Chapter 33
Zadriel
“I can’t believe you,” Aedlin hissed, her sneer deepening when Zadriel dropped their bags on the ground. She marched toward him, kicking up dirt and bits of pine needles scattered along a well-worn path that hadn’t been there when he left; had she spent her day pacing?
Roots twitched at the base of their shelter, wriggling free to brush against Zadriel’s boots, but he pretended not to notice. “Aoife, can you give us a moment?”
She paused at the archway, her hand resting on braided branches. “You want me to leave?”
He nodded. “I’ll fetch you shortly.”
It took all of his self-control not to snarl when Aedlin scoffed, Aoife’s wide blue-green eyes bouncing from the queen to the Fae and back.
“Okay,” she muttered, turning on her heels to trudge back through knee-deep snow.
Deciduous boughs creaked, the fading sunlight sparkling along their ice-coated surfaces, illuminating the forest with dozens of living prisms—it took longer than Zadriel liked for the Halfling to be swallowed up by the trees.
Exhaling deeply as he knelt, he did his best to ignore Aedlin’s fiery stare, focusing instead on unraveling the ties on his knapsack. Why were the knots so stubborn?
“I found some jam for the baby, if he can eat such a thing,” he said, pulling the jar free. The strawberry preserve was partially used, glass sticky against his fingers, but he hoped she’d see it as a peace offering.
When Aedlin snatched her bag and swung it over her shoulder, her grimace deepening, he knew he’d been foolish.
“You think jam will make up for abandoning me in the middle of the woods with absolutely no supplies and—”
“Aoife grabbed a few muffins for you, though I believe those are in her pack,” Zadriel interrupted. Or, at least, attempted to. Aedlin didn’t care to stop yelling.
“—I’ve been stuck in this ridiculous excuse for a shelter all day with no idea if or when you’d return—”
“I have bread if you’re hungry now, though,” he said, speaking over her while he dug through their stolen bounty, a warm, yeasty aroma curling in the air.
The queen’s cheeks turned red. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Aedlin,” he sighed, holding out a small dinner roll in offering. The bread had gone cold, its golden crust brushed with honey butter and shining in the low light. “I’m aware you’re unhappy.”
Her upper lip curled, frown dripping with disdain. When she made no move to take it, Zadriel shrugged and brought the roll to his lips.
“How do you intend to rectify this?” she huffed, snatching the bread from his grip before he could take a bite.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, strands of black hair tickling his forehead. “I don’t.”
Her amber eyes widened for a moment, color draining from her fair skin, but before Zadriel could say another word, her expression hardened.
“I am not your prisoner. You will not leave me trapped in some bundle of trees whenever it suits you.” Checking the ties on her bag, the knot still firmly in place, she added, “And you won’t take my things again. ”
“If you leave me no choice, I will,” he said bluntly, tearing a new roll in half and plopping a piece into his mouth.
It was soft on his tongue, the mild, sweet flavor calming his grumbling stomach, though it didn’t soothe the building pressure in his chest or the growl of frustration he’d been holding at bay.
There was no perfect way to weave his words. Nothing he could say to calm her fury.
Aedlin’s voice lowered. “Then next time, you will find me gone when you return.”
He laughed softly. “Why didn’t you leave today?”
“I...” Aedlin’s brows furrowed. She took a slow step back, her knapsack slipping down her arm to dangle on her elbow. “You took our supplies.”
“True,” he mused, wiping the crumbs from his hands. “You could have attempted to find something in one of the nearby farmhouses, if you were so determined.”
Aedlin’s unsteady steps brought her to her bed of pine needles, the dark green cushioning thinner than it had been before.
She sank down onto it, her son dozing at her side, wrapped delicately in her fur-lined mahogany cloak.
“I didn’t think to,” she finally admitted, fingers still clinging to her bag as if he’d take it now.
Zadriel dipped his chin in agreement. “Because it didn’t feel right.”
“Because of the gods damned vow,” she whispered, her voice growing louder when she said, “You’ve trapped me! I never should have trusted you.”
“Aedlin...”
Her fist cracked against an evergreen’s bough, roll squishing between her fingers.
“What?” she snarled, breadcrumbs and coniferous needles raining down to settle at her feet.
Flecks of dark green landed on Darius’s face, waking the babe.
He yawned, cooing up at Aedlin and kicking his feet beneath the makeshift blanket.
Zadriel swallowed. “I won’t let anything bad happen to either of you. I can’t.”
“You’ve implied as much,” she grumbled, tossing the remains of her food to the ground.
“The truth is...” He hesitated, his palm slipping over the bloodied corner of his cloak before he realized what he was doing. The comfort he was seeking. “I’m cursed,” he finally said, running his thumb over the stained, woolen material.
At the sound of the Fae’s deep voice, Darius looked up at him, giggling around his drool-covered fist. Did he find Zadriel’s predicament amusing?
One day, he very well could.
The queen opened her mouth and closed it several times, confusion and disbelief warring on her regal face. “What do you mean?”
He took a breath, the air wrapped in floral-laced embers, a soothing lavender haze.
It grounded him. Calmed his pulse to a steady beat and gave him the strength to share a truth he’d never spoken to anyone other than Cillian.
“An enchantment binds me to the Dother bloodline. If I stray too far, I eventually collapse as my innards are torn apart by a magic that’s so tightly bound to my soul I wouldn’t know where it ends and I begin. ”
Aedlin gasped. She looked to her son, her fingers flexing as if she longed to reach for him.
And run as fast and as far as she can, Zadriel thought, gripping his cloak tighter.
When he spoke again, his low voice laced with a sorrow he couldn’t contain, her attention snapped back to him.
“I won’t take him from you, if that’s your concern.
No child should be stolen away from his mother.
” Swallowing against the burn in his throat, he added, “I simply cannot let you and Darius leave. Not if I want to avoid endless agony.”
The tension bled from her face, but it didn’t take the fire from her amber eyes. “I’m not surprised Dother would—”
Zadriel held up his hand, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “I don’t wish to hear your cruel words. Cillian’s dead, and without him, I will never be...” His lips thinned. “His father did this. Cillian was a child when Brennan took me—we grew up together.”
Aedlin’s gaze roved over his face, pity painting her features. “He took you when you were a child?”
Shrugging, Zadriel muttered, “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters greatly. That explains your attachment to—”
“Do not speak of my brother!” he spat, baring his teeth.
Aedlin flinched, blanching at the sight of his sharp canines, so he clamped his lips shut, drowning in an oily river of shame.
Looking down at his lap, he took a slow breath, swallowing more of the Little Witch’s scent.
It was astonishing how much it calmed him.
How badly he wished to be surrounded by it—by her.
Her phantom presence easing the weight of his grief for a moment.
His low voice softened. “Cillian was the only family I had.”
Aedlin scowled. “What about the family they stole you from?”
Screams resonated in the back of his mind, but Zadriel closed his eyes and willed them away.
“All you need to know is I cannot leave your side until we make it to Eden. It’s near Baith, a secret village hidden by a stretch of Arcadia’s trees, or the Forbidden Forest, as you humans like to call it.
A safe haven for Halflings, and for you, once we get there. ”
The queen considered his words, her amber gaze watching his face, examining every minute expression. “Does the man who did this to you live there?”
Zadriel frowned. “I’ve told you enough.”
She nodded as if he’d given an answer. “Is he a danger to Darius?”
“Brennan would never hurt his grandchild.” Zadriel glanced at a pudgy face that somehow looked too much like Cillian, a father Darius would never know.
One day he’d lead the village, honed by Brennan’s guidance.
Would he be a better man? Zadriel hoped Aedlin’s influence would be strong enough to make him a good leader.
“And what of my safety?” she asked.
Darius stared up at him, his one brilliant azure eye nearly too painful to look at, but Zadriel held that stare and smiled softly, his thumb circling the precious corner of his cloak.
“I wouldn’t take you to Eden if I didn’t think you’d both be safe.
” It was true, though he wouldn’t tell her why he was so certain.
Brennan coveted the crown; Aedlin’s knowledge and experience would be too tempting an asset to part with.
If she hated the nobles who dictated her rule, he could only imagine what she’d think of Brennan and his Village Council.
Aedlin leaned back, her light brown hair catching on the twigs woven into their wall.
“I need to know we’ll be safe before I can agree to your plan.
” She crossed her arms, wrinkling her simple, royal blue tunic.
Waiting. The fallen queen—an immovable force who expected the world to bend to her will.
“You didn’t see Galdon’s Crossing.” Zadriel looked to the woods, searching for signs of Aoife, but the trees had devoured her, her footprints lost to the shadows looming beneath their boughs.
There was no breeze swimming through their shelter, no hint of her eavesdropping.
At least she’d kept her word and didn’t spy.
“I know you worry about Aoife, but she needs us. Halflings are facing atrocities the likes of which Berwick has never seen, at least not since before the Laws were enacted. The people are revolting. There were bodies littering the village square, and...” He bit his tongue before he mentioned Mora, knowing Aedlin would demand they find her.
It was a cruelty he detested, the tightness in his chest cinching around his heart, but he was hardly safe in Eden.
His mate would not fare well in Brennan’s hands.
His dark, glittering gaze hardened, muscles feathering in his jaw while he kept his mouth shut.
A shadow flickered in Aedlin’s eyes, her gaze growing distant. “I’m not certain Eden will be any better.”
“Tell me, where would you be safe? It doesn’t matter which city we travel to across this gods forsaken island.
If the people capture you, they will end your life.
You’d face the same plight as Aoife. As all of them.
” He stood, brushing the pine needles from his black breeches, readying himself for winter’s chill—may the Mother help him find Aoife swiftly.
“There is nowhere safer for you or your babe than Eden.”
She hesitated. “We could board a ship to Eldenna.”
“And if they recognize you? You can’t run when you’re trapped on a boat.”
The queen sighed, the exasperated sound rumbling in her chest. “I will stay near and follow you for now, Fae. I’ll even give the Forbid”—she paused when his eyes narrowed—“Halfling a chance. But I make no promises I’ll join you in Eden.”
Zadriel smirked, a quiet laugh slipping free from his nose with his next breath.
Despite the ever-present ache in his heart, the cold, dull pulse a reminder of Cillian’s death, and the Little Witch’s distance, he felt better somehow.
As if sharing that piece of truth had lifted a weight from his shoulders.
Before he passed through the archway serving as their door, he looked back, his bright, obsidian eyes churning with glints of gold.
“You’ve made your vow, Aedlin,” he declared, a grin tipping up on his left cheek. “I don’t need your promises.”