Chapter 19
ELODIE
Isaw the moment he shut down when he refused to relax, unwind, and unravel from the onslaught we had just been through. I knew my chances of arriving in the Shadow Realm were slim, but I took them anyway.
It’s a startling difference finding the balcony empty this time, unease worrying in my stomach as I stare at the derelict wastelands that surround the castle.
I can only imagine what it looked like once upon a time—the entire village and the entire realm, but it seems I was never meant to see that for myself.
That's not what fate had in store for me.
Returning my attention to the castle, the uncertainty about where I might find him plays on my mind until my gaze drifts to the double doors. They sit at the center of the castle, the right door slightly ajar. It hasn’t been like that once since I've been here. I'm sure of it.
I clear my throat as I brush my hair off my face and hurry across the lowered drawbridge.
“Thorne? Thorne, are you inside?” I call out, my steps slowing as I reach the door, nerves flooding my veins as I dare to glance through the gap.
My heart aches when I do, finding the man in question on his knees among the wreckage that I can only assume was left that fateful day. His palms are face up on his lap, his fingers splayed as his eyes remain hazy.
A storm brews in his eyes in a way I've never seen before, except this isn't a tempest of rage and anger; it swirls with heartache and sorrow.
Thorne is always a tricky person to approach, especially when emotions are running high, but before I can think better of it, I cut the distance between us, scurrying across the floor.
I don’t think as I sink to my knees, joining him.
My arms are around his neck before I can suck in a breath as I pin him to my chest.
To my surprise, he matches my hold, gripping me tighter than he ever has. Our hearts thunder as one as we refuse to let go. I’m supposed to be soothing him, yet the lightness in my chest confirms he’s comforting me just as much.
It's only when his hand draws soft strokes down my spine that I feel the air relax enough to lean back. He doesn't let me go too far, though, cupping my cheek as he runs his thumb across my skin, and I smile.
“How does everything in here feel real, even when it's a dream?” I ask, voicing the thought forever weighing on my mind, and he hums in acknowledgement.
“Because it's real to us,” he explains, his voice raspier than usual.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, digging deep to find the strength to ask the question I don't care to know the answer to, in case it doesn't go in my favor.
“Are you doing okay? Do you need me to leave? I know that—”
“I want you here,” he states, interjecting, and I nod with relief.
“Okay, good,” I mumble, but the air is still thick with tension.
Whatever brought him to this stance must not have been easy, but it's the look in his eyes, the distant gaze that I cling to.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, placing my hand over his on my cheek.
“So many things,” he admits, and curiosity burns through my veins, insisting I push on.
“Like what?”
Pained eyes meet mine. “The truth, the sadness, the pain,” he admits, rattling them off, each one cutting deeper than the last.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, unsure which part I'm truly sorry for.
All of it.
It doesn't matter if it was my fault or not; seeing him in this state is not what I intended when I shared the words in The Fractured Book of Souls with him.
“It's not for you to apologize for, Echo. Not really. Not when only one thing feels paramount in my mind.”
My pulse thunders in my ears as I dare to ask, “And what's that?”
“You,” he admits, stealing my breath as I try to gulp past the lump in my throat.
“What did I do?” I mutter, and he offers me the smallest fraction of a half smile.
“Exist.”
It's a weighted word, one I can't easily place, and it leaves me slightly uneasy.
“I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing,” I admit, and he looks down at his lap.
“Me either.”
I scoff. “You're clawing at my ego right now, Thorne. I—”
“I claimed you as my Shadow Fae Princess,” he blurts, interrupting as my eyebrows crinkle.
Princess sounds weird, really weird, but that's not what unsettles me.
“Are you regretting it?”
“Never,” he answers firmly, and I nod, trying to keep my head on straight with the mixed signals I'm getting from him. They're not like before. They're not completely hot and cold, but there's a bit of tepid heat in there, that's for sure.
“Okay, good,” I mutter, repeating the placid statement.
“I’m truly accepting it in more than just the words,” he offers, and I shake my head, clueless.
“What does that mean?”
His eyes meet mine and the storm calms like the settling of the waves out at sea as the chaos passes, turning to a soft lull, eager to guide me to safety.
“I love you.”
My jaw falls slack.
“Are you sure? That's not where I thought this was going,” I blurt, instantly berating myself, but he simply shrugs.
“I’m not good with words,” he states, and I snicker.
“I’m gathering that,” I muse, trying to find the right words to respond with, but before anything else can be said, he eliminates the space between us.
He crushes his lips to mine, claiming me in one fell swoop, and I melt into him. His lips are hot against mine, his fingers caressing my hair as he shuffles me into place, getting a better angle as he takes control. And for once, I don't question it. I simply submit, following his lead.
When there's a second to draw breath, I inhale sharply, prying my eyes open despite being unaware of when they closed. I meet his stare. “Your body does far better talking than your mouth,” I admit breathlessly, and he smiles, a genuine cheek-to-cheek curl that transforms his face.
I can still see the pain stored in his eyes. I'm aware it's not truly gone. But despite it all, he's able to have a moment like this with joy, a rarity, so I take all of it in.
He doesn't mutter a response as he reaches for my hand, standing to his full height and tugging me along with him. He almost feels giddy as he races up the staircase with me following a step behind.
Everything moves in a blur until the sun beams down on us once again, and I find we're up on the balcony. He maneuvers us so my back is pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around my waist as he rests his chin against my shoulder.
I bask in his embrace, breathing him in as he rocks us gently from side to side. He tightens his left arm around me while pointing off in the distance with his right.
“Over there is where the village used to be. My father would send me for bread every morning, and my sister to pick flowers for my mother,” he breathes, his words soft and gentle, and I soak them up.
It’s rare for him to share something about himself, for him to recall a memory that feels warm, and it bleeds into me.
“The baker would always sneak me a small chocolate croissant every morning as our little secret. What was even more of a secret is the fact that I would share it with my sister on the walk back to the castle.” His hand drops, wrapping around me once again as he sighs.
“It's weird to call it a castle. It was just home. This was just my home.” Sadness seeps into his shoulders.
I try to turn to him, but he hides his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in for a moment.
“I realize what I’ve been missing all of this time,” he whispers, pressing a faint kiss to my neck.
“It’s that feeling. Even when I would come back here, the reason I could only make it onto this balcony and never inside.
It was the feeling of home I missed. Home.
Four little letters, one simple word, but it meant everything. ”
I curl my hands around his arms, offering the best support I can.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, acutely aware that our childhoods were so different. I would never know what it means to feel everything he feels right now. All I ever wanted to do was run away from it all, and here he is wishing to have it back.
He exhales. “I’m coming to learn that I found that feeling once again.
But it doesn't come when I step through these halls or when I sit on this balcony. Not even the memories of having it all taken from me,” he admits, and I tilt my head the best I can as my words lodge in my throat, making it impossible to speak.
His eyes find mine and his fingers flex at my sides. “I found that feeling again with you.”
My lips part, my jaw falling slack again as I prepare myself to tell him all the reasons why that's not true, but before I can even say a single syllable, he continues.
“Being near you warms something inside me, hope blossoming along with the tingles of joy I never thought I would feel again, and they dance through my veins simply from seeing you. When we were down in the basement of Institute One, and again in the gardens of the Louvre in Paris, spiraling on the verge of death made it all crystal clear.” His eyes scrunch in pain.
“I can't feel terror like that again, Elodie.
I can't feel despair like I felt when I lost my family, not when it comes to you.
Which is insane, because in the same breath, I advocate so hard for you to have the strength to do this yourself and be who you were always meant to be.
But the thought of harm coming your way shatters my soul.
Selfishly, a part of that is because I don't want my home to disappear again.”
I turn in his hold, curling my arms around his neck as I look up at him. No words will be able to make sense of what I'm feeling inside. So I repay the same favor he gave me earlier, and I speak with my body instead. I press my lips to his, but it's soft this time, delicate and sweet.