20
Valen
It takes us just over a week to get from the Spring Lands to where Delkin’s map marks the location of the old Summer Court. Of course, when we get there, there’s nothing more than ruins. Back before the Great Drain, the Summer Lands were said to be lush with bountiful flowers and fruits, as well as a host of wildlife found only in this part of Derriga. Now, the land is gray. There are scattered patches of grass, but their color is muted, the tip of each blade shriveled.
“Looks like there’s nothing here.” Gensted leans against the remains of a crumbling building, pulling an apple from the folds of his tunic. After taking a bite, he grins and offers it to Wren.
She scrunches up her face and turns away. “Ew.”
“How are you going to ever kiss me if you won’t bite the same apple?” he teases.
“I’ll kiss you,” Daroose says, his mood brightening. He’s been complaining for days about the lack of variety in his diet. “It’s okay if I use my teeth, right?”
She glares at both of them, then moves to stand beside Tania, as if somehow that might protect her from Gensted’s admiring stare. Truthfully, she’d be safer with Gensted than Tania.
“Let’s not give up just yet,” I say.
At first glance, it looks like we’ve run out of luck. Most of the structures are little more than rubble, and the vegetation that grows—lion’s nettle and bruse root—are the only things thriving due to their ability to flourish without much water or sunlight. The trees in the area are either fallen or dying, destroyed by fungus and disease, and I haven’t even seen any bugs.
“Stay together…”
We move through the old Summer village. According to the map, this was once Flame Helm, the gleaming capital of the Summer Court. The main estate was said to have sat on the hill above it—not unlike the Winter estate—but all that’s visible now is overgrowth and a low cluster of fog.
As we make our way through the overgrown streets, the only hint that anyone has ever been here—aside from the dilapidated buildings—is an assortment of yellowing bones scattered around the buildings. Some are animal—but some are definitely Fae.
Daroose bends to pick up one of the bones. Waving it around, he says, “Bleak and deserted.”
Wren slows, then stops to pick something up. It’s a rotting piece of what looks like a child’s doll. She swipes her eyes, then tosses the thing across the path. “It appears the Summer Fae did not survive.”
“We happened upon Gensted and you wholly by accident,” I remind them. “We shouldn’t dismiss this just yet.”
“This doesn’t look good, Valen.”
Who’s to say that Summer isn’t hiding in plain sight?
“Everything here is…dead.”
“Agreed.” Gensted moves to stand beside Wren. “Splitting into pairs is the safest bet. I’ll go with Wren.”
She groans. “Must we?”
“He’s right,” Tania says, though her tone is unenthusiastic. “If we split up, we can cover more ground. Daroose, are you okay alone?”
“I’d much rather stay by your side.” He grabs my arm and drops it, cringing. “I mean, who will help you protect the scrawny little Winter Lord?”
Tania fixes him with a look I’m sure is meant to be stern. Instead, there’s a glimmer of affection. “Daroose…”
He sighs, then leans in and plants an exaggerated kiss on her forehead. “Oh, fine. Anything for you, my love!”
Gensted watches him go, then steps aside and bows, gesturing to the path. Wren snorts and stomps off, and he follows, gleefully bouncing like a child.
I wait until they disappear from view. “And you say I’m immature.”
“Yeah. Well, the two of you will undoubtedly be fast friends.” Tania points in the other direction. “Let’s get moving.”
This place reminds me of Ventin—only worse. There was wildlife in Ventin. Here, all there is to see, to smell, is death. The main drag is dirt now, but every once in a while there’s an intact cobblestone. We pass what’s left of a rotting carriage, random bits of wood, and more bones. Maybe Tania is right. All that’s left of the Summer Fae is the decaying carcass of a violent past.
“Maybe it’s not entirely a bad thing we didn’t find them.” Summer is the court I’ve been dreading the most. It was the most volatile of the four, not really getting along with any of the others. They kept to themselves, and outsiders were dealt with harshly.
“Because the Spring Fae were absolutely charming and civilized.” Tania pulls at a low-hanging branch as we walk. It’s brittle and snaps, scattering dried leaves and splinters across the path. She brushes several pieces from her shoulder, cringing. “What do you think of them? Gensted and Wren, I mean.”
“Gensted is irritating and cocky—”
“Which is why you two should get along.”
I glare at her. “And Wren…I don’t trust her. Not yet. She strikes me as a bit power hungry.”
“So…” She punches me lightly in the arm. “Typical Fae?”
I clutch my chest in mock insult. “How dare you? I’m nothing like them.”
“You’re right. They don’t seem as enamored with wine as you do.”
“To be fair, I haven’t had—or mentioned—wine this entire trip.”
“Aww.” She takes my hand and squeezes. “That must be so traumatic for you.”
“Not as traumatic as seeing you strip down and jump in that lake knowing I couldn’t do anything about it.”
She slows but doesn’t stop. A flush of heat rushes the link, and her cheeks turn pink. “We need to keep looking… This is important.” A wicked grin spreads across her face. “But there’s nothing stopping us from passing the time while we do. Maybe you should tell me exactly what you wanted to do to me.”
My heart hammers, and I blow out slowly, trying to collect my racing thoughts. “I, um, we should—”
“Have I just rendered the Winter Lord speechless?” She bumps her hip against mine and flashes me a genuine smile. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Trust me, it is.”
“The only time I’ve ever seen you silent is when I’m kissing you.” She steps ahead of me, walking backward on the path so that we’re face to face. “In fact, you’re giving me a headache. Maybe I should shut you up.”
“I’m not sure I like this new you.” I pull her back to my side and drape my arm over her shoulder, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. Seeing her playful side is a fun shift, but she’s gravely overestimating my self-control. “You’re going out of your way to make it hard for me to concentrate.”
“Now you know how I feel most of the time.”
I chuckle. “Touché.”
We continue searching, and by the time we make it back around to our starting point, we’ve found nothing. “What now?” Tania leans back against a large rock.
“We wait for the others, I guess.” I hate standing idle, but the extra time to rest won’t hurt. “Maybe they had better luck?”
Tania tilts her head to the sky and shakes her head slowly. The smallest whisper of concern blooms between us. “It’s starting to get dark. They should have been back by now. Hasn’t it been an hour?”
She’s right, but it’s still too soon to worry. Maybe they found something. Or maybe Gensted convinced Wren to fraternize . Daroose could have found something small and tasty… Either way, I say, “We agreed to meet them here, so waiting is our best bet.”
“This place reminds me of Ventin,” Tania says softly.
“I was thinking the same thing.” I take her hand and squeeze. “That’s behind us, though.”
“Is it?” Her expression morphs into the one I know too well. No nonsense, logical and duty-bound. “Because this whole mess is because of what happened there.”
“But we’re trying to fix it.” The direction Gensted and Wren went is quiet, and despite the fact that they could return at any moment, I pull Tania close and wrap my arms around her. “We’ve gathered allies. We’re going to make a stand.”
“Against what, though? It’s clear at this point there’s more going on than revenge—but we have no idea what that is.”
“I made sure it was being looked into. I bet they’ve found something while we’ve been gone.”
“And if they haven’t? We can’t fight what we don’t know.”
“Then we’ll deal with it. We can do anything together.” I sigh, inexplicably irritated all of a sudden. “It’d be a lot easier if you’d get over your fear and just keep the link open when we get back.”
She twists out of my grip and levels her gaze at me. “What does that mean?”
The fog on the hill is settling over the remains of the town, making it hard to see much more than five or so feet in front of us. Tania’s face isn’t really clear anymore, but a spike of anger filters through the link. It takes me by surprise.
“You don’t think I understand why you’ve been working so hard to mute the link?” My anger intensifies, and it should be alarming how quickly things have turned—from flirting to murderous isn’t really Tania’s style—or mine. It’s overriding reason. “You’re terrified.”
Her mouth hangs open. “Of what?”
“Of us. Of me! Of what it might mean to let me in after you were burned so badly.” This is a sore subject, and it’s clear she’s still hurting from Levina’s—Aphelian’s—betrayal. Even if the truth is harsh, it’s far better than an illusion, right? “Don’t you think I understand how you feel? Liani was like a mother to me. She was all I had for the longest time.”
The fog has settled down from the treetops and is thicker now. The vegetation on the edge of the square is nothing more than shapeless brownish blobs. There’s a prickle of warning in the back of my mind, but all I can focus on is Tania and her refusal to embrace the link.
“You’re one to point fingers.” She pokes me in the chest. “You can’t face reality unless I’m holding your hand. I’m scared? You’re so afraid of failing that you don’t even want to try! It took a life-or-death situation for you to step up.”
“Does that make it easier?” I raise my hands into the air. “Pointing your finger at me?”
“Would you rather I point my finger at the Winter Fae?” She grabs a handful of my tunic and drags me close. The look in her eyes is murderous, and her lips are pulled back, her teeth bared. This isn’t normal. This isn’t us. “After everything I’ve done to prove myself, the Winter Fae will never put aside their hatred to accept me.” Her voice grows louder as she speaks, her posture more combative.
“They probably won’t! Maybe if you’d just fall in line—” I yell back, then slam my hand over my mouth. Why did I say that to her? “Fuck…”
We freeze, breathing hard and staring at each other in pure horror.
“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” she says, voice low. “You say that we’re equals, that you don’t view yourself—or the Fae—as better than me or the druids, but you stand there—”
“Tania—” Something is very wrong. Tania has no problem voicing her opinions, but this is something else entirely. This is vicious and unhinged.
“I’m not your damn pet, Valen.” In an instant, the rage in Tania’s eyes is all-encompassing. “I’m not one of your subjects and I’m not—”
And just like that, she’s gone. The fog is all that’s left.