Chapter 44
Irun down the beach, the wind whipping at my cloak.
When I think of Vero, I remember how I first found her—feverish, cheeks pink, rasping for breath. She slept with her arms wrapped around a pillow, and I always wondered if she slumbered with Mother like that when she was little, in her parents’ bed instead of her own.
But when I found her, she didn’t have anyone to look after her anymore. That was my fault.
I remember brushing her hair off her forehead. When she opened her eyes—big, lavender eyes—I immediately knew who her mother was. And when I picked her up, she clung to me like I was her new mum.
She would have died if we left her there. So, I scooped her up and clutched her to my chest. We rushed away from the forest, away from the Undercroft and Auberon’s attacks on demi-Fey. Then Tristan led us to a portal into London.
The first few weeks in London, we slept under a bridge by a park.
For the first time, my magic no longer worked.
My life changed drastically. I wasn’t a soldier or a spy anymore, and I didn’t serve the king.
I could no longer fight with the ferocity of the goddess.
And as my life became slow and quiet, horrible memories haunted me.
With nothing to fight or survive, I couldn’t escape the memories of everything I’d seen and done.
And so, my world narrowed to one thing: taking care of Vero, making her feel safe and protected.
At night, a little shop would leave its unsold sandwiches on the windowsill. I’d snatch them up for my hungry sister to eat throughout the day.
After a month, Tristan found a place for us to live.
I don’t know how, but I always suspected it was his charm and beauty and the loneliness of a woman he’d just met.
That’s probably how he also found me a job, even when we barely spoke English.
He found a school for Vero, too. He managed everything.
I never told Vero how our parents died. I couldn’t take the look on her face if I did.
And now, at last, I’m going to fix what Auberon did to her.
I race into the forest, breathing in deeply as the oaks shield me. Rain slides from their leaves onto my cloak, dampening it. Lightning cracks the sky overhead, and thunder rumbles over the landscape.
I run along the rocky path, racing like the wind.
It’s not long before I see a stone cottage in a clearing, where golden light beams through the windows. Smoke coils from its chimney.
I fling the cottage door open. Vero sits by the fireplace, wrapped in blankets. Her skin has taken on a yellow tinge, her lips the color of a bruise. Dark veins trace over her cheekbones toward her eyes. She isn’t moving at all, and for one terrible second, I think she might be dead.
I freeze in place, staring at her with horror.
Tristan stands, relief on his face. “You made it.”
“Is she okay?” I croak.
Balin crosses into the room with a cup of hot tea. “Oh, thank the gods. You’re in time.”
“Okay.” My hands are shaking as I reach into my bag, and I pull out the grail. “Get some water.”
Relief spirals through me as I hurry to her side. She’s still breathing, rasping for breath, but her lungs are working all the same. The sharp, pained wheeze makes my own breath go shallow, like I’m the one dying.
I’m hardly aware of Tristan or Balin anymore—I’m just looking at Vero. She’s shivering, her eyes half open. Even her cherry red hair looks faded, the ends bleached to bone-white, like the illness has drained every sign of vitality from her.
Tristan hastens over with a carafe of water and pours it into the grail.
It seems to hum with power between my hands. “I’ve got it. Let’s do this now.”
I sit next to Vero, halfway on the sofa with her. I bring the grail closer to her face. Her eyes flutter, and her pupils look white. I’m not sure she even knows I’m here.
From behind the sofa, Balin holds the back of her head.
I lift the skull to her lips and let the water trickle over her mouth. The first few drops spill down her chin, and Balin uses his other hand to try to open her mouth a little more.
I pour water directly into her mouth, and she sputters and coughs like she’s choking. Then, her eyes snap open, and she grabs the grail from me.
Hungrily, she pulls it to her mouth. She tilts it back, drinking down every drop. When it’s empty, she cradles the grail in her arms like a baby.
We stare at her, listening as the rough whistle in her breathing quiets. Slowly, the lavender returns to her eyes, and the dark veins beneath her skin begin to recede.
She looks shocked, and I gaze at her in awe.
She takes a deep breath, and a bit of color returns to her lips, then a pink blush to her cheeks.
For the first time, she seems to realize that she’s holding a skull, and she stares down at it in shock. “Is this the grail? Oh, my gods, I can breathe again.”
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her in tightly for a hug. I clamp my eyes shut, but tears start to stream down my cheeks anyway.
“You’re crushing me, Syn,” she says into my shoulder.
I pull away again, looking into her face. “Are you better? You can breathe fine now?”
She already said it, I know, but I want to hear it a million times.
A line forms between her eyebrows. “I feel amazing, actually. Is this how you feel all the time? Like you can run five miles?”
She pulls the blanket off and stands. Balin practically tackles her in a hug, and she breaks into laughter, hugging him back.
“Veroooooo.” He’s pulling her tightly against him.
She’s still laughing when she pulls away from the hug, giddy with everything.
Tristan leans over to ruffle her hair like she’s still a little girl.
I can’t think of a time when I ever felt this elated. My happiness is a wild, uncontrolled thing, a roaring river of joy. I can’t decide if I should laugh or sob with relief, and I end up sort of hiccupping between both.
The firelight wavers over Vero, and she looks down at her arms, grinning. “The weird veins are gone! Bloody amazing. Syn, I can’t believe you got the fucking grail. How did you do it?”
I shrug. “Not a big deal. You are my sister, so of course I did.”
Her smile is dazzling. “I knew you could do it.” She lifts her shirt sleeve to her nose and makes a face.
“Gods, I reek. I need a bath.” Her smile spreads again.
“But when can we have a party to celebrate? I need to bathe and find something clean to wear. And then we should get mead, and food, and music. And we will not invite Owain.”
Tristan runs a hand through his hair. “You and Balin should have a party the moment you return. But Syn and I have to get back to our mission.”
Vero’s smile fades. “You’re not coming to the cottage with me?”
I shake my head. “Not just yet. But I will, of course. I’m working with Avalon Tower still.”
“Doing what?”
I actually have no idea what Tristan already told her, so I let him fill her in.
“We’re monitoring a monarchist group,” he says. “We need Syn’s help. I promise to keep her safe.”
Her frown deepens. “But how can you make that promise? That’s not something you can actually promise.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say.
She folds her arms. “You two always have secrets. From me, from each other, from yourselves…”
“All part of being a spy, darling,” says Tristan.
I swallow hard, looking at Vero—completely healthy for the first time since I found her feverish in that little cottage. “What will you do now, Vero? What do you want to do with your life?”
She looks up at the ceiling, smiling as she thinks.
“I could do anything now, right? I want to have a home library. And I could write books, maybe, in Fey about the mortal world. And maybe open a bookstore. And I want to learn how to swim and how to cook. Balin always cooks for me, but I’m sure I can learn.
And a garden! I’m going to grow vegetables and flowers.
I might learn to fight, also. And I want to play the drums.”
I grin. “Beautiful.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay?” she asks.
She crosses to me and hugs me tightly against her.
I want to stay here with Vero, hiding out in the forest cottage with her forever. But I don’t have much time before the cugol will notice I’m gone, and they’ll come for me—and Vero, too.
Outside, I hear a twig snap, and I run to a window. But when I peer out, I see only shadows.
“What’s wrong?” Vero asks.
I press my face to the glass, looking out. “Nothing. I thought I heard a twig. But I can’t see a thing.”
I turn back to Vero and wrap her in my arms again. I squeeze her, no longer worried that I’ll break her. “I’ll be with you soon. I promise.”
* * *
Tristan leads me along the shoreline, and the waves crash against the rocks. Overhead, thunder rumbles across the horizon, and the dark clouds unleash a torrent of rain. Lightning spears the darkness.
And yet, I feel euphoric all the same. I’ve finally redeemed myself, just a little.
I pull my cowl up higher, hoping to hide the halo’s glow from anyone who might look outside.
From here, we can’t see the Veiled Court. It blends into the horizon—just the dark sea, the mist, and the night sky.
“What, exactly, happened?” Tristan asks, as he wipes the rain off his face. “You lit the crypt on fire?”
“No, not me. The soldiers’ lanterns lit the crypt on fire when I startled them.”
“Right. When you startled them by slitting their throats.”
“I imagine that was a surprise to them, yes. In any case, I think we need a different route. There will be soldiers crawling all over the underkeep, trying to figure out who the murderer is.”
He nods. “Okay. We’ll need to scale a different wall and do it fast. I think our best option is the outside wall of the Gloaming Tower or Lyria, facing the sea. No one will be looking for the murderers in the middle of the ocean.”
Rion lives in Lyria, and that fucker catches everything.
“Gloaming,” I say. “We only need to make it up two stories, and we can climb through one of those big balcony windows into the stairwell.” I turn to him, grabbing his arm. “Tristan? There’s a little situation I have to tell you about.”
His eyes flash in the darkness, and I can see a line of concern between his eyebrows. “What happened?”
“Rion is blackmailing me into giving him the grail. If I don’t give it to him by Wednesday, he’ll tell everyone that I’m an imposter, and I’ll be tortured and burned.”
“Fuck. I want to rip that man’s heart from his chest.”
“Right?”
“But we can’t kill him yet. What does he want the grail for? He’s already winning.”
I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
“Order of the Green Knight, perhaps?”
“I can’t say I’m much closer to figuring that part out. So, what do you want me to do?”
“I need to report this to Avalon Tower. But I might not be able to get back here in time. I’m not even sure how I’ll get a portal open.
I think I can get to one tomorrow morning.
” He turns, grabbing me lightly by my biceps.
“Syn, if you don’t hear from me by the time the deadline is up—I want you to give it to him.
Don’t risk your life for the grail. Whatever he plans to do with it is a problem for later.
Your immediate problem is staying alive. ”
“Okay.” I turn away from him, looking for the Veiled Court. I know it’s near here, but I still can’t see it. “And our immediate problem is also getting back inside.”
Tristan guides me with his hand on the small of my back. “We’re almost there. I can feel it.”
He leads me into the shallow waves, and seawater sprays through the air around us as the waves crash. Magic crackles over my skin, raising the hair on my nape.
Then, it comes into view—the fortress, and the Gloaming Tower looming above us. It’s dizzying, this sudden appearance of a grand fortress before us, and I stare up at the hulking tower.
“The exterior walls are slick, with hardly any finger holds,” he says. “Do you think you can do it?”
“What other choice do we have?” I ask.
“None.”
“Then we’ll make it happen.”
As we reach the base of the tower, I look up at the climb. Rain lashes against the smooth, honey-colored rocks and slides down the sides. This looks nearly impossible.
From the lapping waves, Tristan nods up at the rain-slicked tower walls. “You go first.”
I know he wants to catch me if I fall, but I don’t argue. He’s a better climber than I am.
Arching my neck, I look up for any uneven stones. Lightning flashes again, and I spot a slight grip in the momentary glare. I reach for the little outcrop of stone, then feel around for a foothold. My toe finds a tiny ledge, and I hoist myself up.
Even with the cowl over my head, the halo’s light catches on the slick stones, glowing back at me.
I climb slowly, scanning the wet surface, just barely holding on. I breathe in the scent of wet wool, my sodden cloak weighing me down. The rain picks up, slamming down on us from behind, completely soaking my clothes.
After one story, I reach for a grip, but my fingers slip off again, and then I’m falling—
Tristan’s left arm shoots out, and he catches me like I don’t weigh a thing. He pulls me in close to him.
For a moment, I stare at the way the rain slides down his golden skin. “Thanks,” I whisper.
“Climb onto my back. I’ll get you up.”
It’s not glorious, but his limbs are much longer than mine. He has a lot more options when it comes to finding grips. Plus, he’s incredibly strong.
I shift around his body, wrapping my arms over his shoulders and my legs around his waist. His white shirt clings to his skin.
As he climbs, I feel his muscles shift and flex until at last, we reach the balcony. I raise my arms and reach for the balcony that juts from the window. I pull myself up, then shift out of the way and slip into the stairwell. Tristan hauls himself up next and slides inside with me.
Catching his breath, he turns to me with a half smile. “Victory.”
Rain trails down his cheekbones.
I smile and let out a little laugh. “We did it.”
From below, I hear rapid footfalls, and I freeze. Someone is about to round the corner.
I nod at the window, then slip outside. Tristan follows, and we press in close, just out of view. There isn’t much room here, and he wraps his arms around me. As the rain hammers down on us, I press my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
I’m no longer paying attention to what’s happening in the stairwell or if we can go inside now. All I want to think about is the warmth and solidity of his body, the steady drum of his heart.
I steal a look at his gorgeous face and shining green eyes. When he looks down at me, I see it for the first time—the hunger. My gaze flicks down to his sensual lips, then slowly drags itself up again. Gold shoots through his irises, then it smolders to a fiery copper.