Chapter Thirty-Four Lor Aphelion Present Day
After leaving our horses on the outskirts, our return to Aphelion goes unnoticed thanks to a cresting wave of people flowing into the city. It seems the Sun King plans to host quite an affair for his bonding, but why? Is he hoping these preparations will result in my capture? Or worse, what if his plans have changed and he has something far more sinister in store for me?
A cart speeds by, nearly trampling a group of traveling minstrels as it barrels past.
“What’s the fucking rush?” Nadir growls, the corner of his lip curling up.
I peer over my shoulder at Tristan and Mael, who follow close behind. We plan to return to the Priestess of Payne tomorrow, hoping to corner Cloris, but tonight I need to talk to my brother about what I’ve learned regarding his destiny. When I look back, Nadir is watching me, and I’m sure he’s plotting ways to leave me behind, as if that will keep me safe.
I taper my gaze, hoping I’m accurately conveying the message that I’ll carve out his heart and eat it raw if he so much as thinks of trying to stop me.
But he just gives me a smug smile, making me glare harder.
I love you.
His words filter into my head, making my breath catch and my cheeks flush. This is all going to take some getting used to.
After a moment, I reply with I love you too.
His smile struggles to remain casual, and I sense the turbulence of his swirling emotions.
My gaze tears away as we maneuver through the congested city. Nadir gestures for us to follow, and we all turn down a street, hoping to circumvent the chaos. We end up on the northern perimeter of The Umbra, where signs and posters, all depicting Atlas’s face, are plastered everywhere.
I approach one and study it. The word “tyrant” is written in big, bold letters at the top, under which his image is rendered, along with a list of the low fae’s grievances. Many of the posters have been defaced—some are more humorous, like a thin mustache or a pig’s snout or horns sprouting from his head, while others are more sinister, with slashes scribbled across the parchment along with violent red splashes I assume are meant to portray his blood.
The four of us exchange a glance. I’m wary of our presence in the middle of all of this. While the bonding is a useful distraction to access the Mirror, we didn’t account for this potential snag in our plans. I wish there was more we could do to help the low fae without drawing attention to ourselves.
“Come on,” Nadir says, turning into a plaza. “We shouldn’t linger out here.”
We cross quickly, sensing the growing agitation of our surroundings. It isn’t the same as the crowds arriving for the bonding; this has the echo of wildness and danger.
“What do you think is going on?” Mael asks, clearly noticing it too.
“I don’t know,” Nadir replies. “Keep moving. I don’t like this.”
We follow him across the square, but a moment later, I’m thrown off my feet to the sound of an explosion.
A shriek tears from my throat as I crash into the ground, my hands scraping against the cobbles. Through the ringing in my ears, I hear a cacophony of screams and shouts. The sounds of people yelling and wailing. The rumble of stone and mortar cracking.
After several deep breaths, I attempt to stir my limbs into action. Slowly, I roll over, my joints protesting in pain. Sitting up, I’m stunned by the sight that surrounds me.
An entire section of the city has been blown away, leaving a black spot of scorched rubble. Thankfully, we were at the edge of the blast and appear to have escaped the worst of it.
Frantically, I search for Nadir and my brother. When I spot Nadir, I scramble to him on my hands and knees.
“Nadir!” I call. He’s lying on his side, and I tip him onto his back, struggling to heft his large body. He groans as I place my ear to his chest, a sob cracking out of me when I hear his heart beating. His eyes peel open slowly, and he blinks up at the sky once and then twice.
“Are you okay?” I ask, leaning over as I press a kiss to his lips.
He nods. “Yeah, I think so. What was that?”
“Someone must have set off a bomb or something.”
Nadir groans, and I notice the trickle of blood near his temple.
“You’re hurt,” I say, digging a cloth out of my pocket and dabbing the wound at his hairline gently. He winces.
“Ow,” he groans.
“Don’t tell me the big bad Fae warrior has a boo-boo,” I joke, trying to stem a flow of tears. He grabs my wrist, yanking me towards him. I yelp as he pulls me on top of him and crushes me into a tight hug, his hand cupping the back of my head.
“You’re okay?” he breathes into my hair, and I nod against him.
“I’m fine.”
“Thank fuck.”
“Nadir!”
We both glance over to see Mael, and the sight makes my blood harden into blocks of ice.
“Tristan!” I’m up in an instant, running towards Mael, who’s carrying my unconscious brother in his arms. Tristan’s tunic and neck are covered in blood, his face darkened by soot.
“He won’t wake up,” Mael tells me as Nadir approaches from behind.
“Tris!” I sob.
“Come on,” Nadir says. “This place is going to be swarming with Atlas’s soldiers at any moment. Let’s get him back to the house. It’s not far.”
Mael is already moving, and I follow behind as we wind our way through the wreckage. People and bodies lie everywhere, some hurt and some only shocked, but so many are dead. Who did this?
I peer over my shoulder at the smoldering ruins, noticing a group of rebels have circled a destroyed building with Erevan, their leader, at the front, his fist raised to the sky, shouting words I can’t make out. Whatever he’s saying is rousing up the low fae, and I notice that whatever caused the blast very carefully avoided destroying The Umbra, forcing the worst of the damage into the adjacent Twelfth District.
It’s clear this was a message to Atlas. He can’t keep ignoring them much longer.
I share a look with Nadir before we all dash through the streets, finally arriving at the back gate of our safehouse.
“What happened?” Nerissa asks as we enter. As usual, she’s in her garden, her implements abandoned in the dirt. “I heard an explosion.”
Her eyes alight on Tristan’s prone form in Mael’s arms, and her pallor turns to ash.
“Get him inside. Now.”
We all enter the kitchen, where Mael gently deposits Tristan on the long table as Nerissa scurries about, gathering bandages and supplies.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask as Mael rips open the front of Tristan’s tunic. There’s a gash across his chest that makes bile climb up my throat.
“Oh gods,” I whisper.
Nerissa returns with an armful of first aid supplies. “We need a healer. I can’t fix this.”
Tristan’s skin is pale and clammy. I pick up his wrist, feeling for a heartbeat. It pulses faintly, nothing more than a whisper.
“There isn’t time,” Mael says. “I’ve been on enough battlefields to know what a fatal wound looks like. Besides, they’re going to be busy with the injured in that blast.”
A choked sob escapes my mouth as I cling to Tristan’s cold, limp hand.
No. Not my brother. Not after everything we’ve been through. He can’t leave me.
A gentle hand cups the back of my neck, and I look up to find Nadir, his eyes focused on me.
“Lor,” he says softly. “You told me once that your magic allowed you the ability to heal people.”
Before the words are out of his mouth, I’m already shaking my head.
“I can’t,” I say. “It’s not…”
“You can,” he says. “You can do this. It’s there. It’s inside you. I need you to believe it. He’s going to die if you don’t help him.”
I stare at my brother. His black hair sticks to his forehead. The dark circles under his eyes contrast with the ashen sallowness of his skin. My handsome brother, who has lived through more than any young man should ever have to. One who was saddled with the care of his two little sisters and did everything in his power to protect them.
With my lips pressed together, I nod. If there’s anyone in the world I can do this for, it’s Tristan. I owe him everything, including my life. I would never have made it this far without him.
Approaching him, I lay my hands on his chest.
“What’s going on?” Nerissa asks, but Nadir shakes his head.
“Trust us. Trust Lor.”
I focus on that locked door inside my chest. It’s not as firmly shut as it was a few weeks ago, but it still resists like it’s being forced on rusted hinges. Bit by bit, Nadir has helped me inch it open. He stands across from me, and our gazes meet.
“He was a child, too,” I say. “He had to protect us, but he had no one to protect him.” Tears run down my cheeks, flowing freely as they spill down my chin, mingling with my brother’s blood.
“I know that,” Nadir says. “But I promise you he doesn’t regret a single thing he did to protect either of you.”
I nod with a knot caught in my throat, and then I force myself to concentrate. It’s been so long, but I remember the cuts and scrapes we’d sustain exploring the forest in our youth. When my mother stopped us from using our magic, it was a piece of myself I’d lost. I’ve spent so much of my life wondering if I would have been able to save my parents if the Aurora King hadn’t taken us away.
The magic inside my chest crackles like static sparks, and I force it out, bit by bit. My brother is going to die if I don’t do something, so I do everything I can. I will not let him die.
“What’s going on?” I hear my sister’s voice distantly. “Tris!”
She screams, the broken sound nearly shattering me into a pile of splinters on the floor.
“Stay back,” comes Nadir’s soft voice. “She’s healing him.”
I keep my gaze focused on my brother’s face, but I feel Willow standing across from me too.
“Willow,” I whisper as magic filters slowly out of me. “We can’t lose him.”
“We won’t, Lor. You can do this. I know you can do this.”
I draw it out of me bit by bit, small threads at a time. When I was practicing with Nadir earlier, it was an unrestrained torrent, but I can’t rely on brute force this time. This task requires more precision and more finesse. Lightning sparks in my veins, but I pull it back because it isn’t what I need right now.
I go deeper, closing my eyes, rooting around in the pieces of myself I know once existed, buried for so long. I find the softer ribbon of my magic. It’s not like Nadir’s, but there’s a sinuous quality different from my lightning magic. It’s dense, like thick satin ribbons instead of his airy light.
It’s the healing magic I remember. I let it twirl out down through my arms and then to my fingertips, slowly, so slowly easing it into Tristan. My body trembles with the effort of holding it back, but this is what I must do. I remember this part. If I allow too much out, it transforms into the more destructive form of my magic. Gradually, I feed it into my brother’s chest.
I forgot how hard this is.
A pair of warm arms circles my waist, and I recognize my sister’s scent. The magic resists at the same time it tries to break free. It’s like holding two pieces of string pulling in opposite directions by the very ends of my fingernails.
“It’s working, Lor,” Willow says, her body pressed to mine. “Don’t stop.”
I tremble as more and more magic bleeds from my fingertips, and I finally tear my gaze away from Tristan’s face and study the wound on his chest. It is working. The jagged edges of his shredded skin start to pull together like interlocking teeth. I’m crying. I don’t know if I’ve ever cried this hard. The day my parents died was the worst of my life, but I know it will pale in comparison if I lose Tristan now. I’d never be the same.
“You’re doing it,” Willow says. The room falls silent as everyone witnesses the red haze of magic that slides around Tristan until, a few minutes later, the wound is completely gone. When I’m sure every mark has been erased, I gasp and pull my hands away, stumbling back as the world tilts at an angle. A pair of strong arms catches me before I fall.
Nadir pulls me close, his hand cupping the back of my head as he whispers softly into my ear. “I knew you could do it.”
“Is he okay?” I ask. Nerissa and Amya are standing over my brother now.
“He’s breathing,” Nerissa says. I catch the firm set of her mouth. She’s trying to be brave, and it’s obvious that my brother has come to mean something to her. “And his heartbeat is stronger.”
I let out a breath of relief, clinging to Nadir as I sob against his chest.
“Let’s move him somewhere more comfortable,” Mael says to Nadir, and he pulls away to help carry Tristan up the stairs. They maneuver him into his bed, and Amya and Nerissa deal with the rags of his ruined tunic.
I bring over a basin of water with a cloth and sit on the edge of the bed to wipe the blood and soot from his face as he sleeps. His color is already returning, and I can’t believe I actually saved him. The magic in my heart stirs, still with that muted energy, but it’s there, and I get the strangest sense that it’s proud of me.
I need to free myself from this cage. I could help so many with this.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I say to no one in particular. I just need someone to reassure me that my brother is going to be fine.
“Yes. Thanks to you, he will,” Willow says softly as she comes to sit next to me, and my gaze flicks to Nadir. I hope he can see the gratitude in my expression for his help. For the way he believed in me again.
He approaches and rubs a hand down the back of my head. “I’m going to go find out what happened out there,” he says. “And maybe the rest of you can get some food for all of us?”
Everyone around the room nods before they disperse, and Nadir plants a kiss on top of my head. I’m so grateful he’s here to take charge when I feel like I’m crumbling to pieces.
Willow arches an eyebrow at the intimate gesture.
“Well done, Lightning Bug,” he whispers before he leaves the room, and my sister pins me with an inquisitive look.
“I think you have some explaining to do,” she says.
I wrinkle my nose. “You could say that.”