Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rydian
The northern half of Autumn was dying. Not the slow death of the season for which it was named.
The kind that spread like ice across a poisoned lake, a disease for which there was no cure.
I could smell it in the air—cold and rot, pine needles gone brittle, frost creeping down the trunks of trees like veins of glass.
We marched through it anyway. Step after step, breath after ghosted breath, the land surrendered a little more to Heliconia’s brutal influence.
By the time we’d reached the foothills of the Concordian Mountains, even the birds had stopped singing. The silence made every creak of armor, every boot against half-frozen soil, sound like a horn announcing our presence.
Slade walked beside me, his cloak snapping at his heels. He wasn’t quiet often, but this morning he’d managed nearly half an hour without a word. I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
“So,” he started, tone casual as he adjusted his crossbow strap, “you told her.”
I didn’t look at him. “Told her what?”
He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb, Shadow Prince. The secret you’ve been brooding over since we left Grey Oak. She knows now, doesn’t she?”
I kept my eyes on the path ahead. Frost crunched underfoot. “She knows both of them.”
He faltered. “You told her about the oath?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Come on.” He kicked a stone into the ditch. “Did she throw you into a firepit? Curse your bloodline? Try to kill you with her bare hands?”
“No.”
Slade gave an exaggerated groan. “Gods, you’re impossible. Fine, I’ll guess. She doesn’t hate you. You were terrified she would, and instead, it had the opposite effect. Am I close?”
I didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
He grinned, sharp and knowing. “See? Not so bad, then.”
“Doesn’t change anything,” I said quietly.
Slade studied me sidelong. “Sure it does. She knows what you are and still looks at you like you hung the stars.”
“She shouldn’t.”
He snorted. “Tell that to her face. Or better yet, keep pretending it doesn’t matter. I’ll enjoy watching you both unravel.”
I gave him a look that should’ve shut him up for good. He just smirked and jogged ahead to bother Daegel instead.
The frost thickened as the day dragged on. Patches of white spread between the roots of trees that hadn’t known winter in centuries.
Legends claimed all of Menryth bore changing seasons up until the moon split.
I suspected the change had more to do with the gods’ negotiation for power than it did the moon itself.
Now, if Heliconia had her way, the entire continent would be buried beneath winter’s weight forever.
I refused to imagine a world like that, mostly because it suggested we had failed entirely.
Eirnan’s scouts returned every few hours with grim updates—the ice was spreading faster than Autumn’s fading magic could stop it. A curse made visible, crawling south like a living thing.
Aurelia took the news with a sort of grim determination.
Her hood remained down despite the cold, sunlight glancing off the streaks of gold in her hair.
Every now and then, when she brushed her hand against the trees, the frost melted.
Leaves turned gold where her fingers trailed, the ground thawing faintly in her wake.
I wondered if she even knew she was doing it. Or if it wasn’t simply an expending of her magic but the land itself reaching—and taking what it needed to heal.
I kept my distance, though I caught myself watching more than I should—how she moved, how she carried herself as if the weight of the prophecy didn’t crush her with every step.
She’d buried her grief somewhere deep, beneath armor and fury.
But it was there. I could feel it humming through her like a blade held too tight, her gaze always carefully averted from mine.
By afternoon, we reached the scorched remains of another village.
The smell of ash still lingered despite the winds attempting to carry it off.
Blackened rafters stuck out of the ground like ribs.
No bodies left—Heliconia’s army didn’t leave corpses behind.
Fire took them, same as it took everything else.
Heliconia wanted Aurelia to see destruction caused by her own gift.
Eirnan halted near what had once been a well. He crouched, touching the rim, then the ice that had filled it solid. “Why bother expelling so much power to freeze it all when her soldiers have already destroyed the life here?”
Aurelia joined him, crouching beside the frozen stone. The surface shimmered faintly under her reflection. She pressed her palm to the ice, and I watched as it gave way slowly to liquid. “She wants us to know how powerful she is.”
Eirnan nodded grimly. His skin was pale as bone, eyes sunk deep from years of magic starvation. “This is why she waited years to come for us. She was gathering more power.”
I didn’t miss the way Aurelia’s jaw tightened. She straightened, her breath rising in pale curls. “Let’s refill our water supply here. Then we find the tunnels before her soldiers find us. I don’t want her knowing we’re coming until we get there.”
We drank, refilled, and moved on. The mountains loomed closer with each hour—great white spines tearing at the clouds.
Later, when we stopped to rest for lunch, Keres challenged Aurelia to spar.
I was surprised by it but glad. Keres had been the least convinced of us that Aurelia would be what we needed.
I still wasn’t entirely sure what had transpired between them at the cabin, but every day since, Keres had warmed a little more.
I wondered if Aurelia knew a challenge like this one meant acceptance—and respect. Keres only challenged those she considered a worthy opponent. Or a true ally.
The clearing rang with the clash of steel, the crackle of Aurelia’s faint heat against Keres’s shadow-threaded strikes.
I watched from a distance, arms folded, pretending disinterest.
Aurelia moved like flame given form—grace and precision and fury all at once.
Every swing of her sword was measured, deliberate.
She had Aine training to thank for it. But Keres was relentless, driving Aurelia back until sparks scattered in the frost. Aurelia laughed once, sharp and breathless.
It was the first real sound of enjoyment I’d heard from her in ages.
When she disarmed Keres with a twist of her wrist, I couldn’t stop the surge of pride. Or wanting.
“You’re staring again,” Slade muttered beside me. I hadn’t heard him approach.
“I’m watching my commander,” I said flatly.
He smirked. “Sure you are.”
Before I could respond, a low whistle came from the edge of camp.
Eirnan’s scouts were back, cloaks heavy with snow.
One of them—Leif, the younger—hesitated before stepping forward.
Vanya appeared almost instantly at his side, handing him water but lingering a heartbeat too long.
Leif flushed red to the tips of his pointed ears at her attention.
Slade leaned closer, elbowing me. “Young love. Isn’t it adorable?”
I ignored him as Leif and Eirnan approached us. Aurelia and Keres followed, all of us forming a loose circle.
Eirnan nodded at us then gestured for Leif to speak.
“The base of Nygard is another few hours’ march, but the way looks clear. If we keep moving, we’ll make it before nightfall.”
“You’ll continue to scout ahead,” Aurelia said to him. She glanced at me before adding, “We can’t afford to be spotted.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Leif said, offering a slight bow.
“Thank you,” she said. “Please rest and eat something before you head back out.”
Leif bowed again and then headed for the fire where Vanya was already heating food for the scouts. Eirnan followed them. Keres and Slade walked off, both heading for the bank of trees where I knew Thorne and Daegel were keeping watch at our backs.
Aurelia remained, though she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.
“I’m going to—” she began.
“What changed?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Last night, I told you… You seem different after our conversation. Not what I expected.”
Her brow lifted. “Did you think I’d be heartbroken and crying? Too devastated to remember what we marched for today?”
I felt a flush creeping up my throat. “Of course not. But I thought—”
“You thought I’d fall apart,” she said quietly. “That’s why you refused to tell me before. You didn’t want to hurt me.”
There was no anger in her words, but guilt tugged at me nonetheless. “I underestimated you.”
“Maybe not,” she admitted. “I think if you’d told me when you found me in the Broadlands weeks ago, you would have been right.
Certainly, seven years ago…” She swallowed, looking south and east as if gazing toward home.
“My feelings for you haven’t changed, Rydian. But my commitment to my purpose has.”
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t let myself respond to that. Not when I’d already told her those feelings couldn’t matter. But her purpose was the same as mine. And I refused to let her shoulder that alone.
“I hope you’ll allow me to share the burden of that purpose,” I said.
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. Out of the both of us, you’re the one with the battle experience. It only makes sense that we use it to our best advantage.”
“What do you need of me?”
Her gaze heated, and I knew we were both thinking of many answers to that question, none of which had anything to do with battle or Obsidian armies.
“I’d like to have your input concerning what comes next,” she said slowly.
“With the rescue?” I asked.
“With all of it. Lesha’s rescue. Our exit strategy. The war that has already begun and will inevitably only get worse. For us, for Grey Oak, for Menryth. You make a much better general than I do.”
I blinked. “You want me to lead your army?”
“I want you to lead your army,” she said pointedly. “The Withered are Autumn fae, which are your people. And when I inevitably open the gate to your kingdom,” she smirked, “that army is your people too.”
Her smirk vanished. “Once, I had hoped my purpose would involve me leading an army to fight for my people, but I see now what my purpose truly is. And I’m beginning to realize it will take all I have to fulfill it. I can’t do this alone.”
“You will never have to.”
Her smile was forced, but I could see relief in the way her expression relaxed at the edges. “Thank you.”
A beat of silence passed.
“I’m going to get some air,” she said, turning away.
I lingered a moment longer, watching her as she walked the camp’s edge.
And still, I couldn’t make myself go to her.
To take down the wall I’d erected between us.
Because every time I looked at Aurelia, I remembered what I’d promised her father.
And every time I heard her laugh, I wondered how long before I’d have to die for that promise.
I would allow her to lose her general. I couldn’t allow her to lose her mate.