Chapter 79
Zadriel
“Here’s as good as anywhere,” Zadriel grunted, dropping their bags.
The soft gray-violet tunic he’d stolen from a fancy chalet outside Moldenna stuck to his abs, sinking into the valleys between his toned muscles.
He’d torn off his cloak and shoved it into his sack hours ago, damning the consequences.
It had been easy, breaking into the homes lining the countryside outside Berwick’s capital.
There was a celebration within the city.
Feasts so massive the savory scent of smoked meats curled in the country air, so potent he could taste it when he took a breath.
Nightly fireworks whistled as they launched to the heavens, sparking and crackling when they fell, much to Darius’s dismay.
The little one cried at the sound, screaming until Aedlin shushed him and rocked him back to sleep in her arms. They were all exhausted.
Had Moldenna selected a new ruler? Zadriel couldn’t be sure, and Aedlin hadn’t spoken a word on the matter, though her frown as she stared at Castle Berwick’s towers said plenty.
He let her mourn in silence—they’d have their answer soon enough.
Sweat trickled down Zadriel’s forehead, skirting his brow before nearly soaking into his eye.
Wiping it with his forearm, he decided he missed the ocean air.
That another fish or two wouldn’t be so bad if it meant there’d be a damned breeze to soothe his heated skin.
He dug through his bag, searching for a tent they’d stolen days prior—Aedlin had had enough of being cocooned by trees.
“Thank the gods,” she wheezed, her body sagging. Her fair skin was red in places, aching under the endless torment of the sun. Even as it dipped under the horizon, navy hue bleeding through the bright, cloudless sky, its heat permeated the air.
They huddled close to Arcadia’s wall, seeking relief in the Forest’s long shadows stretching and crawling across the grassy field.
It was the little comfort they could find as they traveled north, intent on carving out a new safe haven near Westmont, hidden by the mountain range stretching to Northwrenn Isle.
“Why don’t we settle here?” Aedlin asked, reaching out a hand toward him in a silent request for a drink.
Zadriel tugged his cowhide flask from his bag and pulled the cork free.
Tipping it back, he nearly sighed in relief when cold water swam over his tongue—it was like ice, cooling him from the inside while he chugged greedily.
When he could drink no more, he tipped it over his head, closing his eyes as water soaked into his hair and spilled down his cheeks. Then he handed it to Aedlin.
A small smile lit up her face. “I’ll never get used to this thing.”
Shaking the liquid from his hair, Zadriel grinned when Darius giggled, the joyful sound a boon.
A beacon of light chasing away the darkness.
The little one eyed Zadriel’s sharp canines when he grinned, Darius’s wide amber and azure eyes transfixed.
He pointed up at the Fae while Aedlin undid the knots holding the sling in place, each one carefully woven for their long travels.
“Do you like my smile, little one?” Zadriel asked, leaning closer. Snorting when Darius smooshed a tiny hand on his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Pulling Darius free and cradling him in his arms, Zadriel marveled at features he knew too well—it wasn’t simply the bright azure eye that made him think of Cillian.
It was the bridge of Darius’s nose, the curve of his chin.
Cillian was gone, but Zadriel found peace in the parts of him remaining in his son.
His smile gentled as he bounced Cillian’s boy, earning another joyous laugh. One day, he’d like to have a child of his own. He’d never allowed himself to think of such a thing before, gods forbid Brennan get his hands on Zadriel’s child, but now...
Hope clutched his marrow until she’d infested his very soul—he couldn’t free himself from her embrace if he tried. And why would he want to?
The babe reached up to touch Zadriel again, though this time his little fingers landed on his earlobes. “I see you’ve found my pointed ears,” he chuckled.
“He’s used to seeing you with your hood on,” Aedlin said, wiping water from her lips. She grabbed the cork and popped it back on the flask before settling on the ground. “I should probably feed him.”
Zadriel nodded, adjusting his hold on Darius as he leaned down to hand him to his mother. “I’ll go find us something to eat,” he offered, patting the pocket where he’d kept his paring knife.
Arcadia’s beckoning call grew louder, a song he knew Aedlin would never hear. Zadriel ignored it, turning instead to the smaller cluster of trees on Berwick’s side, the woods blocking them from prying eyes.
We’ll eat well tonight, Zadriel thought, the hare in his grip a good-sized male. He was nearly five pounds, covered in a soft brown fur they could make use of next winter, if they could find the right craftsman.
It was almost dark, the heat finally fading enough the air no longer felt thick.
He was surprised to find Aedlin had set up their tent, the off-white ceiling dipping ever so slightly—it wasn’t perfect, but it was a kind gesture.
How she managed to erect it while watching Darius, he had no idea.
Had she done this before? Sneaking away with her late husband to camp under the stars?
Zadriel inhaled deeply, tipping his head back and enjoying the feel of his lungs expanding. The mild breeze kissing his ears. Another promise of change looming in the distance.
“I hope you enjoy hare,” he said, presenting his catch as he entered the tent.
“I’ve always found it too gamey,” a familiar rasp declared.
Zadriel’s heart faltered, his breath catching in his throat. The hare slipped from his fingers, thudding on the ground at his feet.
Azure eyes glimmered in the low light—Brennan crossed his arms, something red clutched in his right hand, the dark void in his ring flicking up as if to watch. “Hello, Zadriel.”
Each inhale came in short bursts, Zadriel’s jaw clenched so tightly it coaxed an ache to throb in his face. He could hardly think. Barely do anything but stand, frozen, lost in that burning azure.
Aedlin whimpered in the corner, clutching Darius tightly to her chest, her face ashen. The contents of their bags strewn across the canvas floor, clothing soiled with crushed bits of jerky and breadcrumbs. What had Brennan done while Zadriel was gone?
He dipped his hand in his pocket, fingers curling around the leather-wrapped handle of his paring knife. Scars aching. “Let them go.” Somehow, Zadriel’s deep voice held steady. “I’ll return to Eden and do whatever you want, Brennan. There’s no need to involve them.”
There was no shift in the man’s stony expression. “Tell me, Zadriel,” he said, stepping on stale rolls, smearing bread under his foot, “what gave you the impression I’m a fool?”
“I’m not implying—”
Brennan tossed something red at Zadriel’s feet, leather thwacking his boot. The cover flying open to reveal pages and pages of notes in familiar handwriting.
Cillian’s journal.
Zadriel’s dark eyes roved over elegant ink, one line standing out.
Mora aspires to be monstrous, bending the power I gifted her to her whims...
“Look what I found in your companion’s bag,” Brennan sneered, pulling at the scar on his cheek, bite marks sewn into flesh. A final gift from Vehsa.
A squeezing feeling enveloped Zadriel’s chest. All this time, Aedlin had a piece of Cillian with her?
When he looked at her, she nodded, her throat bobbing. “I grabbed it before fleeing the castle, but I’d nearly forgotten—”
Brennan scoffed. “Spare me your lies,” he spat, dismissing the fallen queen, the entirety of his focus narrowing onto Zadriel.
Fingers drumming on the golden hilt of the dagger on his belt—Vehsa’s dagger—while Cillian’s old pendant swung from the hemp tethered to his wrist. Zadriel flinched, echoes of pain searing his scarred arms. “I’ve heard the details of your travels with the queen,” Brennan taunted, “and your plan to keep my grandson from me.”
“I—” The lie coated Zadriel’s tongue, refusing to slip free. His mind raced, blood thrashing in his veins while he searched for something—anything—to say that wouldn’t fuel the violence lingering in Brennan’s low tone.
“I’ve never been one to share your blood; it’s the reason you’re still breathing.
Too precious to waste.” A slow, vicious smile curled on Brennan’s lips.
“But a fair trade to your tormentors in Esper. I was certain I understood how pathetic you were when my spies told me what became of you, so much so I had no choice but to come find you half-dead on the beach myself. Imagine my surprise when you sent me an Elementalist who gleaned far more than I did. Who was eager to share my useless thrall’s intentions to run away with the fallen queen of Berwick. ”
The paring knife dug into Zadriel’s palm, his hand shaking. Body trembling. Aoife knew... Had she heard Silas mention the queen, telling Brennan at the first opportunity? Mother damn her. Mother damn him for allowing her to leave without forcing her to make a vow. For assuming she was na?ve.
Brennan stepped closer, each thunk of his boots against the tent bottom cracking like thunder in Zadriel’s ears.
It didn’t matter that he stood more than six inches taller—Brennan squared his wide shoulders, thick muscled biceps flexing as he stared up at Zadriel with palpable disdain. “You killed my son.”
Those words plunged into Zadriel’s chest like blades, slicing through to his bones until he felt Cillian die all over again. “I would never—”