Chapter Thirty-Five
While we wait for Tristan to recover, I fill Willow in on everything that happened, first in the settlements and then at the Woodlands Fort, including the somewhat momentous update about Nadir. My sister has always been the more forgiving type, and when I explain what it means to be mates, she couldn’t be more thrilled for me.
“Lor,” she says, her big brown eyes filling with tears. “I see the way he looks at you. I know it must have been so hard to learn how to trust him, but I think I’m a pretty good judge of character, and that man would walk through fire for you. I don’t think you could be in better hands.”
I smile at Willow, recalling her words during our argument. That she was the reason I kept pushing him away. Some might mistake her kindness for weakness or naivety, but it isn’t. I’ve spent so much of my life angry and mistrusting everyone around me, and I think the way Willow sees the good in everyone, despite everything she’s been through, is the greatest strength a person can possess.
“You’re not angry because I’m essentially sleeping with the enemy?”
“Essentially? You’re telling me you two haven’t had sex yet?”
“Willow!” I exclaim. “What a thing to ask!”
She scoffs. “What? I’m supposed to pretend that the two of you don’t practically make the walls melt when you’re together?”
I make a wry face. “Fair enough. I just wasn’t expecting that question from you.”
She sits up straight and smooths back a piece of her hair. “Why not? Just because I’m less experienced doesn’t mean I can’t be a sexual being too.”
“Oh really?” I ask, affecting a coy tone. “And who are you being sexual with, my dear sister?”
Willow’s cheeks turn pink instantly, and I burst out laughing.
“Shut up,” she says, and that only makes me laugh harder.
“Sorry,” I say through my giggles. “Tell me. I want to hear. Perhaps a certain Aurora Princess?”
Her cheeks grow even pinker, and she ducks her head like she wants to whisper something in my ear.
“Maybe,” she says softly, and I grin at that. Despite everything, I like Amya. I really think she is the nice one, and I’m confident her intentions lie in the right place.
“Care to elaborate?” I say, and Willow’s smile turns soft, her eyes alight with a sparkle that transforms her whole face into a version of her I’ve never seen before. I like it. I love it.
“We’re taking things slowly, but we’ve kissed.”
I grin even wider and then wrap her in a hug.
“I’m happy for you, but be careful, okay?”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I interrupt her. “I’m not saying that because I don’t think you can’t handle it, but we’ve all been through a lot. I’d say the same thing to anyone in our circumstances.”
Willow nods and pats my hand. “Okay. Thank you. I am being careful.”
“You always are,” I say, earning me a smile.
“Tristan isn’t happy about it,” I say then. “Me and Nadir, I mean.”
“He’s just as stubborn as you are. He’ll get over it,” Willow says.
“That might be the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” comes Tristan’s groggy voice.
“Tris!” we both exclaim.
He slowly peels open his eyes, his mouth stretching into a lazy grin.
“How long have you been awake?” Willow demands, and he rolls his eyes.
“Unfortunately, long enough to hear that both of my sisters are fucking the offspring of the man who killed our parents.”
“Amya and I aren’t fucking!” Willow exclaims, and then Tristan and I exchange a look as we both start laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Willow curse before.
“Look at you,” I say. “A few weeks out of prison, and now you become a cursing, kissing, sexual being.”
A pillow whacks me in the face, and I fall off my chair, laughing so hard I’m clutching my stomach. I look up to find Willow with her feather-filled assault weapon gripped in her hand and a grin on her face.
“Did you just hit me?” I gasp, still laughing.
Willow looks at the pillow and then at me with a satisfied smile. “I did. That felt good.”
“Oh gods,” Tristan says. “What have you done, Lor? She’s going to turn into you.”
“Shut up,” I say as I drag myself back up onto the chair, but I’m laughing so hard that I keep missing the seat. “It’s rude to pretend you’re asleep while people are talking, by the way.”
Tristan shrugs and then winces. Willow drops the pillow and is instantly at his side.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “Do you need some water?” She picks up the glass on the nightstand and helps him sit up.
“I’m okay. Just sore and tired.” He takes a sip of water. “What happened?”
We fill him in on the bombing in the square and how it knocked him out. Mael and Nadir have been out trying to gather information, and I’m trying not to worry about how many hours they’ve been gone.
“You healed me?” Tristan says. “A wound that severe? You haven’t done anything like that in years.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever done anything like that,” I say. “But I couldn’t let you die, Tris.”
He nods, a shine appearing in his eyes. “Thank you,” he says.
“I couldn’t have done it without Nadir’s help.” I say the words pointedly, hoping they’ll make some kind of impression on my brother. His expression darkens.
“I’m trying, Lor. You can’t expect me to just trust him after everything that happened.”
I dip my chin. “I know. I’m only asking you to try.”
“I will. I am. I promise.”
I blow out a breath. “Thank you.”
“It’s not like Tristan can claim innocence, though, can he?” Willow says, batting her eyes. “Why don’t we talk about Nerissa?”
Tristan’s brow furrows as though in confusion, and it’s my and Willow’s turn to laugh at our brother’s expense. I think I like this sassy version of my sister.
“Are you seriously pretending you haven’t been making googly eyes at her since the day we got here?” I ask, and Tristan frowns harder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “Maybe she’s kind of… pretty.”
Willow rolls her eyes, and Tristan shrugs with a sheepish grin. “Hey, if you two are allowed to explore things, then so can I.”
“Fine,” I say. “Fair enough.”
We all fall into silence, enjoying this comfort of being together, but I already know I’m going to have to pull us back to the teetering edge.
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” I say to him. “I wanted to talk to you as soon as we got back, but then all this happened.”
“What is it?” Willow asks, a line of concern furrowing between her eyes.
I don’t think Tristan will mind if I share this with Willow too, and I can’t keep this information to myself any longer.
“You remember how I told you I held the Woodlands Staff?” I ask her, and she nods. I take her hand, and then I look at Tristan. “It… hinted at something about you.”
“What?” he asks and tries to sit up but winces. I lay a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t move. You’re probably better off lying down for this anyway.”
“You’re worrying me,” Willow says, biting the corner of her lip.
“It’s not bad. At least, I don’t think it is.”
“Lor, just spit it out,” Tristan demands.
“Okay, so I think it told me you’re the Woodlands Primary.” The words fall out in a rush, and I wince before rearranging my face into a strained smile as Tristan’s expression blanks.
“What?” he asks.
“I mean, it didn’t say that explicitly, but it commented about how I’d brought the Primary with me and that it felt you when we were gone. Not us. You.”
“That’s why you asked Cedar who it is?”
“Yes. It all makes sense, doesn’t it? You have Woodlands magic that neither of us does, and our grandfather was their king. And you felt the Staff, didn’t you?”
He rubs his chest, clearly recalling that enigmatic tug.
“But I have Heart magic, too,” Tristan says.
“Maybe some of it ‘leaked’ into you. From what I’ve read, our grandmother was really powerful.”
“What am I supposed to do with this information?” he asks, a thread of panic bleeding into his voice.
I open my mouth and then rub a hand down his arm, hoping to offer some comfort. “Nothing right now. I think. But eventually, Cedar will find out.”
“But this was supposed to be you,” he whispers. “Not me. I was fine with that. I was comfortable with that.”
“I know,” I say. “You don’t have to do anything right now. Get used to the idea. When you’re ready, you can go back to see him and discuss it.”
“Do you think he’ll be happy about this?” Tristan asks. “What if he hates the idea?”
“I don’t think he gets any say in the matter.”
He blows out a long breath. “Great.” He shares a look between me and Willow. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course,” Willow says, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.
“Tris, absolutely,” I say. “Whatever you need.”
“Did you tell Nadir?” Tristan asks, his tone sharp.
“No. I wanted to talk to you first.”
His shoulders relax. “Thank you for that.” He presses his mouth together, conflict struggling in his gaze. “You can tell him. If he’s really what you say, then you need to be open with him about stuff.”
“Thanks, Tris.”
It’s not quite acceptance, but it definitely feels like progress.
A knock comes at the door, interrupting our conversation.
“Come in,” I call, and the door swings open to reveal Nadir with Mael on his heels.
“Hi,” I say, the tight band in my chest loosening. I get up and wrap my arms around Nadir, pressing my cheek to his chest. “You’re back.”
Miss me, Lightning Bug?he asks through our bond, with his lips against the crown of my head.
Yes.
He tightens his arms.
Me too.
I look up. “What did you find out?”
Amya and Nerissa arrive next with two trays covered in food and drink. They set them down on the table in the corner, and we all fill our plates, taking seats on the floor and various chairs around the room.
“We can go downstairs,” Tristan says as he shifts with another wince.
“You’re staying in bed until you’re fully recovered,” Nerissa says, her tone offering zero room for argument as she fusses with his pillows. She hands him a plate and Willow and I exchange looks, trying to contain our smiles.
“It’s not good,” Nadir says, everyone’s attention swinging to him. “It seems the low fae are getting more proactive the longer Atlas ignores them. Today’s attack was intended to force an audience. All of their requests to meet with him have been declined thus far.”
“So what does that mean?” Amya asks. “What are their bigger plans?”
“We couldn’t figure that out,” Mael says. “Not without revealing ourselves to Erevan, and I don’t think that would be wise. He may not be a friend of Atlas’s, but who knows what kind of leverage knowledge of Lor’s whereabouts could offer?”
“You don’t really think he’d turn her in?” Willow asks.
Nadir shakes his head. “I don’t think so, but it’s not a chance I’m willing to take unless we get desperate. We’re still operating under the idea that the fewer people who know about this, the better.”
We all fall into silence for a few moments.
“Do we have any other news?” Nadir asks then, looking at Willow. “Have you had any luck in the palace?”
Willow nods. “I’m not sure if it’s anything, but I followed Gabriel.”
“You what?” I ask, but she holds up a hand.
“He went into this strange dark part of the castle. At first, I swear I couldn’t see the hallway—my eyes just passed over it, but then he turned and walked down it.”
“Why were you following him?” I demand.
“I didn’t mean to. I was carrying towels, and I saw him, and he looked so serious. Then he disappeared into that weird hall, so I followed.”
Nadir bites the inside of his cheek. “An illusion. Atlas must be hiding something there.”
Willow nods. “He had a set of keys in his hand, and he unlocked a door and then disappeared for a while. He was gone for about half an hour, and then he came back out.”
Willow rubs the tip of her nose. “I pretended to get in his way. He knocked over my towels, and he was shocked to see me. He told me I shouldn’t be there.”
“Willow,” Tristan says from his position on the bed. “I can’t believe you did that. What if he’d recognized you?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think he did. Besides, isn’t that why I’m working there? To gather information? I am capable of doing things, you know.”
Willow pins Tristan with a look, and I’m staying out of it because I’m not having this fight with her again.
“Sorry,” Tristan says. “But you need to be careful.”
“I am,” Willow says.
“You were supposed to be getting a map of the palace,” Mael points out, his mouth half-full.
“And I’ve done that,” Willow says, standing up and retrieving a bag from the corner where she dropped it earlier. She pulls out a rolled-up piece of paper. “I’m not completely finished yet, but you’ll see I’ve got a rough outline.”
She unrolls the map in front of her, spreading it out on the floor as we clamber around it. She points to where she’s marked out the throne room and the king’s and queen’s quarters.
“This is good,” Nadir says, dragging the paper closer. “Do you know where this leads?” He points to the door at the back of the throne room.
“I thought Lor could use this as an exit. There’s a spiral staircase that descends to the lowest levels of the palace,” Willow says. “If you look here, I’ve mapped out a route through these tunnels should she need it.”
“This is amazing,” Amya says with admiration in her tone. “Maybe you have a future as an artist or a mapmaker.”
Willow gives Amya a soft smile. “Maybe.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes, everyone baking in their thoughts.
“So, what is Gabriel, or more likely Atlas, hiding?” I ask eventually. “And do you think it has anything to do with all of this?” I wave my hand around in a circle to encompass the Trials and my liberation from Nostraza and everything that’s happened between.
Nadir shakes his head.
“I’m not sure, but it might be important to know, just in case.”
“I’ll see what else I can find,” Willow says, and Tristan and I are about to protest when she raises a hand and silences us both. “I’m going to find out,” she says firmly enough that I stop pushing. We both snap our mouths shut. Old habits die hard, but I’m trying to do better.
“Good,” Nadir says. “The more information we have, the better.”
“So, what’s the plan now?” Mael asks.
“We go to see Cloris,” Nadir says. “You and me.”
“And me,” I say, and I know he’s about to list off all the reasons I should stay behind. “I’m coming. Don’t even bother.”
“But if she tells Atlas…”
“She would have already done so. If she recognized me, then she already knows I’m here. I need to confront her myself.”
Nadir gives me a defiant look, and I return it.
“Fine,” he says. “We’ll go tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good,” I say, folding my arms with a glare.
“Good.”