Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nova
I woke to the sound of birdsong outside my window and warm sunlight washing over my face. The scent of honey and woodsmoke tickled my nose. My body was cocooned in soft blankets, and my clothing was equally soft, a flowing tunic and trousers that were pure luxury against my skin—and they felt clean.
No more blood.
My eyes remained tightly shut. Because for a moment, I wanted to believe I was home. This warmth, this cleanliness…it was all real. Orin was just downstairs, preparing me a cup of tea. I had never truly left the safety of our home. The nightmare wasn’t real—it never had been.
And now, it was over.
I could wake up.
I could go home .
Minutes passed in this fantasy before I forced myself to open my eyes and stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. Tears streaked silently down my face as I tried to collect myself, to gather the courage to face whatever awaited me next.
Slowly, I sat up, my muscles protesting every inch of movement, aching as though I’d spent an entire winter in hibernation.
After several blinks to shed the last of my tears—and to further adjust to the unexpected brightness—I noticed that Aleksander was asleep on the other side of the room, stretched out on a cushioned bench in front of a large window that was covered by heavy curtains. It didn’t look nearly as comfortable as the bed I was resting upon, but he had blankets and pillows piled around him to help make up the difference; so wherever we had ended up after this latest misadventure of ours, at least it was cozy.
I rose shakily to my feet, trying to grasp at more scraps of my shredded optimism. The space was more than cozy; it was beautiful. Teeming with so much light and energy that, even now that I was fully awake, I could still pretend I was back home—or somewhere in the living world, at least.
My gaze drifted back to Aleksander.
Was it our combined magic that had created this place?
With my eyes on him, I didn’t see the shaggy throw rug until it was too late; I stumbled over it, sucking in a sharp breath as pain radiated from my jostled, injured shoulder.
“Still smarts, huh?”
I twisted toward the gentle, unfamiliar voice—wincing as the movement caused more pain—and I found a squat little woman watching me from the doorway. Her hair looked brittle and white with age, but her face didn’t appear much older than mine. Her dark blue eyes were kind—another unexpected sight after days of darkness and desperate battles for survival.
What was this place?
Was I even still in the Underworld?
“We have things that will help with the pain,” the woman said, stepping inside, “but I wanted you conscious before I administered any of it.” She looked me over from head to toe, as though trying to decide if I truly was conscious.
I wasn’t entirely sure myself; this room was so bright and warm that I still felt like I was in a strange fever dream.
I looked closer at the different parts of it, trying to ground myself further in the details.
Beside the bed, a nightstand carved from dark mahogany held a crystal goblet filled with fresh wildflowers. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals sparkling, catching the sunlight slipping through the curtains and casting intricate patterns on the walls. The walls themselves were covered in silk paper in a soft, pretty shade of green. There was at least one bookshelf against each of these walls, each bursting with leather-bound tomes. In the far corner, a fireplace of shining marble reached up to the ceiling, the centerpiece of its mantle a metal shield featuring a tree with red blooms, intricate filigree around its border, and a word I couldn’t decipher curving across the bottom.
So many emblems of royalty and wealth…
All of which only served to disorient me further.
As I studied it all, a thought popped into my head before I could stop it: This scene could have been from another version of my life, if only my path had veered differently. A palace filled with light and splendor, and me waking up to the sight of Aleksander sleeping nearby…
I was staring at him again, I realized, when the white-haired woman let out the sort of soft hmm my mother used to make when she wanted to pry, but manners dictated silence.
I swallowed hard, redirecting my thoughts and keeping my voice businesslike as I asked, “He’s injured?”
“Exhaustion, mostly. We tried to take him to a room of his own to rest, but he refused.” She picked innocently at the wide sleeves of her colorfully embroidered tunic, peering at me from under her lashes as she said, “Hasn’t left your side since you arrived—I think he’s convinced we’re going to steal you away from him for good if he leaves us alone with you.”
I again forced down the complicated feelings I had toward the King of Light as I asked, “How long have I been asleep?”
She shrugged, as though time meant little to her. “Two days, give or take.”
I walked to the window on the other side of the room, peering through the partially-drawn curtains and into an outside world as lush and beautiful as the room I stood in. I was on the second floor, and the grass spreading out below was thick, rolling in a gentle breeze. The branches and leaves of flowering trees swayed in that same breeze, creating a swirling rain of white and pink petals.
The sky above it all was a pale, powdery blue, and there appeared to be an actual sun hanging in it—perhaps the most disorienting thing I’d seen yet.
“What is this place?” I asked, glancing back at the woman. “Are we still in the Underworld?”
“Oh, Love.” She fixed me with a look that was part pity, part concern. “I don’t think I’m the one to answer that for you—or to answer any of the many questions I’m sure you have.” She hesitated before taking a step closer. For a moment, she looked as if she wanted to wrap her arms around me and not let go.
Instead, she clasped her hands together in front of her, anxiously rubbing and continuously readjusting her grip as she said, “But there are answers here, if you have the courage to go looking for them.”
The strange words rendered me speechless for a long moment.
“Rest up some more if you need to, first,” she added, forcing her hands to her sides and a kind smile back to her face. “I’ll send food and bring back something for the pain after you’ve eaten. And my name is Aveline, by the way.”
She was gone before I could find my voice.
I stared after her, thinking over all she’d said.
Courage .
It would be a while before I finished gathering that, I feared.
In the meantime, I wandered closer to Aleksander. He looked utterly spent, as Aveline had suggested; he hadn’t stirred an inch during my entire conversation with her.
There was an empty vial on the small table beside the window seat. Something he’d taken to help him sleep? He was shirtless, his arms and a section of his abdomen wrapped in bandages. Minor injuries, from the looks of it—but none of this was what caught my eye.
It was the evidence of past injuries that had me drawing toward him for a better look.
There were faded scars covering his chest, shining faintly in the muted light passing through the curtains. I couldn’t tell what had made them, but it had been something wicked and wielded by a purposeful hand, judging by the precise pattern and the depth of each mark. I carefully felt my way around to his back, and my fingers quickly found evidence of more scars between his shoulder blades. These felt deeper, and perhaps more erratic than the ones on his chest. Perhaps more… violent.
Who had done this?
And why?
A rush of anger and sadness washed over me, leaving me feeling unbearably heavy. I settled down beside him, trying to focus on his face instead of his scars.
He looked so different while he was sleeping soundly like this, his features relaxed, free of their usual tension. His dimples were more prominent, for one thing—a feature I’d rarely gotten to witness during this latest reunion of ours, as he’d spent so much of the last few days scowling at me, or otherwise disapproving of the chaos I’d brought him.
Sighing, I tentatively pressed the back of my hand against his cheek. When he didn’t wake, my touch trailed higher, my fingers weaving through the pale waves of his hair.
His head shifted, rolling from the pillow onto my leg. He started to raise up. I held my breath, but he was merely repositioning himself; his head quickly settled back into my lap, and he returned to the peaceful breathing and soft unawareness of before.
My heart thundered at the more intimate position, but I managed to keep still, even as the reality of the situation—of how far off track my plans had veered—hit me like a punch to the gut.
A week ago, I would have given anything to introduce my dagger to the head currently resting in my lap.
Now, I was scarcely breathing, afraid of causing any movement or discomfort that might interrupt his rest.
After a few minutes of sitting there, studying him, I realized something odd: Despite the powerful surge of my emotions coupled with his nearness, our magic wasn’t rising at all.
I still sensed it moving inside me when I focused on it, but it was strangely calm, with none of the desperate reaching and fighting for balance that I’d come to expect. Maybe because everything about this moment already felt balanced—and again, like I’d somehow stumbled into a life I’d anticipated living before my world had broken apart all those years ago.
But…no. This was not normal. And they were not real, these feelings stirring in my chest. We were not married, as we might have been, and we were not at home in his kingdom. We were in Hell, and we had the fresh scars to prove the things we’d been through, however bright our current surroundings might have been.
I heard a familiar, distant bark, and I barely kept myself from jumping at the sound.
Carefully, I slipped out from under Aleksander, tucking pillows under his head and pulling a blanket up over him before leaving him to his rest.
Crossing to the opposite window and peering out of it once more, I spotted Phantom and Red racing through the yard. They were tumbling through the abundance of petals, Red occasionally stopping to gather them and toss them up for Phantom to catch.
Relief warmed my chest, seeing the two of them safe.
But where was I supposed to lead them from here?
I had to figure out where we were, and what came next—and I couldn’t do that while sitting in this room.
With or without courage, I had to keep moving.
With slightly trembling hands, I washed my face with the bowl of rose-scented water that had been left on the vanity in the corner of the room. I braided the front of my hair and pulled it back, securing it in its familiar half-updo that made me feel more like myself—which seemed silly, but also important in this peculiar, unpredictable place.
After finding my boots tucked away behind a changing screen, I yanked them on, along with a luxurious coat I discovered hanging nearby, and then I cautiously slipped into the expansive hall outside.
The brightness and beauty of my dreamlike room persisted into this new space. This was a proper palace—that much was made more and more evident by the minute, thanks to the tall windows and soaring ceilings; the shining, pearlescent grey floors; the countless works of art lining the walls; and the halls that seemed to go on for miles.
And it was a functioning palace, at that. There were actual, living people scurrying about in most of the rooms I passed.
They avoided me. Or, failing that, they let out a panicked gasp and gave a deep bow before scrambling away. More than once, I looked back to see heads peeking out from around doorways and corners, trying to catch a glimpse after I’d safely passed.
I couldn’t make sense of this, either, so I stayed focused on my goal of reaching my destination, heading in what I believed to be the general direction of the petal-strewn courtyard I’d seen.
Eventually, I heard a few more barks that allowed me to pinpoint my target.
Phantom’s ears perked up as soon as I stepped outside, and he immediately abandoned whatever game he and Red had been playing so he could dash to my side.
( You slept an awfully long time, ) he informed me.
I smiled down at him, scratching between his ears. “Almost dying is exhausting, it turns out. You of all beings should know that.”
He let out a soft whimper, nuzzling his head against my leg, his tail swishing slowly through the grass.
“But I’m fine, now. Really.” It was a lie, of course, but one I told often enough that I didn’t stutter as I delivered the line.
Phantom let out another soft, knowing whimper, but I settled him with a few more intense ear and chin scratches, even dropping to my knees so I could rake my fingers more thoroughly through his cold fur. It was a level of affection he didn’t always tolerate, but he was reveling in it, now—proof of how worried he’d been, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
Red watched from a distance. I smiled at her, and she gave me a shy little wave before plopping down in a pile of fallen petals. She hummed softly to herself as she sorted those petals into lighter and darker heaps, then proceeded to demolish those heaps, laughing as she swept her hands through them.
Phantom’s ears twitched and his tail thumped as he glanced over his shoulder, watching the petals rise and fall.
“Go on,” I encouraged.
As he streaked toward her, snapping at the drifting flower bits, I slowly rose back to my feet, hugging my arms around myself. My smile remained despite a nagging sense of… something building in the back of my mind.
The whole scene was like something from a dream I’d once had. Not the feverish fantasy of earlier, but something that stirred a hazy sense of familiarity in my heart. Maybe it was simply the warm air, or the sunlight filtering through the swaying trees, reminding me again of the home I’d left behind.
I was strolling around the yard, absently taking it all in, when the truth finally struck me.
This was the same courtyard I’d seen in my vision, back when I’d first touched Red— that’s why it felt familiar.
I froze, a mixture of shock and yet more confusion icing my blood.
“Bellanova, isn’t it?” came a sudden voice.
I tilted my head to see a man approaching me.
His hair was similar to my own, both in its raven-wing shade and in the unruliness of the waves, though his waves stopped just past his chin. His grey eyes were serious as they fixed upon me, his lips drawn into an even line—but both looked as though they could, and often did, easily give way to laughter.
I vaguely remembered seeing his tall figure on the fields outside of Erebos before I’d collapsed from pain and exhaustion—though most of what had happened on that battlefield remained a blur to me.
“It’s just Nova,” I corrected, barely managing to stammer the words out as my thoughts raced with my latest realization.
Before we could say much more, Red caught sight of the man and raced toward him, spinning cartwheels and skipping as she came. It was the most animated I’d ever seen her, and she showed no fear toward this man as he opened his arms to her, allowing her to leap into them.
To my surprise, Phantom didn’t show any discomfort toward the man, either; he watched us intently, but continued to lounge beneath one of the trees on the bed of flowers Red had made for him.
The man embraced Red for a moment before setting her back down, kneeling so they were face-to-face. He spoke to her in a foreign language, but I didn’t need to decipher the words to understand that he’d asked her to return to her games while the grown-ups spoke in private.
“You know her,” I said as she raced away.
He kept his eyes on her as he said, “She lived here, once upon a time.”
“Before she ended up in the dead areas outside of this place?”
He nodded.
“But how could she live here? I don’t understand what here is, and I’ve not been able to get her to speak about any of it, besides.”
“That doesn’t surprise me; she stopped speaking well before she ran away into the Deadlands.” He looked to the sky, thinking. “Precisely two weeks after her mother died, as I recall.”
“Her mother lived in this palace, too?”
“She was a dear friend of my own mother.”
Something about the way his gaze flickered toward me when he mentioned his mother, only to quickly return to watching Red… I couldn’t explain it, but it made me uneasy.
I studied him closer, trying to make sense of him. His features were a strange mixture of powerful yet gentle. A calm, quiet strength seemed to radiate from every move he made. He wore a plain but finely-tailored shirt, the sleeves of it rolled up to his elbows, and…
And there were strange, gnarled dark scars running up the centers of both his arms, disappearing underneath his clothing.
A cold sweat washed over me, along with more confusion. More questions. More potential realizations.
Softly, I asked, “Who are you?”
He finally looked at me, but he didn’t answer the question.
I took several steps back, even though I wasn’t entirely sure why. This man didn’t feel threatening. Phantom still had not stirred, either, which was usually a reliable sign that there was no immediate danger.
Yet it still took everything in my power not to run away.
“Nova…” He gestured to a nearby bench. “I think maybe you should sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down. I want you to tell me what this place is, and why it’s so different from everything around it.”
“Because it’s protected.”
“Like Erebos?”
“With far stronger magic than that city, or any of the others throughout Rivenholt.”
“Rivenholt?”
“That’s the name of this kingdom.”
“Kingdom?” I realized I was doing nothing except stupidly repeating everything he said in a breathless tone, and I tried—desperately tried—to figure out something more intelligent to say. “The world of the dead doesn’t have kingdoms; I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
I had researched this realm for years before descending into it, after all. I had planned it all out so rigorously. I’d mapped it out in painstaking detail. I’d known what to expect…
And it all turned out to be completely different , whispered a small voice in the back of my mind.
I stared at the ground, suddenly unable to deny all the strangeness—the wrongness —I’d encountered any longer. There was no making sense of it all within the framework I wanted it to make sense within.
So I had no choice but to keep silent as he said, “This is not the world of the dead.”
I shook my head, but he didn’t stop talking.
“This palace was once the center of a thriving, living empire,” he said, “one that lived in peaceful tandem with the empires of the Above. And the beings you’ve encountered over the past days are not dead. They’re cursed. A curse our mother hoped we might someday break, which is why we were sent to the Above over twenty-five years ago.”
I forced myself to lift my gaze to his.
He smiled sadly at me, his eyes shining with an emotion that was impossible to name. “Welcome back to your true world, Nova.”