Chapter Twenty-Six
Asher
F arai was probably the only one other than me that Wrath tolerated. Though that was in Fair’s nature. He was easy to like and difficult to hate.
We were staying at a small inconspicuous inn that rested on the border of Caless, the capital of Gandry. Despite its small size, the inn was comfortable and appealing in all the ways that the others had not been. The room was comprised of wooden floors and plaster walls, both a dark brown. The left half of the room held a large, blue sofa and two rocking chairs. A violet, circular rug sat in the center of the grouping, a too-large table atop it.
The best part of this room was that it had two beds rather than one, though they were small and had a tendency to creak when we adjusted to get comfortable at night. This would be our ninth night here—nine days worth of trying and failing to plan out a convincing appeal for the King of Gandry.
Farai sat at the top of the bed, eating an apple. I laid between his splayed legs, writing yet another horrible speech for Trint. Wrath was curled up on Farai’s left, the Shifter’s hand absently scratching between the dalistori’s ears. Henry was on the bed to our right, making use of the empty mattress to spread out at least twelve books. Studying as he called it.
King Trint was the one we knew the least of. He was a successful monarch, his kingdom prosperous and relatively peaceful. Their military forces were large and well trained, though they had no ill will towards any of the other kingdoms it seemed. They were known for their jewels, the entire southwest portion of their lands filled with caves and mines that housed the precious gems. The maps made the area look like a network of veins, bleeding enough diamonds and rubies to sustain an entire kingdom.
Because of that, Trint need not want for anything, which was not a good thing in our case. There was little we could promise him. He was supposedly greedy and young, which made him dangerous and unpredictable. Yes, we had solved his monster problem, but would that be enough for him to risk his people in a war that would not benefit him?
As always, I had secretly considered the idea of using myself as a bargaining tool. My whole life had seen me passed around in different ways, paraded like a prize. Why not use that to my advantage?
But I knew better than to put myself at the mercy of a mortal man again. Desperation might drive me to that one day, but I was not there yet. Besides, four of the six rulers had denied a similar offer nearly two years ago when Mia and Xavier first proffered me to all the kingdoms.
There was also no use in denying that selfish desire within myself to have Bellamy at my side. Yes, there was a part of me that would have him or no one, and that was more dangerous than anything else. Self-centered thoughts or choices would doom us. So I shoved that piece of myself down, down, down until it was so deep within my mind that even I struggled to sense it. But it would lie in wait, seeking an opportunity to take over and push me towards a path that would lead to Bellamy’s hand in mine as the world beyond burned.
“You have so many scars now,” Farai said, startling me out of my thoughts. His finger trailed across my shoulder, which was exposed due to the oversized orange tunic I had acquired. It was odd having someone who knew me so well see all the ways in which I had changed. Did he like this version of me less? Did he think me a monster just as the rest did?
“No, I have a story.” It was all too easy to shrug, dragging up the fabric to hide the jagged scars from the afriktor. Farai froze, his body going rigid behind me.
“You always had a story, Ash.” His voice was firm, as if he were angry with my suggestion that I had not. Seeing as he was one of the few fae who regularly insisted I was not living before Bellamy had taken me, his animosity towards my statement surprised me. I tried to understand what it was that had upset him without allowing my eternal curiosity to take hold of my power—no, magic —and break his trust.
“But now it is one worth being told.”
He pushed me up, his large hands grabbing onto my shoulders and forcing me to slightly face him. His bright white eyes and hair were alight from the Sun magic above us, his skin a combination of shadow and light. Despite having him with me for over a week, I still struggled to grasp the fact that he was here and safe and whole. His fingers met my chin, the hold tight but not painful.
“You were always deserving of a beautiful tale, no matter what they tried to convince you of. I know that two centuries worth of lies and manipulation are hard to shake, but I do not ever want to hear you suggest that you were any less before.” When his voice broke at the word “less,” I nearly let a tear slip. But I was done being a sad and broken victim. I was stronger now, and I was no captive princess patiently waiting for my next beating.
“So beautiful. Yay, friendship and all of that. Anyways, I think I found something.” Henry’s sarcastic tone cut through the tension, causing even Wrath to chuckle softly. A rarity, seeing as the two of them still greatly despised one another.
Leaning up, I kissed Farai’s cheek and then swiftly leapt off the bed. Henry picked up an open book with one hand, using the other to shove the rest aside. I sat down in the free space, peeking over his shoulder to try and decipher the text upon the page.
It was not written in the common tongue, which was why only Henry was able to read the pages. Still, I willed myself to stare at them as I allowed my power to slither into Henry’s mind, walking through the open door of light like a welcomed guest. I listened as he read for me, hoping that one day this tactic would be enough to learn the many languages of the mortals.
Though the monarchs of Gandry rule over the kingdom, it is the gods that rule over the realm. In times of strife, we look to their guidance to tell us which path to take. Their will shall be our own. Their will shall be law.
His finger traced the words as he read within his head, the excitement that pulsed from him sending my heart racing.
Above all else, we worship our gods for their glory. We ask them to steer us in the correct direction, to keep us humble and wise. Their plans are greater than our dreams, and we must vow to uphold their wishes before any law. Our gods need not a throne, for they reside in The Above, looking down in the way only they can. If any know the way, it is them.
“What is this?” I asked, an eyebrow raised. It was…fanatical. The fae did not bow for the gods—we did not let them guide or control us. In fact, other than what the demons have said of the gods, I knew very little.
Henry was smiling ear-to-ear, his body practically vibrating. The mere thought of him feeling that much joy at any time made me uncomfortable, but especially when he had a tome of religious rules on his lap.
“This is how we are going to convince Trint to help us.” The enthusiastic way he waved the book in front of him garnered the attention of Farai and Wrath, who both promptly perked up.
“We are going to read to him?” I asked, my sarcastic tone not enough to affect Henry’s truly horrifying smile.
Farai, on the other hand, laughed loudly. His cream-colored long-sleeve top was too tight, straining against his muscled arms and chest. The trousers he wore were form-fitting but far too long, the black fabric constantly catching under his heels. They were Henry’s clothes, a result of our desire not to go into any businesses that we did not absolutely have to.
I made a mental note to insist on a trip for him.
“No, little brat. We are going to appeal to his faith.”
***
“I look ridiculous.”
“You look like a goddess,” Farai retorted, straightening my dress. At least we had stopped and gotten him outfits that actually fit. He now wore a fitted black pair of trousers and a tunic to match, both hugging his frame without constricting him. Two birds, one stone.
Henry shoved Farai to the side, earning a huff from the Shifter. He began parting the teal fabric, showing my upper thighs. I swatted at him, but he continued his machinations, pulling the sheer gathering of fabric from my shoulders to make them hang limply against my bicep.
The black corset that forced my breasts higher and pulled in my waist was heinous, just as the dainty black heeled shoes were. Henry looked far more comfortable in his billowing teal shirt, which was split down the center to reveal his tan chest in a similar way to what Bellamy preferred—freckles creating constellations across his skin. His black trousers were identical to Farai’s, both of them wearing black boots.
“Now, before you complain, come cut my hair,” Henry said with a sigh, grabbing my hand and pulling me to one of the rocking chairs. On the table already sat a pair of scissors, an old and worn towel draped across the back of the chair.
Just looking at them made me want to break into a fit of sobs. I could practically hear Winona’s voice as she sang while she braided my hair or hear her scolding Cyprus for refusing to let her trim his. The pain that shot through my chest seemed to make my lungs cave in, as if my body knew—just as my mind and heart did—that I was less deserving of life than she was.
Ranbir told me it was not my fault in the forest of Vesteer. I knew that he meant it, that he forgave me for that moment of hesitation which left him without vengeance or resolution. Yet, when he had pulled me close—a male who cared very little for physical affection—I thought I might never forgive myself for being the reason he lost his wife. Every morning spent trailing him as he found plants and berries and other natural medicines, each time he brought me chai, all the silent moments spent in each other’s company atop our horses—it was all replaced with the agonizing reality that I had cost him the love of his life.
“Ash?” Farai’s voice dragged me from the depths of my never-ending despair, the shocking pull a reminder that I was no longer going to be sad. No, I was angry. At Mia, at Xavier, at Sterling, at the world.
“I am fine.” Breathing deeply, I squared my shoulders and marched over to the scissors, grabbing them. Henry was already seated, the towel wrapped around him so that his hair would not stick to his clothes. We really should have done this before he got dressed, but I had a feeling that he was putting it off until the last moment.
“Are you ready?” I asked, my voice a whispered reassurance against his round ear. He nodded, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.
Do you want me to sing her favorite?
It was a private offer of comfort and love, neither of which he would want acknowledged out loud. His head bobbed slightly, a soft nod that was paired with a quiet sniffle. And so, with my horrendous singing voice, I began the song, scissors slicing through the chin-length orange strands.
“In times of trouble, in moments of pain,
Remember your heart. Remember your name.
For you are grand, your worth unmatched
With your sparkling soul, so lovely and patched.
As you stumble and fall, lift yourself up.
Raise your chin. Raise your cup.
Toast to the joy, the hope, and the grief.
Cheers to the life, no matter how brief.”
By the time I finished the lullaby, Henry was openly crying, the near-silent tears causing him to shake. I backed away, noting how horrible and uneven the trim was. Still, it would have to do. Without a razor, I could not trim his beard, though I personally liked the way it made him look more fierce and rugged.
I walked around the chair, coming to stand in front of him. Sorrow would not win, nor would fear. We would find triumph, just as Winona believed. Sadness could not claim me, nor could the darkness of grief.
“Feel it all. Let it soak into your bones and burrow into your heart. You deserve this moment of mourning. But when the tears dry, we will remember the injustice, and we will fight it.” My words were meant for only Henry, but I knew that Farai, who so desperately missed his husband, would hear and internalize them. With a tenderness I rarely showed to Henry, I placed a kiss to his forehead.
“Should I be worried that the homicidal and suicidal maniac of the group is giving me emotional advice?” he asked, quickly wiping away his tears.
Flicking him on the nose, I tried to remember that I was different now. I was not sad. I was furious. I was livid. I was the monster that my enemies feared, and I would come for them.
“Ha ha. Get up. It is time to go win an army.” Henry chuckled at my words, the sound snapping everyone out of their daze. “Do not forget to bow when we make our grand claims.”
“I would bow for the cat if it meant Gandry’s army would back us,” he retorted, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards where Wrath laid on the bed. The dalistori glared daggers at Henry, his tail swishing back and forth as if he had caught sight of exciting new prey.
Eternity spare me.
With a sigh, I walked over to Farai, grabbed him by the hand, and hauled him towards the exit. As we passed the small standing rack, I snagged our cloaks as well as his faded brown flat cap and shoved him to the door. For a moment, he looked puzzled, but then the arguing began.
“You are lucky to be in my presence, you tainted little boy. I am crafted from the hands of the god who rules over Death and Creation! I am—”
“Annoying me,” Henry muttered, cutting off Wrath.
The door shut behind us just as Wrath’s growl filled the room. Farai’s wide eyes and worried downturn of his lips as he put on his hat pulled giggles out of my mouth, his own laughter soon following. All the while, we walked hand-in-hand, crossing the hallway and heading down the stairs.
It felt so impossibly right to have Fair with me, though the missing pieces of what truly became my family over the last two centuries were far more glaringly obvious with two parts of the puzzle now reunited.
The inn was relatively empty, the dark walls and mismatched runners quaint and inviting. Each step we took made the wooden floors creak, but in a way that reminded me of a well-lived-in space. I had never been to Farai’s family home, but I imagined his mother, father, and two sisters living somewhere like this. A place with warmth and love.
Of course, he had described to me in detail the small cottage he and Jas had found on Isle Shifter, which nearly rested on the border between the Multiple and Single Lands. It had vibrant blue walls and a bright white roof, as well as a small garden full of vegetables left from the previous owners. There was an extra room for the youngling they hoped to someday have, though the process of applying for a partner to carry their youngling was long and required their Warden to sign off on it. Still, the room, with its yellow walls and paintings of great Shifters from legends, had sounded beautiful—a space any youngling would be lucky to call home.
Both of us secured our cloaks around our necks, tugging our hoods up. But my mind wandered while Farai tucked away his ears, thinking of all the warmth that he could not find without his husband.
Last night, as we drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, Farai had wept, just as he had every night since Bellamy brought him to me. We talked of better times, and I listened to everything I had missed these last couple of months. I held him, promising we would find Jasper and bring him home. But, to him, this would never be home.
“Do you remember that one time Queen Mia invited Jasper and I to The Capital?” Farai asked as he pushed through the wooden door leading outside. The air was chilly, autumn in the Mortal Realm proving to be nearly as miserable as winters in Eoforhild. Above, dark clouds loomed—a mass of gray prepared to remind us all of what omens lurked in the darkness. “It was a long time ago, probably sixty or seventy years.”
My head bobbed, a slight nod as I recalled the memory. Like I had told Padon, so much of my history was laced with happy moments—times that left me questioning my right to grieve or feel wronged.
“Jas and I had been so surprised. I mean, we always felt it odd that she let us be friends when the laws were so strict. But we brushed it off, thinking she just loved you so much that she could not deny you the joy of friendship.”
He huffed then, a small and sarcastic laugh that forced my attention to hone in on the mood that seeped from him—a blend of anger and sorrow that seemed to taint everyone around me.
“She had let us stay a week, remember? She had the castle seamstress craft all four of us extravagant golden clothes, let us feast at her table, and did not mind when we spent three days straight hidden away in Nicola’s chambers.” A wistful tone settled into his words, the same that filled my mind as I thought of the kisses Mia would place on my head as she told me to enjoy myself.
Xavier had put on a little show for us one night, lighting a fire that levitated over the lake and took different forms like Shifters. Students in Academy had cheered, seeing the Element at work even from across The Capital where they resided. All four of us had gotten so drunk that we slept for an entire day—only waking up when Jasper screamed in his sleep that his father had stolen the chocolate, not him.
“I had never seen a problem with the gold and the rules and the expectations that they forced upon you. Back then, I made jokes about your clothes and hid your ear cuffs, but in the end, I thought it was just normal. You seemed distant, especially during our final year of Academy and the years immediately following, but I thought it was just the stress.” He sighed, pulling off his cloak and laying it onto the dewy grass before forcing me down to sit atop it, our backs falling against the brown outer wall of the inn. When he wrapped an arm around me, I nuzzled into his side, stretching my cloak to cover him as best as I could. “We thought they loved you. Especially when they pulled us aside during Academy and warned us against telling you of the unrest. They did not want you to know how the fae felt—that they blamed you. Of course, back then, it was less hectic, but we still saw it as a kindness to you.”
Unrest? Did he mean the anger during the public sentencings? If so, there was no hiding that from someone who could read thoughts. The mere memory of the hatred spewed my way from within their minds made me shiver.
“But then we found out about Sterling. With the king and queen allowing us to visit occasionally, we could not help ourselves. Remember when we met him? Jasper did not like him at all. Said he had the personality of a creature from the bottom of the Sea of Akiva.”
We both laughed, though neither sounded genuine.
“That was when I realized there was a difference between love and loyalty. Between family and… ownership .”
A sharp pain pinched my chest, the ache a reminder of not only what I had lost, but what was never there. Farai squeezed me tighter, a comfort and an anchor. I would not find myself lost in the desert of torment, starving and thirsty for any scrap of love offered. No. Now I had my Fair, who loved me enough to not let me drown or drift.
“You are more than a pawn, Asher. More than a means to an end. Believe me when I say that I am glad you are not in The Capital anymore. Truly. But I also fear that you have left one cage for another, that you have once more trapped yourself. Seeing you with the prince—or, more specifically, seeing you leave the prince—was a glaring display of who you are at your core.”
I laughed sardonically, looking up into his white eyes. “A monster? An idiot? A traitor?”
Farai shook his head, face grim and more serious than I preferred. With a heavy release of breath, he leaned down and kissed the top of my head before whispering, “A lost soul who thinks themselves unworthy of finding their way.”