Chapter 18
knock wrenches me from sleep.
It takes me a panic-filled moment to get my bearings.
I’m upstairs in my chambers at Easton, where I fled after the hunt started.
Many of the partygoers stayed outside to wait for the hunters’ return, but I told Daisy that the wine had made me sick and I needed to retire early.
I was so exhausted from the day that I fell asleep in my party dress, the corset still drawn tight.
Blearily, I look around. It’s too dark to be morning. Another knock sounds, more urgently.
I throw on a robe, murmuring the charm to conceal my ears and double-knotting my kerchief to be safe.
Then I hurry to answer. I don’t know who to expect on the other side of the door.
Odessa, here to threaten me again? Daisy, hoping to gossip?
Sandria with another confusing invitation?
I’m not sure I trust anyone anymore. But it’s enough to jolt me awake when I wrench the door open and find the last face I expected.
Finn.
Something’s wrong.
He’s drenched in rain and reeks like a swamp. I don’t smell blood on him, thank the Gods, but there’s an ominous energy around him nonetheless. Something has happened to him. Something has shifted. He looks pale and more wan than I’ve ever seen him, except when he was half dead.
After weeks of being ignored, I’m torn between slamming the door in his face or collapsing into his arms straightaway. I have strong urges toward both. But, instead, I usher him in before I can stop myself.
As he steps past, I poke my head out the door and glance down the hall for onlookers. I don’t need more trouble. But I find the hall dark and empty. After scanning with my Talent, I determine we’re the only ones awake on this floor. Everything is still. Eerily silent.
I turn back to Finn with my heart pounding. He’s standing stiff in the middle of the chamber, looking childishly marooned.
“I’m sorry for coming so late,” he mumbles. “I just needed to talk.”
Instinct and reason continue to clash as I take in his appearance.
I’ve never seen him look this vulnerable.
Most of me wants to comfort him. That’s all I’d want for myself in his shoes.
But my more rational side snarls to push him away, to punish him for the weeks of neglect. And for once, I let that half win.
“So, now you want to talk to me?”
“Lyria—” Finn starts.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
I fold my arms, drawing back.
I thought it wasn’t possible for Finn to look more distraught. But his face crumples another infinitesimal degree.
“Don’t make that face. Don’t Lyria me,” I grind out. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. You didn’t even acknowledge me at the party or at the hospital. You can’t just pretend that I don’t exist and then show up at my door because you need something.”
At least he has the decency to look ashamed. Finn stares down at the floor. “I came to tell you I’m sorry,” he starts to explain.
It’s best not to look at him. I try glaring at the darkened window. “I think you should go.”
He draws a heavy breath. “I thought we understood each other after the garden?”
“I did, too! Before you punched Cygnus! Before you ignored me for weeks!”
Do I really have to explain this to him?
Finn staggers toward me. “Lyria, I couldn’t even look at you after what I did! I couldn’t face myself! I was so ashamed, I even asked my father to send me to the front lines in Sontaag, but he refused—”
My stomach twists. “You what?”
“What I did to Cygnus is unforgivable—”
I cut him off. “Why would you send yourself to the front lines?”
“Because it’s what I deserve.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I’m a monster!” He sinks into a chair, looking tortured as the words tumble out.
“I never meant to hurt him. Cygnus, he’s…
he used to be my best friend. I’ve always looked up to him, and he’s always been better at everything, and since he came back from school, he’s wanted nothing to do with me, and…
I don’t blame him for that. But when he said those things about you, I just saw red.
Because if he hadn’t forced me out of his life, he’d know what you mean to me, and how I feel about you.
He’d be the person I was most excited to tell!
And then what he said about my troops…That’s my worst fear vocalized.
He knows that. And I just…I didn’t think. Because I’ve got dog shit for brains.”
Finn clutches his head between his hands, and his voice drops, wobbling. “I could have maimed him. They thought he was going to go blind. Just because I couldn’t stand hearing the truth…that everybody thinks I’m a joke.”
I draw a very deep breath, closing my eyes. Behind my lids, I see Mother’s look of revulsion and her bloody hands. I can hear her screaming, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
Shame swells through me, rising to match his. I know how it feels to make a horrible mistake.
“What you did was an accident,” I say softly, lifting my eyes back to him. “A stupid one, but…still an accident. It didn’t make me stop wanting to see you. And the last thing I’d ever want is for you to go fight in Sontaag. You’re not a monster. And I don’t think you’re a joke, either.”
Finn releases a long exhalation, his shoulders slumping. “Then…why are you still upset with me?”
“Because…” So many reasons rise, I’m scrambling to pick one.
Because I’m your enemy. Because you’re complicit in Verdinae’s crimes. Because your whole life rests on a lie. Because you hunt Elves like me. Because none of that has stopped me from wanting you.
I grit my teeth. Worse than the sweeping heat of my Talent is the ache in my chest. It feels like a cold blade is slowly being driven between my ribs.
When I look at Finn, I see the person who unlocked my cage.
Even after everything I have learned and everything he has done, I still see a dreamscape of an impossible future: deserts and oceans to traverse, cities to explore, children to treasure… a kingdom to lead back to the light.
A fantasy that’s objectively absurd.
And has to end now.
I need to shove Finn away before I’m too pathetically attached to manage it. So I settle on the cruelest truth I can vocalize. “Because you’re a coward.” My vision blurs, and my throat goes tight. “And you’re selfish.”
Finn recoils like I’ve hit him.
I’ve already thrown the knife—why not twist it?
“In the Ironwoods you told me that you hate your father,” I growl. “But all I’ve ever seen you do is exactly what he expects. Maybe the reason you’re not respected is that everyone can see that you’re still jockeying for his approval!”
Finn doesn’t argue. He just stares at me, heartbroken.
“You told me in the garden that you wanted to change,” I barrel on, gaining momentum. “You made me think I could trust you. Then, at the first opportunity, you just dropped me and disappeared!”
“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me!” he says, defensive.
“I did nothing to give you that indication!” I retort. “And then tonight, when they brought out the fyrehound, what did you do? You didn’t just stand by and watch the murder happen—you participated!”
“No, I didn’t,” Finn says softly.
“What?” I reel back.
Finn meets my eyes, and I find an unbearable heaviness in his. “We didn’t kill it.”
“You didn’t catch it?” My spirits soar, hoping for the impossible.
“Oh, we caught it.”
My breath catches.
Finn’s voice falls, flat and low, as he explains.
“We chased it for a couple hours. We tracked it over two rivers and got up to our knees in shit, trying to follow it through the marshes. Everyone had to get off their horses and pick up on foot. Eventually, we got it cornered, and Sebastian went in for the kill.”
I try to picture the scene: the young fyrehound surrounded by hunters with swords raised.
“And?” I ask.
“And he couldn’t do it,” he finishes roughly.
Relief courses through me.
“My brother walked up to the hound, and he just froze. Couldn’t stomach it, I guess. So the creature got away.”
This I can imagine vividly: Sebastian looming over the hound, indecision etched across his handsome features. Did he tremble, as I did when I held Dante’s life in my hands? Did he see the injustice of the situation?
Finn’s expression doesn’t match my relief.
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes, I’d call it a problem. We had dignitaries from all over the Midlands in that hunting party.
Nobles from every major family. If they think Sebastian is a little bitch who can’t handle blood, it reflects poorly on the whole royal family.
We’ll flounder in Sontaag if we don’t have their support.
Not to mention what my father will do when he finds out. ”
Revulsion rolls through me as I stare back at Finn. How can our priorities be so different?
“I don’t think Sebastian is a ‘little bitch’ for showing mercy.” I bitterly echo his words. “What I saw back there wasn’t sport. That was boys pretending to be warriors. I applaud him for having the guts to do the decent thing.”
Finn sighs. “I know how you feel about the fyrehounds—”
“It’s not about how I feel,” I say, cutting him off. Fury courses through me, that vengeful part of my magic rising like liquid fire. “It’s about right and wrong, and learning to see it!”
“I’m not saying he wasn’t right to refuse,” Finn pushes back. “I’m just saying there were better ways he could have approached it.”
“Such as?”