Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aleksander
“The air in this place makes me want to peel my skin off,” Zayn muttered.
“That seems like a rather dramatic solution,” I replied, offhandedly, as I concentrated on directing a current of magic into the cracks of the wall running around the perimeter of the palace’s northern yard. Ivy covered this wall, dotted with withered white flowers. As my light sank deeper into the cracks and pulsed through the stone, the wall shimmered with golden energy, bringing those white blooms to life, doubling their size and making them glow around the edges.
Zayn stretched out on top of the low wall, like a cat sunning himself, as he continued to lament our situation.
I didn’t respond to anything he said—but I didn’t disagree with his sentiments, either.
It had now been five days since our arrival to Rivenholt Palace, and the protective magic here—meant to deter Lorien Blackvale and all who served him—remained oppressive, no matter how much practice our lungs had at breathing it in. Our bones seemed to creak under its weight, as if the very air was working against us, sinking into our muscles and dragging us down.
We’d spent the past several mornings practicing to better acclimate our magic; hours of trying to manage even the simplest of spells. It was uncomfortable to work within the suffocating conditions, but the alternative—not being able to summon any useful magic in what was essentially an enemy court—was far worse.
“At least Rowen and Farren seem to be enjoying themselves,” Zayn said. He’d rolled onto his side and was looking toward the edge of the yard, to where our two loyal soldiers were reclining on a grassy knoll. They looked perfectly relaxed, even in spite of the intimidating palace rising behind them with its glistening dark spires gleaming like the teeth of dragons. Farren even appeared to be fully absorbed in reading a book.
“Let them,” I mumbled, my focus quickly returning to my magic. I pulled a knife from my belt and started to push Light energy into the blade, then used it to trace patterns in the air. It was an old method of practicing concentration—one of the most basic tricks I’d mastered as a child. “It’s been too long since we’ve relaxed in a proper palace, hasn’t it?”
Zayn rocked up into a sitting position. “…I’m still having a hard time believing this is a proper palace. I ventured into Tarnath—their royal city—yesterday evening, you know, and people were truly going about their business as if it was any city in the Above. It’s very strange; it almost feels like we’re back home, until you remember the dead things pressing in along the edges of it all.”
“Not truly dead,” I reminded him.
“Close enough.”
“For now, anyway.”
He averted his eyes, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against the thorny vine tattoo encircling his right bicep, clearly debating whether or not this was worth arguing about. He typically chose to let things go—arguing got in the way of having a good time, as he frequently reminded me. This time, however, his brow remained furrowed with concern.
I fixed my gaze on his, questioning.
“…There’s the small matter of two worlds, unable to exist at the same time,” he said.
“Unless we find a way to balance them both.”
Another hesitation. Then, “Let’s assume we don’t find a way to do that…what then?”
I traced my thumb along my knife, injecting more energy into the blade. The air crackled with it—enough to make my skin tingle and the hairs on my arms stand on end, even with the suffocating air closing in around it.
“If it comes down to our world or theirs, who do you think she’s going to choose?” Zayn pressed.
“She won’t choose between them. She’s already stated as much.”
“I’m afraid they’ll force her to,” he said. “She’s as outnumbered as we are, truthfully. They have their plan in their minds already—they’ve had it for years , and I doubt she’ll sway them from it, ultimately. Have you seen the way they look at her? They want to make her into their little puppet.”
I bristled at the thought, and the magic surrounding me sizzled. It had crossed my mind several times since we started uncovering truths in this palace, and it was why I’d taken Nova’s side while we’d stood in the shadows of Luminor and Grimnor. Why I had vowed to fight alongside her instead of against her. Why I hadn’t tried to steal the Sword of Light and make a run for it, yet—even though the idea was tempting.
True, it had partly been self-preservation.
But there was more to it than that.
I didn’t trust this brother of hers—or any of the ones who answered to him—to not betray her. And the thought of her fending for herself against them…
“They won’t make her into anything without her consent,” I told Zayn.
“No?”
“I won’t let them.”
The words seemed to echo in the stifling air. Zayn started to reply several times, only to press his lips back together every time, eventually settling on a quiet “ Hmm .”
I gave him a sharp look. “What?”
“This is a first.”
“ What is a first?”
“You feel protective of her, don’t you?”
The statement nearly made me drop my knife. “I do not. At least, not beyond taking care of a crucial cog in our own plans. We lose our connection to her, we lose our best chance of making it out of this world alive. And if they gain complete control over her and her magic…well, it’s only going to end poorly for us and the rest of our world.”
“Not like you to get so attached,” he commented, as though I hadn’t spoken. “Not like you at all.”
“I’m not attached. On the contrary, I find her infuriating. But also a necessary evil, I’m afraid.”
His grin was slight. “Well, that’s often how it starts, isn’t it?”
I didn’t bother to answer this, choosing instead to walk beside the wall he sat upon, studying the sections still shimmering with the light I’d summoned. It was lasting a little longer than my previous attempts, at least.
“For what it’s worth, I like her too,” Zayn said. “But there are greater things at stake. And I trust her more than any of the other necromancers here, but she still has deeper ties to Shadow magic, and to this world, than to anything in the Above—even if she isn’t ready to embrace those ties yet.”
“I know that.”
He hopped down from the wall, stretching. “There are no easy answers, I guess. But you know I’ve had your best interests at heart for nearly twenty-seven years now.”
“Yes; it’s why I tolerate you.”
“And, as your most tolerated advisor and friend, I have to insist that you think twice before getting any closer to her. You have a duty to your kingdom and its people—to the whole world of the Above. And I foresee her clouding your judgment about that.”
“You severely underestimate my ability to judge.”
“Just be careful.”
“No problem.”
“None?”
“At all.”
He flashed me a full, crooked grin. “Well, here comes an opportunity to prove it.”
I followed his gaze, spotting Nova approaching us from the direction of the palace.
I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to.
Whereas the air around here was proving detrimental to Zayn and me, it was having the opposite effect on her. Her shadows moved more freely—and calmly—than I’d ever seen them. Even now, faint hints of her power flowed around her like an extension of the loose-fitting trousers and sleeveless tunic she wore, as if a skilled tailor had designed them to flow in perfect harmony with her movements. Her eyes seemed even brighter than usual. There was something in her step, too—a decisiveness that hadn’t been there before.
She might not have been embracing the crown of this kingdom yet, but she still looked like its queen.
Zayn clapped a hand on my shoulder, making me jump slightly; I didn’t realize how still I’d gone.
“Good luck,” he said, with a sound that was part laughter, part sigh.
He made his exit quickly. I instantly wondered if I should have followed him out, but it was too late, by this point; Nova was somehow already in front of me.
She wore her usual, cheerful smile—that wasn’t strange. What was strange was how that smile seemed to be directed at me…I still wasn’t used to her regarding me with anything other than disdain.
She carried a large basket, which she promptly placed on the wall Zayn had just been sitting on. Without a word, she started to unpack it, setting an excessive amount of food along the still-shimmering stone. There were fruits of every shape and color, their skins glistening in the warm light of my magic; pastries with perfectly-browned crusts; a platter of various cheeses; bottles of drink fastened with corks and ribbons.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
“This would be what’s known as food. ”
“Yes, but why is it here?”
Why are you here? was what I truly wanted to ask. She had been working separately with Thalia and the others all morning, I knew—and, now that she was close, I could tell she was tired. Though her eyes were brighter, dark circles underneath betrayed the depth of her exhaustion. There were odd, bruise-colored smudges along her arms, too, as if the shadows that flowed so freely around her now had been considerably more violent when exiting her body.
She should have been resting.
Not that I cared.
“It’s here because someone told me you hadn’t eaten all morning,” she said with a shrug.
“Aveline?” That head maid was notoriously good at pushing her way into other’s business, I’d noticed.
Nova gave another shrug. “Just someone.”
“Why are you concerned about whether or not I’ve eaten?”
Instead of answering me, she finished unloading her basket and then walked along the wall, her eyes widening with interest as she traced her fingers over the ivy creeping over the stone, plucking one of the glowing flowers from it. “You did this?”
I nodded.
“Your magic continues to impress, even here.” She made her way back to the food, hoisting herself onto the wall and reaching for an apple with pinkish-gold skin. “I wondered how that would go.”
“…It’s getting more acclimated to the stifling protections that surround this palace, I suppose. But it’s still much more difficult to summon here than it was outside of it.”
She considered this, slowly chewing the fruit as her brow furrowed in concentration. “The air in here feels unnatural, doesn’t it?”
“It does. I wasn’t sure if you would notice it, given your magical alignment.”
“It’s not a… bad feeling, to me. But it’s overwhelming, almost. What’s happening inside here—what Calista did to protect this area—isn’t natural or sustainable, according to the laws of our worlds.” Her eyes glazed over as she stared at a distant wall of black stone, which separated the palace grounds from the dark, cursed lands outside of it. A few more bites of apple, and then she said, “My brother believes that the reason you and I have been able to bring things to life outside of this area—and to sustain that life—is because it’s traditionally required both necromancy and luxmancy to rebalance the realms. To turn the Stone, to activate the magic to wake the worlds, and then to maintain them in a way that feels normal.”
I frowned, not sure I agreed with this theory. “Such magic always came from the Vaelora; I carry no mark of those beings.”
“I no longer have a visible mark, either—though I remember having a strange, star-shaped scar on my forearm, some time ago.” She shrugged. “I just thought it was a regular birthmark that faded with time.” She studied her arm, as if expecting the mark in question to make a reappearance.
When it didn’t, she lifted her gaze to mine and asked, “Do you think it’s possible you had something like that as well—something you’ve forgotten about—that your court and Keepers hid from you?”
Before the events of the past week, I would have answered with a quick and emphatic no ; I’d been so certain of it all, what seemed like such a short time ago.
Now, I simply remained silent.
Nova sighed. “Whether you carry such a mark is irrelevant, I guess; Bastian seems to think—or at least wants to believe—that I can revive Noctaris on my own.”
“…You don’t believe there’s a way to do so?”
“I think there’s a reason a Vaelora was always born into each world. Both kinds of magic matter. Even he admits that. They’re meant to work together; anything else feels like going against the nature of…well, everything .”
“Yes, but you don’t need me specifically for my magic.”
“Don’t I?”
“I’m sure your brother and his followers are busy scheming other ways of getting the Light magic they need; perhaps siphoning it from Luminor, or otherwise. I’m only another vessel for such magic, after all.” Vessel was a word the Keepers had often used to refer to me; I’d never thought much of it.
But Nova set her jaw, and her eyes looked troubled. “You’re more than a mere vessel , you idiot.”
I stared at her, unsure of how to reply.
The more often we talked, it seemed, the more often I found myself speechless like this.
She was so… different from the cutthroat members of my life and court back in Elarith. Nobody spoke of working together and striving for balance in the world I grew up in—only of how they could tip the balance in their favor.
Death Maiden , some of them used to call the Princess of Eldris. Or Death Witch, if they were feeling particularly cruel. And they had said it in hushed tones, often with a mixture of fear and barely-masked disgust. When our impending arranged marriage was announced, countless courtiers had tried to talk me out of it.
Yet, for all the shadows surrounding her, death was not the word that came to mind when I looked at her now.
“You’re more than a vessel,” she repeated, as if it were a simple fact, “and they’ll understand that before the end.”
“Your optimism continues to impress, even here.”
She exhaled a breathy little laugh, and her voice was perfectly flat as she said, “It’s a bad habit I can’t seem to shake—this sunshiny disposition of mine.”
Fighting a smile, I hopped onto the wall as well, mirroring her pose with one leg tucked underneath me and the other hanging over the side.
She gestured toward the spread of food, her expression expectant.
I hesitated to reach for any of it, only doing so once her gaze became more of a glare; I knew she would keep glaring at me until I gave in—it wasn’t the first time we’d performed this particular routine over the past week.
As I picked at the food with precise movements, I soon forgot she was even there, busying myself with my usual ritual of separating the bread from the fruit, the cheese from the meat—making sure everything had its own place, and that it was all laid out in an even, acceptable way. Some for now, some set aside for later, some—
“Why do you do that?” she asked, suddenly.
My fingers stilled against the bread I’d just reached for. “Do what?”
“Count and organize your food, as if you expect it to go missing if you don’t inventory it properly. Was there really a need for rationing things in the plentiful halls of your old home?”
“Do you just blurt out every question that comes into that head of yours?” Memories of the uncomfortable conversation we’d had about my scars flashed in my mind.
“I…well, yes. Sometimes.” She blushed. Silence stretched between us. The color deepened in her cheeks, and it was impossible not to notice how that flush of pink made her all the more attractive—to not immediately start thinking of other ways I could make her blush.
Fucking hell .
Zayn might have been on to something after all.
I rolled the tension from my shoulders and fixed my eyes on hers, keeping my tone as nonchalant as possible. “Did you not receive etiquette lessons as a child?”
“They were lost on me.”
“Of course. Why am I not surprised?”
“It’s one thing to be taught rules and manners from a stern-faced tutor,” she insisted. “It’s another thing to live it, to practice it, and I…I guess you could say I didn’t have a lot of conversations during which I could practice. People avoided me, as I believe I’ve told you before.”
“After you left Rose Point, even?”
“I had Orin—not exactly the picture of etiquette, that lovable but crass old man—and I had the occasional accomplice who helped me with some of my more complicated… adventures . But, no. No one I ever trusted enough to have prolonged conversations with, really.”
It caused a strange ache in my chest to picture her alone with no one to talk to.
I cleared my throat. And just as before, when we’d spoken of scars and nightmares in her room, I felt a compulsion to answer her questions…even about the things I usually did my damnedest to keep to myself.
Quietly, I said, “There was certainly no shortage of food in Duskhaven—my palace—but there were still a lot of days I went without.”
“Why?”
“It was a tactic often employed by my teachers. A punishment for failing at lessons. Fifteen days was my record, I think. I reached it more than once.” She looked horrified, but I had detached myself from it all enough, by this point, that I numbly kept speaking. “At some point, I guess I developed a…compulsion surrounding it. A need to control food whenever I did have plenty of it in my possession. A desire to organize and hide things, as necessary. Some for eating now, some for later.”
When her horrified silence stretched on, I hurriedly added, “I know it’s strange.”
She shook her head. “It’s not strange.” Her voice was firm. “People do what they need to do to survive.”
“Maybe. Though…I never really saw myself as trying to survive any of it,” I said. “More like simply meeting expectations, whatever it took.”
She was quiet for a long beat before she said, “Well, I think sometimes traumatic things look different from the inside, when you’re trying to endure them.”
The words lingered in the air between us. I had a strange desire to reach for her and pull her to my chest. Different from the lust I’d started bracing myself for whenever she was near; it wasn’t her body I craved in that moment. It was… her. All of her. I wanted her closer simply so I could feel her heartbeat against me.
I shifted where I sat, trying to find a better sense of balance.
“These are the same bastards who wouldn’t let you properly mourn your parents,” she commented.
“They were…strict.”
“They were monsters— are monsters. Why didn’t your parents intervene in their punishments when they were still alive?” she asked. “Didn’t you have anyone to protect you?”
I didn’t need protecting , I nearly snapped.
But for some reason, I swallowed down this typical, defensive response and told her the truth instead. “My parents were sick for most of my childhood. We lived in the same palace, but I might as well have been raised in a different kingdom, for all I saw of them; the Keepers claimed it was for the best, so that I wouldn’t be a burden on the king and queen in addition to all their other obligations and ailments.”
“A burden ?”
I shrugged.
She looked as though she might combust from the effort of trying to bite her tongue on the matter. Her cheeks were bright again—a furious, bristling shade of red.
So much anger on my behalf.
It was…strange. Even stranger than her smiling at me and bringing me food.
“It’s just how things were,” I insisted. “From the time I was born, I never really knew anything else.”
She took several deep breaths through her nose. “Well, these Keeper assholes seem like the controlling type, don’t they? The type who would put an imposter on the throne if it served their plans. And maybe the type to not tell you of your true magic and power, too.”
I couldn’t deny she had a point, even if I couldn’t bring myself to admit it out loud.
“One more thing we need to sort out,” she said, as if she were making a casual to-do list.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by her nonchalant tone, I supposed—this was also the woman who had put descend into Hell on her fucking to-do list.
Such a chaotic, beautiful little beast.
She didn’t try to force me to eat any more. We passed some time talking of theories and future plans, letting our past ghosts linger on the edges of our conversation but no longer inviting them in.
After an hour or so, we went our separate ways.
But when I returned to my room some time later, I found a pile of food neatly packaged up on a tray, waiting for me. She’d taken the time to leave notes, too, in slightly messy handwriting; one pile was labeled For Now , while the other was labeled For Later.
I stared at the tray for a long moment before slowly taking a piece of bread, carrying it over and sinking down onto the edge of the bed. I ate all of it while staring at the royal crest of Rivenholt that hung over the door, trying to remind myself of the warnings Zayn had given me earlier.
Think twice before getting any closer to her.
Easier said than done.