Chapter 42
Some say Erebus’s trapped spirits need only remember who they are to be freed.
—OLD ONES, ANCIENTS, AND THE FOLK
As the days grew shorter and colder, the trees shook off their leaves to make a fiery carpet on the forest floor.
One night in early winter, long after dark, Thea caught herself staring at her hearth.
The fire had died down, but the embers still glowed orange.
When she realized her chest was tight with longing, she kicked off her bedding and sat up, stirring up the shadows that had been at rest around her.
Nothing was going to appear in her bedchamber.
Scarhamm’s wards had been restored, as they should be.
She despised that she could not forget the shadow prince. She had always been good at shoving unimportant things out of her mind, but she couldn’t seem to do that with him. It was humiliating considering he clearly wasn’t thinking about her. He hadn’t even tried to contact her.
As time went on, she’d realized the worst part was that she would never get a chance to say what she needed to say to him.
She couldn’t vent her hurt, or accuse him of misleading her, or tell him why she’d never trust him again.
At times, it felt as if she’d imagined him, along with all her experiences in the Forgotten Realm.
And yet, sometimes on patrol she caught the barest scent of magic, the specific combination of silver and water and darkness unique to Iluna.
Unable to bear her own restlessness, she strode to her wardrobe and yanked out her patrol gear.
She wasn’t scheduled for duty, but she might as well do something useful and check on the pixies.
As her shadows swirled around her, she grabbed a lantern and her canvas bag and headed out of the fortress.
She waved to the guards on the wall, making sure to spit on the large silver tree outside the gates.
Once in the forest, she sniffed the air, detecting the promise of snow.
She hoped the change of season would release her from this unpleasant mood.
Her long legs ate up the distance, and within a couple of hours, she was approaching the trees lit with clusters of moon sprites, tiny archers waiting in the branches.
“It’s me,” Thea said, raising one hand palm-out, the other holding the lantern. “The Sylvan king’s daughter.”
One of the pixies smiled, her teeth shining in the sprites’ glow. “There’s no need to check if you’re real. Haven’t seen a shadow thing in a while. No scuccas, either.”
“Do you know what happened to them?” Thea asked. The Sylvan patrols had also noticed the absence of scuccas, but no one knew where they’d gone.
“I figured those evil shrubs just wandered off a cliff,” one pixie replied.
“Nonsense,” another said. “Sunflower says their spirits were freed. She sensed them leaving the forest.”
Thea pondered that as she followed the path to the small cottage tucked into tree branches where Autumn and Winter lived. Knocking softly with one knuckle, she waited to see if anyone was awake.
Autumn’s face appeared in the window, grinning widely. She turned and spoke to someone behind her. The door opened and Winter emerged, his wings brushing Thea’s hair as he flew near her face. Autumn also flitted out, perching on a tiny porch that jutted from the front of the cottage.
“Sunflower is asleep,” Autumn whispered with a finger to her lips, nodding to the cottage next door. “What are you doing here?”
Thea opened the bag, reaching in. “I brought you something.”
“Let me guess.” Autumn rolled her eyes toward her cousin. “More pine needles.”
Thea’s hand stilled. She’d been gathering pine needles to keep busy, bringing them to the pixies by the bagful every couple of weeks or so. Maybe she had overdone it.
Autumn seemed to notice her hesitation. “We can always use more.”
“Just used some today, in fact,” Winter said, flying into the cottage and returning with a handful of arrows.
“These are for you. In case you need to find out the truth of things. They don’t just shatter illusions, you know.
They can also make anyone speak the truth.
Not much use on you honest Sylvans, but useful on other folk. Autumn had a vision that—”
Autumn reached out and pinched his arm, ignoring Winter’s outraged gasp. “Your future holds a smack if you keep talking.”
Winter rubbed his arm and glared back at her. “I hope your next vision is of something disgusting.”
“Like a blizzard?” Autumn asked, twisting her lips. “I’ve already Seen it. Tomorrow.” She shuddered.
“I adore snow.” Winter sighed, his chest expanding as he took in a lungful of chilly air.
Autumn flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Oddling.”
Thea smiled at their antics. “Do you know anything about the scuccas leaving Thirstwood?” she asked, looking between them. “Your guards mentioned they hadn’t seen any in some time.”
Winter snorted, tilting his head toward his cousin. “She has a theory on who released their spirits.”
Autumn glared hard at him. “What I know is that a certain snowflake is going to get melted if he isn’t careful.”
That led to more barbs and threats, and Thea could get no straight answers out of the pixies.
After a few more useless prompts, and having satisfied herself that they were perfectly fine, she said goodbye and left, walking more slowly on her way back.
She considered going to the Grotto, but didn’t feel like being in random company.
She was halfway home when a twig snapped on the path behind her.
Unsheathing her blade, she lifted her lantern high. “Identify yourself.”
The silence made her uneasy. She was about to start throwing knives in the direction of the sound when a voice darker than a winter’s night replied. “I’m a stranger in need of help.”
The air froze in her chest. She had not heard his voice in so long.
Thea swallowed and put away her blade. “What kind of help?” Her voice was breathless, so she tried to steady it.
“I… find myself lost in a place I have never been before,” he replied, the rasp of his voice both familiar and different than she remembered. He sounded… tired.
“Thirstwood isn’t kind to strangers,” she said. When her father had reinforced the wards, he’d also strengthened the blood trees. “You’ll want to watch yourself.”
“I was hoping a Sylvan would accompany me. To assure my safety.”
A pleasant weightlessness came over Thea, spreading to her limbs. She could not help the elation that coursed through her at his presence, even now. But her mind raced, questioning this. As usual, she chose directness over games. “What do you want, Damon?”
She heard his indrawn breath, as if he were giving himself a moment to prepare. “I know I’m not welcome here. But I had to see you.”
“Why?” Her pulse leaped at those words, but she knew better than to trust him.
After a pause, Damon said, “I grow bored in my realm. No visitors to pass the time. As a Sylvan, you understand the need for revelry.”
Disappointment washed through her. Was that all? Still, she was curious enough to want answers. “I thought you’d left Iluna.”
“As it turned out, I couldn’t leave,” he said. “And my mother decided the Forgotten Realm is her home as long as I’m there.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t leave?” Thea took a step closer, needing a glimpse of his face. Maybe she could read something in his expression.
“I’ve discovered my father was telling the truth about the realm being a buffer,” he said.
“The real reason he harvested all those spirits was to thin the walls of his prison. But his spells also thinned the barriers between your world and the one that holds the sleeping primordials. The veils need to be restored or else the Old Ones could wake.”
Thea digested that as best she could in the moment. “But… you hate it there.”
“I did hate it there,” he agreed. “But someone has to keep it strong, and I don’t see who else will do this work.”
Thea couldn’t believe he’d chosen to do something so selfless, sacrificing his dreams of escape to protect…
well, everyone. Her people and her family would be safer with him guarding that realm.
She realized it was exactly what she would do in his shoes.
“So you went back,” she said, admiration clear in her voice.
“I never left.” He paused, his voice lowering.
“What do you mean, you never left?” Had he been there, hiding, when she’d thought he’d escaped with Azra?
That made no sense, and if it was true, only made her angry.
He had never tried to help her after she made her bargain with Erebus.
After she’d been put into the cave. Thea took another step toward him, the lantern light picking up his outline.
Another step and she could see his face, though shadows hid the nuances of his expression.
Her heart slammed faster, as if it knew him better than she did.
“I freed my mother, but then I tried to come back to you,” Damon said.
“I should have known my father wouldn’t allow me to return.
He trapped me on an island in the river for a while, until my shadows found a way out, and that’s when I followed you into Thirstwood.
In the end, there was one sacrifice I wasn’t willing to make. ”
“What sacrifice?”
“You.”
Thea halted, her lantern raised, her heart jerking painfully while her eyes took a slow inventory of the man before her. He hadn’t changed and yet he had. The planes of his face were sharper, the corners of his lips held tighter than she remembered, his eyes more sunken.
Now was her chance to tell him what she needed to say. “You still left me, Damon. You used me to free your mother and threw me to your father’s mercy. After I saved you from death in the cave.”
His swallow was audible. “Thank you for saving me. Why did you do it?”
Thea wished she could be as casual and dishonest as he was. To hurt him with a lie. But she was a Sylvan. “I couldn’t let you die.”