill as he stared out at the expanse of pines. “It seemed his intention was to pursue Councilor Veron’s lovely young widow.”

The name made her flinch.

She would have been Lady Veron had she stayed. Had she ignored what she’d known and followed through with what Bastien wanted of her.

“I’m sorry," she uttered, shaking the thought away. "You deserve love, Asher—and you deserve someone who would not hide you.”

He offered a solemn smile in return. “Christian is entitled to live his life how he chooses. I’m sure Lady Veron will make an excellent wife for a Governor."

She would at that. And at the very least, Christian would treat her well—dote on her. And Jane deserved a small sliver of happiness after everything she had been through as well. She just wished it didn’t come at the cost of her brother’s.

“So you and . . .” Asher jerked his chin toward the corridor.

She loosed a sigh, “It’s . . . complicated.”

He laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he shook his head, raising a russet brow. “Seems obvious enough to everyone else.” He waved a hand toward the open door. “You’ve never looked at anyone like that—not even . . .” His smile faltered for a moment before he let out a low whistle. “Take some advice from your big brother. Don’t waste time lying to yourself about what it is that you truly want.” His green eyes met hers. “You’ve spent too much of your life doing that.”