Chapter 37
Evan
Night had draped itself over Mossfen, but the village refused to let the celebration dim. The massive bonfire sent flames leaping higher, and crackling sparks spiraled into the dark sky.
I sat between Gregory’s legs with my back against his chest, his arms loose around my waist. We had claimed a spot on the stone steps near the edge of the crowd where it was less rowdy than the chaos at the center, but still close enough to feel part of it.
The warmth of his body mixed with the heat from the bonfire a dozen yards away.
For once, I wasn’t cold. I was exactly where I belonged.
Adam lounged on a small wall nearby with his legs stretched out in front of him and an apple in his hand. He took a bite, and the crisp snap was audible even over the distant music. He held it out toward us. “Either of you want one? Got a whole basket.”
I groaned, clutching my stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite if you paid me.”
Gregory chuckled behind me. “Evan tried every stall twice.”
I gave his leg a playful swat. “Don’t be a liar. You had as many honey cakes as I did.”
“Fair. Three times for both of us, then.” Gregory squeezed my waist.
The music quickened to pick up the tempo again, and I drifted back to the dancers. People kept moving, less coordinated now that they were fueled by wine and exhaustion, though none of that dimmed their enthusiasm.
Lyra spun at the center of a group of children, her yellow dress turning into a vivid swirl of color.
She clapped to encourage the kids to follow in her steps, and Finn stood right across from her with his face pinched in concentration as he tried to mirror her movements.
His boots beat the cobblestones in time.
When Lyra laughed and reached for him, he blushed fiercely.
I smiled. “That kid is nursing his first crush.”
Gregory’s breath warmed my ear. “The church runs lessons for the village children, and Lyra helps teach them most days.”
She swept another child into the dance, and her laughter carried over the music. “She’s good with them,” I observed.
“She has a knack for it,” Adam said. “She’s like her Papa was. Kind and vibrant. Everything he touched, he made better.” Pride threaded through Adam’s words. He lifted his chin to the night sky, his silver eyes reflecting the fire. “He would have loved to see her like this.”
The moment lingered there, and I simply watched, letting the music and the crackle of the flames fill the space.
I scanned the crowd again to catalog the faces, stopping when I caught movement near the ale stalls.
The healer sat slumped at a table, clinging to a cup. A young woman leaned against his left side with her arm draped over his shoulders, while a man rested close on his right, whispering something that made Alaric’s head loll back in drunken laughter.
His white hair was disheveled, and his movements were loose.
But it wasn’t the drinking that set off alarms. It was his appearance.
Even from this distance, with the uneven glow of the lamps, I could see his state was wrong.
His stare was glassy and unfocused, while his whole posture remained slack.
It seemed almost vacant, as if he floated somewhere outside his own skin.
A chill crawled up my spine despite the bonfire’s heat. “What’s his deal?” I asked as I nodded toward Alaric.
Gregory went rigid behind me, and a warning growl vibrated in his chest against my back.
His sudden anger bled into me hot and heavy.
Gregory had said Evan wasn’t close to Alaric.
He lied. Alaric had been there for him. Even if the original Evan had kept him at arm’s length.
They shared no bond and no secret friendship, yet Alaric had looked at me in Genevieve’s shop with devastation—that of a man suffocating under the kind of grief that held a lifetime of history.
Adam cleared his throat with a pointed cough and tossed the apple core toward a nearby waste bin.
“Alaric survived the Scouring Wars. He was caught hiding during one of the Empire’s raids,” he said, pausing as if choosing his words carefully.
“The Empire destroyed his village—burned it down. He was searching for his sister and asked me for help since I had access to records of prisoners,” Adam explained, lowering his chin.
“I never found anything. The Empire isn’t kind to young girls, especially during a purge. ”
I frowned as my earlier unease mixed with an uncomfortable guilt.
“Oh.” I glanced back at Alaric. He was merely a broken man self-medicating in a crowd.
“When I first came to the village and he called my name in the square, maybe I read him wrong. Between the new things, the magic and the changes, perhaps I misinterpreted his presence.”
Gregory scoffed behind me. “Don’t waste sympathy on the healer.”
“Son,” Adam warned. “Cut him some slack. Not everyone is as strong of mind as you. Not everyone was born to be a Dragon Lord.” He paused to let his gaze land on Gregory with meaningful weight.
“I didn’t get to take him under my wing as early as I took you.
He was already a young adult when he came to me.
Some things root themselves so deeply in the heart that they never leave. No matter how much you want them to.”
Adam pushed himself off the wall and swept off the dust. “It’s time for you to see the surprise I prepared for you, Evan.”
A cold prickle of dread went through me. The last shocking surprise I’d gotten was a promotion that ended with a bullet and an assassin snarling that it was the perfect time for a gift.
Gregory helped me to my feet, and I let him guide me forward. I brushed down the front of my trousers to smooth out wrinkles that didn’t exist, while my heart pounded uneasily against my ribs.
We rode along the familiar road toward the cabin. Adam trailed behind us on his mare for a while before stopping at the fork. He reined in his horse and said, “I’ll go back for Lyra.” He waved at us to continue on. “This one’s for you to enjoy, Evan.”
The wrongness from earlier faded, replaced by curiosity. Gregory had summoned several orbs of flame to hover around us, illuminating the dirt path and the dark shapes of trees. The road was the same as always. The cabin’s silhouette was unchanged, and nothing new stood out.
I glanced over my shoulder at Gregory. “What kind of surprise needs so much secrecy?”
He smiled, a rare, unguarded expression I was still getting used to. “You’ll see soon enough.”
When we reached the cabin, I slid down first from Thunder’s back, then Gregory dismounted and gave his flank an affectionate pat. The warhorse snorted, tossing his head, before trotting off toward the small paddock on his own, his reins trailing.
Gregory took my hand to lead me to the base of the porch steps. He stopped there and turned to face me. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Close your eyes,” he repeated, his tone firm but gentle.
I hesitated, then obeyed, squeezing them shut.
My heartbeat raced against my ribs as anticipation clenched my stomach.
The world behind my eyelids grew dimmer as the flames winked out one by one, plunging us into complete darkness.
Then, there was a crack, like electricity arcing, followed by a snap that made me flinch.
“Open your eyes,” Gregory ordered.
I did.
My vision flooded with color. Tears instantly blurred everything, a hot rush spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them.
Lights.
Hundreds of them lined the porch railing, draped across the beams, hanging in swooping garlands that framed the cabin’s entrance. They shimmered in soft hues—amber, pale blue, gentle green, warm red.
Christmas lights on a summer night.
I clamped my hands over my mouth, muffling the choked sob that tried to escape. I could only stand there, unable to process the vision or believe it was real, until I snapped my head toward Gregory. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the porch. “Go ahead. Get closer.”
I grabbed his hand like a lifeline and let him lead me up the steps. My legs were jerky, and my vision remained blurry with tears I couldn’t blink away fast enough. When we reached the railing, I leaned in, inspecting the lights.
They were not glass bulbs but crystals, small, faceted stones threaded on thin wire.
“Adam made these?” My voice cracked.
Gregory moved behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist to anchor me back against his chest, and his chin rested on my shoulder.
“He was fascinated by the idea. Lights powered by electricity, you said. He wanted to make something to help you feel at home.” His arms tightened.
“The old man worked on them the entire time we were away.”
“That’s so sweet.” More tears fell, and I wiped them away with the heel of my hand, laughing despite the emotion. “Christ, listen to me. Crying like I’m a kid waiting for Christmas morning.”
I angled my body in Gregory’s arms, wrapping mine around his waist and burying my face against him. “Thank you,” I mumbled into the fabric of his doublet. “I can’t even thank Adam until tomorrow.”
Gregory’s hand rose, fingers threading through my hair to cradle the back of my head. “He’ll know.”
I backed away enough to meet his gaze. Gregory changed his grip, burying his fingers in my hair and tightening them until my scalp tingled from the tension. He tilted my head back, and his mouth crashed down onto mine.
The kiss was hungry, demanding. Gregory pushed his tongue past the seam of my lips, sweeping into my mouth and claiming every inch.
I tasted wine and honey, the remnants of the festival still sweet on his tongue.
He explored me as if memorizing the shape of my mouth, the ridge of my teeth, and the slick heat behind them.
A groan built in my chest as I opened wider, letting him take whatever he wanted.