Chapter Forty-Three
Asher
B ellamy was being ridiculous, and Noe was not helping.
The two of them were acting as if this celebration needed to be life-changing. They both were running around, yelling as they put up decorations and ordered around soldiers like slaves. Of course, Lian was having the time of her life making fun of me as I internally panicked.
“You know, they probably think you are forcing them to celebrate you,” she whispered into my ear as we stood watching Noe berate a young demon recruit for misplacing a chair. Her golden brown hair had been tied in a knot atop her head, and she wore a loose teal dress that highlighted her tan skin perfectly. Despite that beauty, she was utterly horrifying to watch.
“Shut up, Lian. You know I did not want all of this.” I shoved into her side, which only further lifted the corners of her mouth, the smile crinkling her almond eyes. It was unsettling to see.
“Ah, but they do not. I wonder how much they loathe you right now.” With that, she shrugged, winked, and walked away. My hands formed fists, nails digging into my palms. From my anger, I found my magic slinking into her mind and breaking through her flimsy wall of air.
Trip.
And then she fell, her hands and knees smacking into the ground. Eyes wide, I lifted my hand to my mouth in surprise, baffled at my own audacity. Lian turned, glaring at me and flashing me her middle finger before standing. A mortal man chuckled, and before I knew it, he flew backwards from a particularly violent gust of wind. We all watched her stomp off, and I knew that someone would surely pay for what I had done in the form of a brutal training session.
“Every day you remind me why I love you so much, little brat.” Henry’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, his body leaning into mine enough to nearly make me stumble. Damon pushed against my other side, scoffing at Henry, his effervescent silver hair making Henry’s appear particularly orange.
“You almost knocked her over.” His voice was scolding as he stepped away from me, that quiet and casual presence somehow taking on an air of authority. Henry did not seem to care as he rolled his eyes Damon’s way.
“Yeah, you almost knocked me over!” Shoving back at him, I groaned when he did not so much as lose his balance. Stupid little carrot.
“Oh, please. You are fine, and you just tripped poor Lian.” With a wave of his hand in Lian’s direction, I was put in my place. He had me there.
“Touche,” I admitted, slumping under his weight. When his hand came up to ruffle my hair, I swatted at him and stepped further into Damon, who barely backed up in time to not be run over.
“By the way, I wanted to warn you that my mother is here and eager to meet you. Which spells doom for Alemthian because if the two of you end up liking each other, then I suspect world domination will not be far away.” Scoffing at the mere thought of such a thing, he glared down into my eyes, preemptively loathing me for whatever crimes future Asher would supposedly commit under his mother’s guidance.
“Why me? What do I even say?” Nerves found their way into my already unsteady mind, leaving me a disheveled, slightly sweaty mess as I stood beside them. She was going to hate my guts.
“Seeing as you are probably going to be her queen one day, I imagine she wants to measure you up. She appreciates a strong and independent female. That, and she quite enjoys parties.” With that, he lightly smacked my cheek and walked away, heading for Bellamy. I glared, eager for whatever argument would likely stem from him bothering the prince. With everything he just dumped on me, knowing I was already stressed out and guilt-ridden, I hoped Bellamy put him on his ass.
“Luca would have liked this,” Damon said from my side, pulling me out of my self-centered mindset. I looked towards him, watching as he tried to school his sorrow into stoicism. In the last month, Bellamy had gone through lapses in his joy, the pain of so much loss bleeding into the moments when he so desperately wanted to be whole and happy. I saw it then in Damon’s face, too. With my mental shields down, I heard it in his mind as well. “Sorry, I should really learn to read the room.”
“You are allowed to be sad, Damon. There will be those who make you think that it is wrong, that there is a time limit on grief. Some will go so far as to convince you that you are wallowing in the loss or that every moment of heartbreak is wasted time. But I want you to hear me when I say that none of that is true. I have spent months—decades really—trying to pretend that sadness and anger and grief are weaknesses, and I lost a lot because of it. Do not let anyone convince you that feeling is wrong. Do not let them steal that from you.” Our eyes met, my gray locking on his brown, and I felt that silent understanding settle into us. Though I had only met Damon a couple of times now, I knew that, like all of Bellamy’s family, I would one day love him dearly.
“The more you love, the more you stand to lose. Come home or watch everything you love wither before you.”
Mia’s words echoed through my mind, an audible reminder of all the danger and loss that threatened to come with love. Unthinking, I stepped away from Damon, creating space between us as if that would stop me from building a relationship with him.
“Thank you, Asher. I am glad that Bellamy has you. That we all do. You will make a lovely queen one day.” He briefly rested his hand on my shoulder, squeezing faintly before waving and walking towards the now-arguing males before us. Bellamy held sparkling silver garland, waving it in the air as if that would better explain whatever he wanted Henry to do. For his part, Henry looked utterly dumbfounded, but also slightly pleased with the annoyance he was able to pull from Bellamy.
I smiled as I watched, the haunting threat from Mia a foreboding sound within my mind. So too was the realization that both Henry and Damon had suggested I would one day be their queen. While I had not allowed myself time to give much thought to the possibilities my future held—if I even had one—I did think about it then.
The demons would not want me there, ruling over them. I was fae, an enemy. Not to mention that Bellamy was, too. Even if they were not aware of just how fae he was, they still saw his ears and felt his power. Hostility had met us multiple times on our journey across Eoforhild those many months ago, which meant it likely festered all throughout the realm. Why would they want me ruling over them when they did not even agree that Bellamy should?
Whether it was the direction my own thoughts had taken or the way she seemed to demand focus, I did not know, but somehow, my eyes landed on Lady Odilia Nash the moment she stepped into the training yard. Like Henry, Odilia’s tan skin was sprinkled with freckles, her vibrant orange locks floating in the breeze as she walked. Her trousers were a stunning shade of pink—soft, like a rose petal. They flared out as they cascaded down her long legs, nearly tricking the mind into thinking them a skirt. Her white top ended just above her navel, the off-shoulder sleeves twin to her pant legs in their billowing size.
She was not beautiful in the traditional sense; rather, she had a sharp and strong magnificence to her. Henry once told me that his mother had been the general of the military forces before Bellamy’s predecessor. When she was asked to become Lady of Kratos, Odilia had nearly told Adbeel no. After quite a bit of pleading on the king’s part, she said yes, but that would later put quite a bit of pressure on her future son.
In her eyes, Henry was meant to be a general, to surpass all others and exhibit the same strength and bloodlust and brilliance that she had. Despite his tendency to crack jokes and annoy everyone in the room, Henry also believed that. It would be hard not to after the training she had put him through. Like Noe’s father, Henry’s mother used brutal methods. At six years old, just days after his magic had manifested, Henry was forced to live in the woods for a week on his own. While Noe suffered at the hands of an unloving father and an absent mother, Henry was loved deeply by both of his parents. Though I would not pretend like I understood his mother’s methods, and apparently his father was not a fan of them either, I did recognize the love she held in those green eyes as she caught sight of her son.
Every instinct told me that I should try to avoid speaking to her, so much so that I quickly slammed the golden bars of my mental shield, locking the gate. Risking her feeling me in her mind was not an option if I was going to somehow escape her attention. Silently creeping towards the mountainside entrance of the military base, I tried and failed to make myself small enough to not be seen.
Apparently, crouching down and ducking my head like a lunatic was not inconspicuous like I hoped.
“So, this is the fae princess that has left our prince smitten.” Her voice was like ice, cold and unforgiving, though bits of Henry’s mocking tone slipped in there as well.
I stood up straight, turning to face her. She smiled down at me, her arms crossing over her chest. I knew that parents were meant to look and sound and act like their younglings, that nature and nurture made it so, but it still unnerved me to see those similarities. Sipho and his father had been the same way. Both times I had met Jabari, I was left smiling at the little quirks they shared, so similar it was almost eerie. Maybe the only reason I had not felt uncomfortable by them was because I secretly hoped one day I would be able to join their family, that I would have the chance to tell Jabari that I loved his son.
“Tell me, Princess Asher, what makes you so special that everyone who has met you seems unbearably charmed?” She quirked a brow, eyeing me with both taunting humor and violent suspicion. If only I could portal out of this horribly unpleasant conversation. I needed to keep one of those damn demons next to me at all times.
“I think it is my sparkling personality,” I said, unable to keep myself from emulating the putrid energy she was projecting.
Unimpressed, she let her smile stretch impossibly wider, those forest eyes somehow hardening in the process. “I think it is because you are a manipulative little beast.” The whispered insult came through clenched teeth, a defiant tilt to her jaw as she so clearly relayed her distaste for me.
“You say that like it is a bad thing.” Shrugging, I smiled back at her, unwilling to sit back and take ire from anyone. I had laid down and weathered every insult, threat, and curse my whole life. No longer. “I think you have grossly overestimated my patience, Lady Odilia. I love your son, more than I ever thought I would. He is like a brother to me, but that does not mean I will hesitate to shatter your mind where you stand.”
Seconds passed in silence, neither of us breaking eye contact or daring to speak. And then, abruptly, her stiff posture melted, comfort and ease taking over.
“Excellent. I approve then.” With a heavy smack on my shoulder and a rough shake of my body, she nodded, briefly flashing a much softer smile my way. I stared at her, not comprehending what just happened. “Anyways, I’m off to spar with my son. Do come watch if you are bored. He usually walks away bleeding.”
And then she was gone. Henry’s eyes drifted over to her as she stalked towards him, terror stretching his face. He shoved Bellamy into her path, trying to make a run for it.
His mother chuckled deeply before portaling to him, ducking her head low and shoving her shoulder into his stomach. I choked on my laughter as Odilia used her momentum to lift her son, who was at least five inches taller than her, over her shoulder and promptly throw both of their bodies backwards. Henry hit the ground first, his back audibly smacking against the rock floors. Then his mother’s body slammed into his chest, air whooshing from his mouth as he grunted in pain.
It was one of the most violent displays of affection I had ever seen.
“Gods, other moms say hello, did you know that?” Even while wheezing for air, Henry still managed to say something sarcastic.
To the surprise of no one, Bellamy made his way to my side, smiling broadly as he grabbed onto my hand. It was victory painted on his face, less for the lacing of our fingers and more for the way that Odilia was mercilessly attacking Henry. I cringed when he threw his elbow into her face, sending her head snapping back. Laughter caused blood to dribble from her mouth, and then she smashed his face down into the ground.
“They will be at it for a while. Can I show you something in the meantime?” Bellamy’s words fanned over my ear like a delicate breeze, his heat at my side a peaceful reminder of my vow to live for myself. This party, as ridiculous as it had become, was a new start. Like being reborn.
“I would love that,” I whispered, turning my head to face him. Our lips nearly touched, his head ducking down and mine tilting up.
He smirked, rubbing the tips of our noses together before backing away slightly. “You are so obsessed with me.” Swatting his arm, I tried and failed to keep the ridiculous smile from my face as he tugged me against his chest and the familiar pull of portaling stole us away in a cloud of smoke-like shadows. My eyes closed, head falling against his chest and breathing him in. “See, Princess, obsessed.”
With that, he pressed his lips to mine, and I instinctively opened for him, greedily proving the idiot right. Because I was obsessed, and I thought I might only get worse as the days went on. If, by some miracle, we had the chance to live and be together when the dust settled, then I would probably continue to grow more infatuated with him as the years passed by.
A hand on my throat and one at my hip, he slowly walked me back until my legs hit the end of a bed. His bed. Our bed?
My thoughts were once more claimed by him as he pulled away, quickly backing up with the most ridiculous smile on his face. Perhaps, if I was forced to admit it, I would also call it endearing, handsome, exquisite.
But mostly ridiculous, of course.
He disappeared beneath a puff of black shadows, returning with his hands full of black fabric and red…chains?
“I made a very kind seamstress’s life a nightmare the last two days trying to perfect the idea in my head for this. Keep that in mind before you say anything scathing about it, Princess.”
Rolling my eyes, I stood, walking to him and the garment. When I reached my fingers out to take it, he quickly flipped one of his own hands to smack mine. I gasped, hugging my injury and glaring up at him.
“You left me desperate for the chance to touch you for months, watching as you emerged from that tent in clothes twin to mine and wishing I could have been the one to put them on you. If you think I will miss an opportunity now, then you have lost your mind.” He tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow. “Which would be quite a tragic and ironic end for someone with your talents.”
Groaning, I promptly lifted my arms in surrender. He chuckled, gently setting down the outfit he had apparently designed before coming back and teasingly pulling off my clothing. When he had stripped me bare of all but the thin black undergarments that he had jokingly snapped against my skin before gripping my backside, he stood and retrieved my birthday outfit.
Birthday. Such an odd creation. I thought it a bit selfish, though I would not pretend like it was not exciting to have something so special. A day that rejoiced in my birth after a lifetime of being cursed for existing was extraordinary indeed.
Bellamy came back, the smile on his face so broad that it crinkled his eyes and flashed his dimples. Without realizing it, I smiled back, so much joy filling my heart by simply being next to him.
“Black had once been my favorite color, but red felt like family in a way. Like blood—the one thing that is supposed to tie people from birth to death. I thought that by making the colors of Haven black and red, I was taking the broken and dark pieces of the refugee fae and making them whole by bringing them together—morphing us all into a sort of family. We all needed that, and it seemed fitting.” He spoke as he dressed me, not once meeting my eyes. But when he paused, his voice cracking, I looked up to see he was staring down at me with a vulnerable sort of openness on his face. His eyes, so blue they appeared frozen, bore into mine with the intensity of someone who had just seen the stars for the first time.
With a tender grasp on my shoulders, he walked me over to a thin and slightly cracked mirror in the corner. Despite that, I still gasped at my reflection.
“Bellamy, it is beautiful.” There was a hoarseness to my voice, the shake of it portraying all the emotions I could not speak aloud.
“Would it be cliché if I said, ‘Yes, you are’?”
I laughed, looking up at him through the mirror. His smile had gone soft, a sort of melancholy taking over his features. And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, it was because of what the dress represented.
The top was form-fitting, the sheer black fabric showing my torso and hinting at the red that hid away my breasts. Straps sat loosely at the very edge of my shoulders, leaving my arms bare. The bottom half of the dress was solid black and loose, splitting up both sides until it hit my midthigh. A cut like that would surely show my legs as I walked, but it did not seem overtly sexual. Rather, the dress was regal and beautiful—simple in the best way. Bellamy lifted a finger, rotating it. I took that as an order to turn around, so I did.
Somehow, this side of the dress managed to outshine the front. It was backless, the fabric descending my body at the very edges of my sides until it curved to meet at the base of my spine. Seven thin, red chains cascaded down the exposed flesh, connecting the split fabric and hanging lazily to form a sort of U shape. At the center of the top chain, which connected both of my straps, sat three overlapping circles—one black, one silver, and one white. Dangling in the center of the silver circle was a tiny diamond.
“The seven chains represent the seven territories of Eoforhild, and that is our sigil, but the colors—they are that of Haven.” A quiet sob split the air, and I realized with horror that it was my own. For what felt like the thousandth time in the last year, I cried. For the senseless deaths of so many innocents. For all the loss that Bellamy and his Trusted had suffered. For my own pain. Even for the future, which felt as if it just might end in disaster.
“I love it,” I whispered, ripping my gaze from the mirror to face the male before me. My soulmate. The most dazzling and wonderful being, who I knew was my future, no matter how short-lived. “I love you .”
He sucked in a breath of desperate air, his eyes going glassy as he brought his forehead down to mine, his hands gripping my jaw possessively. “I love you, too, beautiful creature.”
***
The festivities were even more ostentatious than I thought they would be, though it helped that we were simultaneously celebrating Star Festival. Strings of sparkling silver garland hung across the space, somehow secured between the mountain, the base, and the sparse trees. Dots of demon light glittered just above the silver, lighting the space and adding to the stars within the sky. The stars that seemed brighter than before, somehow. Tables were littered with treats—pastries, in particular, seemed to be in abundance. Once again, I was reminded just how close of attention Bellamy paid to me, and the realization brought a smile to my face.
A group of musicians sat at the center of the space, playing upbeat melodies and smiling at those dancing around them. It seemed that fashion was individual in Eoforhild; something that I had gathered based on assumption over the months but was proven correct tonight as I bore witness to the demons around me.
Colors and styles varied greatly between them all, showcasing the brilliance of autonomy and freedom. Cyprus caught my attention as he approached me, his eyes devoid of the teasing and joyous light they normally possessed. Bellamy had explained to me that Cyprus and Luca were not together, but the group always knew they would be one day. Like an inevitability—destiny. But Luca’s death had torn that future from Cyprus’s grasp, and the last few weeks had been a bleak and dark time for the whisp.
Now, as he made his way to my side, his blush tunic pairing beautifully with his russet skin, black trousers, and loose brown hair, I saw the sorrow that overflowed from him. My hand reached out as if I were a puppet on strings, eager to help and hold him. He took it with a smile, tugging me into his chest and swinging me around the open dance floor. Twirling us, he managed to maintain his usual swagger while still allowing a vulnerable string of thoughts to teeter into the air, freefalling my way.
I miss him, Ash. I do not know how to go on without him. Before, I thought we had time, that I could relish in the tension and avoid the possibility of ruining a friendship. But now…now, he is gone, and the time is gone with him. How do I exist now?
My breath hitched, and I found my head moving forward to rest on his chest to avoid showing him the emotions that were surely playing across my face. He did not deserve to suffer from anyone else’s sadness. His was more than enough.
You do not just move on. The decades of time I spent avoiding those feelings did me no justice. Moving on was pointless, a fa?ade to allow myself the chance to continue life. But, in the end, it broke me rather than healed me. Sipho was still dead, and I was still a shell of who I was in his presence. Being loved by him was not something I could simply forget. Do not force those shattered pieces of your heart together, because if you lose the fragments too small to see in your rush to repair the damage, then you will never be whole again.
A comfortable quiet settled between us, one of his tears hitting my upturned cheek as we swayed and spun. There was comfort in this understanding, though I still knew much of Cyprus and Ranbir’s losses were my fault. If I could offer them even a semblance of relief, then I would gladly do so. There was no limit to how far I would go for my family.
Family. A term which had once been a skewed reality that I barely survived before morphing into a foreign concept that I convinced myself I would never know. Now, as Cyprus pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head and twirled me in a circle, I understood what family really was.
Family was Nicola’s whispered praise and reassurance. Family was Jasper’s tight embraces and words of wisdom. Family was Farai’s joking tone and firm confidence in me. Family was Henry’s teasing, Lian’s sassy flirtation, Noe’s unwavering support, Cyprus’s contagious joy, and Ranbir’s calming presence. It was Wrath’s sarcasm and affection. Sipho’s obsessive belief in me, Winona’s gentle love, Luca’s declaration of loyalty, and Pino’s understanding of what I could be. All of this.
Dipping me at the close of the song and flashing a look of thanks, Cyprus reminded me of one final version of family. The one thing that made it complete.
Bellamy.
“Thank you, for everything. I love you, gorgeous.” Cyprus’s words paired with the wink of a brown eye left me giggling. Bowing, he made to leave, his direction indicating that the party would be over if he did not get some liquor in his system. Suddenly in urgent need of that dangerous honesty, I called out to him.
“Cyprus!” At my shout, he stopped, looking at me over his shoulder. Trying and failing to stop my emotions from getting the better of me, I breathed out every fear of rejection and stupidity, opening up my soul for the hurt in favor of the chance at joy.
I love you, too, little whisp. Thank you for showing me what it is to trust and love—for being my family.
His cheeks darkened, the smile he flashed a dazzling show of white teeth as he nodded and stalked off. Noe found me not long after, standing off to the side and smiling to myself as I watched the celebration grow. She was wearing a soft pink band around her breasts and a low-sitting, loose skirt that matched. Brown sandals graced her feet, similar to the red ones that I wore, though mine wrapped all the way up to my thigh. Like me, she wore a vibrant red lip and kohl on her eyes. Diamonds adorned her ears, neck, wrists, and waist, all strung on silver chains. She had let her long golden brown hair hang down her back, looking like a tamed waterfall. As always, she was stunning.
“Why are you alone? This party is for you!” She shouted the last words as the music grew louder, a flamboyant tune that made my chest flutter. It was beautiful, just as everything about this night was. I looked to her, watching her face as she fluffed my curls, enjoying the way they had all grown so comfortable with me. Enjoying the fact that I was no longer feared by them.
“No, we are celebrating Star Festival. I just thought today would be a nice one to pick since it already held something special. I read about it in—”
A loud crash cut off my sentence, and we watched in horror as a mortal boy tried and failed to get up after falling backwards in his chair and bringing down a tray full of wine, the shadows once carrying it dissipating. Running over to him, I quickly leaned down and helped to shoulder his weight. He sighed, smiling over at me momentarily before his eyes flew open in surprise.
His grip on me was hot and sweaty, slipping down my arms as I held him aloft. He began mumbling in what sounded like the dialect of Behman, whatever he was saying clearly meant to be a plea of sorts. Unable to hold back my laughs, I gripped the boy tighter and hauled him to a nearby wooden chair beside one of the many extravagant spreads of dishes. He slumped back, eyes wide and full of what could only be described as horror.
“Let me get you some water and something to eat. Bread will soak up all that wine, and I am a firm believer that carbs can heal any wound.”
For a moment, he merely stared at me, his black hair stuck to his tan face with sweat and his blue eyes darting between my own. When he finally nodded in resignation, I tried to give a comforting smile and gently tapped his shoulder with the tips of my fingers. Then I was off, searching the entirety of the decorated training yard to concoct the most epic of all dessert spreads. If the pastries did not soak up the alcohol, then at least it would not taste too foul when he vomited it back up.
Lian found me as I was piling a third scone onto the plate, tsking her disapproval. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye, stopping with my hand outstretched and whipping my head towards her in stunned amazement.
Lian had always been one of the most beautiful females I had ever seen. There was something about the blue of her hair in contrast to her dark, upturned eyes. Or maybe it was the way her flowing purple dress atop her defined and heavily honed physique made her sharper, a beauty as lethal as nightshade. Yes, that was what Lian was, a dangerous and stunning bit of nature.
“Serving food to another male? How scandalous.” There was a moment where I remained stone faced, but that was quickly ruined when she leaned in and whispered, “Which of his heads do you think Bell will cut off first?”
My laugh was a combination of surprised choking and genuine amusement, which left Lian smiling far too broadly when paired with those mischievous eyes. I offered her the plate, gesturing for the boy whose head had fallen forward onto the table. Scoffing, she lifted her nose and made her way to him. From a distance, I could just make out the drool that was escaping his mouth. Poor thing. He was in for a horrible day tomorrow, and based on Lian’s wicked glee that jostled my mental gates, I had a feeling she would make sure of that.
“You know, I probably would have just frozen off his cock. Nothing crazy.” His voice was a caress at my back, a pair of warm lips grazing the jagged tip of my ear.
I shivered at the touch, but his words left me rolling my eyes as I turned my head to bring our lips mere inches apart. “Dramatic. Even for you, demon.”
He scoffed, pinching my hip slightly and forcing a yelp free of my mouth. As if I had played right into his hands, he smirked before dipping his face and connecting our lips. Because I was a brat to my core, I reached down and pinched his already erect member through his trousers, earning a returning cry.
He backed up, mouth agape and eyebrows raised as he looked at me, the offense on his face so clear that I could do nothing but giggle and take him in. He wore a silky black top, the center split down to his navel and embroidered with red gems. His toned stomach showed every ounce of extra training he had done in my absence, the muscles flexing as he leaned back against the table. A red chain hung down his exposed skin, just like my back. Though his connected the top two corners of his shirt, the weight of them pulling the fabric further apart rather than securing them in place. He had on plain black trousers, his boots matching. Under his eyes—which practically glowed like a pool of stagnant water beneath the shine of the moon—was a thin line of kohl, his gloriously full lips slightly red from our stolen kisses. Freckles dotted his cheeks and nose, like my own personal constellation.
But it was that hair, the forever-disheveled waves that caught and held my attention. He ran a hand through it absentmindedly, looking slightly stressed if his frantic gaze and fidgety hands were any sign.
“Are you okay?” I asked, unable to ignore the behavior.
He pulled me into him, holding the back of my head with one hand as he scanned the area. I knew exactly when he found what he was looking for, because his body relaxed against mine. Before I could make any jokes about his lack of interest in me, he leaned down, delivered me one more bruising kiss, and then spun me around. Henry was heading our way, carrying what looked like a small circular cake on a ceramic plate. The edges were red, a line of white cutting it in half horizontally. Cream-colored icing seemed to drip down from the edges, and I noted a group of colorful sticks poking up from the top.
Bellamy’s Trusted quickly found their positions around me as Henry approached, holding out the plate to me. Wrath and Farai also made their way over, their smiling faces bringing me more joy than I could possibly express. I looked down, noting that they had somehow written words onto the frosting.
“Happy Birthday Asher!” was written in black, the phrase so new yet so comforting. It was stupid to celebrate, but I still could not help the way my chest ached, birds taking flight in my stomach. After all this time, I could still feel Mia and Xavier within me, like a foreboding and heavy darkness that drenched my soul in constant gloom and torture.
But as Bellamy reached around my shoulder with a small black flame at the tip of his finger, lighting what I could now see were tiny candles, I felt that blackened fire somehow bathe my soul in light. I watched as the darkness fought and lost to its twin, the flames just as all-encompassing and bleak but also full of a love I had never felt in my life.
With almost all of my family around me, I smiled and forced back the tears that threatened to spill. Bellamy let his lips meet my cheek before he spoke into my ear.
“Make a wish, Princess.”
What did one wish for when they had already been blessed with so many gifts?