Chapter 55 Vera
Vera
“You look… tired,” Ikar says carefully, as if he’s afraid he’ll offend me as he looks down at my stained clothing, messy hair, and mangled boot.
“And you look like you were dragged through a deathstalker den,” I respond with a sassy smirk, only half-joking.
Really, though, he’s as handsome as ever, but he looks terrible.
“Feels like it too,” he mutters. His eyes linger on the stains covering my clothing before he meets my eyes again. “Did he not offer you anything else to wear?”
I feel my cheeks heat, but I lift my nose the smallest bit. “I refused them.”
There’s an unreadable look in his eyes, and I’m terrified he’s going to ask why. Am I supposed to admit that I planned to wear these blood-stained trousers forevermore in his memory? I don’t feel ready to tell him I love him, but somehow, this feels like a silent declaration.
I watch him carefully from the corner of my eye as we walk, on edge, waiting to have to explain myself. But something tells me he might already understand. He doesn’t mention it again, just walks beside me. Pensive.
After thinking it was likely he was dead for over a week, every detail about him stands out to me now.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he’s grown even more handsome since I saw him last. My fingers twitch with the urge to grab his hand.
It feels too forward. Too risky. He needs a Tulip, but is it a business deal?
Or is it possible I can still salvage a romantic relationship and rebuild trust?
I want him to make the first move, but how many times can I expect that of him?
I know it’s my turn now. I shut down my thoughts, and instead, I simply act.
I slip my hand into his larger one, and if I surprise him, he doesn’t show it.
His thumb moves across the skin of my hand with familiarity, leaving a trail of heat before he twines his fingers even tighter with mine.
My heart skips a beat with how natural and right it feels.
We walk hand in hand until we reach the familiar entrance that leads to the nymph’s slice of still-lucent mountain heaven.
We travel it until warm sunshine beckons from ahead, streaming through the ceiling of the cave, indicating that we’ve reached the end.
Just as before, as soon as we tread beneath it, the guards step from their places in the cave walls, their weapons drawn. A familiar but still unnerving sight.
Ikar releases my hand, hands Rupi over to me, and steps forward.
I frown when I watch how carefully he removes his leather armor—I’ve never seen him this way.
When it’s gone, all that’s left is the white shirt he wears beneath, a portion of it drenched in a dark red stain.
I stare at it until my eyes burn and my vision grows fuzzy.
We’ve been running and walking for hours.
Why didn’t he ask me to heal it? Why not Darvy?
I fuzzily notice him pull aside the shoulder of his shirt to show his mark, which this time, seems to satisfy the guards well enough without entirely removing it, and they grant us entrance.
I’m not sure who else they think would be tromping through this forgotten, gloam-drenched forest but us anyway.
The same nymph we met our first time here, with the flower petal clothing, leads us through the forest to Odella.
Rupi wastes no time launching into the air and into the safe treetops, but I find I don’t share her same lighthearted joy.
All I can think is that I want to yank Ikar aside and have an angry conversation about why he isn’t healed yet, but he and Darvy speak ahead of me in muted tones so low I can’t decipher what they say.
It doesn’t feel right to interrupt, but I intend to find out.
I drop back to speak with Rhosse. “Why isn’t he healed yet?” I keep my voice low so Ikar doesn’t overhear.
“Not enough lucent. Darvy’s been working on it for days. We’re just glad he woke up.”
I’m almost afraid to ask. “…Woke up?”
“He entered the sleep of death—almost died. I’ve never seen Darvy so exhausted trying to bring him back; the originators couldn’t keep up with him.”
I swallow tightly, letting the information soak in and feeling guilt so heavy it feels as if it might strangle me for being the cause of such injuries. If I hadn’t run when I saw him at the market… stop. I shake my head to ward off the useless thoughts. All I can do is try to right my wrongs.
We are led through sunset-warmed forest, just as beautiful and dreamy as last time, but I hardly notice it.
Mixed with guilt are thoughts whirling with the fact that lucent is worse than I’ve ever imagined, Ikar is alive, and I have to somehow figure out the words to tell him all my secrets soon.
I remind myself that I want to while simultaneously swallowing a hard lump of anxiety, and also fanning irritation that he’s still so injured.
I admit I’m an emotional mess, and lack of sleep isn’t helping.
We follow the winding and twisting path, traverse the vine bridge, and finally reach Odella’s throne—the four of us looking worse for wear.
“You’ve returned,” Odella states, but I see curiosity in her eyes.
Ikar speaks, his voice sounding stronger than he looks. “We ask to rest here for a time, to recover and prepare for the return journey to Moneyre.”
He’s the high king. He could command her to give him what he wants, but instead, he asks. I take note. One more way he’s unlike the kings I was told of.
Her eyes drop to his shirt. “You’re injured.”
“Looks worse than it is,” he states simply, his face void of emotion.
Of course he says that. I almost roll my eyes. He would say the same thing if he was bleeding out and coherent enough to speak.
Odella inclines her head. “As always, King Ikar, you are welcome here. Please rest.”
She motions to a nymph so short and fragile-looking that I’m worried if I breathe too hard, it will lift her by her dandelion-seed dress and spin her through the air.
She dances ahead of us with four keys that seem giant in her tiny hands, and leads us through forest that is now familiar.
And warm. I find myself searching out spots of sunlight that sneak past the thick canopy of trees, walking in a way that I’ll pass through them to feel the heat of the sun.
I’ll not take warmth for granted ever again.
And while there may be barriers of my own making between Ikar and I, I’ve never felt safer than I have with these three men and amidst the land of the nymphs.
I fully expect to be led back to our rooms with the hammocks, but this time, we’re led within the largest tree trunk I’ve ever seen, even surpassing the size of some of the fae homes, which are quite grand. I realize quickly that this must be Odella’s home—her castle, of sorts.
There’s a grand entrance with beautiful wood-grain floors, and hallways made of strong branches reach far from the trunk.
Nymphs of all sorts busy themselves going quietly to and fro, all bowing to Ikar as the dandelion nymph guides us through.
Hardwood stairs, complete with a railing that I very much appreciate, are set against the rounded side of the trunk.
They lead us upward, and we pass three more landings.
On the fourth landing, we’re led down one of the hallways made within a hollowed branch.
Then about midway down its shadowy depths, we climb a shorter set of stairs, and she opens a door that leads to the outside of the branch.
Another bridge made of thick vines leads to another wider branch where a row of small rooms has been built atop.
They are drenched in greenery, soft moss, and beautiful flowering vines, enough to distract me from the dizzying height as we cross the expanse from branch to branch.
“Here we are.” She hands us each a key, each with a different flower that matches those growing on the small huts.
I hear her say something to Ikar about us meeting Odella for dinner after we’ve cleaned up, but I’m too busy heading toward the hut with the light-blue flowers that match my key to pay much attention.
“Vera.” Ikar’s voice stops me in my tracks.
I turn back, hope springing up inside me at the same time as a rush of nerves as I wonder if this is the moment we’ll be able to talk.
“May we come in and talk for a moment?” I don’t miss the we in his question, and I sigh. His expression is all business as he awaits my response.
I nod. I figured they’d want to know all the nitty-gritty details sooner rather than later. I resign myself to recounting the chill tale as the three men enter after me, crowding into my cramped room.
Ikar eyes a small chair by the wall warily before he carefully settles his large frame into it. Seeing that it holds his weight, he relaxes against the back with his legs sprawled wide. “Can you tell us what happened?”
I take a seat on the edge of the bed, leaving a somewhat tiny stool for Darvy to take. Rhosse stays standing, leaning against the wall near the door. Everyone appears weary, but they’re alert. I resist the urge to fidget—it’s uncomfortable with the three of them staring at me so intently.
“What do you want to know?” Just thinking about the last week has goosebumps rising along my skin as I remember the chill of gloam and Renton’s cold eyes on me.
“Everything,” Ikar says.
My mind races—I don’t know where to start.
He seems to sense the overwhelm that washes over me and offers me a place to begin. “Who’s the leader?”
I can answer that. “A man named Renton—apparently, a long-lost uncle of yours. He said your grandfather was Ricard, his twin.”
“It’s as we assumed, then.” He looks between Rhosse and Darvy.
“They knocked me out, and I woke up in a house made of gloam. I spent most of my time there locked in my room with Tatania—”
“Tatania?” Rhosse asks.
I nod. “She’s my… friend. He still has her captive.”
“Go on,” Ikar urges.
“Renton believes he’s the rightful heir to the throne, and told me he’s been waiting over three hundred years for lucent to weaken enough for them to return and battle for it.”
“What else did he tell you?” Ikar’s gaze has darkened, and I hesitate to share the rest.
That he wanted to marry me. “That gloam isn’t bad.”
“And?”
That I would be worshipped. “That he wouldn’t kill all your people.”
“That’s mighty kind of him,” Ikar growls.
“Why did he capture you when he had the high king in his hands?” Rhosse speaks from the wall where he leans.
Suspicion oozes in the room, but I’m not spilling all my deepest secrets in front of a crowd.
I look at Ikar again, and he seems to sense my discomfort because he changes the subject while giving me a look that promises we’ll be talking later.
I swallow. It’s what I want, but that doesn’t mean the thought of it isn’t terrifying. I still don’t know how to tell him.
Darvy speaks next. “Did he say when he plans to attack?”
I think back carefully. “No, but I don’t think it’ll be long. You saw his army… his beasts.”
I look around the room at their sober expressions. It’s not a good sign.
“Did he hurt you?” Darvy glances at my torn boot.
I shake my head. “A deathstalker claw tore my boot, is all.” I stretch it out in front of me, inspecting the once-beautiful leather with a frown. “But Tatania is still there…” Unless she happened to escape after I did.
“We can’t go back for her right now,” Rhosse says, with an apologetic note in his voice. “But hopefully we can defeat Renton soon, and she’ll be free.”
I look down at my boots and nod. I understand, but it doesn’t stop the worry that she’ll be in even deeper trouble once Renton learns she helped me escape.
“Anything else we should know?” Ikar asks.
My gaze returns to his. Besides the truth? “No.”
He winces as he stands, and I try not to stare at the stained blood on his shirt, but it’s hard when it’s a stark reminder of how close he came to dying.
“We’re heading to the bathing pool. Will you be alright?” he asks.
I nod. “I’ll be down soon.”
We share a prolonged look, then he nods firmly and follows Darvy and Rhosse.
“Shout before entering,” Darvy calls over his shoulder. “…Or don’t,” he adds just before they disappear from view.
The comment brings a smile to my lips, and Ikar looks my way with a brow raised.
“Shout,” he warns seriously, as if I actually need to be told.
“We’ll see,” I respond tartly, irked by the assumption even though he might be correct.
I think I catch the merest hint of a tired smile as he turns.