Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
The strangest part of the last fifty years is waking up and remembering she is really gone. Before, I always knew the worst could come to pass. It was likely, even, with a king like Kronos. But we all fooled ourselves into thinking we could defy the fates. Even me. Look at where that got us.
—Lady Anabeth, Royal Scribe’s Apprentice, D’anna
She was uncomfortably warm and covered in a sheen of sweat when she opened her eyes.
Heavy blankets were wrapped around and draped over her.
The flickering of flames blurred in the warped field of her vision.
Someone was silhouetted by the hearth, their back to her, but when she tried to speak to them, she merely coughed, tasting copper in the back of her throat.
The figure turned, and she recognized Carus’ eyes staring back at her.
“Nya.” His voice was hushed and hoarse, and he appeared to have been rendered frozen in shock, the fire poker hanging limply in his hand.
She tried to speak again, and when all that came out was more coughing, he cleared his throat, setting the poker against the edge of the hearth and handing her a glass of water from a low table to the right of it.
She accepted it, chugged over half of it, then glanced around, trying to place her surroundings.
They must be in Nyx and Thanatos’ house again. She was lying on a couch someone had obviously dragged from its usual spot to sit directly in front of the fireplace. Had she been cold? She could hardly believe that, given how feverish she felt now.
She attempted to shove the blankets away but winced at the sharp ache in her muscles and joints. “Where is everyone?” she managed to croak.
Carus furrowed his brow. “You’re feeling warm?” he asked, not acknowledging her question.
“Yes. Too warm, I think.”
“Right,” he muttered. “They said that might happen next.”
“Was I cold?”
He grimaced. “Ah… Yes.”
She coughed again, choking at the wet tang of blood in the back of her throat. Darkness encapsulated her vision completely before consciousness returned with an agonizing vengeance. A door flew open, the sound of wood cracking against the wall exploding in her over-sensitive ears.
She felt herself fall forward. Carus swore, and strong arms caught her before she could hit the floor. A sudden bolt of electricity lanced up her back, and she was vaguely aware she was screaming, clawing at the arms around her.
“You didn’t need to come back,” Carus panted against her ear, and she tried to reply, not understanding what he meant. “I had it covered.”
Morgen spoke just as her muscles went limp. “I should have never left.”
“She was sleeping until five minutes ago!”
She needed to tell them she was burning. The blaze was overcoming her from within, fissuring her skull and ravaging her muscles and bones. She was sure she would be ash soon, but her lips would not move properly to form any words.
Fingers brushed against her forehead, and Morgen swore. “Start a cold bath. Now.”
Carus didn’t argue further, and she thought he might have left. Strong arms hooked under her legs and back, lifting her, and she braced for more pain. Although she was still burning up, the touch was almost soothing to the throb.
Morgen?
His chest expanded against her with a sigh. He carried her to the edge of the room, away from the heat of the fire. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left. Carus insisted I go back and explain things to the others.”
The others? Did he mean his army?
She didn’t think she had spoken aloud, but he replied, “Yes.”
She wasn’t angry. She understood why he needed to address them, to let them know there wasn’t going to be a war anymore, though she had no idea where his forces would go now.
“With us,” he answered her thoughts again, voice low and quiet, as if he knew not to add to the pain in her head. “I assured them they will all have a place if they want it.”
With them? But where…
Oh.
Sol. The void. The embers.
“I would advise you to bow for your new king and queen,” Thanatos had said.
She forced her eyes open, wincing, even in the dim light. Morgen frowned at her, the embers pulsating softly in his irises.
“I understand why Carus wanted me to go,” he said, brow creased. “But I shouldn’t have listened. You weren’t sleeping, not really. It’s bad, isn’t it? The pain?”
She tried to speak again, and he shushed her, brushing his thumb against her mouth.
“Hush, I know it is.” He leaned his forehead gently against hers. “I’m sorry, Nya. I don’t know how long this will last.”
She thought she might have passed out again. The next thing she remembered, there was ice all around her, and someone was stroking her hair, then braiding it. Consciousness slipped away after that.
The low hum of voices coaxed her from sleep next. Her head felt clearer, and it was not so difficult to open her eyes. But when she saw her parents sitting a few paces away and she tried to speak, she coughed. Their attention immediately zeroed in on her.
“Here,” Morgen said next to her. He helped her sit then handed her a cool glass of water.
She took it and drank half, then handed it back to him, taking stock of her surroundings. She was in the same room as before, though the couch was not in front of the hearth anymore.
“How are you feeling?” Morgen asked. He looked exhausted. His eyes were rimmed in red, and dark, purple-hued shadows sat underneath them.
She rubbed her temple, trying to banish the lingering ache there. “Fine, I think. Better than before.”
He nodded, though the tension on his face did not fade. She glanced at her parents, searching for any sign of injury. She was aware they had been hurt—that she had hurt them—but recalling the memories was like viewing them through a warped glass.
“I didn’t…” she tried to say, but her throat constricted, her eyes burning with shame. “Are you both okay?”
Her father’s mouth twitched, although he did not look like he was laughing. It was her mother who stood first, squeezing her father’s arm then crossing the room and kneeling in front of Nya.
She reached out a hand, and Nya stared at her for a long minute before she took it, her fingers trembling. “Other than being worried about you, we’re now fine, Nya,” she said, reaching out to stroke her cheek with her other hand. “You’ve been in and out for some time.”
Nya’s lips quivered. “But I hurt you. I could have—” She cut herself off, unable to speak the horrible truth aloud. The void could have killed them easily.
Her mother tapped her nose. “I do not know that darkness so well, my love, not in the same way as you. But I do know its call, and I can only imagine the immeasurable will it must have taken to resist it the way you did.”
A tear slid down Nya’s cheek. “It was so lonely. It just wanted to be seen and understood, but no one could, not until me.”
A shadow flickered across her mother’s eyes, a brief whisper of that very same darkness. “I can only imagine,” she whispered. “It is a lonely thing indeed to be feared without understanding.”
They stared at each other, both heirs of Death and Night, with little choice in the power they had inherited.
For the first time, Nya thought she really understood her mother’s wish to leave Arcadia behind all those years ago.
In the quiet of the thick forest in Mise, no one feared them.
She had not been raised in a bubble or a cage, but perhaps the one place where she could live without the shadow of her legacy.
Mortals and gods alike feared their family’s power, but her parents had given her the gift of growing up without the heavy weight of their judgement.
“Will you go back home?” she asked with a new sense of understanding, completely unclouded by any past judgement.
“Not yet,” her mother said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Nya’s ear. She smiled, tilting her head to the side. “We’ll stay for a time, at least.”
Nya glanced back at her father, and he raised a brow. “Don’t look at me as if I’d disagree.”
She chewed on her lip and felt Morgen shift beside her. Don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself further.
She glanced at him. Relax. I’m fine.
As much as I’d like to believe you, I know you’re not. Don’t think I can’t tell. You need more rest.
“Are we being kicked out?” her father asked, and she jumped.
“No,” she said at the same moment Morgen grunted, “Yes.”
Her mother laughed softly. “You should take a bedroom now that your temperature has stopped fluctuating. It will be more comfortable.”
Nya’s brow creased. “My temperature?”
The room fell silent until Morgen explained, “You’ve been cycling between feverish and nearly hypothermic.
That, and the pain I know you’re feeling, is all a result of the embers.
They’re not…easy on a body, especially not one with any amount of mortal blood.
I was ill often as a child with similar ailments. ”
She pressed a hand to the center of her chest. “So it’s true,” she murmured, searching for a confirmation not from anyone in the room, but from within herself, and…
Yes. There it was, pulsing within the burning darkness that made up the fabric of her and Morgen’s souls; a fluttering flicker of light and warmth, humming and alive.
The embers.
It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet she could not deny the truth of their presence. She had survived, albeit a little worse for wear.
Apparently, Morgen really did sense that last part, because he insisted, “You need to rest.”
Her mother glanced at him briefly and nodded. “He’s right. Sleep, Nya, love. We’ll be here.”
She stood, and her father did too. He patted her cheek with a tight smile before they both left.
Once the door shut softly behind them, she asked Morgen, “They’re really alright?”
Morgen’s jaw was tight and his body was tense, even as he assured her, “Yes. Once I was able, I sped up their healing.”
“They just seemed—”
“They have been worried and annoyingly prone to hovering.”
Her brows rose. He almost sounded upset.
“They do that sometimes,” she said, catching his gaze. “They are my parents.”
His answering harrumph was little more than a low puff of air.
She smiled incredulously. “Morgen—”
“Everyone needs to just leave. Or leave some space at the very least.”
He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. He stood, and she watched his aggravated pacing with parted lips.
“No one but me needs to be here right now, and although I don’t worry about your parents harming you, the same cannot be said for any of the principals.
Janis can impersonate anyone, and I don’t believe for a second that Sol is no longer a threat.
And then Carus insists he needs me to go to the Gods’ Aisle, and the second I come back, you’re awake and your temperature is dangerously high, and he’s not doing anything about it.
Not to mention the distance didn’t help your pain, even for an hour, and—”
“Morgen,” she cut in, and he halted, his back to her. “It’s alright.”
He let out a ragged breath. “It’s not. You were dying, and I…I couldn’t do anything. It wasn’t working, and I’m afraid it still won’t.”
His admission sank like a stone in the quiet of the sitting room. Her chest ached with the weight of them, though not because she was not afraid they were true. Deep down, she knew the worst had already come to pass. If the embers were going to kill her, it would have already happened.
“Come here,” she murmured, holding out a hand.
He faced her but paused when their gazes met, looking unsure. His expression was tight, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made him look younger than usual.
She didn’t lower her hand, waiting for all the time he needed.
He let out a slow breath, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders.
Once he sat next to her, she took his hand and silently pressed it to her sternum.
With her palm spread over the top of his, she felt every part of them sync—the embers, their heartbeats, even the threads in their soul.
Morgen’s breath caught, and she met his widening eyes.
See? You didn’t hurt me. You saved my life, Morgen.
A single tear slid down his cheek as he stared at her, followed by another, then another, until he dropped his head to her shoulder, his entire body wracked with silent sobs. Her eyes widened, but she held him tightly as the weight of years crashed down on him.
Not so long ago, she had told him he was a monster, and he had agreed, without hesitation, because he had truly believed it.
Perhaps all the poison spewed from Kronos’ mouth when Morgen was a child could have been a self-fulfilling prophecy, but the truth was, he had never let the corruption come to pass.
He defied the doomed destiny fate had secured for him, just as she had defied hers.
They held each other in silence for a long time.
It took a while, but he eventually stopped trembling, and his breathing slowed, gently caressing the place where his lips touched her collarbone.
When he lifted his head to look at her, the embers and even the ether in his eyes were dim, hidden behind the natural brown of his irises.
She could never mistake him for fully mortal, but for just a moment, he looked less than godly. He looked content.
“I meant what I said,” he said, voice rough. “You should rest more.”
She didn’t argue, only asked, “Will you come with me?”
His hand slid to the nape of her neck, and he pressed his lips to her brow. “I follow wherever you are.”
He scooped her up, shushing her protests as carried her out of the room and down the hall. By the time they entered the dim bedroom and he set her down atop the covers, she was already asleep.